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>>128288

“Would you mind if I gave you a hand?” you ask the burly lizard man. “The heat doesn’t exactly bother me.”

“Whatever suits you,” he answers, wiping some sweat from his brow before pulling out a few more wooden skewers and setting them aside for you.

You let the silence hang for a moment as you busy yourself threading the meat onto the wood, taking thick cutlets of succulent pork and pressing through sinew and muscle (and sometimes the gaps in your hand bones) until each is piled high with an assortment of meats and a few vegetables you picked from the garden.

“So, I take it this isn’t your first time hunting,” you posit, receiving an appreciative grunt as you hand him the laden kebabs which he sets down by the others.

“Not hardly,” he chuckles, wistfully taking his eyes off the flames for a moment. “Been at this since I was about the same age as the little one there and damn near as tiny too.” You see Cici clap a hand over her mouth out of the corner of your eye. “Started out hunting small stuff at first: a snake here, a few feral cats when I could catch ‘em. Eventually started moving up to wolves and deer when I got a little bigger and had more than my claws to deal with them.”

“Most impressive!” you applaud. “Truly the story of a self-made man!”

“Ha!” he laughs. “Just the story of a hungry kid doing what he had to. Of course, it was only a matter of time before I bit off more than I could chew.”

“What happened?”

“Well, I got it in my head that there was nothing in this forest I couldn’t handle. Grabbed a spear, sharpened my axe and went charging head first into the den of an old, grizzled bastard named Snap Jaws.”

- Cont

>>128323

“I take it things didn’t quite go according to plan…”

“Ha! Well, turns out he’d gone and gotten himself a Mrs. or two, and his head was tougher than my axe. Woulda probably died there if Yesh and one of the old men on the city watch hadn’t been there with a lasso and a fast riding salamander.”

“I told you it was a bad idea…” Yesh notes.

“You told me a lot of things were bad ideas,” Galblassa snaps back.

“That’s because they usually were… Like that time you threw yourself into a bed of leeches rather than seeing the town healer.”

“Well, I-“

“The screams were horrifying, and Garro wouldn’t let either of us leave the settlement for several weeks after.”

The exchange keeps up for some time after, neither Yesh nor Galblassa willing to concede an exact discretionary line between valor and stupidity. It’s perhaps the most legitimate amusement you’ve had since you’ve awakened from your long slumber, and so you allow yourself to slip into the background and just enjoy the show. Perhaps that’s why you’re able to hear the soft yet heavy sound of scales slithering on hard floor, the worn visage of Cassandra appearing in the door of the dungeon.

-Cont

Pleasantly awaiting more adventures of our skeleton bard.

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>>128339

“Ah Cassandra! You really shouldn’t be up and about!” you caution, wheeling into a stand. “Why if-“

“Mama!” comes the enthusiastic cry as Cici scrambles to hug the thick trunk of her mother’s serpentine half, earning herself what seems to be a loving, if rather shaky pat on the head.

“Good morning, sweetling…” Cassandra whispers quietly, clearly as much as she can muster at this time.

“B-but Mama, it’s night time!” Cici protests. “You’ve been asleep a long time!”

“I suppose I must have be- Cici! What happened to your clothes!” she asks, concern rising in her voice. “Your dress! Your legs!”

“Just a little bit of playing around outside,” you assure her. “Nothing to worry yourself about, at least not when you should still be resting. Honestly, if ‘Auntie Shasa’ were to see you up and moving about, she’d probably bite my head off.”

“Old lady could probably manage it, too,” Galblasa chimes in.

“How long was I out?” she asks weakly, leaning heavily on the doorway.

“Two days or so, give or take,” you answer.

“I feel like I got run over by an ox plow…” she groans.

“Well, yer alive enough to complain about it,” Galblasa throws in. “That’s gotta count for something.”

“Gal…” your lady says, finally seeming to notice the other person in this conversation and the roaring fire in front of her. “So you’re here to, then? My, what are you cooking, it smells-“

“You aren’t getting a bite of it until you go back to bed,” Galblassa grunts.

“B-but Gal, I haven’t eaten in-“

“No buts,” he growls. “You’ll get yer fill once you get your butt back in bed.”

“B-but…”

Cassandra puts on a face you haven’t seen before, seeming to lose a few years and a bit of that dignified composure as she realizes this is one fight she isn’t going to win. Sullenly, the large snake turns back into her home, Cici never letting go of her hand for a second.

“Mama! Mama!” you hear. “Uncle Galblassa said a bad word!”

You hear the lizard man spit, muttering angry curses into the fire as he finishes up the preparations.

> What to do?
> [x] Serving skeleton
> [] Go back to studying
> [] Other

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>>128348

Good to have you, anon.

>>128363
Not really knowing what else to do, you simply wait on him, getting a few tips on the gourmet arts of the wilderness as he tries to find the exact time when the meat is perfectly done. Much prodding and poking not to mention several tastings later, he seems satisfied and whistles for Yesh to come on over. It sort of takes you by surprise as the small lizard had had his back to you the entire time. All the same, he now produces a nice wicker basket and a couple of “bowls” for lack of a better term. Maybe platters would be more accurate.

“So should I take that to her, and then prepare some more,” you ask, trying to mentally compare Cassandra’s rather tremendous figure with the pile of glistening meat in front of you.

“Nah, that’s for us,” Galblassa says, pushing the large off to the side and grabbing another one. “This one’s for her.”

With morbid fascination, you watch as he begins hacking into the still bloody boar directly, slashing off slice after crimson slice of supple pig’s flesh.

“Raw meat’s better for healing,” he explains as he hefts the laden, vaguely dripping bowl in front of him, struggling a bit with the awkward weight.

“Allow me,” you offer, and this time you give your own whistle.

Wait, how the devil did you-

Whatever the case may be, the same quintet of skeletons from earlier come rolling from their stations to take the bowl off his hands, grabbing the makeshift handles and marching along with mechanical precision. Well, that won’t do, and so with a snap of your fingers, you get their bodies moving to a more rhythmic beat, something you can rhyme with as you round into the inner chambers.

IT LIVES! hopefully longer than other of this ilk

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>>128382

“I hear you’re feeling down and out,
Your spirit’s in the dumps
Your bed ridden, soar
Moving’s a chore

And from here, I am sensing your pout

However, no guest of mine
Needs to get up to dine
We’ll serve you right here for today

So come on, don’t be shy
Have some mead, try the rye
There’s no need for shame or delay

It’s our passion, our privilege
To refill every beverage
To make sure your platter’s piled high

So leave the sours to the sour
And embrace the happy hour
I bet
You’ll not regret
If you just give it a try.”

With an internal smile, a wave and a sweeping gesture, the skeletons bend down, presenting the bowl upward to its recipient and forming a makeshift table, all to the cheery applause of what must be your greatest fan in this day and age.

“Again! Again!” Cici cheers, whereas her mother seems more incredulous, cocking an eyebrow as she looks to you.

“You learned how to control them in two days?” she questions.

“Well, you know, we have a lot in common, and us boneheads really stick together when we need to!”

