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/qst/ - Quests

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The Hunter Association is an organization of the best and brightest humanity has to offer who protect the people, knowledge, culture and the natural world. To become a Hunter, one must pass a test known as the Hunter Exam.

The Hunter Exam is a test that happens once every year, it is known to be one of the most difficult and dangerous test ever conceived.

Back-Breaking Physical tests paired along with Complex and Unconventional mental tests which are all conducted under extreme environmental conditions, which is all done in order to find even one person with the skills to survive the intense physical pressure.

Those who pass the test are shown to be the best warriors and survivalists known to human kind. Passing the exam gives them a Hunter License, proof of their prowess and accomplishments.

This license gives them access to 90% of the entire world, 75%access to restricted places in the world, free use of all public utilities, almost 0 legal consequences for murder and most importantly, A lifetime of wealth and fortune.

However, the morality rate of the Exam known to go as high as 90% with a pass rate of 1 out 10,000 contestants ever passing the Exam every 3 years. Despite this, Thousands upon Tens of thousands of men and women still enter for even the smallest chance at winning the title of Hunter. Whether this be out of insatiable greed, heroic honor or outright desperation.

In the Hunter Exam, the only thing that matters is the need to win and the strength to do it.



Intro NEW:


Quest Archive:


Character List (Updated):


Combat rules:

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Derrick Awakens with determination and fear as the Morning of the first day of the Hunter Exam dawns.

The long awaited moment finally comes and bring both excitement and fear as he train quickly comes to a halt in the town of Turnabolt, an abandoned merchant city which resides atop Mt. Kill-Aman-jaro. This dead town became the starting line for aspiring hunters as they were giving the first test of the Hunter Exam.

Reach the bottom of Mt.killa-man-jaro alive in 2 weeks. A task that would usually take 3 months has to be done in the span of merely 14 days, a feat that, supposedly, wouldn't even be a challenge for a real hunter.

The aspiring Hunters were given a choice of going down three routes, the Safe route of going down the mountain trail, the quicker but dangerous route of heading down the ice cravens. And the quickest but extremely dangerous route of the forest path. Of course, Derrick chose the quickest and most suicidal route, the forest.

He moved quickly in hopes of exiting the dangerous forest while doing his best to avoid any unnecessary confrontations. A nice dream, but a short lived one, as only hours after entering the forest, he was pulled into a crossfire between local madman Telfour Bradford and a large angry beast who were demolishing the forest in their fight.

After literally being dragged by the collar to fight, Derrick stayed and assisted him in taking it down the large beast.

Afterwards, Derrick makes the, admittedly horrifying and very stressful, decision to team-up with Bradford despite his clear mental instability. However, Bradford happily agrees to work alongside Derrick and so the dubious duo press on for a few hours before the sunsets and camp is made.

It was then that Derrick attempted to strike up conversation with Bradford, only to immediately regret it as his mind breaks down from boredom and causes him to lash out loudly and attract a horde of night prowling beasts.

Only the first day of the exam and Derrick's survival is already in question. Can Derrick really become a Hunter?

And so the adventure continues...!
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"Holy fucking shit! You've been screaming non-stop for the last fucking hour! Shut the fuck already!" Bradford orders with a blast of his shotgun, the ensuing wave of burning hot lead flying out and shredding at least two of the Night prowlers that were charging at him.

"How about instead of telling'em to shut up, you just do it yourself. All you're doing is making them more excited you mentally unstable dunce!" You exclaim as you send a creature flying with an electric punch, the heat of the shock burns the creatures flesh to bone in an instant.

He pumps his shotgun's fore-end and speaks, "Well can you blame me for complaining!? You'd think a pack of Night crawlers would've learned how to stay fucking quiet! These wannabe fucking banshees just scream and jump all over the fucking place like their playing a game of autistic leap frog!" As he finishes that statement, another creature snakes outside his field of vision and rushes at his flank.

He notices the creature behind from the rustling of the leaves and proceeds to throw his shotgun in the air and grab the long boom-stick by the barrel which he follows up by swinging his stock like a baseball bat, caving the creature's skull in.

The creature falls over in a twitching, bloody heap, "Okay! That was a bit better! Maybe these banshees can learn a thing or two!" He compliments.

"Of all the people I expected to start bitching about things being too loud, you have to be the funniest. Last I checked, we're only in this mess because your psychiatrist forgot to give your vitamins this morning. I swear if we keep getting roped into dumb shit because your pension for suicide, I'm going to leave you to die one of these times!" You shout.

You hear a sound come from your right as Three of Banshees charge at you. One leaps from the trees and others two cover the ground as they rush at you in a three-pronged formation. The creature in the tree to extends its claw to rend your throat as the other two get ready to gouge your leg tendons to incapacitate you.

You keep your cool and don't move until the final moment of the Banshee's arm extension. You then grab its arm by the wrist and with a swift hand movement you snap its wrist like a twig and proceed to throw the creature's body using its broken arm to build momentum. It's body flies into the two other creatures and strikes them down like a pair of bowling pins and sends them both flying into a nearby tree.
However, as you finish off three beasts, a fourth comes leaping out of the shadows on your right flank and aims to bite down on your carotid artery.

You attempt to turn quickly and counter the beast, but you just can't turn fast enough, you try to think of another way out when a hand grabs you from behind and pulls you back.

You stumble back slightly as watch Bradford grab the creature by the neck and hold it in the air with an almost inhuman level of grip, he then proceeds to shove a shotgun barrel the struggling creature's mouth, turns to you and speaks, "You're gonna hurt my fucking feelings Derrick! You know I didn't mean to make this mess! But don't worry, I can still make it up to you! I know just the thing that will make you happy!"

He faces the struggling creature as it scratches and slashes at Bradford's arm in a desperate attempt to escape. it attempts come up futile as Bradford looks it right in the eye and speaks, "For every little Banshee I put in a hole, I'll cook its meat later for you to enjoy. I just know you'll love it..." he trails off in a lowered tone before pulling the trigger and spoon-feeding the Banshee a shotgun slug.

"I'm a great Fucking cook." He finishes.
The creatures head pops from the explosion of gunfire pouring down it's throat. Grey matter and random brain cells splatter all over the ground like confetti, causing a splash of foul-smelling blood to land all over your suit and right in Bradford's face.

"Bleh! Don't you just fucking hate messy eaters!" he shouts as he wipes the blood from his eyes and mouth.

You sigh and speak, "The only thing I hate is that this suit is a hand-me down from a good friend of mine and dry-clean only. So that means I'm going to smell like fresh brains for the rest of the Exam now." You retake your battle stance and scan your surroundings.

"Hey man! Crazy-ass tribes in Northern Ohuan eat brains because they think it will make them smarter! Maybe you could use some brains to go with all your spineless bitching!" Bradford counters.

"Northern Ohuan? You mean the back-wash, tribal zone above Azia? Most of those guys are cannibals and believe in tree fairies. Why the hell would I care what they think?" You question

"Don't go making fun of fucking tree fairies Derrick! Those stick wavers up there know their shit, maybe that brain voodoo shit is real!" He exclaims while waving his arms.

"That or all the drugs make them sound smart! Either way, they sound like good company to me, so don't go dismissing'em!" He explains.

You can't even come up with a comeback for something that stupid. You just mentally block out Bradford as you give this situation a run down.
You're surrounded on all sides by these ravenous Banshees, you tried counting how many of them there are earlier, but you gave up after you reached around 300.

There's just too damn many of them for you to even think of escaping, the sheer number of them would overwhelm you and turn you into bloody mulch to feed the trees for the next week or two. You're only choices are fight and stay alive until these monsters give up or die on the first day of the exam.

The only sliver lining you can pick out, is that compared to all the hulking beasts you've been fighting until now, these things are squishy as hell. These creatures have grown favor speed and stealth over raw fighting ability since they're a species of nocturnal hunters, which makes them considerable easier to kill. The problem is that they're actually quite smart and seem to already know about their own weakness and have compensated by using numbers and low-level tactics to compensate for their brittleness.

Physically, they're nonthreatening. One Banshee on it's own couldn't possibly overpower you, but in a group, they can dogpile and sucker-punch real easy. And their sucker-punches have a real edge to them with those claws attached.

Shredding your flesh with a well-placed swipe and stabbing through bone with a good poke would be easy for them and if those razor sharp teeth come anywhere close to your neck, it's best you just give up and hope the rest of your death is painless.

Knowing all of that, the only way you can win this battle is by...

What will you do?

>Crush them completely

>draw out the fight while Conserving Stamina and ammo
Now comes my favorite part of /qst/ing. Waiting for people to notice this quest...
>draw out the fight while Conserving Stamina and ammo
Let's save our big guns and stamina for the bigger monsters for now. Also super happy to be playing again
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Glad to see people haven't completely forgotten about my little quest, sorry for not immediately posting, I'm just waiting for 2 or 3 more anons to come in.
It's fine (I'm use to waiting for people in this quest) im just happy to see you're back

>Be me
>Participate in only 2 quest (HxHQ and Psion Academy)
>Psion Academy ends
>Like a week later in a move that would please Togashi HxHQ goes on hiatus
>Be really upset
>Around a month later Hopeless starts a new quest
>A week or 2 later HxHQ quest starts back up again
>Be really happy
Nice to see you back QM
>draw out the fight while Conserving Stamina and ammo
>>draw out the fight while Conserving Stamina and ammo

Alright, that's enough waiting around, let's get cracking.

>Conserve and survive

As much as you want to just blow away these screeching banshees into the nearest hole 6ft deep hole. It won't be that easy, the more stamina and ammo you waste here, the more you'll suffer down the line.

"Bradford!" you shout out.

"Yes! What is it My dear!" He calls back as grabs one of the creatures by the throat and snaps it's neck with flick of his wrist.

"How many slugs you got left on you?" you ask.

"Huh!? Well, I kinda stocked up extra for this exam, So I brought about a metric Fuckton!" He explains.

"How much is a 'metric Fuckton'?" you question.

"Bout 100+ slugs, enough to clear out a small town of gunmen if you're badass enough! filled out five 24-round leather bandoliers before I was ready! But now I'm down to a bitching Shitton!" He states.

" A 'Bitching Shitton'? how much is that? And what the hell kinda metric system are you drawing from?" you ask.

"That's how we measured amounts back on east side! No really knew how math worked, so we kinda just made our own metric system, it's pretty simple once you get used to it! 'A Bitching Shitton' is about 60-70 rounds!" He explains.

