>>40860632
>>Take a nap? (Interlude)

Rolled 3 (1d3)

>>40860679
Seems you're gonna be dreaming. Roling, then writing.

>>40860632

Your name is William. You’re currently twelve years old, and you’re returning to the Compound after a particularly tiring mission. Thankfully, you aren't throwing up at dead bodies anymore. Killing hasn’t fazed you for quite some time, either. Heaving your lunch into a toilet was not fun., by any means.

It’s dark out. That’s normal. You aren’t the fastest in your little squad, not by a long shot.
You look up. It’s cloudy out tonight, too- you can’t see the stars. What a shame- you like watching them, especially with your Bro.

You hope there are extra popsicles in the fridge. You could use some sugar in your bloodstream right now.

A breeze manages to find its way into your cloak, and you shudder. Heavens, it’s cold. Your birthday passed only a week ago, but it certainly felt a lot warmer then. You shrug your cloak closer. Despite your efforts, another cold breeze finds its way through. You shiver again.

On second thought, you might skip on the popsicles.

Fighting your way through the breeze, you continue walking. The forest around you doesn’t make a sound; for that matter, neither do you. You smile nostalgically at the thought of Sin’s ‘lessons.’ She might be a little cold at times, but she’s a damn good teacher when it comes to the art of going unheard.

The night is peaceful, calm, quiet.

>Roll 3d10, DC 5, major 7.

Rolled 6, 10, 6 = 22 (3d10)

>>40861296
Success! Writing.

>>40861232
Thwunk.
You leap backwards, your saber materializing in an instant. You immediately send out a pulse of mana to detect any nearby aura signatures.

There. To your left, in the tree. Ducking under another arrow, you gather up the ambient mana around you, firing off a small volley of arrows of your own. Who needs bows, anyway?

You’re unable to get a good look at your assailant before they decide to cheese it. You dash after them in pursuit.

You run, Reinforcing your legs with mana. Whoever you’re pursuing is fast, you think. Fast as Sin is, for sure. You don’t know how long you can keep this up.

Thankfully, it seems that your assailant doesn’t have much endurance, either. They strafe to the left, drawing their bow and palming three arrows in a fluid motion. They fire all three arrows in quick succession, stalling your advance.

You take a decent glimpse at them. Whoever they are, they’re wearing a black, painted mask, likely made of porcelain. The rest of their body is covered in a flowing dark grey cloak, similar to your own. You’re able to make out their body shape in the distance; tall, lithe. Defenitely older than you, probably about your Bro’s age.

As you fling yourself out of the way of the arrows, your eyes widen at the sight of the projectiles curving mid-path, changing direction multiple times even as you leap over and under branches through the trees.

>>40861804

Another three twangs sound out across the forest, and three more arrows fly out at you. Thinking quickly, you jump upwards at the last second. All six arrows slam into each other and fall to the ground.

Flicking your gaze across the clearing, your opponent stands ramrod straight, rifling through their cloak, probably for more arrows to fire. Their breathing is short and ragged. Seems like they have even less endurance than you do, which is saying something.

You snort in amusement. Hey, if they want a ranged battle, they’ll get one, you think. Bringing your palms up to the air, you clench your fists, and a swarm of arrows materialize in the air around you. Sweeping your arms forward, you fire them forwards.

“!” The cloaked figure gasps in surprise as one of your projectiles find their mark. They probably didn’t expect you to be able to put up this much of a fight, considering your apparent age and height.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t seem that is enough to put them down. Your opponent manages to catch their breath and runs back into the woods.

>Pursue them. (Roll 3d10, DC 5)
>Get back to the Compound to report.

Rolled 6, 1, 7 = 14 (3d10)

>>40861854
>>Pursue them. (Roll 3d10, DC 5)

>>40861970
Success. Writing.

>>40861854
You frown, annoyed. You hate it when your targets try to get away- running after them is a hassle, and unless you focus for a few seconds, your mana arrows aren’t exactly the most long-ranged projectiles.

You leap through the trees in pursuit, easily picking out your quarry amongst the shrubs and greenery. You flex your fingers, feeling threads of mana fold together…
Suddenly, your senses scream out at you, and you back flip from your branch back onto the ground on reflex.

Just in time too, you think grimly as the ground before you suddenly sinks down, dirt and mud shifting into sand as a pattern of shifting symbols spreads across the ground. A quicksand trap, almost perfectly hidden in the darkness and shrubbery.

You look back up, spying your opponent as they palm another trio of arrows, their bow held in their other hand.

You don’t give them the chance to fire before you flick your fingers forward, arrows of mana sprouting from your hand. Your head begins to pound painfully, but you ignore it, for now.
The cloaked figure falls to the ground as your mana arrows find their mark. You walk over, a mana lance ready in one hand and your saber in the other.

Kneeling down, you shift the lance into the form of a rope, and lash out at them, the tight rope of mana binding their body. It should hold for as long as you’re within close distance. In one swift motion, you tear off your captive’s mask and hood.

Sitting there is a young woman, about as old as Sin or your Bro. Her breaths are short and pained. Her eyes are as wide as dinner plates. Good. She’s afraid, so she’ll probably answer your questions.