*Rattle-Rattle*

“Anyway, food now, questions later. Bon appetit.”

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>>128386

Hopefully, we'll just have to see.

>>128405

Hmm. What to do, what to do? You have to admit a certain morbid fascination as to how much a fully grown gorgon can eat, but you also don’t want that to be the only reason you’re hovering about, just you, a couple of bone heads, Cassandra, and her daughter… who is still wearing the battered, grass stained garments she was wearing after she ran around the woods for hours. That won’t do.

“Cassandra, if I may,” you begin. “Young Cici appears to be in need of a change of clothes. Should I attend to that while you dine?”

“Cecelia,” Cassandra says, bending her head at an awkward angle. “I know it’s a little snug, but could you change into your other dress? I promise I’ll make you a new one as soon as I’m able, or at least patch the one you’re wearing.”

“Okay, Mama,” she says, and immediately begins disrobing before Cassandra’s darting hand reaches her chest.

“Could you give us some privacy?” she asks, and at that, you kindly bow out, bustling down the hall toward the cookfire where Yesh and Galblassa appear to already be divvying up the cooked meat.

“Pardon, gentlemen. I just need to get something for the young lady.”

You take a selective eye to the meat heavy fair, trying to get what you feel is a balanced portion for a growing young girl. Of course, no sooner do you have what you feel to be as much than Galblassa throws another hunk of meat on top.

“She’s a growing girl,” he insists, and with no reason to pick an argument, you make your way back inside… to find half of the massive platter already empty and red coating both Cassandra’s lips and finger tips.

As if briefly battling shame, you can see her fingers twitch around the piece of meat she’s already holding, eyes following you as you move around to offer Cici her meal, which she happily accepts.

“A woman with a healthy appetite is a vision of beauty,” you assure her, offering a small bow before casually departing.

“I might need another bowl…” you hear her mumble from behind you, and you take a quick mental note to assure that’s taken care of before she has to ask again.

In any case, you find Galblassa and Yesh digging in heartily as you arrive, clearly famished from today’s hunt and the past 24 hours of activity that preceded it.

> What to do?
> [x] Make small talk
> [] Break off to study
> [] Other

>>128424

“So, gentlemen,” you begin, “lovely evening don’t you think? Stars are bright. The moon and our bellies are full… Well except for mine of course.”

*Rattle-Rattle*

“Yeah… Gotta imagine that’s a little strange,” Galblassa comments between mouthfuls of food. “You take a dirt nap one day, wake up the next as nothing but bones. It’s gotta be a bit different.”

“Oh my, yes,” you say. “Touch, taste, smell, all the flavors of life save my hearing and sight gone just like that. Well, except pain, of course, guess that one’s sticking around.”

“No tellin’. Kind of been wondering how long you’ve been up and around, even. Seems like you’d be the sort of thing, Cassandra would bring up in a conversation last time she was around, and that was just a couple of weeks ago.”

“Well,” you sigh. “It’s been a rather wild few days since I woke up in that crypt, and since then, I’ve barely had much of a moment to gather my thoughts. The when, the where, the why. I get snippets now and then, but the vast majority of my memories are like trying to reassemble a mosaic with nothing but the frame and so much shattered glass to work with.”

“Do you at least know when you kicked the bucket?” he asks. “Don’t know much about this place, but maybe you weren’t dead for too long. Hell, if the vamps got you, you might still have family waiting for you back home.”

“Well, I don’t imagine they’d like to see me much like this, now would they?” you question, turning over one skeletal arm for inspection.

“Maybe not, but what’s the last year you can remember, anyway?”

“Year of our lord, High King Richard Chiros Montague IV: 78,” you respond mechanically, almost without a passing thought. Good, at least that’s stuck in there.

“Huh, well, not quite yesterday, but you’re only about twenty or so years off. Not sure if the name would mean anything to you, but we’re in the year of Jormund’s Council 21. Last human king chopped his throne up and left the rest to a pack of diplomats from every kingdom.”

“The mad bastard actually did it!” you laugh. “Democracy! Rule of the people!”

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>>128445

“Well, don’t get too slap happy, there Lee. All it really means is there isn’t a single voice to get anything done fast anymore. The Royal armies all but been annihilated by the tell of things, and that means the individual kingdoms pretty much run under their own rule and do what they please. Hasn’t been good for us. I’ll tell you that much.”

The butterflies in your non-existent stomach went from fluttering to knife fighting in rather swift order, it seems.

“But the accords for your lands…”

“Ancient history!” he laughs. “And humans have never been good at remembering their history. So now we’re duking it out with baron’s men and avoiding human territories like the plague. Tone’s weren’t sweet to begin with, but things have only turned more bitter as the barons try to ‘civilize’ their territories.”

“Surely, not all people are bad,” you protest. “There have to be a few reasonable ones.”

“All I’ve got to speculate on are the ones around here,” he says, “and they aren’t any shiny example of tolerance. They think the Aosh tribe is nothing but a pack of necromancer heathens. We’re just lucky they haven’t started hunting us for sport. A couple hundred of us versus a couple thousand of their infantry probably wouldn’t end well.”

“Still, there’s at least a village here and there to get good mead and where you can lay your head for a night with assurance you’ll keep it in the morning. Just avoid the places that have banners flying overhead and men that speak in “thee’s” and “thou’s”.”

“And did you have anything to throw in on all this?” you ask Yesh.

“The world is as it is,” he cryptically responds, “I can only live in it and go where I am needed.”

“Right, well, speaking of being needed. How much longer do you believe you’ll be sticking around? Until Cassandra is healed fully? Until Shasa gets back with the herbs? Also do you know of any way we can get Cici some new clothes?”

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>>128459

So many questions, so many things that need attending to, you hadn’t realized how fast you were speaking, but Galblasa simply takes it all in stride.

“We’ll probably stick around here until Cass’s through the worst of it. That’ll be a couple of days at the most if she doesn’t do something stupid. Shasa’ll be back by then, and then we’re gonna take her home. New clothes for the tike is probably something she’s already working on, grabbing fabric if nothing else. In the meantime, I’m planning on eating what we’ve got, then skinning this thing the rest of the way for a pelt, maybe make a new bed for the little one and Cass.”

“And you?” you ask Yesh.

“I believe that there is much I can teach you,” he says, standing up carefully and dusting off his robes. “If you will allow me.”

> Response
> [x] Yes
> [] No
> [] Later

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>>128469

“Might as well,” you say. “One can never have too many tricks up their sleeves, after all.”

“Very well, then,” the small lizard pleasantly acquiesces, motioning for you to follow as he steps away from the campfire and into the shadowy twilight, stretching out his limbs with a small groan before straightening his robe. “As I said, there is much that I can teach you, but our time together may be very short. Only the spirits can truly decide, but among my techniques, there are a few I believe I could teach you the basics of tonight.”

“Very well. Let’s hear about them then.”