"What the...You know what, that's good enough for me! Teach me your ghetto metrics later. For now, try and make sure you conserve ammo, or else we'll be in a metric fuckton of trouble!" you exclaim as you take a battle stance and face the gathering creatures.

"So less shooting, more face-cracking huh? Can do man!" Bradford grabs his shotgun by the barrel and holds it up like baseball bat as he readies himself.

Well then, now begins the long haul...

>Roll 1d100 to conserve

Rolled 7 (1d100)

I'll wait like 5-10 more minutes before re-rolling
Ahhhhhhh, even after a good month of time, the dice gods are still angry with us.

hell, maybe it's ME the dice gods are angry with. In that case, we'll never have a good roll in these threads.

Well, best of three rolls, let's hope for the best.

Also, don't worry about crit failing, since I thought the 10-1 crit fail thing was a bit extreme, I changed it 5-1 in exchange for the crit success becoming 95-100.
Rolled 49 (1d100)

Oh god thank you it's like you read my mind
Rolled 62 (1d100)

Watch this 74
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Boy oh boy, I've been gone a month and yet it feels like only yesterday were the rolls this low.

>Minor Failure

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You stand your ground as you inch closer to Bradford and watch every angle for incoming attack.

You see a large group of 12 Banshees gather in front of you, they snarl and stare for a moment while they gather their blood lust and courage to rush you.

You and Bradford follow suit by beginning to prepare yourselves.

Though Bradford has pretty clearly been ready for a long time as he's basically shaking with excitement for the long fight ahead of him. He does a boxer's hop on his good leg makes a face that honestly makes the banshee's faces look kinda pretty to you in comparison.

You ready yourself as well. With a deep breath in and a slow exhale out, you quickly find your resolve.

And with that resolve, you find your will to fight and your will to live.


With a loud stomp, you and Bradford launch off into the bloodthirsty horde.

Bradford takes off to face the horde with a big swing of his Boomstick. The heavy stock of his shotgun slams into the heads of two creatures in front of him and sends them flying back like ragdolls. The brutal display causes the other creatures creatures to dress back and bunch up to defend against the incoming madman.

You take advantage of the beast's fear by jumping into the air and crashing right into the center of the horde. Your landing gets soften by the skull of the Banshee you land boot-first into.

The group breaks apart and jumps away. However, you refuse to let one get away. You reach out and grab the creature by the leg and pull the rest of it's body toward you. You hold both it's knees with your elbows and big to spin rapidly, bringing the beast into a seismic throw.

The spin of your throw causes the creature's head to collide with the body of it's nearby allies at high speed, promptly knocking two other Banshees out with it.

You're just about to toss the beast in your hands away but then you feel a sharp pain in your right arm. You realize the beast in your hands is still alive and somehow conscious enough to jab it's claws directly into your right fore-arm.

The sharp stab causes you to let go pre-maturely and the beast flying through the air, but not at a strong enough force to kill it, allowing it to recover slightly from your throw and get back up, albeit clearly dizzy and blood spurting from the side of it's head that got used as a bludgeoning object.

You hold your hand to examine the wound, a mistake you quickly come to regret as two more creatures come rushing at you from behind.


The creatures are quickly blown to chunky pieces as Bradford doesn't miss a beat in protecting your back.

"Don't you fucking touch him! That's my prey right there! The more scratches you put him, the more likely he is to pussy out of our fight later!" Bradford announces.

Though you also get the feeling he's just waiting for the chance to stab you in the back as well...
Sorry about the massive delay on that post. Some business came up and because of it that will unfortunately be the last post of the night.

We'll start back roughly the same time tomorrow and hopefully life won't interrupt me as much next time. For now goodnight anons.
Thanks for runinng as always.
A new day, another chance to die horribly. Let's do this anons.
"Well thanks for the save there, but don't worry about that fight. as long as we both get out of here alive, I'll gladly kick your ass four ways to Sunday." You state as you hop back and ready yourself to keep up the fight.

"Oh hell yes! That's just what I wanted to hear! Now let's get back to making fresh beef out of these-Hm?" Bradford's usual taunt is cut off when he notices the enemy begin to act strangely.

The remaining 7 banshees creep and crawl back into the darkness, staring at you with hungry eyes as they fade away to black. You wait a moment for them to spring back out with more friends, but after about 30 seconds of waiting, you see nothing happen.

"What the fuck!? You're done already!? That shit wasn't even a warm-up! You can't pussy out on a man before he's had his fun damn it!" Bradford exclaims with disappointment, thinking the beasts have retreated.

"Hold your breath you suicidal dunce. If you take a look around you, you'll notice that they haven't bitched out at all. It's the opposite, they just got serious." You state.

Bradford takes a look around the dark forest, your crackling camp-fire is the only real light source in the vicinity, even the moon and stars have been covered up by overcast, causing the entire area to go into a state of complete darkness.

Bradford looks every which way, trying to make out some kind of figure in the darkness before quickly giving up and looking back at you.

"Did those brains you swallowed make you high or somethin'? I don't see jackshit anywhere." He states in confusion.

"That's just your problem, you're looking with your eyes you idiot. You should've been in enough fights to know that your eyes aren't the only way you can see right?" You state

"Now How about you use something other than your mouth for once and take a listen?" You point out.

Bradford suddenly catches your meaning and closes his eyes. You can tell from the way he jolts slightly that he notices it as well. The sounds of leaves being rustled quietly, the cracking of branches at regular intervals, the feeling of tension in the air.

He opens his eyes and slowly creeps back over to you, the look of disappointment fading and being replaced by a surprisingly serious face, "Well you weren't fucking kidding. Those motherfuckers are still here aren't they?" He questions.

You take a defensive stance and answer, "Don't forget, these bastards are night hunters, not fighters. It seems all those attacks before were just them testing our sense of spatial awareness. Now that they've got that pinned, I have a feeling things are about to get real." You state.

Bradford doesn't even bother responding, he readies his Remington and begins to look around.

>Roll 1d100

DC: 65
Rolled 44 (1d100)

Rolled 92 (1d100)

I'll reroll because I don't think anybody's gonna join anytime soon those losers probably have lives
Rolled 76 (1d100)


Is that a 90 I see? Woah...It feels like it's been so long since we've had a roll that good without a modifier.

Great work anons.

>Rolled 92

>Maybe you have a chance after all.
What are they planning? You focus on the forest around you, the sounds of the creatures stop, no more rustling, no more cracking, no more anything.

For a moment, time freezes and quiet dominates the noise. No movements are made, no movement, expect for a single move of your neck.

For some reason, in this tense situation, you couldn't help but take a second to look up at the sky. You hope to see the moon and the stars brightening the sky, but not even that tiny light remains, you can only find darkness above and around you.

As you look back down, the face of a Banshee creeps from the darkness behind you. However, you look at and see not hunger, but what looks like...resolve?

While you look on with confusion, Bradford acts first by rising his shotgun and shouting, "What, this shit again? you fuckers aren't very creative are you!?' he shouts as he fires.

The bullets spread out kill the beast instantly. However, as the creatures flies back, two more beasts follow after it and use its dead body as a spring-board to launch themselves in the air.

Bradford doesn't waste a second pumping his shotgun and aiming at the flying beasts. he fires again, but the second he pulls the trigger, one Banshee grabs the other one and pulls it in front of itself to block the bullets.

Bradford curses something under his breath as he tries to pump his shotgun fast enough to fire again, but that's when you notice something.

The trajectory those beasts are flying at won't hit you, plus it doesn't feel like they're actually aiming at you or Bradford. Rather, it seems to be aiming for something else.

That's when you see their plan and promptly move in and grab Bradford's collar and pull him back as the remaining creature kicks the body it was using as a shield into your campfire. A large burst of flame envelopes the dead body in a bright flame.

"What the flying fuck!?" Bradford screams as he barely manages to dodge being lit aflame himself.

The dead body chars and blackens as the flames eat away at it's body. The sight is disturbing, the truly horrifying sight is how quickly the flame fades away.

Soon the black of the dead body spreads to the surrounding area and before you know it, light fades and darkness consumes everything. You can no longer see the trees, the ground, or even your own hand and you most certainly can't see the Banshees anymore.
Those clever bastards, you should've seen that coming. Without your campfire, you've just entered their best fighting conditions, now this fight really has become a proper hunt and you're the prey. You underestimated just how desperate these things would be just to kill you.

No wonder that first creature looked so strange, it wasn't rushing to sneak up and kill you, it was rushing in with the intent to die and be used by the others gain this advantage.

"Fucking crazy bastards! I thought animals were supposed to be self-preserving and shit! Those fuckers killed two of their own kind just to be able to take out our fire! And you call me suicidal!" Bradford shouts out from nearby.

"I'd call you a dumbass for shouting out and giving away your position, but since these things can see in the dark anyway, I'll let that one slide. Be on your guard, We won't be able to watch each other's backs anymore. So shut and watch your own damn back." You order as you take a defensive stance.

>Roll 1d100+10 (+5 for wielding Thunderstruck, +5 for using electricity against beast-type enemies)

>DC: 75
Rolled 64 (1d100)

Could we make an electric flare? If they have their eyes open it'd hurt a LOT and given they scream.... we might get a position we can use while stunning them.
Rolled 99 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

>Rolls 92
>Situation gets incredibly worse
I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little salty

>1 away

That last roll was to see whether or not you and Bradford would get burned by the kamikaze attack. You rolled high enough that you and Bradford got no damage.

And from the look of it, as long as the next roll isn't a crit-fail, this won't be too terrible for much longer.
Rolled 32 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

bowling for crits

>Rolled 109

>Even the darkness can't hold you down.
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You stay perfectly calm and close your eyes.

In perfect darkness, you may as well be blind, so you must fight as if you never had eyes in the first place.

You focus only on listening intently to the sounds of forest, attempting to discern which sounds are hostile from which ones are random.


You hear something but don't move, that's sound's too far away to be anything hostile. so you just ignore it.


That was the sound of snow being kicked up and a stick breaking nearby, but it was too heavy to be a Banshee, that was probably just Bradford stepping around. You remain still.


There it is. A sound that is neither too soft to be noticed nor heavy enough to be obvious to the ears. That's the sound of snow being lightly kicked up as to blend in with the sound of the wind. It comes from your left, as well as your right flank. If you had to guess, 6, maybe 7 of them are encircling you currently, waltzing around looking for an angle to attack from.