>”Name, now.”
>”For whom are you working for?”
>”Where did you find that uniform?”
>Something else?

>>40862367
>>”Where did you find that uniform?”

>>40862441
Seems you're asking about the uniform. Writing.

>>40862367
>”Where did you find that uniform?”
Fuark didn't see it was up

>>40862367
>”Where did you find that uniform?”

>>40862367
You figure you may as well ask about her uniform. You’d recognize it anywhere, and that’s the problem: she’s wearing one of the uniforms of the Faceless.

You see the Faceless everywhere in the Compound. They’re silent, wear masks all the time to conceal their identity, and whenever they aren’t hanging around the Compound doing whatever it is they do, they’re almost always out on missions. Granted, you’re fairly certain that they’re given the less dangerous ones.

The fact that she’s wearing a Faceless uniform means she must have broken into the Compound somehow. You never see a Faceless uniform anywhere except when worn.

“Where did you get that uniform?” You demand.
“I-I, ah-“ she stammers. You growl, and promptly slap her across the face. There’s no point in treating an intruder all too well out here, and it could work in your favor.

“I-it’s mine!” She squeaks out. “I-I’ve owned it ever since I c-came here…”

Your blood runs cold. “You’re a Faceless?” You ask, furrowing your brow. She nods.

“Don’t lie.” You hiss, another arrow forming in your palm.

“I-I’m not lying! I-I was told t-to eliminate any ‘stragglers’ and-“

“What do you mean by stragglers?” You cut her off.

She swallows. Sweat pours down her brow and she titters about nervously, struggling against your mana bindings. “I would highly suggest not doing that,” you say, ”because, in my experience, mana bindings tend to get more restrictive if you struggle, not less.” She stops squirming at that.

“M-my squad and I… W-we were ordered t-to…” she whispers, guilt and fear lacing her words.

“Yes?”

She swallows again. “My squad of Faceless was ordered to eliminate Squad Rho, and leave no survivors.”

(1/?)

>>40863057

...What? A contingent of Faceless was ordered to eliminate your squad? But that doesn’t make any sense-

Say, Will, d’you ever get tired of how things are run around here? You know, just running around doing missions, and all that?

Oh. Oh no. Ohnononononono-

“!”

You’re snapped out of your panic by a sharp sound. You focus your attention back on the Faceless, and she seems to be having trouble breathing…

Oh. You had tightened the bindings on accident. That was unprofessional of you.

Well, you have a choice here, you suppose. You could kill her, making sure she won’t be able to kill any of your squad-mates who manage to escape, or you could silence your stupid ass of a conscience and take off the bindings.

>Let her go. She’s wounded and weakened, so she won’t be much of a threat later.
>Just kill her. Better safe than sorry, and she could easily be acting out her fear, anyway.

>>40863082
>Let her go. She’s wounded and weakened, so she won’t be much of a threat later.
You owe Will one, lady uh.. faceless.

>>40863082
>>Let her go. She’s wounded and weakened, so she won’t be much of a threat later.

>>40863082
>Let her go. She’s wounded and weakened, so she won’t be much of a threat later.

>>40863114
>>40863146
>>40863187
Seems like it wasn't much of a choice.
Writing.

>>40863082
...Damn you, conscience. You sigh, and snap your fingers, letting the binds wrapping around the Faceless’ body disperse back to ambient mana. The pressure on your head lessens. You stand back up, wrapping your cloak tightly to yourself.

The Faceless, for her part, looks shocked. She glances up at you, eyes still wide.

“Leave.” You say, voice flat. “Leave, and don’t come back. If I see you hurting one of my comrades, I’ll make sure to finish the job.”

The Faceless nods, and hastily places her mask and hood back on. She leaps back into the night, noticeably running away from the direction of your squad’s Compound. You watch her diligently, even checking with your mana pulse that she’s still running away.

When you’re certain that she’s not coming back, you dash off in the opposite direction. You can only hope you’re able to get back on time…
***

You arrive at a small clearing. You walk over to the center and kneel down, placing your palm flat to the ground. Allowing your aura to sink down into the ground, you easily detect the security wards your enemies had placed on the entrance, likely to make sure that no one would be able to interrupt the Faceless in the middle of their dirty work.

It’s going to take a lot more than some basic, pathetic warding pattern to keep you out. There’s a reason you were nicknamed Lockpick.

Tracing a circle into the ground below you with ambient mana, you breathe in and out, calming yourself down, at least for the moment. Your aura reaches around the ward, feeling out every last rune etched into the air. Your fingers follow the carvings, and soon you have an inert copy of the warding pattern spread along the ground.

Hmph. Useless, you think.

(1/?)

>>40863699

Your mind flexes, and the warding pattern around you changes and warps. You draw out runes with your fingers, slapping them on the newly-formed pattern below you. Perhaps a tad messy, but you’d prefer speed over precision, at least right now.

You carefully observe your work, looking for any major flaws. You find none, as always. You allow the anti-warding pattern to sink into the ground, layering it over the ward the Faceless had placed earlier.