“First,” he says, and reaches a hand towards you, a single finger glowing with a point of light. The mote flickers and sparks, flashing one brilliant time before utterly disappearing. However, in its absence you feel a burst of mana suddenly flood your being from within, looking down to see something like purple flames coursing across your bones. “This is the ability to give mana to others, channeling it to increase their capabilities and make spirits manifest.”

“Second,” he says, and you note the feeling tingling in your bones as he shoves a clawed hand out to the side and it immediately bursts into a monstrous silhouette of light. “Is the ability to amplify your own spirit and give it form.”

With a flick of his wrist, you see the phantom hand tear into the ground beneath him, leaving deep trenches in the ground.

“Third.” And suddenly you feel your body struggling against a heavy force, one you choose not to resist as you imagine it’s part of your instruction. “-is the ability to manipulate spirits and bend them to your will.”

At this point, you can see the sweat beading on his brow, his shoulders slumped slightly.

“Now, those are the basics, forms I might be able to teach you in a night. Which would you like to learn?”

Choose:
> [] Mana burn: Burn accumulated mana to increase physical abilities
> [] Mana gift: Give mana to other beings
> [x] Mana control: Gain minor control over spirits by concentrating

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>>128490

“I think being able to wrangle restless spirits sounds most useful,” you say with a limbering twist.

“Not simply restless spirits,” Yesh corrects you. “The living, the dead, and things made in their image, all are imbued with a spirit that can be influenced. All you need is concentration and practice.”

At the last word, the shadows seem to grow long, Yesh’s eyes like pools of purest darkness. With both hands, he then reaches out and a pile of sticks and logs twirls up into the air to answer his call. They dance in mid-air for a moment where the phantoms of his hands move as if to sculpt clay. Legs, arms, a chest, and boxy head, the image of a man becomes clear from the flora as you feel a surge of mana will it so, a primitive and expressionless wooden man now taking a stance before you with unknowable determination.

“Why not teach me that one?!” you demand, pointing to your counterpart.

“Because all things are the same,” he says, his voice the same calm drone that it’s always been, “one discipline building on top of another. Today marks your first step. Now try to subdue your opponent with nothing but your will.”

“Wait, wha-“ A wooden fist lets out a hollow ring as it smashes against your skull, sending you stumbling back, shaken but not out.

“Well, fine then,” you spit, raising your own dukes against the splintery soldier. “If it was too easy it’d be boring anyway.”

> [] Keep roll from last thread (78)
> [] Roll new dice (1d100)

>>128510
>> [X] Keep roll from last thread (78)
better thant average roll is fine

>>128510
>[] Keep roll from last thread (78)
Don't wanna risk it.

>>128510
>[X] Keep roll from last thread (78)

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>>128510

Settling into the rhythm of battle, you begin analyzing your opponent, slowly building your mana and trying to find a hole in his guard you can exp-

*Knock*

With a doubly hollow ring, you find yourself stumbling back from the woodman’s left straight, one he tries to follow with a spinning leg kick that might have done considerable damage had you not already been rolling through the leaves to gain distance.

“Using only your will!” Yesh calls after you.

“Well, what about him?” you question as you regain your feet only to find the wood man already sprinting after you.

“No opponent will wait to be disarmed,” the small lizard points out. “You have to be able to concentrate in the moment, feel his mana, and-“ *Knock* “not get hit!”

So begins a long period of you just trying not to get hit, dodging blow after relentless blow while trying to find some window to release your mana. It’s similar to controlling the skeletons from the dungeon. In principle, you know that, but without the luxury of time it’s next to impossible. You need to strategize.

> What do you do? (Better plan equals better dice)
> [] Fight
> [] Flee
> [] Distract

>>128642
[x] Flee
We're a bard. Get a sense of timing, of rhythm, of patterns that the woodman is using. Get a tempo in our head going, and use it to DANCE our way out of its attacks.

>>128642
>[X] Flee

>>128671
>>128676

Alright, well give me 3d100

Rolled 13, 55, 74 = 142 (3d100)

>>128760
Yeah, the plan wasn't too great.

>>128778

I wouldn't get too down on yourself. You are a skellington still kind of just trying to get your bearings, and the strategy plays to your strengths.

>>128800
>>128778


We'll need some more rolls folks. I take best of first three.

Rolled 69, 10, 61 = 140 (3d100)

>>128835
No one else?

>>128899

I guess not. I'll give it a bit longer, but this quest just doesn't seem to have a lot of follower.

>>128921
I don't know why. We had quite a few in the first thread.

>>128937

First threads are always a testing period. A lot more people who up to that than anything after. Afterward, chalk it up to players either not liking what they saw, an erratic time schedule (which I tried to announce at the end of every thread within a two hour span of the next run date), the move to /qst/, and now, we've come to the point where we can't really even get a proper vote consistently done.

It's disheartening to say the least.

Rolled 14, 4, 10 = 28 (3d100)

>>128835

>>128977
The players seemed to really like the quest, so I don't know why they're not here.

Rolled 28, 86, 14 = 128 (3d100)

>>128760

>>128978
>>129014
Aha! Some latecomers!
Maybe you just needed to wait a little longer, OP.

>>129019

Don't know, but I'll get back to writing.
> 28, 55, 74

>>128288

Also, Twitter: https://twitter.com/bananon_QM
Archive #1: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive.html?searchall=RE%3A+Animated
Archive #2: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?searchall=RE%3A+Animated

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>>128642

First, however, you need to get out of range. So, after a quick tuck and roll to remove yourself from arm’s reach, you take off sprinting into the forest, hopping over logs and brambles, bobbing and weaving around trunks, anything to get in your opponent’s path as he chases after you. Unfortunately, in the process of keeping a careful eye on your feet, you run yourself head first into an overhanging branch. The world goes for a disorienting turn as you spin head over heels through the air, your body’s forward momentum carrying you onward in some sort of terrifying cartwheel.

You hit the earth with a dull thud and a shock of pain, and that’s all the time, you’re opponent needs to get on top of you.

One, two, three: his fists rain down on your skeletal limbs with a clatter and thud, as you try to defend yourself.

One, two, three: the rhythm falls same as before, and you could swear you hear a crack.

One, two- but this time three goes wide, your own hand slapping his out to the side, as you drive an open palm into his woody chest.

“Gotcha!” you shout, as all of the mana you had been building during that assault is finally released.

Like before, you can feel your spirit slide sluggishly through your form, but with so little ways to travel, the effect is immediate, your mana pressing against the core of his being, attempting to mold it to something a little less punchy. Unlike with the skeletons, however, this time there’s resistance, making the whole act less like filling an empty cup and more like trying to leave an indent in a solid mass of clay.

A fist snaps against your head with a loud rapport while you work, but you ignore it, focusing everything on driving your will into the core of his being until finally, you feel it give. The effect is small at first, but soon becomes telling, fists slowing bit by bit until finally the wooden man just stops completely. With a grunt of effort, you then cast the immobile form aside, taking your feet before giving an angry kick against his barked chest.

The uncomfortable snapping of one of your toe bones from this act reminds you at some point to seek out the wonderful protection offered by boots. Still, you won’t let that dampen your spirits as you stand victorious, the decided winner of this bout.