You could move in now, but no, let them come. You want them to get as close and comfortable as possible before you make your move.


You hear the sound of two of them taking off the ground. Normally you would dread having to fight in the dark, but instead of fear or anxiety, you feel strangely excited.


After all, these beasts have no idea who they're dealing with here. They think a little darkness will leave you helpless, time to show them just how wrong they are.

The sound of the air shifting to the left causes You reach out your hand grab a tuft of fur, you can swear you hear the beast gasp in surprise as you pull it to your right and feel the impact of another Banshee's claws dig into the chest.

You then take let go of the beast and cause the two of them to fall to the ground.


You bring your foot down on the location where the snow is crushed by the falling beasts and curbstomp both Banshee's like bugs without even moving from your original location.


You continue your onslaught as you hear the sounds of three of them next to you step back in a panic from your last attack.

You rush in and deliver a series of jabs into all three of them, the electricity of your strikes killing all three of them instantly and brightening the area for a moment, allowing you to see the remaining two.

You see their frightened expressions, they truly weren't expecting you to be this well-adapted to the darkness. Normally, even a skilled martial artist would be left running around like a headless chicken in the dark.

But you've been through too much abnormal crap for your sense of combat to be normal anymore. This marks the third time something has tried to kill you in the dark. First time was with that serial killer back on the airship and the second was back on the train.

And In comparison to that katana-wielding psychopath and Rea nearly chopped your head off in the dark, these Banshees are so unskilled and easy that you can't help but smile.

Before the electricity fades away, the beast see your blood-soaked face smiling with relief at them. You never thought a beast with such a terrifying face could make such pitiable expressions of fear.

You actually feel kinda sorry for them. Too bad it's far too late for you to consider mercy now.

The electricity fades away and as the darkness takes hold once again you dash off before they have a chance to run.

You grab one by the face and pull it's head up as you deliver a wind-pipe crushing elbow-strike to it's neck. You then use the choking creature's body like a baseball bat by swinging it into second creature's head.

You drop the now dead body of the banshee and begin to listen to the sounds around you again.


You hear a familiar sound come from your right and roll away on instinct.


The sound of shotgun fire rings out as you see Bradford blowing away three Banshee with a single shot. His excited smile seems so much brighter with muzzle flash illuminating it.

"Sorry about that! I know you told me to conserve ammo or some shit Derrick, but you can't expect me to swing around my gun like a dumbass in the dark right!?" He shouts out.

"I get that, but how about you try and say something before you blast off again you trigger-happy dumbass. You nearly blew my head off with that last shot!" you exclaim.

"The unfortunate of reality of collateral damage! I cause so much damage that even the things I love tend to break because of it! Just be sure to be on your toes at all times, I don't want to see your body on my pile!" He exclaims.

"You know, I didn't think I could hate someone as much as you, but you managed to prove me wrong. Congratulations, you've just given me another reason to kick your ass." you state.

"Ohhhhhh! You always know just the right things to say to make me happy! As a show of gratitude, how about I show you a cool trick I made up!?"

"Huh? What does that me-"

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Bradford begins to fire his shotgun like an assault rifle. Bullets rain like hail and bodyparts fall like rain as he turns the forest into his own personal Nightclub, using muzzle flash as the dance-lights and shotgun fire as the music.

3 then 6 which counts up to 10 followed by 14 added to 18 to end up as 22. You could probably become a Math professor trying to count up the number of bodies Bradford is racking up with each shot his Remington shotgun, or at least that's what you thought it was, until he revealed he's carrying a fucking auto-shotgun! What kinda trick allows you to bring that shit anywhere but a high-end military camp.

You see Bradford move in the brief flashes of his fire and that's when you realize that you're wrong, he isn't carrying around a special gun, rather it's himself that's the gun.

His hand moves so fast that you can just barely see it in action, but his shotgun isn't automatic. He's tightening his grip around the fore-end of his shotgun and pumping it so fast that the bullet loads in the chamber at the same rate as his trigger-finger.

A movement that would usually either break the fore-end or cause the gun to jam from loading too quickly, but he's somehow managed to mix inhuman strength, speed and balance to be both delicate enough to not overwork his gun, yet also fast and strong enough to pump his gun with the speed of an assault rifle.

Hell, the bastard is even doing dance moves, throwing his shotgun over his shoulders and under his arm and firing while posing. You can truly only stare dumbfounded until the gunfire ends.

After a good few seconds of continuous fire, he finally stops to reload and speaks, "Well!? How was that!? Badass right!? I call that move Ballroom Blitz! Crazy right!?" he asks.

"....What planet are you from? You have to be an alien or something. There's no way you're human, that's for sure." you answer.

"Hah! That's funny! I would love to meet some real aliens so we can share a drink before I blow their brains out! It took me like 2 years to master that trick you know! I'm really proud of it!" He exclaims.

"...I'm just gonna go back to punching things now." you state as you try your best to ignore him.

"You do that! But just be sure to keep your distance, Blonde hairs are really hard to hide on white suits!" he states as he finishes reloading.

Holy hell you've never wanted to run away from a combat encounter so bad in your life. But enough of that for now.

What do you do now? You can't keep fighting in the dark like this forever, you need to restore light somehow...

What will you do?

>Light the trees on fire with an electro-burst

>Make Brad use that attack again to grab your duffle-bag to find something to light a fire with.

>Just keep fighting like this.
>Make Brad use that attack again to grab your duffle-bag to find something to light a fire with.
Let's not start a forest fire that'll attract everything to us
>>Light the trees on fire with an electro-burst
Rolled 1 (1d2)


Time for a decision roll.

1- Ballroom Blitz
2- Electro-burst

>Tfw when Your MC has a special that he never uses.

We're saving it for something hype not fodder I wanted to use it during the cops and robbers game but that never happened
"Hey Bradford! Can you bring the pull off that crazy-ass dance again?" You ask.

"It's not a fucking dance! It's called the Ballroom Blitz! Too much effort and love went into that move for you to write it off as some fucking dance! Call it by it's proper name and I'll do it!" He answers.

"I love that song too damn much for me to let you ruin it with that stupid dance. Now get shooting or it'll be your head I smack off next!" You threaten.

"Sorry, but sweet-talk won't get you anywhere with me! You call it by it's fucking name, or you can go fuck off!" he answers.

"Oh I swear-"


Your argument is cut off by the sound of a Banshee pouncing at your back, you spin with your fist and smash it's face with an electric back-hand.

The shock that bounces off it's face reveals at least 10 more banshee's gathering behind you. You begin to panic a little as you realize you've been wasting far too much time dealing with Bradford's bullshit.

"Damn it Bradford! Just do the damn move!" You plead.

"And what is that 'move's' name?" he asks.

You feel your head begin to steam, but you know you just have to accept and move on, you utter a silent apology to SweeT for the sin against music you're about to commit.

"Errrrrr...Please do your B-Ballroom Blitz...Oh god that hurt to say." you state.

Even in this complete darkness, you can tell Bradford is smiling from ear to ear, "Sure thing man! Now WHO WANTS ANOTHER FIREWORKS SHOW! " Bradford exclaims as he pumps his shotgun and begins to rain hell.

>Roll 1d100+5
Rolled 86 + 5 (1d100 + 5)

Rolled 75 + 5 (1d100 + 5)


I'm just gonna save you both the re-roll and just start writing.

>Rolled 91

>Great success

>We could make beautiful fireworks together.

Once again the area becomes a bloody rave of of death and shotgun fire as Bradford unleashes his attack a second time. Bullet's fly in every direction, leaving little to no gaps for any Banshees to slip away without being having their insides grinding into lead beef.

You take advantage of the chaos and use the muzzle flash to locate your dufflebag which has been thankfully undisturbed by the random gun-fire and violence, you stick your hand into the bag and pull out a small can of gasoline you had inside for making quick campfires.

Well, this is going to be more then a quick campfire now.

Question is, try to contain the flames, or just let the flames run wild and see if scares them away?

What will you do?

>Light a small flame away from the trees

>Burn a tree but try and contain the flames.

>Just burn it all down.
>>Burn a tree but try and contain the flames.
>Burn a tree but try and contain the flames.

>No pryomanics here

Rolled 32 (1d100)

Rolled 63 (1d100)

Rolled 68 (1d100)


Good another pass, but I'll have to stop here. Got some business to attend to early tomorrow, goodnight for now anons.
Night thanks for running
Thread resumes in 20 minutes.
You search quickly to find an isolated tree before the gunfire comes to an end. You look to where Bradford is firing, and through the growing pile of gore and viscera, you see a tall tree with thick leaves and a good distance from all the other trees.

Perfect for a contained fire, what's not so perfect is that the tree is just a few meters away from where Bradford is doing his insane dance.

You could hope that Bradford is focused enough to tell the difference between you and a Banshee. But you seriously feel that from his perspective right now, anything that moves is target waiting for a quickshot of 12-gauge hot lead.

But if you don't move soon, you'll lose the location of the tree and you'll have to make Bradford use that ammo-eating technique again. If you actual want to conserve ammo, you need to make your move before you lose your chance.


You haven't been counting his shots, but considering he's using a Remington shotgun, even with a tube extension, he can't have more than 4 shots remaining before he finally has to stop and reload, knowing that, the only way you can break through that shotgun barrage, is to line yourself up properly and wait for the right moment to charge through.


You quickly dash in-between shots, you keep your eyes locked-on the tree the entire time as to make sure you don't lose it between shotgun shots. As you dash around, you see the truly homicidal look on Bradford's face. His face soaked in so much blood that it's flowing into his violent smile.

From anyone else perspective, he looks like complete madman whose only pleasures in life are death and pain.

But something tells you that you can't just write him off as some off-his-rocker shotgun-toting psycho. But you can get to psycho-analyzing him when you're not in his line of fire.
You find the best place you can on short notice to charge through, now you only have to wait for the right moment to move in when that final shot comes out.


Just one more shot, or at least you hope it's the last one. If he's got one more bullet in the chamber, you'll get a surgeon's view into what the inside of your guts looks like.


As the that final shot rings out, you don't waste a second in dashing forward with the speed of a man on a mission. You try your best to keep your eyes centered towards your target, but the fear inside of you can't help but drive you to look at Bradford.