The soft sigh of shattering glass rings in your mind. Well done, you think.

Slamming your foot upon the ward-less ground, your aura sinks into the machinery below, opening the door to your squad’s Compound without a sound.

You walk inside.
***

Blood. The metallic stench of blood is everywhere, as soon as you walk in. The worst part is that it’s all fresh; you were just a tad late. You can’t hear the sounds of battle, however.

>Go to the Communications Office.
>Head to the Barracks.
>Try the Mess Hall.

>>40863728
>Go to the Communications Office
They may be trying to inform of the job's completion?

>>40863728
>>Head to the Barracks.

>>40863728
>Head to the Barracks.

>>40863810
>>40863879
You're heading to the baracks. Writing.

>>40863728

You briefly consider heading to the Comunications Office- it’s where you and your squad usually go to inform the Boss of your mission’s success, so it’s possible that the Faceless may be there.

The blood is fresh, though. It’s possible that there may still be someone left alive in the Compound, and you know for a fact that Faceless are very thorough when it comes to making sure the job is actually finished before reporting in. You’ve worked with them before.

Instead, you head for the Barracks. It’s where almost everyone sleeps whenever they’re not out on a mission or patrolling, so there has to be SOMEONE there this late at night.
***
(1/?)

>>40864326
The metallic tang of blood only grows stronger as you run through the barracks. You send out a pulse of mana, and detect about fifteen different aura signatures. All of them are slowly being ground away, several even disappearing. You run in their direction.

You freeze at the sight awaiting for you in the hall.

Your Bro, his back turned to you, is surrounded by a large group of Faceless, each of them firing off bolts of magic at him in the center. You twist when a large boulder flies in your direction.

Your Bro’s aura is exploding out of him in short gouts of flame, forcing the Nameless to keep their distance. You can feel the heat even from where you’re standing, and it’s positively sweltering.

Your Bro ducks under another slashing gust of wind, rolling forward. He thrusts his katana upwards, catching a Faceless, and your Bro mercilessly jumps up, bisecting the masked mage. With another burst of flame, your bro flies across the hall, neatly landing next to you.

“Glad to see ya, Lil Bro!” Says your Bro in mock cheerfulness. “Sorry you had to see this. I know you’re a bit squeamish when it comes to bodies.”

You snort. “You’re never going to let me live that down, will you?” You grumble. You roll to the left, dodging bullets of water. “What in the Void happened here?”

“I’ll give ya the details later.” Your Bro grunts as he parries away a storm of thrown knives, cloaked in wind mana. “For now, it’s time to kick some ass.”
You nod, and…

>You fall back, creating several mana arrows in your wake.
>Dash forward, your saber at the ready.
>Write In battle plan.
9 Faceless left.

For any option, roll 3d10, DCs hidden.

Rolled 6, 10, 8 = 24 (3d10)

>>40864372
>Dash forward, your saber at the ready.
It's a hallway, so we should be able to work with Bro to limit the number of opponents we have to face at once if we pressure them and break up their formation. And, of course, they should find it harder to fire into a melee, whereas we're in a target-rich environment.

Rolled 6, 6, 8 = 20 (3d10)

>>40864372
>You fall back, creating several mana arrows in your wake.
Maybe move laterally to avoid being easily targetted.
Are there any others alive from our squad?

Rolled 2, 2, 7 = 11 (3d10)

>>40864372

>You fall back, creating several mana arrows in your wake.

>>40864471
You don't know if anyone's still alive, anon, and your mana pulse is short ranged. Its range is a little past eyesight.

>>40864471
>>40864522
Writing for this, and taking
>>40864418
for the roll. Major passed, by the way.
Writing.

>>40864372
You fall back, your fingers flashing in handsigns. Your Bro nods, and dashes forward to cover your retreat. Meanwhile, mana arrows pop up around you, firing themselves forward. You’re gonna need several aspirins later, you just know it.

Blasts of flame sprout across the room as your Bro leaps over, wading into the melee. The Faceless scatter into pairs and groups of three, the groups likely agreed upon beforehand. Smart.

Not smart enough though. Most of your arrows fail to hit, but at the very least, they cancel out most of the projectiles the Faceless fired back at you.

Two mana arrows do manage to travel across the room, however, and hit home. Two faceless cough and hold their throat as blood gushes out. Seems like you’ve managed to kill at least two of them.

Your Bro, meanwhile, unleashes the full power of his Fire Affinity, blue flames lashing out from the edge of his blade. He jumps wildly from side to side, easily dodging the Faceless attacks. Quickly ducking under a barrage of hailstones, his aura lashes forward, twisting around a pair of Faceless. The twister of flame collapses inward, simultaneously slashing them to bits and burning whatever remained.
The rest of the Faceless scatter, retreating in your direction.

You feel a twinge of jealousy at the impressive display of power. Elemental magic is always damn flashy. Still, your mana saber appears in your hand, and you rush forward towards a group of Faceless, aiming to break up one of their formations.
6 Faceless left.

>Roll 3d10.