“You did well,” Yesh congratulates, and just like that, you see the wooden man crumble, returning to a pile of sticks and twigs. “That would normally take several days of training.”

“Well, I’ve always been a quick learner,” you breathe. “Now, is there anything else you can teach me?”

“Not tonight, I fear,” he replies, wiping the sweat from his brow. “Perhaps another, if fate provides.”

It would seem you have the rest of the evening at your leisure.

> What to do?
> [] Just relax, spend time talking with people
> [] Train with magic
> [] Train with weapons
> [] Other

>>129250
>[] Train with magic
Specifically, bone repair.

>>129250
>> [] Just relax, spend time talking with people

Rolled 37, 9, 18 = 64 (3d100)

>>128760

>>129250
> [] Train with magic

>>129250

One can never have too much magic to hand, but where to start. You think it over as you make your way further within, walking down the increasingly familiar hall to where the spell book sits undisturbed. Flipping over its pages to the ones you recall from earlier, the options remain much the same.

> What to learn? (Roll 1d100 either way)
> [] Mending broken constructs (either improve speed or add range)
> [] Temporary attribute amplification
> [] Issuing commands
> [] Altering constructs physically

Rolled 13 (1d100)

>>129323
>[] Mending broken constructs (either improve speed or add range)
Improve Speed

Rolled 31 (1d100)

>>129323
>[X] Issuing commands
Our words are our strength.

Rolled 68 (1d100)

>>129323
>>[X] Issuing commands

Rolled 27 (1d100)

>>129323
>> [X] Mending broken constructs (either improve speed or add range)
Speed please

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>>129323

Well, you’ve been putting yourself back together more and more often lately, it seems. Perhaps practice will make perfect on that front. You chuckle as you remember you are still holding a piece of toe in your skeletal palm and slowly pop it back in to place with a crackle of magic. Then again, were you to find yourself suitably mangled and without the luxury of breathing space, maybe now would be the time to shore up those particular strengths.

The same could be said of commanding your skeletal brethren, who while fearless, were seemingly incapable without you giving them direct guidance, something that left you in quite a pickle when you weren’t able to actively focus on their movements during the boar fight.

With that in mind, you divide your focus for the evening, slowly working your way through to the denser subject matter surrounding both of your current abilities. It’s not, perhaps, the most exciting of affairs, but you do catch a couple of useful snippets that you missed, such as infusing the mana into the part you are seeking to reattach, and the fact that your present means of issuing commands was far from the most efficient means to control your units in real time.

What you’ve been doing when commanding the other skeletons was the equivalent of a puppet show, one that only worked for so long as you held the strings. Without that focus, the units were effectively just inert skeletal statues with no purpose or motivation, save what little default programming they have, such as attack, defend, flee. You actually hadn’t known that those programs existed, however, or how to activate them, and so you take quick mental notes of what otherwise should be a trivial process. More complex orders, those will take time to master, however.

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>>129536

Anyway, overflowing with newfound knowledge or out of time, at any rate, you once again hear the sound of birds heralding the morn. And so, you begin making your way toward the entrance, where you find Yesh staring toward the roof with a look of concern.

“I’m telling you this is a bad idea!” he says, stamping his foot for emphasis.

“Just a warning shot,” comes Galblassa’s dismissive voice from above, the last thing you hear before the tell-tale twang of an arrow being fired and a rush of air, followed shortly by the sound of a woman’s scream.

“Well damn…” he mutters. “I missed.”

> What do you do?

>>129545
"Galblassa, by all that is holy and the afterlife that I personally knows exists beyond the veil, WHAT DID YOU DO?!"

>>129545
>> What do you do?
shout apologies

>>129545

>>129557
this

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>>129545

“Galblassa, by all that is holy here and in the great hereafter (which I personally know exists), what have you done?” you demand, sprinting out from the entry way so you can get a good line of site to the rooftops.

“Wind took my arrow up,” he explains and far too nonchalantly for your taste. “Meant to hit the ground, but by the looks of things, I hit him square in the gut.”

“Hit who in the gut?” you hiss. “Who is he?”

“Reckon we’re about to find out. They’re still headed this way.”

“Oh dear…” Yesh groans, rubbing the frills on his head while moving to join you.

“Oh dear indeed,” you agree, and prepare yourself for what comes next.

> What to do?
> [] Go and greet them. Try to smooth this over.
> [] Begin shouting apologies
> [] Get ready for retaliation
> [] Other

>>129658
>[] Begin shouting apologies
> Other: You see, Galblassa? This is you reinforcing the stereotype of the dumb brute of a village guardsman. Not everyone can take an arrow to their bony gut and simply rattle it off like I can.
Or go with "Do you want adventurers? This is how you get adventurers! Shooting at people without first asking them what they want. We don't even have a "KEEP OUT! Bow-happy Lizard on the loose!" sign to warn people!"

>>129658
>> [X] Go and greet them. Try to smooth this over.
>> [X] Begin shouting apologies

>>129658
>> [] Get ready for retaliation
Lets face it, they aren't going to be very calm or happy.

I bet its the stupid aprentice of Father "Anderson" from earliest threads

>>129658
>> [X] Begin shouting apologies

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>>129658

“Galblassa,” you seethe. “I have to ask, do you want adventurers? Because this is you get adventurers: shooting at people without first asking them what they want! Or do we need a ‘KEEP OUT! Bow-happy Lizard on the loose!’ sign to warn people off!?”

“Yeah, I messed up,” he grunts. “We can dwell on it, or we can deal with what comes next.” You hear him clear his throat briefly, before taking in a large breath of air.

“THAT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A WARNING SHOT!” he yells before you can pre-empt, loud enough to wake the dead and send echoes through the graveyard.

“WE’RE VERY SORRY!” you shout after him. “PLEASE, WE DON’T WANT ANY TROUBLE!”

“KEEP YAR PANTIES ON!” you hear a familiar voice shout back. “GOT ENOUGH PROBLEMS WITHOUT GETTIN’ IN A SHOUTIN’ MATCH IN THE MIDDLE OF A THRICE DAMNED GRAVEYARD!”

Tense moments pass by as you hear the faint sound of clopping hooves and the tell-tale rumble of rolling wheels draw closer. It isn’t long before you can make out Michael and his retinue picking a path through the cemetery, the former’s side now sprouting a decidedly unnatural woody growth.

“I’m sorry!” you call again, now rushing out to meet them.

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>>129839

“Aye! I heard you the first time!” comes the response. “Now if ye can back yar boney ass up, I’d prefer ye not spook the horses!”

You comply as best you can, moving out of the way long before the cart arrives and toward the stairs to Galblassa’s impromptu sniper’s nest. Curiously, along the way, you spy Cici’s rabbit nibbling on the lawn, the carefree little hare chewing away without a care in the world, and so you scoop him up before you have yet another incident on your hands, this time with a crying child.