Even after firing his last shot, he points his shotgun at you as you dash past. In the moment before the dark sets back in and blinds the both you, you get a clear look into Bradford eyes, and you're surprised to see that what lurks within his eyes isn't insatiable blood lust or insane happiness. But rather, his eyes seem...blank.

Like the look of a long decayed corpse, or half-rotten, dead fish. That kind of empty, 1000-yard stare. His faces smiles, but his eyes have the stare of a dead man. The strange combination of fulfilled emotion yet obvious emptiness in his entranced look disturbs you to the very core.

The light fades, and you see his finger pull the trigger without hesitation. But even so, you refuse to stop dashing, if you stop now and roll away, you're sure to lose your target. So you press forward through darkness with closed eyes and ready yourself for the worst.


While hoping for the best. Your bet pays off
when you hear him pull the trigger but nothing shoots out. Knowing your own ally could have blown you into gory chunks is discouraging, but knowing your guesstimating skills haven't failed you fills you with relief.

You keep dashing until you collide lightly with the tree and waste no time emptying the can of gasoline unto the tree, followed by striking the bark of the tree to create an electric spark.
File: Burning Tree.gif (5.82 MB, 800x450)
5.82 MB
5.82 MB GIF
You hop away as the spark you create promptly lights up the tree like a wicker stick. The fire spreads up the side of the tree and within seconds, completely engulfs the tree bark in flame.

The darkness is banished as the burning light bursts forth. Bradford and the Banshee's around him shield their eyes as the sudden explosion of light takes them by surprise.

You use their temporary blindness to grab Bradford and pull him back as you move away from the increasing flames.

"Sweet fucking Christ! I knew you were going to light a bitch up, but give a man a warning first before you burn the fucking house down!" Bradford complains.

"Right back at you Dead-eye Dick. How about you learn to tell the difference between a bloodthirsty beast and someone who's trying to help you." You state.

"What can I say, when I really get into the zone, I tend to lose myself a little! Bad fucking habit of mine!" He states unapologeticly.

"You lost it more than a 'little'. One stray shot could have killed me and than triggered the bottle of gas I was carrying, which would have probably blown your ass to kingdom come too and brought you down with me. So going forward, be a little more careful, for both our sakes." You scold.

"Hey man, I told you to stay on your toes didn't I! You did just that and made it just fine right!?" he counters.

"You really don't know how to learn do ya? You know what screw it, we don't have time for this. I just took away those bastards night advantage, and I doubt they can put out a fire that big. So from here on out, we fight until they give up." you state.

Bradford begins reloading his shotgun as he turns to face the slowing approaching Banshees, undeterred by the growing flames of the tree beside you.

He speaks, "As much as I love my trick, can't say I can do it again anytime soon. I'm counting about 33 shells left before I run out ammo. How are you doing?" He asks.

"Feeling a little winded, but I could go the whole night If I wanted." you state.

"Good, because I'm damn sure these things ain't leaving till the sun comes up." Bradford states as he pumps his shotgun and aims.

"That's just fantastic. Well, let's just get this over with." You pull your gloves on extra tight and feel a small shock run through it.

"Cause I'm sure this is going to be a long night." you finish.
Okay this next roll is special, there's no DC, so there's no chance of failing, but as always, rolling high means better results.

>Roll 2d20
>Best of three
Rolled 85, 37 = 122 (2d100)

Rolled 10, 7 = 17 (2d20)

I said 2d20 anon, that doesn't count.
Rolled 20, 4 = 24 (2d20)

Oh shit read that wrong
Cool a crit the other anon might wanna reroll so that Bradford does better I would but I'm afraid it would get rid of my 20
Rolled 11, 18 = 29 (2d20)


>Rolled 20,18

File: Derrick Holums28.jpg (82 KB, 1280x720)
82 KB
The beasts gather all around you, their numbers have lessened significantly, either due to some running away out of fear of the fire or because Bradford turned most of their friends into splashes of blood in the snow.

But even so, there's still a ridiculous amount of them that still seem confident in killing the two of you.The beasts don't even look hungry anymore, just vengeful, probably for the ass-kicking you've been giving their brothers and sisters.

But damn, you can see why Sheldon and Ami advised you avoid this place, it's not just the deadliness of the creatures or the environment that you have to worry about, but the fact that nothing here seems to be willing to give up, even at the cost of their own lives.

Though, you can kinda understand them, if they're willing to fight right down to the last man, then you're willing to kick-ass till they have nothing left to send at you. It's only fair.

With that in mind, you take a few steps forward, You look up to the sky once again and see that the moon finally begins to peak through the clouds, lightly illuminating the area in pasty Moonlight.

A strangely beautiful view, it's too bad you won't be able to enjoy it.


Abandoning stealth and strategy, the Banshees charge forward with a renewed sense of vigor, choosing pure rush tactics like desperate wild animals.

You and Bradford meet their charge half-way. You drive your electric fist into the creature leading the charge while Bradford grabs one creature crushes it's head with his bare hand and using his other hand to fire a shot into the rest of the group.

The beasts don't stop coming and you don't stop fighting and before you know it the battle devolves into all out war. Your sense of fear fades and you simply let the warrior within take over.

Banshee after Banshee comes, their numbers seems endless but you there's a light at the end of this blood-soaked tunnel.

So you don't let up you keep on knocking them away as Bradford follows suit, saving bullets by batting them away with his shotgun and shooting them when they surround him. You watch as Bradford falls into his Battle trance once again and before you know it, you follow in Bradford's footsteps and lose yourself in the battle as well.
File: The rising sun.gif (1.82 MB, 500x258)
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>12 hours later, 6:33, The second day

"Pant...pant..."You breathe heavily as you stand still for a moment to recover energy. The sweat and heat of your overworked muscles are immediately cooled off by the freezing winds passing through the trees.


Your rest period is interrupted yet again by another banshee, you don't let it finish it's battle-cry before you deliver a brutal left straight to it's stomach, the electrifying strength of the punch sends it flying into the blackened bark of the burned down tree. The fire long faded.

"Pant...pant...226..." you count aloud to allow Bradford to hear you.

You tiredly look over to Bradford and watch as he knocks away another Banshee with the blood-covered, splintered wooden stock of his shotgun, causing it to land at your feet.

"Hah...hah...289...Still got...the lead...bitch..."Bradford weakly gloats as he breathes heavily as well.

Sometime during the fight, Bradford wanted to make a bet that whoever could take the most Banshees would get to lead the group for the rest of the adventure. At first you brushed him off for trying to make a game of battle again, but at some point, when he started counting, you joined him.

Maybe it was just that the scent of blood had finally begun to screw with your head, or maybe it was the only thing keeping you somewhat sane during that violent mess, but you starting counting yourself before you knew it.

But it looks like you just weren't quick enough, you were too busy trying to make sure you didn't get stabbed, which really paid off, considering you didn't get hit, not even once.

So, despite how tired you are, you can't help but feel like competing with Bradford since you don't have anything to worry about, you don't care about being leader, but the fact that he think he can one-up you really pisses you off.

"Shut the...hell up...There's still...plenty of them to-huh?" You try and continue the contest, but when you look around, you realize two things.

First, there's no Banshee's left. They're either all dead, or the remainder have run away because they know they simply can't win. The second, and much more surprising thing, is that the sun has risen.

That second thing should have been obvious, but you were so lost in the smell of blood and the sound of breaking bones that you simply didn't realize that any time passed.

"What's wrong...Why'd ya go..quiet all of a sudden?" Bradford asks.

"Don't you...have a pair of eyes? The sun's risen." you point out to the rising sun on the horizon.

Bradford stares dumbfounded for a moment, "Oh...so what?" he asks.

"So what?...We're on the second day of the exam now." You state, your voice speed up after having a second to recover.

"The exam...Oh right, the Hunter Exam. Kinda forgot about that." he admits.

Wowwie, It's been awhile since I made that mistake, I need to step up my game now.

>Still writing
"You forgot? I know we both lost it a bit there. But We just entered the second day of the exam and we spent over 12 fighting instead of sleeping." You state.

"And? So? You say all that like it fucking matters. Let's keep walking already."Bradford states with boredom.

"Have you forgotten about your bad leg and injury you dumbass? We decided to camp so you wouldn't get permanent nerve damage. but because we got jumped while we were resting, we couldn't get a wink of sleep or a second of rest." You explain.

"Thanks for stating the obvious, captain. You gonna get moving anytime soon, or we just gonna keep twiddling our thumbs up our asses for the rest of the day?" he dismisses your examination.

What will you say?

>"No you idiot, I'm trying to tell you we need to rest."

>"Fine, let's get moving."

>>"No you idiot, I'm trying to tell you we need to rest."
Get at least like what four hours? Just so your leg does not fail us next fight.
>"No you idiot, I'm trying to tell you we need to rest."
The day creatures seem less crazy than the night ones from what we've see and if we don't rest now It's gonna bite us in the ass hard later

>Take a second to sit down and relax.

Bradford stands up and begins to walk away, "No you idiot, I'm trying to tell you we need to rest." you explain as you chase after him.

"You need rest. If you want to sleep, drop your fucking head in the snow and freeze to death for all I care, I need to keep moving." He doesn't even look back to address you.

"The hell was that? I'm concerned for you dumbass, you're walking with a limp as we speak." you point out.

"And you'll be doing the same in a minute if you don't stop bothering me. Now shut the fuck up and get moving or fuck off." he starts to sounds angry, yet he still refuses to stop walking away.

This again? He acted like this last night, whenever he's not fighting or risking his life, it's like he loses all care anything and just mindless goes seeking the next thrill to risk his neck for.

"Now, I'm gonna say it one more fucking time. Try not to give me a retarded answer alright. Get moving, or sit on your ass and let me leave. You've got 5 seconds to answer before I just leave." He states.

What will you?

>"Hell no idiot, stop trying to kill yourself and let's just relax for a second."

>"Fine then, go ahead, I'll catch up to you"

>"Whatever man, your funeral, let's get moving."
>"Hell no idiot, stop trying to kill yourself and let's just relax for a second."
It's the most Derrick response plus we have up to 2 weeks in here he can take it a little slower to enjoy himself
>>"Fine then, go ahead, I'll catch up to you"
>I'm getting some sleep before the next night full of beasties comes, I'd hate to make it easy for em.
Rolled 2 (1d2)


1-Hell no
2-Fine then
"Fine then, go on ahead. I'll catch up to you in a second. I just need 30 minutes of rest to cool off my muscles anyway." You answer as you stop chasing after Bradford.