Rolled 7, 2, 5 = 14 (3d10)

>>40865095
Bless me God Dice

Rolled 8, 6, 10 = 24 (3d10)

>>40865095

>>40865111
>>40865095
OHBOY

Rolled 6, 5, 9 = 20 (3d10)

>>40865095

>>40865111
Success! Writing.

Rolled 4, 7, 1 = 12 (3d10)

>>40865095

>>40865095
Your action seems to have surprised them. Did they not know you were both a mid- and close-ranged combatant? These Faceless seem suspiciously uninformed.

Nonetheless, your saber flies, and you thrust it forward, right into the abdomen of one of the Faceless. You duck under an axehead, your short stature actually helping you out for once.

Summoning a knife instead, you roll under the Faceless’ legs, easily cutting through their tendons. The Faceless falls to the ground like a puppet with their strings cut, and you neatly slice their jugular as you rise.

Ignoring the splash of blood on your cloak, you sidestep a spear of hardened sand and rush your final opponent, jumping upwards. You stab your knife straight into their cranium, and the Faceless wobbles backwards before falling over.

You switch your gaze to the other trio of faceless. Your Bro seems to have just about finished as well; he cleanly cuts the head off of the last faceless with his katana, panting.

“Hey,” you call over to him, “you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, ‘M fine.” He answers. “Mighta’ overdone it a bit, though.” He coughs into his hand.

Well, that’s no good. Your Bro had only been released from the infirmary the day before. You hope he didn’t reopen any of his wounds. “Well, if you say so.” You say, skeptical. “Anyway, mind talking while we walk? I’m sure we’ve both got some info to share.”

(1/?)

>>40865602

Your Bro pauses mid-nod. “Wait, just a sec.” He dashes back into one of the barracks.

Oh heavens, is he really going to…? Yep. Your bro saunters back out, his blue visor sitting pretty on his head. “Really?” You ask. “You went back in there just for that? Don’t we have more important things to worry about?”

“Hey, this one’s my LUCKY visor, I’ll have you know.”

“It looks exactly like your other ones!”

“Not my problem if you can’t tell the difference, Little Bro. Now, talk while we run?”
***

While informing your Bro of the situation, in particular the fact that the Faceless were very specifically ordered to ‘leave no survivors’ from Squad Rho, the two of you decided to…

>Check the Mess Hall.
>Check the Communications Office.
>Make like a tree and get the fuck outta there. Everyone else was probably dead, anyway.

>>40865629
>>Make like a tree and get the fuck outta there. Everyone else was probably dead, anyway.

>>40865629
>Check the Communications Office.

>>40865629
>Check the Communications Office.
Best get someone we trust on the horn to tell them shit's hit the fan.

>>40865686
>>40865745
Looks like you're heading to the Comms. Office.
Writing.

That was... how was that ice cream capcha? I couldn't even tell what that was.

>>40865802

As you and your Bro arrive at the large sliding door to the Communication Office, a new scent assaults your olfactory senses. Burnt flesh.
The two of you quickly scan yourselves in, the door sliding open.

Bodies, everywhere. Some of them were cut in half, bisected by a large blade of some kind. Others are merely burning skeletons, their skin and flesh having long been reduced to ash.
In the middle of the bloodbath sits the mutilated body of Techie, sparks racing across the surface of his skin.

Techie, as his nickname suggested, was the guy who kept all the mechanical stuff in the Compound running. His body was extensively modified, to the point where you’re pretty sure that you could hear the whirr of the servos inside of him every time he moved. Still, he was a jolly guy, and he often cracked jokes at the tiny little celebrations your squad called ‘parties.’

You liked Techie. Seeing his body, torn into a pile of scrap metal and flesh strewn across the room? It both sickens and infuriates you. The remains of his exoskeleton at the middle of the room were barely even recognizable.

“Shit,” your Bro mutters, “we were too late.” No shit, you think bitterly. Of course we’re too late.
The two of you stand there in silent vigil for a few moments, unwilling to disturb the man’s resting place. Finally, your brother moves forward to the Telecommunications Console at the other end of the room, respectfully leaving the body, if it could even be called that, alone.

“Agent one-oh-one relaying message to Compound Theta.”

“Acknowledged. Opening communications to Compound Theta.”

Your Bro waits. And waits. And waits. After what seems like an eternity, he slams his fist onto the console and speaks again.

(1/?)

>>40867143

“I repeat, Agent one-oh-one relaying message to Compound Theta, with the addendum that this message is to be considered of Code-Red level of importance.”

The console beeps and whirrs before spitting back, “Compound Theta cannot be contacted at this time. Please confirm that this Communications Console is working at full capacity.”

Your Bro spits out a whirlwind of swears. You don’t think you’ve ever heard him this angry before. He tries calling other compounds, Gamma, Pi, Epsilon, Lambda.

None of them answer.

He turns to you. “Will,” he begins, deathly serious, “we’ve gotta get outta here, NOW. Come on.” He grasps your hand and pulls you out of the Communications Office.

“H-hey, what? What’s wrong? What happened?” You ask, panic entering your voice.

“Somehow, the Big Boss figured out who was in on our little riot. We’re fucked, basically. Now, COME. ON.”