“Now then,” Michael sighs, as they finally come to a stop near the pit where the cookfire had been last night. “I can understand the less than warm welcome after last time, and I won’t hold that against ye.”
Casually, but with a groan of effort, you watch as he begins shoving the arrow the rest of the way through to the apparent horror of his apprentices (who are now three in number you notice, a dumpy, somewhat portly looking man to go with the bookish looking beauty on his left and the stark, black haired gentlemen to his right).

“But next time, use blunted arrows, will ye?”

With a sickening spurt, the arrow comes loose with a gout of blood, one he seemingly has no care for as he tosses the scarlet shaft off the side.

> Response?

>>129854
I might have no flesh nor hair, but that still gave me goosebumps. What are you made of? Holy magic and gelatine?

>>129854
"Yes, of course."
>glare at Galblassa
"Now, how can we help you, Father?"

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>>129854

“Um… Are you certain that’s going to be alright?” you question, as you see the wetness on his shirt expand outward. “I might have no flesh nor hair, but that still gave me the goosebumps.”

“Aye,” he confidently confirms, though you can see his face is a bit paler. “Nothin’ but a flesh wound.”

“The man’s a monster,” the dark haired man, Ricky as you recall, interjects while you try to think of a different way to phrase things. “Best to just ignore it.”

“A monster?” you question. “What, is he made of holy magic and gelatin?”

“Nonsense,” chides the father. “Ain’t nothin’ monstrous about me. I’m as human as human can get from me head to me toes. Just heal a bit faster is all.”

Casually, he unbuttons his shirt and invites you to see where the flesh is already knitting itself closed.

“How does that work out?” you question. “Is it some sort of magic? If so, why didn’t you use it earlier when-“

“Ain’t magic,” he corrects. “Ain’t even really sure what it is. All I know is that I took a nap in troll blood one day, woke up the next with a god awful hangover and a slightly less fractured everythin’ than I’d gone to bed with. Anyway, that isn’t exactly why we’re here.”

“Ah, yes, of course!” you say, sparing a glare in Galblassa’s general direction. “Now, how can we help you, Father?”

“Well, first things first, wanted to know how my patient was doing. Second things second, the town’s folk so generously donated a portion of an early payment, compensation for the grievances they unwittingly heaped on your household.”

> How do you respond?

>>130051
Well, if he want to know how she is going, might as well bring her to him.

>>130051
"Lady Cassandra is recuperating well. We did have to acquire the services of a lizard healer, but she is doing well enough now, if still weak."

>>130051
>> How do you respond?
>There were some unexpected complications and required another healer but now she is recuperating well.

>>130192
>>There were some unexpected complications and required another healer but now she is recuperating well.
This

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>>130051

“Lady Cassandra is recuperating well,” you assure him. “Though there were some unexpected complications that required us to seek out the services of another healer, she is doing well, if still a bit weak.”

“What he means to say,” Galblassa interjects, casually jumping off the roof to join the conversation. “Is that after you finished trying to stab her to death, you botched the patch job bad enough that she almost bled out before help could arrive.”

“Oh, well that’s no good,” the priest says calmly. “Glad to hear she’s doing better now, though.”

“You almost killed her!” Galblassa roars, Michael’s casual tone perhaps setting him off. Either way, his sudden burst of aggression sends the hands of the other humans to their weapons.

“Aye, and I reckon were you not such a shite shot, you woulda taken my head clean off on the way up here.”

“It was a warning shot!” Galblassa growls.

“Aye, really gave some advanced notice. Reckon you might want to include a written message next time, though. Else folks might take the pointy flying implements of death headed toward them the wrong way.”

Still smiling, you can feel the danger building behind the priest’s grin, perhaps not as easy to grasp as Galblassa’s open hostility, as his veins bulge and his knuckles creak around the handle of his axe, but enough to telegraph a brewing storm. You need a distraction, you realize, and quick.

“Why are people yelling…?” comes the groggy groan from inside the dungeon, followed by the sound of slithering scales and the padding of tiny feet.

“Some unwanted co-“ Galblassa begins, but you elbow him in the sternum.

“Some welcomed guests,” you correct, “come to bring word from the settlement and a few gifts to help ease tensions.”

“Aye, a mission of peace,” Michael agrees, his eyes never leaving Galblassa’s.

“Full of talking and absolutely no violence!” the as yet unheard Margy pipes up. “I’m terribly, terribly sorry for everything that happened! As you can see, we’ve requisitioned some things from the local citizens: flour, meat, oil, linens, anything we thought would he-“

“My dear lady, calm down. There’s no sense worrying your pretty little head. After all, we’re all reasonable, rational adults here, aren’t we?”

“Yeah,” Galblassa and Michael say in unison, each turning to face a different direction before realizing and returning to their glaring match.

Anyway, crisis seems to be averted for right now. That’s good.

> What to do next?

>>130511
If only we had some more strength in these bones, we'd slap Galblassa upside the head for trying to make a situation worse.

Ask if there's some linen appropriate for making clothing. Cecilia needs a new dress.
And hand the rabbit over to the little girl; has she gotten permission from her mother to keep the rabbit?

>>130511
>> has she gotten permission from her mother to keep the rabbit?
This is important. Don't want to get her in trouble.

Also, yeah, we might want to have a friendly discussion with Galblassa about not poking angry troll blood augmented mutant murderpriests.

>>130646
He's got valid reasons to be angry, what with the human kingdoms basically hunting down lizards nowadays, and the priest was the one who hurt Cassandra in the first place.

But it's also true that he's making a bad situation worse, the priest did apologize and try to make things right.

>>130692
See, if this was any other priests, I'd agree. But well this one look like a barely restrained psychopath strong enough to kill every monster around. Fucking with him is probably not a very healthy endeavor, something lizard buddy should understand.

And yeah he did apologize.

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>>130511

“Is there any chance there might be some dress worthy fabric in there?” you ask. “Young Cici here is in desperate need of a new set of clothing following a little… outdoors excursion she went on.”

“I’m sorry, Mama…” Cici whispers, and gets a gentle pat on the head.

“All is well, sweetling.”

“Though, speaking of which,” you say, remembering now the warm, gently twitching bundle in your arms. “What are we going to do with-“

“Din-Din!” Cici gasps excitedly. “You’re okay! I was so worried!”

A part of you wants to just give the rabbit to the little girl’s outstretched arms, but another remembers proper procedure for these things.

“Up-up, not without your mother’s permission,” you remind her, and get a sullen expression as she sheepishly turns to face Cassandra.

“M-Mama, can I keep him?” she asks, her voice very small and her leg already nervously twisting in the short pause it takes Cassandra to give her an answer.

“Will you take care of him?” she finally asks. “Feed him, water him, keep him out of my garden, and walk him regularly?”

“I will Mama!” she promises. “I’ll also make sure to give him baths every time I take one, and wash behind his ears.”

“And your own?”

“And my own…” she acquiesces.

“Then I don’t see any harm in it. Din-Din, welcome to the family.”

The squeal of delight is as piercing as it is heartwarming as the little girl eagerly takes the bunny in hand, petting him and smothering him in affection with the sort of wild exuberance only a young child can know. Hands thus freed, you return to business, facing the thoroughly distracted priestess-to-be.