"Feh..."Bradford grunts in response and continues to limp in the into the distance.

You watch him for a while and wonder exactly what's going through that bastard's head. One moment he's a barrel of laughs and cocaine with a mouth that never stops flapping. The next he's an apathetic, mute who can barely string together a sentence before trailing off.

But you stop worrying after you see him disappear into the forest, heading back to the old road. Since the road is easy to follow, you can get about an hour of sleep before you need to get moving again.

Minimal as hell, but if you relax for too long, you feel like Bradford will just keep on walking ahead without you.

You look around the area, the place resembles a war-torn battlefield, with tree's and bodies filled with shotgun shells, scattered and mixed with the battered and burnt bodies you created out of many Banshees you killed last night.

The area reeks of iron and the lingering scent of gunpowder, which smells absolutely terrible, but that's a good thing. This scent will tell animals to stay the hell away from this area, so that means this is the best place to rest if you don't want to be attacked.

You look for a tree that hasn't been shot or cut and find a nice one with a low hanging branch that isn't completely covered in snow. You climb up and rest your back against the bark of the tree while stretching out your legs.

You close your eyes and find no trouble quickly falling asleep, after-all, the scent of death and gun-fire is a smell you are all too used to.
Finally caught up, I've got to say you've really improved as a QM as the run has gone on
>35 minutes later, 7:54 AM

"DAMNNNNNNNNNNNNN ITTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT!!!" A Curse rings out in the distance, the sound of it reverbing throughout the entire forest, awakening you, and probably everything else in the nearby vicinity from sleep.

You only know one voice that could be that loud. Looks like that dumbass has really screwed himself over if he's shouting that loudly. Did he get into a fight?

Well whatever it is, you better get moving now before he does something stupid again. You quickly jump from the tree branch and nearly stumble on your landing. A sign that you didn't even manage to get an hour of sleep.

You click your tongue and silently promise yourself that if he rejects your offer to just take a second and sleep again, you're going to make sure he goes to bed while he's not looking.

With that in mind, you try your best to focus and dash onto the old road and head down the path. You see Bradford's footsteps in the snow and get moving quickly towards his location.

>10 minutes later.

"SHIT, FUCK, SHIT, FUCK, SHIT, FUCK!!" A torrential stream of curses and shouting get louder and louder as you get closer to your ally's position.

You wonder for a second what kind of predicament he's in considering you don't hear any gun-fire or animal cries. What could be making him wail like that.

Upon reaching the source Bradford's cries, you understand. What you see is neither beast nor shotgun fire, but rather Bradford, hanging from a tree by his right leg.

You think for a moment that being hanged by the leg is no reason to scream so loudly, that's when you look down and realize that he's not being hung by the rope. But rather, he's leg hangs by a bear trap that digs deeply into his leg that is connected to a rope.
You cringe inwardly as you see the rusty claws burrowing through Bradford's white suit and deeper into his skin with every move he makes.

The device just sharp enough to stab through flesh, but also blunt enough that it continues to scarp and tear at his skin whenever he moves or swings slightly.

"FUCKKKKKK, DERRICK!! GET ME OUT OF THIS SHIT!!" Bradford loudly begs, trying his best to get your attention without shaking too much to cause a deeper cut.

You don't waste anytime climbing the tree and getting near the rope, your speed doubled from the fact that if he hangs around like that any longer, he might dig into an artery in his right leg.

As you climb to the branch the rope is hanging from, you notice a strange, old-looking device, comprised of a series of gears, and old but sturdy-looking rope with a block of iron hanging on the other side of the branch that likely acts as an anchor for the rope.

However, you ignore the device for now and look down at Bradford and speak, "Hey! You got a Knife on you right? Pass it to me." You demand.

Bradford doesn't waste a second reaching into his coat and pulling out that knife he skinned the Breater with earlier. You tightly grab the rope and begin to cut away at it, the shaking of your cutting causing Bradford to shift and grunt slightly from the pain.

But the pain has only just begun as you cut him from the tree only to have him land directly unto his back, the snow barely softening his landing. All the blood that rushed to his head prevents him from stopping his leg, which still has the bear trap attached, from landing hard on the ground.

"AHHHHHHHHHHHFUCKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!!!GODDAMNIT, FUCK!!!" He cries at the top of his lungs as he grabs at the trapped leg.

You quickly hop down from the tree and examine him.

>Roll 1d100+10 to appraise his wounds
Rolled 17 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

Rolled 93 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

Holy fuck this is like my 3rd roll over 90 I remember last thread where anything over a 60 was a good roll
Rolled 48 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

File: HAH.png (74 KB, 292x240)
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Please don't jinx it anon, this is the most success we've ever had in a thread. I don't want it to end anytime soon.

>Rolled 103
The bear trap is dug quite deeply into his flesh,
a deep hemorrhage has formed on his leg, but considering he's not dead yet, it must have missed the artery in his leg thankfully.

Not so thankfully is the condition of the bear trap, it's covered in rust and what looks like stains of old, dried up blood. This clearly isn't the first time this trap has caught someone and with each time it's been used, it only become deadlier. Dried blood and rust are just breeding grounds for deadly diseases like Tetanus and cholera.

So it's no wonder you waste no time rushing in and grabbing Bradford's shoulder and speaking, "Stop moving for a second. You're gonna have to calm down and listen to me here alright. Don't waste energy by speaking just nod for 'yes' and shake for 'no'. Nod if you understand." You explain.

Bradford promptly nods to your command, "Good, now first question, can you move your toes or feet?" you ask.

He shakes his head, "Shit, that means your circulation has been cut off, we can't waste time. I'm gonna need you to sit up and put your leg in front of you. Here I'll help." You put a hand to his back and lift him and place him against a tree.

He then pushes his knee out a little and presents the trap to you, "Okay, now I'm gonna push down on the trap's spring and make the trap open up a little. You'll have to pull your leg back as fast possible when I do, got it?" you ask.

He nods his head, "Okay, on the count of three. 1...2..3!" you push down on the spring with all your force, the push-back of the powerful mechanisms is strong, but not nearly as strong as you are.

With no trouble, you fully open the trap and allow Bradford to pull his leg out with ease, "Fuck! Damn it! Shit! It still fucking hurts! But thanks, you just saved my ass!" he states.

"Nah, you're still pretty screwed. There's still tons of rust, foreign blood and who know's what else in your wound now. You need to disinfect that thing." You explain.

"Shit! You're right, but fucking hell, the only thing I got on me is my gun and ammo! What the fuck I am going to do!?" He asks in a panic.

What will you say?

>"I got some medical supplies in my bag, shut up and let me fix you up."

>"Get up and walk you dunce. You fucked on your own, you deal with it on your own."

>"I'll fix you up, but only if you agree to listen to me when I tell to sleep."

>"I'll fix you up, but only if you agree to listen to me when I tell to sleep."
>If you die here we can't have our fight
This so hard
>>"I'll fix you up, but only if you agree to listen to me when I tell to sleep."

Last post for the night
"Don't worry dumbass. I've got enough meds to share in my bag here. I'll fix you up." you state.

"Really! Just what I'd expect from Derrick Fucking Holums! Gives out so many gifts that saint fucking Nick would be jealous! Now lay it on me!" he asks.

"Who said it was free?"You state causally.

"What!? Never mind! Forget what I said! Derrick Holums is a cheap-stake and an asshole! He enjoys giving people hope and happiness just so he can drag it out to the streets and curb-stomping it right in their faces!" Bradford corrects himself.

"What do ya want outta me!? Money!? Women!? I've got plenty of both, but you'll have to settle for sloppy seconds and low dividends!" He states.

"Man you are so full of shit it's spewing outta your mouth. I don't want any of that. I just want one thing. The next time I say go to sleep you better find a pillow and some sheets real quick, because you're closing those eyes the second I say so, got it?" you explain.

"The hell!? Really!? This shit again!? What is it with and sleep man!? Do you get nice wet dreams about that red-headed minx every-night or something!? Is that why you hate it when people wake you up!?" He asks

"Forget about that already! Look you don't have time to waste going back and forth with me here. Every second you leave that wound open to the air is another germ crawling in. You don't want drop dead or get sick before our fight do ya?" You state.

"Damn it, you had to bring up the fight! If you wanna threaten me that bad, you might as well grab a gun smack upside the head with it too! Don't worry, I've got plenty if you need one!" he states.

"Is that a yes or a no?" you ask.

"Errrrrrr....fine...But that fight better happen! I ain't gonna let all this shit go down and we don't duke it out after all this!" He exclaims.

"Sure thing man. Now grab the nearest piece of wood and stick it between your teeth. Make sure it's clean too." You state.

"Huh? Why do I have to do that?" he asks, slightly afraid.

You drop your bag and grab a pack of bandages and Rubbing alcohol. you lightly douse the gauze with the rubbing alcohol and hold it out,

"Cause I'm gonna need to apply pressure around the wound while I put some disinfectants on it. And let me warn you now, can't waste anytime being gentle on you. So bite a piece of wood, I don't want you attracting anything with your screams." You state with a sadistic smile on your face.

"...Anyone ever tell you're creepy as hell when you smile?" Bradford retorts.

And those were his final words before you found a surprisingly clean stick nearby and made him bite down on it.

(Continued tomorrow)
Thanks for running
Thanks for running
I'm glad that we did surprisingly well this thread. Hopefully we manage to improve our social link with Bradford and learn some more about him. He must have gone through some serious shit to have such a warped personality.

Thanks for running Rock.

(If we hadn't gone in the forest with Bradford, would he have ended up dead, or have had a higher chance to die?)

Bradford wouldn't die if you left him on his own. but he would have suffered some grievous injuries that would have led to him being removed from the exam.

Anyway, thread resumes in 30 minutes, I need some time to eat.
>A few minutes of muffled screaming and cursing later...

"There you go. Good as new!" you exclaim as you step away from Bradford give him space to stand up.

He grunts and pulls himself up slowly before speaking, "Great, now both my legs are fucking terrible! I'm gonna end up riding on wheels if this kinda shit keeps happening!" he states as he attempts to stand up straight and bare through the pain.

"That's what you get for walking away without even getting a wink of sleep. This place is death-trap, if you aren't well-rested and vigilant at all times, you're just asking to die out here." you state.

"I fucking know that! I was focusing! I was looking out for any crazy-ass beasts trying to jump me!" he counters.