“What about Sin? And what happens now?” You ask, worried about your remaining female squadmate.

“She’s dead. I already checked. She was stealing a snack from the Mess Hall when this shit hit the fan.” He answers. “And we fuckin’ run till our feet fall off. We’re fugitives now, is what we are.”
***

That night, your Bro made the greatest firestorm you had seen up to then, setting fire to the rest of the underground Compound.

The two of you ran across the entire Ravaged Continent for the rest of that year, Faceless and Agents alike chasing after you. Between the two of you, you managed to kill every last one, leaving false trails everywhere. Every day, you struck down another life to buy you another few seconds. You learned to function on only a few hours of sleep. Your diet was reduced to cheap ration bars the two of you could steal or buy from stores plus whatever you could scrounge up.

Your pursuers eventually dwindled down. However, neither of you could afford to stop moving, even when it seemed safe.
That was how they got your Bro.
(2/?)

>>40867200
***
Your name is William, and you are almost thirteen. It’s the middle of winter, and you’re shivering in the cold. Still, you’ve got a job to do.

You’re going to break into Compound Alpha, and get your brother back, by any means necessary.

You take out the map you had taken from that Alpha Operative you had killed a week ago. The notes on guard shifts would likely prove useful.
There are three entrances you could try:

The North Entrance. It has the most Operatives guarding it, but overall, there are far fewer people patrolling around here than elsewhere. The warding pattern would be tricky to break without alerting your presence to anyone around.

The South Entrance. Most of the guards around here were Faceless, but there were a lot of them. The warding pattern around here will be the easiest to crack, though.

The East Entrance. The Entrance that is closest to the Prison where they’re holding your brother. Has a fairly tricky warding pattern and numerically, the most guards.

>Which will you take?
(No write-ins here.)

Gonna be eating dinner for a while.

>>40867256
>The North Entrance. It has the most Operatives guarding it, but overall, there are far fewer people patrolling around here than elsewhere. The warding pattern would be tricky to break without alerting your presence to anyone around.
Wait, what's the difference between Operatives and Faceless again?

>>40867256
The East Entrance. The Entrance that is closest to the Prison where they’re holding your brother. Has a fairly tricky warding pattern and numerically, the most guards.

>>40867399
Operatives are the standard guys, like you, Sin, Techie and your Bro were. They don't wear masks, and they're sent out on the tougher missions. Think of them as elite mooks, basically.
Still have some stuff to do. I'll coin-flip if the vote's not done.

>>40867256
The East Entrance. The Entrance that is closest to the Prison where they’re holding your brother. Has a fairly tricky warding pattern and numerically, the most guards.

>>40867691
>>40867994
Looks like you're coming in from the East Side.
Writing.

>>40867256
You roll your eyes. As if there was any other option; you’ll take the East entrance, dash in, get your Bro back, and dash back out with no one the wiser.

Tracing the perimeter of the large forest that sits above Alpha Compound, you arrive several yards away from your destination. As you expected, there are a fair number of guards around, concealed by the trees.

Your mana pulse detects them far more easily than your eyesight.

Speaking of your eyesight, you decided to grab some new glasses, if only to make you look at least a little different from whatever mugshot they still have on you. It wasn’t much, but it was something, at least.

At any rate, you know where all of the guards are hiding. Unfortunately, you don’t quite know where the warding pattern keeping you out is.

You wrap your new cloak around you. You had stolen it from some rich dude in a big city about a month ago. Your old one had burned out after constant enchanting; this new one was made from some more delicate cloth, so it won’t last nearly as long, but it should keep for tonight. Invisibility enchantments are damn useful, you think.

What should you do?
>Snoop around for the warding scheme manually.
>See if you can take another map from the guards.
For either, roll 3d10, DCs hidden.

Rolled 1, 7, 9 = 17 (3d10)

>>40868347
>See if you can take another map from the guards.
Seduce him!

Rolled 7, 2, 8 = 17 (3d10)

>>40868347
>Snoop around for the warding scheme manually.

Rolled 4, 3, 4 = 11 (3d10)

>>40868478
>>40868405
>17
>17

Rolled 7, 6, 5 = 18 (3d10)

>>40868347
>>See if you can take another map from the guards.

>>40868405
>>40868518
Seems you're gonna try to snatch a map! Writing.
You failed, by the way.

>>40868560
Fuck, the DC was 8?
Crap crap crap

>>40868347

No way. You are not gonna spend the next half-hour waiting around in the cold, looking for the ward. Fuck that; your brother’s been in the Prison for over two months by now! You’re not gonna let him stay there any longer than you can make it.

You wander around the field for a few minutes, and eventually, you spy your target. He’s a young operative, maybe about eighteen. He looks bored, and he’s completely oblivious to the world around him, completely consumed by his flask of likely-alcoholic beverage.
You smirk. Drunk AND oblivious? Must be your lucky day.

You follow the operative inside of a cleverly-hidden underground storage shed, your footsteps silent. Your skill at skulking around has only improved in the past year, and you’re completely certain that you could sneak past just about any of the guards. Bunch of scrubs they are!, as Sin would have said.

…You miss your comrades. You miss them a lot.