“Oh!” she snaps, her attention coming back to the fore. “There should be some soft linens that could work for that. I’m sorry. The people of Jonasburg aren’t particularly wealthy.”

“Aye,” Michael throws in. “We’re gonna have to wring the rest out of Baron Fatty Fizban’s miserable arse! You’re welcome to join if ye want.”

> Response?
> [] Yes
> [] No
> [] Ask for details

>>130881
>[] Yes
Do we get to wear something for this occasion?

>>130881
>> [X] Yes
This'll be fun!

>>130881
>> [] Yes

>>130916
I don't think any clothes would fit us, we're not even skin and bones!

>>130881
> [] Yes

We should totally bandage ourselves up and pretend to be a lepper as a disguise.

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>>130939
If this guy could pull it off, I think Lee can do it.

>>130969
Yeah, but he's big boned. We could always throw on a cloak and a hate.

>>130881
>> [x] Yes
thisll be fun

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>>130881

“Sounds like it’ll be fun!” you say, trying to brush off the host of odd stares now aimed your way. “Also, who?”

“I mighta been talkin’ to the lass,” Michael corrects. “Or maybe, ugly here or the little one trying to go unnoticed over in the corner. No offense intended, but yer appearance is a little…”

“Every town from here to Walden’s Keep would mistake you for an undead,” Ricky finishes. “The gorgon, we could pass for a Lamia. Lizard-kin draw suspicion, but generally not mobs if they don’t look like savages. As for you, well, I’m not sure how we would manage.”

“A cloak and a hat, perhaps?” you question to no one in particular. “Maybe a good suit of armor and some padding? Surely, there must be some way.”

“Well, if ye can figure it out yerself, I’ve no objections,” Michael says. “Just need somebody there to represent the aggrieved party.”

“Oh?” you question.

“Law of the land stipulates that at least one member of the party who was directly injured by actions taken, either through loss of property, health, or social status must present themselves before the court to plead their case. Either that or, in the case where the individuals in question have no desire or ability to appear themselves, they may elect a delegate who an officiated member of the local establishment of law deems to be able and willing to act in their place.”

Margy looks like a deer caught in the headlights as she suddenly finds herself the center of attention.

“Lass’s got a good memory,” Michael explains. “Anyway, the deal here is that Baron Fatty put out a contract based on information we’ve now proven to be false. By law of the land, that means he owes reparations, both to my church and the lass and her family.”

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>>131293

“Also, by an edict set forth in the Grand Tribunal in the year 14 of the reign of William Casterly V, any baron who shall be found wanting in the protection of his lands from those forces both unnatural and malicious, despite being informed of said activities by the common people for a period of time in excess of one month, shall thereafter cede the rights to such lands for good an all to whoever shall wrest said properties from the offending malady.”

“In common, please,” Galblassa requests.

“Basically, by human laws, Baron von Fatty the Fuckwit now owes these lands to the lass. By testimonials from the surrounding villages I’ve been recounted, the good folks knew about the undead for quite a while and the baron didn’t do anything but rest on his wrinkly laurels.”

“That’s peculiar,” you say.

“About as peculiar as slappin’ a list of mysterious murders onto a convenient suspect,” Michael snorts. “The whole mess smells rotten, truth be told, and I’ll not be done with it till I slap some answers out of that powdery prick.”

“Don’t curse in front of my daughter,” Cassandra commands, somehow more frightening than Galblassa as she leans there in the doorway.

“Aye, my mistake,” the priest returns. “Apologies.”

> What to do?
> [] Make a disguise? How?
> [] Ask who all wants to go?
> [] Other

>>131306
>[] Make a disguise? How?
Look for a suit of armor in the dungeon?
Or use a blanket to make a robe and hood to hide ourselves.

>>131306
>> [] Make a disguise? How?
Look for an old suit of armor in the dungeon.
Try to look for an hat and a cloak to decorate said armor.

Alternatively, find a robe and a mask to disguise our skelly selves.

>>131306
> [] Make a disguise? How?

Wrap ourselves in bandages, claim to have a very nasty and grotesque skin problem. Make sure to add extra padding in the places that clatter and creak so we don't make noises.

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>>131306

“And in any case, I have no particular interest in trekking through human lands,” Cassandra adds. “I won’t subject my little one to that, and I won’t leave her in anyone else’s hands.”

“That’s fair,” Michael agrees, “but I’m still gonna need someone to come along with yer consent.”

“I’d need to clear it with the city watch, but I can probably manage,” Galblassa throws in.

“I could also accompany you, though a larger retinue may prove troublesome,” Yesh adds.

“I will get back to you once I have a quick look inside,” you say, and immediately scamper back inside the dungeon.

Not even, skin and bones, you chuckle. Looking human was going to be no easy task. A robe and a mask perhaps, maybe a suit of armor. The real question was whether you could find either in what little of the ruins had been dug up in recent days. It was slow going with your skeletal brethren, taking each corridor inch by painstaking inch from the collapsed earth. Still, where there was will, there had to be a way.

It’s a curious thing really, how fortune favors the desperate. Such is the case once again as you find yourself reaching the end of the long and empty road that your brethren had been carving, not a scrap of armor or clattering coin to be found along the way. However, what you find at the end against an impossibly smooth wall is a memory, a memory of a door not easily seen opened by words whispered sweetly to the stones. What those words are, you cannot recall, even as they pass where lips once were. Perhaps there was a meaning in them, perhaps it was just gibberish. Either way, you find yourself stepping through a doorway into darkness, into a room eerily seeming to have not been touched by time, or the calamity that had struck the rest of the tower above.

Memories flood back to you even as you commission a ball of light to illuminate the chamber, of a pitched battle fought against a powerful enemy, one that moved as fast as death and silent as the grave. The shadows flow eerily long as the light shines out, caressing walls that have not known its touch in an age, illuminating stone forms kneeling in unison until finally, at the end of the hall, the light hits something sparkling, a pristine suit of steel armor, bowed as its brethren, waiting with face plate open.

> What to do?
> [] Take the armor
> [] Leave the armor
> [] Other

>>131531
>> [] Take the armor
Become the Skull Knight!

>>131531
> [] Take the armor

Provided its not cursed.

>>131531
>[] Take the armor

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>>131531

“Well, beggars can’t be choosers,” you murmur, the surreal silence weighing on you as each step falls like a thunderclap on the hard floor, and some sense in the back of your head sends a chill up your vertebrae.

Still, nothing jumps out at you, no horrible curse strikes as you slowly place yourself, piece by piece into the armor. It’s simply armor, well-made and with a well-tailored inside meant for someone far more ‘meaty’ than yourself. You were going to need blankets to make this work properly, you realize as each step out of this desolate place sends a clanging, rattling chorus through the previously rapt silence. Still, all things considered, a small price to pay and convenient beyond any rational man’s expectations.