"If you think beasts are the only threat out here you really are a complete dumbass. Did you even take a second to think that this place might have a few more dangers then roaming beasts? This used to be a merchant route, but got shut down due constant bandit attacks, if you stopped and waited for me, I could have told you that they're probably old, un-sprung traps all over the place." You explain.

"Why didn't you just tell me before I fucking left!?" he asks.

"I was tired and you kinda didn't seem to care what I had to tell you, so I figured you already knew."You explain.

"How the fuck was I supposed to know that there would random fucking bear-traps all over the damn place! And where the hell are all the fucking bandits that placed'em!? I'm gonna hang'em up for this!"He asks.

"Sorry, but you're a bit late on that, they're probably all dead." You state.

"What!? Did someone get the rope on them before I did!?" Bradford asks.

"No, you dunce. Didn't you see all the rust that covering that Bear-trap? This route was built back in the early 1900's, any bandits that once hunted on these roads are either somewhere in their 80's to 90's or hanging around in some run-down gallows." You state.

"Well shit, I'm sorry, I was too busy being caught in the damn thing to notice that. Sucks that I can't kill the bastards, but no skin off my back." He states.

"Yeah, cause they peeled it off your legs." you counter.

"Boy you just love being a smart-ass don't you? How about we get moving now? We wait any long and you might run out of witty comebacks." He dryly retorts.

What do you say?

>"Sure, let's get moving."

>"Actually, I was hoping I could talk to you for a sec."
>>"Sure, let's get moving."
>"Actually, I was hoping I could talk to you for a sec."
Furthering the social link
>>"Actually, I was hoping I could talk to you for a sec."

>How about we talk?

"Yeah, but first, I need to talk to you for a bit." you state.

"Huh? Fine, but can't we walk and talk?" Bradford asks.

"You just got caught in a bear-trap and you want to risk distracting yourself by walking and talking down this road?" You question in return.

"Fuck, you got a point. Alright then, let's just make it quick. What do you wanna know?" he asks.

What will you ask?

>What's the condition of your weapon?

>How good are you in a fight?

>Got any special Talents?

>Can you tell me a little about yourself?

>Any interesting personality quirks?

[Pick any 2 questions]
>>What's the condition of your weapon?
>Can you tell me a little about yourself?
Like why you are so stuborn about not sleeping or resting?

"How's your gun doing? It looked like it was nearly broken a little bit ago." You ask.

"What? You mean Maire-Anna? Don't worry about her, she may look a little roughed up, but she's come back from way worse then this." He explains.

"Maire-Anna? You named your gun?" you ask.

"Yeah. What? You got a fucking problem with that or something?" he asks.

"Nah, I just didn't think you were the kinda guy who would bother slapping a name on a gun. Especially a fancy name like Maire-Anna. I'd expect you to give it a more crazy name like Hell-raiser or something stupid like Booty Blaster ." You state.

"Well that just means I'm not as shallow as you think I am. But I gotta say Booty-Blaster sounds like a great name. May use that one day." He says with a slight smile.

"Well then, any reason why you chose that name then?" You ask.

His smile quickly fades away from your question and for a second, you can swear you see Bradford's eyes give you that empty look again before he answers you, "...None in particular,I just really liked the name."

"Okay then. What about ammo?" you ask.

He opens up his coat to show you 4 bandoleers that hang inside his coat, most of which are empty barring the last row, "I've got about 18 shells left. Not much, but with how much ass we kicked last night, I think I saved quite a bit." He states.

"Great. So how are you feeling?" you ask.

"Huh? Me? You know how I'm feeling. I'm a few bear-traps away from needing a peg-leg, that's how I'm doing." Bradford complains.

"No, not physically. I mean mentally. You haven't slept for over 12 hours now and yet you seem to want to keep walking without ever sitting back to rest. Why do you hate sleeping so much anyway?" you ask.

"It's not that I hate sleeping. I just hate wasting time. Every second I sleep, is another opportunity I miss to get in on some crazy shit. Wouldn't it bother you if you missed something awesome because you wasted time sitting around?" he questions in return.

"Time spent healing your body and mind ain't wasted, it's needed. You keep wearing down your body like this and you're gonna drop dead." You state.

"You're right. But to me, sitting around and doing nothing is the same as being dead anyway. So what does it matter." He retorts.

"Huh? what does that mean?" you question.

"The fuck do you think it means? Look man, can we just change the subject? If you got anymore question, make'em short and simple, we're wasting daylight." He states

There he goes again, dodging any serious questions about himself. What is trying so hard to hide? Why does he get so defensive when hiding it? Maybe if you pry a little, you can get something out of him.

What will you do?

>Ask him to explain what he means.

>Just drop it and ask some other questions.
>if you cannot deal with your past, you have no business being a hunter anyways.
Seems a little brutal. I like it. We should deal with this past thing soon so that it doesn't get in the way later even if we need to be a little blunt. Plus this episode is called "Dark pasts X Bright futures" so I'd like to get to see his backstory

That's a dangerous question you're posing anon. I like it.

But I'm gonna need a roll if you're going to pull that off.

>Roll 1d100
Rolled 2 (1d100)

Rolled 16 (1d100)

Oh god
Rolled 86 (1d100)

Apparently capitals won't work
Rolled 24 (1d100)

I somehow forgot to roll

Oh me, oh my. I was worried that our good fortune ended for a second there.

But it seems the dice gods smile in our direction even now.

>Rolled 84

>Time to get some answers.
I wonder if opening up about our past would help? We haven't had it as bad as him but with enough tact I think it would work
This is a good idea we should totally do it if he's reluctant and keeps trying to avoid the issue
Also we should go drinking with him when we have the chance, in my experience being sloshed with a friend really helps you talk through your issues
Mark my words anon we're gonna get drunk off are ass with AT LEAST half of the people who pass the exam when all this shit is over. Nubes will be happy with all the customers we bring him
What's the chance that someone from our past knows nen? We could learn nen with Bradford as our fellow disciple from some guy back in yorknew
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"Okay, I've had enough of this shit." You suddenly state.

"Huh?" Bradford blurts out.

"I'm just gonna say this now. If you think you become Hunter when you can't even deal with your past, you better turn the fuck back and call Sheldon and Ami for a pick-up. Cause you're not gonna make it like this." You declare.

Bradford's blank eyes are quickly replaced with a heavy glare, "The fuck was that? You're gonna have to repeat that. I think my hearing might've gotten fucked-up when I fell down."He says with anger building up in his voice.

"Your hearing fine, it's your attitude that's fucked-up. I'm telling you it's time to stop running away from your past, you're gonna have to man the fuck-up and face it if you want a chance at passing this exam." You state.

Bradford looks at you with deep contempt for a moment before smirking and walking closer to you, "Okay, now I know my hearing's fucked. I could have sworn you said some really dumb shit to my face, but there's no way right? You aren't that fucking stupid! right!?" He barks at you.

"I ain't repeating myself, either you face the facts or walk away." you state.

Bradford backs away a little and speaks in a surprisingly calm voice , "Oh? That so? 'Kay then."

He promptly raises his shotgun, pushing the barrel into your face, "Guess you just wanna die then? Can't see why you'd go suicidal all of a sudden, but I'm happy to help." He says nonchalantly.

You feel an acute sense of fear strike you as see the barrel of the gun that killed almost 300 living beings last night. But you refuse to back down on this, if you don't confront him now. You're sure to regret it later.

You step forward, getting even closer to the gun, a move that causes Bradford to step back slightly, you speak, "Well then, are you gonna shoot? Cause I'm still waiting on an answer here. Are you gonna keep running away? Or are you gonna man-up?" you ask.

Your words cause visible hesitation in Bradford's eyes, "W-Who the fuck do you think you're screwing with here!? You think I don't have the balls to kill you!? I'll splatter your ass on the nearest tree! Don't fuck with me!" He shouts at you.

You step forward once more, "Then do it. Do it and run away like you want. Let's see if you think you can survive this Exam by just running away the whole time. You'll probably make it real far before you drop dead from exhaustion."

I think for the sake of everyone's sanity (especially Derrick's) it would be best if they did they're own thing. They could be total bros but those too tend to get into arguments A LOT. It's only been a day and one guy just pointed a gun in the others face
Bradford steps back again, and once again you step forward. This process repeats until Bradford's back stops against the tree he was hanging from a moment ago.

"What the fuck is wrong with you!? Why the fuck do you give two shits about what I do!?" Bradford asks.

"I care because I know you're gonna die if you don't face up to this shit now! You're being held down by your past! If you can't even fight the past, how the fuck do you expect to fight anything in the future!" you exclaim.

"You bastard! What the fuck do you know about me!? Who the fuck do you think you are!?" he asks.

"I'm someone who can see the road you're going down and the cliff at the end of it! You run from your problems and they're sure to come bite you in your ass! Now answer me! Will you face up or back down!?" you exclaim.

"You can only keep spewing shit for so long! I'll seriously shoot you bastard!" he threatens.

A vein pops up on your forehead, your fear being quickly replaced by rage. You take one final step forward and grab the gun by the barrel and drive it against your head, "THEN FUCKING DO IT ALREADY! MAYBE WHEN YOU KILL ME, YOU'LL SEE THAT IF YOU KEEP HOLDING YOURSELF BACK, YOU'LL BE THE ONE THAT DIES NEXT!" You shout.

You can feel Bradford's hand shaking from the other side of the rifle, the nervousness has spread across his entire body. For a brief moment, you see Bradford's finger press down against the trigger.

But you don't flinch, your rage and concern keeps you steady as you glare with resolve right into his eyes. Bradford attempts to glare back, but quickly falters under your stern stare.

And after a moment, he completely lets go of the trigger and pulls his gun back to his side. You back away as he turns around and press his arm and face into the bark of the tree.

You take a moment to let your rising emotions fall and listen to Bradford speak, "...You're fucking crazy. You're beyond insane." He says.

"I don't want to hear that from you. Especially after you pointed a gun at me for just asking a question." you state.

"Just asking a question, huh? Well I've been asking myself that same question for all my fucking life. So it kinda pissed me off to hear it from someone else." He states.

"If you've been asking yourself for years, have you gotten an answer?" You ask.

Bradford slowly looks back at you, his eyes so devoid of any light and hope that you could've sworn you were staring into an bottomless abyss, He speaks slowly, "...Fuck no." he answers before slowing sitting down on the ground.