You watch as the operative sits down by one of the many crates of who-cares, drinking out of his flask. You wait silently, hoping that the man would eventually either take an alcohol-induced nap or walk back outside past you, so you can pickpocket him easily.
***

After what felt like close to half an hour of waiting, your efforts go unrewarded as the operative simply. Wouldn’t. Move!

He just kept sipping at his hip flask by the crates, for the better part of an hour! Was he assigned to guard this shed, or something? Absolutely ridiculous.

You sigh into your sleeve, and decide that if the man wouldn’t give you an opportunity himself, you’d make one. You reach into your cloak, hiding your hands as they shaped and gathered the ambient mana around you.

After a few seconds, you decide that the arrow has enough mana wrapped into it, and let it fly, expecting the arrow to hit its mark right on his jugular.

(1/?)

>>40869226

What you didn’t expect was for the man to duck down, pull out a small handgun and fire it in your direction.

You grunt in pain as the bullet smashes into your hastily-Reinforced torso. Apparently it was more than enough for the operative to hear, because his shots suddenly become far more accurate, and you are forced to reveal your presence by rolling out from your hiding spot.

The operative grins in victory. “Heh. So, you’re the little kid that’s been giving the Boss so much trouble over the past six months, eh? I’m guessing you’re here to save your precious brother?” he taunts, firing bullets covered in wind mana in your direction. “You know, they’re offering some really pretty benefits for whoever manages to catch you. The Boss is absolutely livid that no one’s managed to find you yet.”

You ignore him, grimacing. Well, shit. If you don’t end this quickly, the bastard will almost definitely call in some reinforcements.

Thankfully, he hasn’t bothered yet, probably thinking he could take you by himself.
Honestly, he might be able to. It’s rather cramped in this large shed, and you have no clue what’s in the crates; there could be explosives, unstable mana crystals, or worse.

>Pepper the bastard with mana arrows from afar.
>Approach him with your saber.
>Just try to escape. Your position will be compromised for sure, but the ruckus might by you some time… (No dice roll required)

Rolled 6, 3, 3 = 12 (3d10)

>>40869257

>Pepper the bastard with mana arrows from afar.
Try to disarm him?

Rolled 5, 8, 5 = 18 (3d10)

>>40869257
>Pepper the bastard with mana arrows from afar.

Rolled 5, 1, 8 = 14 (3d10)

>>40869399
>>40869474
>>40869257
these rolls..

>>40869399
>>40869474
Welp, looks like you're trying and failing to strike from afar. DC was 6.
Writing.

>>40869563
And that confirms your failure.
Still writing.

Rolled 6, 4, 10 = 20 (3d10)

>>40869600
CURSE THE DICE GODS

>>40869257
You keep your distance. Sure, he might have a handgun, but unlike you, he has to reload. Seems he’s using it as an actual weapon rather than just a foci for his aura.
Gathering the ambient mana around, you fire arrow upon arrow after him, the pressure in your head building as it always does.
He’s swifter than you thought, though. He manages to dodge all of your mana arrows and it’s only by a stroke of luck that you don’t pierce open one of the crates marked “WARNING: HAZARDOUS MATERIAL INSIDE. HANDLE WITH CARE.”
The operative takes refuge behind one of the aforementioned crates, and after quickly reloading his pistol, fires. Pain shoots up your torso and right arm. You’re thankful that Reinforcement magic is almost second-nature to you now. Otherwise, that might have drawn blood.
You shrug your arm and hobble over your leg, both of them uncomfortably numb, but still functional. Things will probably be a great deal harder now…
The thug fires a few more shots, and you barely manage to dodge the rest in time.
You think you have a better idea of his capabilities. What should you try now?
>Engage him in melee. (DC: 8)
>Stall for some time to heal by hiding behind a crate. (DC: 6)
>Fire off some more Mana arrows. (DC: 7)
>Cheese it! (No DC)

Rolled 2, 2, 9 = 13 (3d10)

>>40869882
>Stall for some time to heal by hiding behind a crate. (DC: 6)

Rolled 6, 3, 1 = 10 (3d10)

>>40869882
Heal

Rolled 6, 8, 2 = 16 (3d10)

>>40869882
>Stall for some time to heal by hiding behind a crate. (DC: 6)

File: 1371517608413.png (40 KB, 479x591)

40 KB PNG

>>40869882
>>Stall for some time to heal by hiding behind a crate. (DC: 6)

File: 1423692267593.jpg (141 KB, 528x725)

141 KB JPG

Rolled 9, 3, 8 = 20 (3d10)

>>40870065
Finally, dice!

>>40870030
>>40870057
Oh heavens...
>>40870065
Nice Save!

Writing for healing.

>>40869882
You don’t think you could keep going as you are now. Endurance was never your strong suit, and your lack of aura only exacerbated the issue. Instead, you dive behind a crate, activating the invisibility enchantment on your cloak.

“Where, oh where did you go? Hellooo?” Sings the operative mockingly. Somehow, you manage to sneak past him to the other side of the room.