> What to do?
> [] Acquire armor stuffing
> [] Check in on the others
> [] Do something else

>>131680
>[] Acquire armor stuffing

>>131680
>> [] Acquire armor stuffing
For additionnal security, use old cloth that doesn't smell too clean.

>>131680
>[X] Acquire armor stuffing

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>>131680

You return to the clean air outside to find the various other people already hard at work unpacking the cart of its contents, going over the bundles of cloth and herbs with a discerning eye, turning over seeds and produce. Unfortunately, right off the bat, you can see there isn’t going to be enough cloth for your needs as well as the family’s, but you do happen to spy Yesh out of the corner of your eye. As per the usual, he’s far away from the action, and more importantly worrying away at a basket he appears to be building out of reeds.

“Hello Yesh!” you greet warmly.

“Hello yourself, Lee,” he greets, “I see your trip into the depths has yielded positive results.”

“Indeed,” you say, “though the fit isn’t quite right. Any chance you could help me make some fittings out of wicker?”

“It would take time,” Yesh replies, “and probably some measure of cloth for what you intend. Perhaps we can reuse the material from your cloak for that.”

“Cloak?” you question. “Yesh, this armor doesn’t have a…”

You look down at your chest and see the trailing fabric, thick black wool now draping your shoulders and falling to your heels. What’s more, the design of the armor itself is now not quite as it was. It feels, lighter, for lack of a better term, more chain and leather than heavy plate. Still far from anything approaching a good fit, of course, but the joints glide smoothly.

> What to do?
> [] Panic
> [] Learn the art of basket weaving (2d100)

Rolled 39, 39 = 78 (2d100)

>>131991
>[] Learn the art of basket weaving (2d100)
>comment that the armor has changed of its own will

Rolled 41, 33 = 74 (2d100)

>>131991
>[X]Learn the art of basket weaving (2d100)

Rolled 56, 78 = 134 (2d100)

>>131991

>Learn the art of basket weaving to distract yourself from this magic bullshit armor.

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>>131991

“Well, I’m sure glad this armor is as perfectly normal as I expected,” you quip. “Do me a favor, Yesh, and if I start monologuing my dastardly plans aloud, cave my head in for me, would you?”

“What?”

“Exactly! Now how about that wicker?”

Thin fingers make for skillful hands, so the saying went among young maidens of your day. Then again, you’d met a fat fingered baker’s wife by the name of Gertrude who could sew half of them under the table. So it is, that thin fingers alone are not quite up to the task of this delicate art. For a time, you fumble your way through just trying to get a basic pattern started, grouching and cursing your way through more than a couple of failed attempts.

However, reeds are plentiful in the area, and you’ve plenty of time to commit to it. So it is that slowly, bit by bit, you begin making ground, following Yesh’s carefully laid plans to add figure to your bones. An arm guard here, a shin guard there, some bizarre crown like apparatus to keep your helmet on your head, it takes you well on into the evening, the two of you working without pause, but toward the end, you know that you can finish in the night.

“Time for food,” Yesh says, setting aside his own work and moving to stand and stretch his bones.

> Take a break as well?
> [] Yes
> [] No

>>132214
>[] No

>>132214
Guys I'm new to this, how far are we along in the Yesh Romance Path?

>Fuck it, take a break with Yesh, use it to regale him with tales that he hasn't heard from you before. Or just shoot the shit. Whichever comes first, really.

>>132214
>[X] No

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>>132214

“I think I’ll keep working on this for a while,” you say as he leaves, determined to finish the final few details on your left armlet before night truly falls.

Time winds on from there in an indistinct blur, the fire once more roaring to life as dusk settles in and the stars come out. Voices fill the air along with smoke as people converse, telling stories and trading information back and forth. You even catch the soft melody of a harp somewhere in the mix, but simply let it go by, a pleasant background to motivate your fingers to work more quickly and something to lose yourself in along with the work.

“Goodnight Mr. Bones.” You hadn’t even realized someone was approaching as that sleepy little voice calls from behind you and a pair of small arms awkwardly wrap around your rib cage in a hug.

“Goodnight Cici,” you say, putting aside your finished helmet before returning the hug in kind, ruffling her serpentine locks gently before sending her off to join her mother.

With a chorus of pops and creaks you then stretch out from your long held hunch, the end of your work clearly in sight. However, first you resolve to get some food for the soul, as it were, casually sauntering over to the still occupied cook pit where it appears Margy is once more striking up her harp, her strong voice carrying a hymn into the night sky that makes the stars shine bright. Time was about to begin moving quickly again, you realize, so it wouldn’t do to fail in savoring this moment. Here, with unlikely friends, sitting by a roaring fire, and with what appears to be a half a barrel of ale still yet to be finished, you feel the stirrings of a warmth inside of you, something that feels a lot like home.

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>>132711

And I think that is where I will end it for tonight, folks. It's getting late and this has been running for quite some time. Maybe, I'd be willing to run a bit tomorrow as well, but I don't want to burn anybody out. Let me know what you think and I'll have a look tomorrow (posting to Twitter if necessary). Otherwise, hope you had fun and enjoy the rest of your evening.

>>132742
My afternoon tomorrow is free. Normally it isn't, though.

>>132742
Thanks for running bananon!
I've really liked the world you've made. It would be a shame to be teased with all these details of the world without getting to experience them. You got me for a poster/reader if you run tomorrow.

>>132742
Since QM's twitter is smack dab in the middle of the thread rather than at the first couple posts or last post I'll repost it for any latecomers.

https://twitter.com/bananon_QM


Archive #1: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive.html?searchall=RE%3A+Animated
Archive #2: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?searchall=RE%3A+Animated

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>>133654

Thank you, kind anon. Anyway, as I just posted to twitter, I'm gonna need to grab some breakfast and shake off the morning funk, but then I oughta be good to write for a while longer.

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>>132711

Beneath a curtain of stars and cast in the glow of a roaring flame, you spend the rest of the evening continuing your wicker masterpiece, placing one stitch at a time with careful hands, Yesh joining in as well now that he’s eaten his fill. Galblassa meanwhile spends his time sharpening his axe, and restocking his supply of arrows with an efficient, practiced hand, while the humans converse amongst themselves, all parties occasionally stopping to refill their mugs. Seems, now might be a good time for conversation.

> What to do?
> [] Where are we going
> [] When are we leaving
> [] Other, personal questions

>>135772
>> [X] Where are we going

>>135772
>[] Where are we going
Sorry, I took a nap and overslept.

>>136095

It's okay, anon. Sleep is important. Anyway, sense we have two folks, I'll get back to writing.

>>136165
It's the curse of time zones, I suffer from +2utc

>>136165
Still, I feel bad about not getting here on time when I said I would be here.

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>>135772

“You know,” you say, tying off what will become your artificial thigh. “Mystery may be the spice of every adventure, and the journey far outweighs the destination, but where exactly are we heading and how far from here?”

“Our goal is Baron Francis Fizban’s hold,” Ricky answers, producing a whetstone of his own and unsheathing his blade. Seems the act may be contagious. “Unlike many barons, however, he keeps his personal residence to the far north of his territory in Walden’s Keep, a good few days trek from here.”