"I've been running after the answer for so long, that I lost sight of what I was running after and ended up just running." He admits.

You look upon him, his usually smiling face feels hard to remember as you stare at his forlorn expression. You stand silently and listen to him speak.

"...Do you know how old I am? I'll be turning 35 as of this year. They've been 35 long years of bullshit and shame." He states.

"..." You listen on.

"I was a boxer before coming here. That was back when I was around 20. East side doesn't have many schools where you can get proper education without a shit-ton of cash and a gun to keep yourself safe on the way home. So of course my parents could never afford to send me there. Don't blame'em though, My father was a gambling addict with a drug problem, my Mom was a sweet lady, but a prostitute. Spent most of her days sucking dick on the side of the road to pay off bills and buy food, the rest of the money went to feeding my dad's dice problem." He begins.

"It wasn't a nice life, but it wasn't a shit one either. My Mom was a whore, but she cared for me with all her heart, My dad was a fucking druggie, but he always spent his earnings on getting me toys. They were broken people, but they were my broken people. We lived together under a shitty run-down shack for 15 years." Bradford states, a small smile breaking on his face.

"Too bad it never lasted though. When I hit 16, I heard news from one of the boys in my neighborhood that her pimp plugged her in an alley for not bringing in enough. My dad couldn't handle the news, so he just shot up so hard one night that he went to bed and never woke up again." He continues.

"...Is that what's holding you back?" you finally interject.

"No, really sucks what happened to them. But that's just life down by my side. But even so, I was so pissed at what happened to them, but I didn't have the money to get a gun to kill the bastard that killed my Mom. So I put that hate to good use and trained, I built muscle, practiced whenever I wasn't working part-time jobs to stay alive. And I picked fights with whatever motherfucker was looking to get his teeth kicked in. Soon enough, I'd kicked enough ass to get some respect, respect got me peace, people saw me, they look the other way out of fear. I could walk the streets and feel safe." He explains.

"That wasn't the only thing it got me either. Soon enough, the boxing gym I was practicing at pulled in a promoter who heard about how much of a badass I am. He told me that to come out and work my kick-ass magic in the ring if I wanted to make real money. I won some matches, and soon, I was fucking rolling in it. I got out of that shack and got a proper fucking house. I stopped working part-time and told my shitty bosses to fuck off until they could make as much as I could. I'd stop being afraid and angry, and soon enough, I felt happy." He states.
"It was from then I learned something important. Don't listen to those pussies that say violence can't solve anything. Fighting can get you money, it can get you respect, it can make you safe and most importantly, it can make you happy." he states.

"..." you don't respond.

"I had enough money to be happy. But it still felt like something was missing. My life was all I could ever want it to be. Money, fame and women. I won every match I ever fought in and I never struggled to win. But that was just the problem, My life lost all excitement. Nothing was a challenge anymore, I needed to feel alive, to fight someone who would give me a real ass-kicking, go somewhere I could struggle and battle against people in a life or death battle. Something I knew I would never get from within the safety of the ring." He explains

"That's when I thought to myself, from a young age I'd always known of a place that would give me just that, An underground fight club." he states.

"They were all over my old neighborhood. Mom and dad always said never get near'em, they're run by the mafia and take young kids and train them up to force them to fight for the entertainment of rich assholes. Well I was 24 then, So I thought to myself 'I ain't a kid anymore and I'm already trained up, so what would happen if i just walked in on my own?'." He recalls.

"So I tested out my theory, and turns out I was right on the money. The people running the place knew who I was and welcomed me with open arms. It didn't even take an hour to arrange a fight with one of their big boys and by god it was one of the best fights I'd ever had " He says with widening eyes, excitement building from recalling the fight.

"Broken knuckles and flying teeth, chokeholds and full-body slams. And best of all, no ref to tell me to stop when I wanted to really let loose on a bastard! It was the greatest of feelings to be free! To be alive again!" He exclaims with
renewed vigor.

However that vigor quickly fades as he recalls more and more, "I didn't even hesitate to agree with those mafia shitbags, I was fighting an underground match every Sunday right after my Saturday show. Once again my life felt complete." He states.

"But it didn't last, soon enough, I became too strong for any of those loser down in the underground ring to beat. Even fighting to the death became no challenge after awhile, I felt that same empty feeling again, but this time I didn't know how the fuck to fix it." He states.

"And that when it happened, or maybe, that's when she happened." he states.

"...She?" you question.
"The greatest thing that ever happened to my life, met in a high-class bar one night. Brown, silky hair that touched her shoulders, a face so gorgeous most men would get a heart-attack staring too long. And holy shit was she a class-act. I never knew it could be so fun having a conversation with random chick in a bar," He explains

"I spent the whole night learning about her life and that she worked at the bar as a singer. I knew I would never probably never see her again if I left that night, so I told her to come back with me and I would give her a way better life than working in some bar would give her, and to my surprise, she accepted." He explains.

"She followed some stranger in a bar home?" You ask.

"Well, I wasn't just some stranger, turns out, in addition to being a fancy lady, she was a huge boxing fan to boot. You can almost say it's fate we met that night." Bradford explains.

"Really? Where's she now?" you ask.

"You see, that's just the thing. It almost felt like fate. Because to cut a long story short, she's dead." He states.

You feel your eyes widen for a moment before speaking,"What was her name?" you ask.

Bradford looks up to the sky and speaks, "Maire. Maire Anna."He says slowly, sadness hanging off every letter.

"What happened to her?" you ask.

"I failed her and ran away. Just like I always do." He states sadly.

Bradford looks off into the distance and speaks, "After we met, It took no time at for us to hit it off and soon enough get hitched. Never Thought I would hear church bells for anything other than funerals, but there I was, standing around in dressed in white with a beautiful lady standing by my side."

"Didn't take long for me to put a bun in an oven that hot. So by the age of 28, I was at the peak of my life, I finally found something in life other than fighting that could bring a man happiness. That's why I decided it was time to turn over a new leaf, abandon underground fights and just do regular boxing to make money for my new family." He explains.

"But shit's never easy you see. I went and told those mafia fuckers that I was leaving and never coming back and they told me they were fine with that, as long as I went in for one more fight. Was skeptical, but accepted, I was desperate for anyway out of that dirty business so I could start my new life. I learned later that I made two mistakes with that choice." He states.

"The first mistake was trusting the mafia to not screw me over like the slimy fuckers they are. The night of the fight, everything seems normal till the guy I'm fighting against pulls out a fucking shotgun in the middle of the match. Good thing I was too desperate to live to let some unfair bullshit kill me then and there. But that's when I realized my second mistake." he explains.

"That was trusting myself to be good enough to solve everything with desperation."
"I took that motherfucker down and escaped that place with the shotgun he was carrying. Spent no time rushing home to tell the Missus that it was time to pack up and leave town for a while. But when I got home, all that was waiting for me was silence and a letter in the living room that told me to pack up at least 3 billion Jenny if I ever wanted to see my wife again."

"3 billion? damn." you can't help but speaking up hearing that ridiculous amount said aloud.

"I said I was making real bank off those fights didn't I? 3 billion was nothing, a few title matches I could make that back easy. So I had no trouble packing up the money they wanted and heading to the warehouse they sent me to." he explains.

"Place was dusty, old and abandoned. It was some seaside wharf that used to deliver packages in barrels and huge boxes. I walked right in and saw the bastards everywhere in the place, all armed to the teeth with rifles and shotguns. They lined up some barrels in front of me and told me my wife was in one of them." He explains.

"Guy running the show told me that she put up quite the fight, but went down after a good smack to the head. When i head that I was pissed, but compliant, I handed the bastard the the money and told him that if I ever saw him and his flunkies again, I would kill every last one of them." Bradford states with a glare.

"That's when that shitbag in sunglasses just came up to me smirked at me, told me 'Don't worry, you won't be seeing us ever again. We left you a package for your trouble in the barrel your wife's in.' " Bradford Paraphrases.

"Some shitbag in Sunglasses?" you question.

"Tall bastard with black sunglasses and a black hat that darkened most of his face, but I could tell he had a weird-looking scar on his right cheek. He ran the mafia in the area, including the guys running that fight club." Bradford explains

"Anyway, I should've realized what those smiles mean't earlier, maybe I could have saved her and my kid if I wasn't such a desperate dumbass. They rolled the barrel she was in over to me before driving off as far as possible before I tried to rip open the barrel. And saw her drop out." he explains.

"At first, I was happy to see her again, then I felt her body and realized that I'd been played. She was cold, way too cold to be alive, that's when I turned her around and saw the bloody stab wounds all over her face and chest." Bradford says with a truly horrified face.
"I saw the gash in her neck and knew that she was never alive to begin with, they killed her first and used her body to pull me back before I skipped town. As if that wasn't bad enough, the bastards craved the some words into her chest to really seal the deal."

"holy hell...what did they say?" you ask in a disturbed tone.

" 'You're looking the wrong way, the real package is to your left.' It said. And when I looked over, I saw a bunch of barrels with oil small lines of oils leading to them. Didn't take me long to figure out what they were. Some trap activated soon after I began running and those barrels lit up like fireworks and before I knew it, the whole place was as bright as a
flaming Christmas tree."

"I tried to carrying my wife's cold body out of that burning hell but failed when I tripped like an idiot and let her land in one of the growing fires. I could do nothing but run away as I watched my reason to live literally go up in flames."

"...And you've been running ever since? What happened to the gangsters who killed your wife?"

"That's just the thing, I don't know where they are. I've been looking for them ever since that day, but thought it was impossible without the help of a major organization, tracking down a member of the mafia community isn't exactly easy when they have subsidiaries on every corner of the world willing to cover up their tracks."

"And that's why you want to become a hunter?" you presume.

"Damn right. With the Hunter Organization's resources, I can find those bastards myself and kill them all for what they've done to me. I won't be able to sleep or rest until I can see that bastard in the sunglasses's head on a spike." he states with deep contempt in his voice.

"I Thought you wanted the money and power you get as a Hunter? That's what you told me on the train." you ask.

"I want that too, but I could get into fighting tournaments if I just wanted money and fame. To me, being a hunter is the first step in finally taking my life back. Once I become Hunter, I can finally stop running away. That's really why I'm willing to go this far, that's why I hate wasting time resting." He finishes.
I can physically feel my fingers aching after posting that much backstory, I hoped you guys liked it. Cause We'll have to continue tomorrow, where they'll be much less words, much more action.