You sit down to catch your breath. Calming down, you close your eyes, coaxing your aura into your injured arm and leg. The numbness fades slowly, and you are forced the repeat this song and dance multiple times when the bastard gets too close, but your arm and leg are at least fully functional now. The pain is still there, but it’s more of a dull ache.

Your torso is going to take far more time and aura to fully mend; you think you might have cracked a rib, or something. You’ll have to check that later.

Peering out from your little hidey-hole, you spot the operative looking for you, his face scrunched up in frustration. That, or he’s constipated, but you’re fairly certain the former is far more likely. Either way, he’s somewhat preoccupied.

You have the initiative, and if you play your cards right, you might be able to catch him by surprise.

>Leap out, saber in hand. (DC: 6, Major hidden)
>Try to fire another mana arrow into somewhere vital. (DC: 7)
>Something else?
>Screw this; you’ve wasted too much time on this guy.

Rolled 6, 6, 6 = 18 (3d10)

>>40870430
Fire arrow

Rolled 1, 6, 3 = 10 (3d10)

>>40870430
>Leap out, saber in hand. (DC: 6, Major hidden)

>>40870559
Do we get a bonus from conjuring Satan?

>>40870575
I'm afraid you're not a summoning mage, anon. Penalty for failure won't be nearly as harsh as before, though.

Gonna coin-flip in ~ 2 mins.

Rolled 7, 8, 4 = 19 (3d10)

>>40870430
>Leap out, saber in hand. (DC: 6, Major hidden)

>>40870673
>no bonus for satanic trip
Pls Kyuu

>>40870714
>>40870575
Nice Save, Anon!
Writing for Sword.

>>40870430
>>Leap out, saber in hand. (DC: 6, Major hidden)

>>40870430
Mana flows around the palm of your hand, solidifying into the form of your trusty saber. You feel your breath slow down, your mind working in overdrive.

You watch and wait, carefully looking over every twitch of your enemy. The operative bends over another stack of crates in his fruitless search. His muscles ripple, and when you see the perfect moment-

You strike.

The man gasps, your blade thrusting deep into his spine. Crimson drips down your blade as you slash and thrust again and again, backing him into a corner.

Finally, you kick him into the corner, a sigh of catharsis escaping your lips as you stab him in the cranium. That entire battle was bullshit, you think. He never should have even managed to dodge anything I threw at him.

Your saber dissipates into mana as you begin rifling through the corpse’s pockets. As you thought, he owned a far more in-detail map of the Eastern Entrance, providing both in-depth information about guard shifts and the location of the Eastern Entrance’s ward.

You also find two small vials of what looks like stim-potions, and a strange black necklace that reeks of Darkness mana. You’re not too sure of its effects, but it’s possible that this is what gave the man that strange sense of precognition. Thankfully, it seems to have been burnt out of its uses. You slip it into your pocket.Who knows, maybe it’ll prove valuable.

The first part of your mission over with, you bring your cloak back around yourself and reactivate the invisibility enchantment.
***

Following the map to a small field, you reach out with your aura into the ground, confirming that the ward was indeed, here. Double-checking that your invisibility-enchanted cloak was still active, you kneel down, and begin working on the ward…

>Roll 3d10. DC 5.

Rolled 9, 7, 3 = 19 (3d10)

>>40871270
fuck fuck fuck

>>40871278
You did fine, anon-kun!
Writing.

Rolled 7, 3, 4 = 14 (3d10)

>>40871437
Saved the day.

>>40871270
CRITFAIL

>>40871270
Thankfully, it seems that life has decided to throw you a bone, and no one else interrupts you. After a few tense moments when you had to lift the invisibility enchantment to properly activate the ward breaker, you manage to crack open the door to Alpha Complex, and quickly jump inside before anyone notices. After hastily replacing the ward to cover your tracks, you find yourself in a large, empty hallway. It seems that not too many people use this entrance.

Well, first things first. You need some information one the Prison. The maps you have simply places it close to the East Entrance, but doesn’t provide much information regarding the layout. Looking at your map, you see two places you could go for some info:

>The Warden’s House. Actually located within the prison, but relatively close to the entrance.
>The Guard Barracks. You could try rifling through some poor sap’s belongings.
>Eh, forget this. Who needs maps?

>>40871594
>The Warden’s House. Actually located within the prison, but relatively close to the entrance.

>>40871594
>>The Warden’s House. Actually located within the prison, but relatively close to the entrance.

>>40871594
>The Warden’s House. Actually located within the prison, but relatively close to the entrance.

>>40871594
>The Guard Barracks. You could try rifling through some poor sap’s belongings.

>>40871948
>>40871980
>>40872005
Seems you're looking into the Big House. Writing.

>>40871594
These people REALLY like their wards, you think. You’ve had to break two more on your way down to the prison, and then reset them, and that was only down to the first floor! How many wards could there possibly be in this heavens-forsaken place?

Well, you suppose it doesn’t REALLY matter in the end. You’re willing to break every ward in the world if it would help those important to you. Besides, ward-breaking’s pretty easy anyway; you don’t understand why so many people think it’s so complicated.