For now goodnight.
Great session I'm glad we finally got to see Brad's backstory. As always thanks for running
Finally home, Thread will resume in 30 minutes, getting a quick bite to eat.
Damn it all. Some business came up. I'm gonna have to hold the thread off for 2 hours. Seriously sorry guys.
It's ok let those fingers heal because I want a backstory for each individual Banshee

Even I couldn't handle that much exposition. Either way, Thread resuming.
".........." You and Bradford enter a state of silence to absorb all the information that was just put out.

Well, you wanted answers and you got them. You were expecting dark, but maybe not that dark. Now you know why he's so quick to jump into danger, he doesn't care about bodily injury at all because he doesn't care about himself at all.

It also explains his addiction to fighting and excitement, it's only when he's risking his life or fighting someone that he can empty his mind of the past and live in the moment.

You can't help but feel a mix of pity and fear from hearing Bradford's story and seeing what he's become from it. He's almost like a husk, no, it be more accurate to call him a shadow.

A shadow of a person who failed to find a reason to live and became empty for it. That's saddening, but the horrifying part is that, you can understand him. You understand what he's going through all too well, because you experienced something similar yourself. And if you weren't as lucky, you might have ended up just like him.

"Well?" Bradford suddenly says.

"You made me spill my fucking guts all over the place? You think a useless fucker like me can change? Do you think there's any future for me?" Bradford suddenly asks.

"Huh?" you sound out.

"You said the path I'm walking would end at a cliff. Thing is, I already fucking know that. I want revenge, but what happens after that? I have nothing left, no woman will ever replace Marie and no amount of money and bitches will fill the empty space she left behind. What the fuck can I do?" he asks.

What will you say?

>You can find a new reason to live, I'll help you.

>You don't need a reason to live, just a purpose behind living.

>Why don't you think about that after you kill those murderers?

>>You don't need a reason to live, just a purpose behind living.

>If you die, If you fail, You let those assholes her killed her get off scot free. Give the exam your all, but fucking make sure you WIN it. Don't charge off half cocked and let them win. You've spent years building up to this, don't piss it away running from your memories.
Pretty much what I was thinking so this

>Find a purpose

File: Telfour Bradford10.jpg (67 KB, 500x500)
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"You don't need a reason to live, just a purpose behind living." You state.

"Huh? Isn't that the same thing?" he asks.

"No. One's given to you, whether you want it or not, the other is something you choose for yourself." You explain.

"If there's anything I've learned about people during my life, it's that they tend to overthink things. They over think things, and make them weigh them down. Then they over think the things weighing them down, until they become so heavy, they can't carry them anymore." You explain.

"...."Bradford sit's quietly and listens to you.

"You don't need to search for a reason to live, just give yourself one. And don't just stop at one either. Right now, you're purpose behind living is becoming a Hunter and hunting down those assholes who did your wife in. After that? Just make up a new one." you suggest.

"It doesn't have to be complex one, as long as it makes you feel complete. It could be fighting strong people, protecting weak people, going on some random adventure, hell, just drinking with some friends every Friday night could be your purpose behind living." You continue.

"Is it really that simple?" he asks.

"Life is only as complex as you make it out to be. So stop thinking life is deeper than it really is and things will be much easier for you." you state.

"But even so, what if there's nothing left for me to enjoy? What if nothing I try to do makes me feel happy? Maybe it would be better to just drop de-"

"There you overthinking things and running away again. You're gonna have to knock that habit if you want to find what you really wanna do in life." You explain as you walk closer to the sitting man.

You look down on him with a smile and speak, "And If you're really lost and afraid, we can go searching together. Let's start by getting you drunk at a great bar I know. Probably won't be nearly as classy as the places you're used too, but I think you'll love it anyway." You state as you stick your hand out to him.

He stares absently at it for a moment, but before you know it, you see a smile appear on his face as well. One much warmer and kinder than any he's ever shown you before.

He grasps your hand tightly and speaks, "I'm gonna hold you to that fucker! They better serve good whisky at least! I won't back down on that!" he exclaims.

"I'll tell the cheap-ass that runs the bar to put it in stock." you tell him.

"Alright then! It's a fucking promise! Let's pull out of this shit alive and drink like's there's no tomorrow ya blonde bastard!" He exclaims with clear happiness in his voice.
Derrick is truly best boy
>Relationship Established: Telfour Bradford, The man in white.

"...You're gonna have to stop calling me that if you really want me to give you a drink." you say with slight anger leaking into your voice.

"Yeah, Yeah. No idea why you're so hung up on the blonde hair anyway! What's the deal with that!?" he asks.

"The deal with it is that I hate that people think my only notable trait is that fact that I'm blonde!" You exclaim.

"What?" he asks.

"Ever since I was kid. the only thing people would call me is 'Blondie' or "Blonde boy' or 'that Blonde kid'! Everywhere I went, Blonde this, Blonde that! there's gotta be something more noteworthy about myself than the fact that I have blonde fucking hair right!?" You cry out.

"Woah man! Calm down a little!" he asks.

"I'll calm down when everyone and their fucking grandma's stop looking at me like I have a piss-colored mop on my head! I tried everything to make them notice it less!" You state as you put fingers up to count off.

"I wore stupid hats! Put on colorful scarfs! Starting wearing sunglasses indoors like a douche-bag! Even then! People still said shit like, "Look at the Blonde guy in glasses' or 'look at the Blonde guy with a top hat'!" you explain.

"Well shit man! It's just really fucking distinct alright! Can't help but see it whenever I look at you! You don't need to get a complex over it!" he counters.

"You're probably right. But I just can't help but get pissed whenever I hear someone call me Blonde!" You state.

"Then fucking dye it or something if it bothers you so much!" he suggests.

"Oh hell no, the whole point is that I want people to see something other than the blonde hair. One day, I hope that people will remove blonde from any of my descriptions, they'll say things 'look at that cool guy in sunglasses',
or 'Check out that badass in the scarf'." You explain

"...Man, you can be a real attention whore sometimes you know that?" he points out.

"Shut it dunce. You can call me an attention whore when you stop shouting so everyone can hear you." you counter.

"I need everyone to hear me so they know I have nothing to hide! You shut up! You blonde asshole!" He insults.

"The hell was that-"

Your conversation is interrupted by the intense sound of the rushing winds blowing against the both of you.

The freezing air is so powerful that it breaks through the heating shield of your temperature regulator and causes goosebumps to blossom across your skin.

You Bradford and look up to notice that the sky has darkened significantly, clouds overtaking the once blue, clear skies.

"When the hell did those get there?"Bradford questions.

"Must have happened while we were talking." you answer.

"Well shit! Looks like there's a storm coming! Could've sworn we were just breaking daylight a minute ago!" he states.

"That's the thing with mountains. Sporadic storms are more common the higher you go. One second it's as sunny as can be, the next is the place will be a snowstorm zone." You explain.

"Well how the hell can you tell when a snowstorms coming!?" he asks.

"The wind. When things are calm, the air's still, when a storm's coming, there will be an extreme increase in wind force. from that last gust, I think we have a few hours before the storm breaks though." you answer.

"Well, we better get moving before this turns into snowstorm city then! Come on!" He exclaims as he begins to run off.

You quickly grab him by the collar and pull him back, "Have you forgotten what happened just a few minutes ago you dunce? There are probably traps all over the rest of this road, we can't rush along. Unless you like being strung up like a tree ornament?" You ask.

"Damn you're right. Fine then? How are we gonna handle these traps then?" he asks.

What will you do?

>Let's take things step by step, we have time to check every trap before the storm comes.

>Let's move quickly, but be extra vigilant for any traps.

>Let's take to the trees and avoid the ground as much as possible.
>>Let's take to the trees and avoid the ground as much as possible.
>Let's move quickly, but be extra vigilant for any traps.
>Let's take to the trees and avoid the ground as much as possible.
Can we combine them and use the trees but still stay vigilant the trees seem too obvious not to be trapped.

>Taking to the trees once more.

"Hey Bradford, how good are you at climbing trees?" you ask.

"Huh? Well, I'm no acrobat, but I could scale my way the side of a building fine. Climbing trees can't be all that different." He answers.

"Good. Next question. How often did you play, the floor is lava as a kid?" you ask.

"Not too much, I was too busy playing Dodge the bullet as kid to do that." He answers

"Dodge the bullet?"

"It was a neighborhood game some kid came up with, one guy would pretend to shoot everyone while they tried to dodge his bullets." He answers

"That sounds fucked up." you state

" Oh it was. But as fucked as it was, it was just as fun!" he states.

"...You know what. Just start climbing trees. We can avoid most of the traps if we stay above the ground." You state.

"Oh! Good idea! But where are we going if we ain't gonna take the road?" He asks.

You pull out the map that's been folded in your pocket and speak, "Map says there's a small cave 3 miles out from where we are. We're going to take shelter in that until the storm passes then we'll be back on track." you answer.

" 3 miles? That's a fucking far distance to spend doing nothing but hopping trees." He points out.

"Then make sure you don't trip while your jumping. Even if there's snow at the bottom, there could be rocks below it which we'll break your bones. Also, be on the lookout for any tree traps." You explain.

"There might be traps in the fucking trees?" He asks.

"Bandits were crafty bastards back in the day, might have something put up there to catch the merchants off-guard. It's a low chance, but a possibility, so just be on the lookout." You state.

"Got it, let's get moving then!" Bradford exclaims as he rushes over to the nearest tree.

Okay, getting late where I am now. Sorry for the insane amount of interruptions today anons. We should be able to end this thread off tomorrow.

But for now Goodnight.
Keep up the good work Rock.

I'm glad we've taken some steps towards fixing Bradford's issues.
Terrible news anons. I'm gonna have to end the thread here for now. I've got a load of work and school projects to handle and I won't be able to continue until next week Wednesday.

This thread will be going in archive soon, so if you have any questions, I'll answer before ending it off.
That's sad to hear but nothing you can do so see you in a week. But now that the thread is over I have a question for the other anons. What type of hunter do you want Derrick to be? I think a crime hunter would be really neat putting that intelligence bonus to work, solving cool mysteries, maybe fighting criminals, and because Rea seems to be some kind of detective it might be a lead to finding her if we don't after the exam (which we probably won't). Both that or a blacklist hunter would also be pretty cool considering Derrick told Genesis he wanted to be a hunter for justice
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