Sure, you have to memorize the meaning of a couple symbols and runes here and there, but that’s really all it is! That’s not all that hard, you think. Okay, you have to memorize the precise ordering of various wards then reapply them in such a manner to make them collapse into themselves without anyone noticing, but that’s not all that hard either. You could do it ever since you were nine, so why couldn’t anyone else?

Anyway, your mind’s off-track again. What were you thinking about before…? Right, the Warden’s ward.

In comparison to the other wards you’ve been busting open, this one’s actually a legitimate challenge. Unlike the others, this one appears to be two-pronged: two separate warding schemes were connected using mana circuits so that if one were to shut down, the other would activate. The entire thing was hooked up to the rest of the security system using more mana circuits.

In other words, you had to solve two wards then apply them at the exact same time. Easier said than done, you think…
Roll 3d10. DC: 6
***
There's actually a much easier way to solve this one that little Will hasn't thought of. If you guys can point it out, I'll give you an auto-success.

Rolled 3, 4, 10 = 17 (3d10)

>>40872466
Uh shut down the mana circuit then fix the wards?
I'm a programmer goddamnit, not an engineer (yet).

>>40872682
Close enough, anon!
Writing.

Rolled 2, 10, 10 = 22 (3d10)

>>40872716
>>40872466
NOICE

File: 1428531289966.gif (1.03 MB, 290x218)

1.03 MB GIF

>>40872757
>dual 10s
>wasted roll
C-Can we bank?

>>40872466
…Oh. You mentally slap yourself. You could go to all that time-consuming trouble solving both wards, applying just right so they wouldn’t trigger the alarm, then resetting them in the same way…
…Or you could just cut the mana flow to the wards directly. Unlike the other wards you’ve encountered could easily absorb ambient mana and continue running, forcing you to break them directly, this one needs a great deal more power; the mana circuits leading in and out of it are probably feeding it extra mana from some outside source.
Placing your palm over the mana circuits, you focus your mind, invoking the mana to bend to your will. As always, it bows to your command, and the ambient mana flows out of the circuits and into the palm of your hand. After a few minutes, the large warding scheme shuts down, and you nonchalantly walk inside, reconnecting the ward to the mana circuit. It was as if you were never in there at all!
***
Walking inside, you find yourself in a small lounge with a roaring fireplace. It’s quite comfy, you think. However, you aren’t here to appreciate the man’s taste in décor. Sneaking your way across the room, you slip inside the only other room in the building.
Inside, a corpulent old man lays down on a massive mattress, snoring up a storm. That’s probably the Warden. Seems like he’s completely asleep- makes sense, seeing as it’s late at night.
Flicking your eyes across the room, you see two possible sources of information:
>A small book lies open on a desk, the lamp still on. Seems the Warden keeps a journal of some sort.
>There’s a small filing cabinet close to the desk. Inside are probably the records and maps you need.

You’ll only trust your luck to hold if you take one.
(Pick one, no write-ins here.)

>>40872991
>There’s a small filing cabinet close to the desk. Inside are probably the records and maps you need.

>>40872928
Sorry, anon-kun. I' generous, but not THAT generous.
Also, I think I'm going to end this thread after next update. It's midnight here, and I have to wake up early tomorrow.

>>40873039
I see, well thanks for running either way, let's see what happens when...
>>40872991
>A small book lies open on a desk, the lamp still on. Seems the Warden keeps a journal of some sort.

Rolled 1 (1d2)

>>40873038
>>40873074
Coin flip!
1-Filing Cabinet
2-Journal

>>40873226
Writing.

>>40872991
Yeah, no. You’re not gonna touch that book with a twenty-foot pole. You’ll take the dry facts of the filing cabinet, thanks.

You open up the filing cabinet, and begin combing the various manila folders trapped inside, each of them thankfully ordered by the date.

You bring out the folders for October, November and December of this year, opening each of them.

Inside of the manila folders are names. Many, many names. They were organized by status, for the most part- prisoner, guard, faceless, operative…

Leafing through the names, you eventually manage to find your Bro’s actual name listed in the November folder: Brenton Adams.

Next to the name is a ten digit number. Memorizing it, you open up the other filing cabinets, searching for the number. Right, there.
You slip out your Bro’s folder, leafing through it. Name, date of birth, history before joining Da’at... blah, blah blah. Ah-ha! Incarceration Details…

...Well, this is just wonderful. It turns out your Bro isn’t in the prison after all- instead, he’s been invited as a ‘special guest’ of the Boss after spending one week inside Alpha Compound. You’re not entirely sure what that means, but you’re absolutely certain it’s nothing good. After all, your Bro tried to engineer a schism- he’s a traitor, and if you were the Boss, you would have just had him rotting in prison forever.

What the hell is happening to your brother? You intend to find out.
***

And we’re done! Little Will’s adventure will continue next thread, I assure you.

Also, I’m thinking of having my standard schedule be 3PM EST on Saturdays. It’s the schedule we’ve had so far, and I intend to stick to it. That okay with you guys?

>>40873685
Thanks for runnng!
Yeah it's okay with me at least.

Thread has been archived! Thanks for playing everyone!

>>40873786
>>40873685

see ya next saturday