“Aye, I reckon it’ll take about a week by horse and cart to make it all the way out there,” Michael elaborates, “and best we get a move on sooner rather than later, before he can scurry his fat arse elsewhere. Baron’s tend to have a sixth sense about two things, those that involve their purses and those that involve their holdings.”

“And how long until we take off?” you query.

“Could be tomorrow, if yer ready to hit the road by then, but we can take as much as a week without risking anything. It’s really yer decision.”

Galblassa simply offers a shrug, while Yesh turns to you.

“You are new to this life and have much that you could learn within a week’s time. I might recommend preparing for the road ahead.”

> What do you say?
> [] Stay a bit longer to train
> [] Leave in the morning

>>136286
>[] Stay a bit longer to train
Also I want to be sure that Cassandra is healed before we go.
Maybe we can use our old bardic knowledge and training to learn some jurisprudence from Margy so that we can effectively argue our case.

>>136286
>> [X] Stay a bit longer to train
we should learn the do's and dont's of now's etiquette

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>>136286

“I think a little more time to get my head on straight wouldn’t hurt,” you say, “Not to mention, I’m hesitant to leave Lady Cassandra as she is.”

“No complaints here,” Michael says, “Gives me some time to ready our supplies for the road and maybe send some more Harpy Mail while I’m at it. Make sure the order isn’t draggin’ their ass in gettin’ to the bottom of this blasted quagmire.”

“And me to catch up on today’s do’s and don’ts,” you add. “Twenty years is a long time to be away from society, after all.”

“Well, consider my posse at your disposal in the meantime. The lass here’s got a good head on her shoulders, Ricky can teach you the pointy end of the sword from yer own ass, and Georgy here’s a passable chef and medic when he ain’t cowerin’ behind somethin’ or another.”

“And what about yourself?” you ask.

“Well, I can’t exactly teach you how to throw holy fire, can I? It’s a matter of faith, not practice. Same with the healin’”

“Fair enough,” you say.

Anyway, it appears you have a bounty of instructors, and precious little time to develop your skills.

> How do you spend your week? [Distribute 7; Max of three in any one]
> [] Practice Spirit Magic
> ----[] Mana burn
> ----[] Mana gift
> ----[] Mana control
> [] Practice Golem Magic
> ----[] Repair
> ----[] Command
> ----[] Temporary physical boost
> ----[] Physical alteration
> [] Practice basic skills
> ----[] Swordsmanship
> ----[] Politics and customs
> ----[] Dodging
> [] Special
> ----[] Try to figure out this suit of armor

>>136617
>> [] Special
>> ----[] Try to figure out this suit of armor

>>136617
> [] Practice Spirit Magic
>Mana Control 1

>Practice Golem Magic
>Repair 1

>Practice basic Skills
>Politics and Customs 2
>Swordsmanship 1

>Special
>Figure out this suit of armor 2

>>136671
>>136834

I guess I'll double check. Is everyone okay with a time skip at this point to account for the week?

>>136932
I am.

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Cici is adorable!

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>>136617

Time does indeed flow faster when there’s much to do and deadlines to meet. So it is that long hours become short as the week marches onward, your memories of each day blending together into an indistinct mish-mash of pain, magical healing, and then forcing knowledge about the etiquette of the present day and the socioeconomic balance of the continent into the cavern that resides in the middle of your skull.

On the subject of swordsmanship, Ricky proves a fair and patient educator. However, you quickly realize just how large the gap between your strength and speed truly is. Perhaps having no muscles has left you weaker than the average man, or maybe you simply don’t know how to utilize your inner magical substance to its fullest. In the end, it just forces you to become more creative, using distractions and remembering illusory tricks you haven’t used in an age to even the playing field. And when that fails, at least it provides you some practice in piecing yourself back together along with the wicker scaffolding that holds your armor in place.

Speaking of the armor itself, your curiosity and paranoia have you spending what little time you aren’t being beaten about the head by woodsmen and swordsmen trying everything you can possibly think of to figure out what magic might be at work behind the suit. In the end, for all your efforts, you succeed in finding an interesting property or two. The first is that with adequate concentration and enough time, you can will the armor to change its form, metal molding itself, fabric changing color with a thought.

As for the latter, it comes as a result of a frustrated challenge thrown at Yesh to face you himself. One can only take a splintery fist to the jaw so many times before they become frustrated at the one that commands it, after all. The result was “mixed”, you might say, though perhaps “horrifying” would be a better description. Blinding speed and magically enhanced silhouettes of limbs sent the sound of screeching metal into the night sky as you cowered behind your plate and whatever obstacle you could throw in Yesh’s way. However, in the end, the best defense ended up being your hand, your outstretched palm clashing with his silhouette in some foolhardy attempt to block his blow actually succeeding in rending the offending magic asunder and taking the mana into itself. The armor had thereafter given a satisfied hum for hours, something to put a little bit of fear behind your otherwise exultant mood.

- Cont.

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>>137212

As for Cassandra, it isn’t long before her recovery moves into full swing. With the return Shasa especially, her wound becomes less noticeable in leaps and bounds, though the medicine she’s forced to swallow by the older woman has her gagging and fighting back curses with every swig. Still, with what she’s fighting for so close at hand, her darling daughter cheering her through every sip, she seems to somehow manage, the bright girl only seeming to grow more cheerful as her concerns for her mother’s well-being are put to rest.

Yesh winds up making a basket hutch for Din-Din during the time he doesn’t spend torturing you with his splinter soldier, the rabbit taking to his new surroundings well and his ventures trying to hop back into the woods growing less common. To her credit, Cici is as good as her word, always right behind him or carrying him about, feeding him vegetables by the hand full, though her mother occasionally has to remind her to eat her own.

Anyway, as the morning dawns one week later, you feel better prepared for what lies ahead than before. The morning is clear, the sun is shining, the birds are singing, and there is a choice to be made.

“I think, Cass’s still gonna need some protection,” Galblassa pointed out several days back, and even with the woman up and about you feel he’s uneasy in leaving her alone. Yesh seems to be of a similar sentiment whenever you ask his opinion on the matter, but at the same time, they both agree one should accompany you on your journey.

It seems you have a decision to make.

> Who to take?
> [] Galblassa
> [] Yesh

>>137264
>[] Yesh

Galbassa

>>137264
>> [] Galblassa

Yesh would probably just make everyone we meet even more paranoid.

>>137286
>Yesh would probably just make everyone we meet even more paranoid.
And you think Galblassa's overly-aggressive attitude against humans won't?

>>137264

Also, gonna grab dinner real quick folks. It won't take long.

>>137264
>> [X] Galblassa
let Galb be our "attack dog"

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>>137264

“Well, it’s not an easy decision to make,” you had said, “but all things considered, I think your abilities might draw a little too much attention, Yesh. If humans fear lizard-kin necromancers, it would take very little to set off an incident.”

“A reasonable concern,” Yesh agreed. “If it is your preference, then I can remain until you return. Perhaps there are things I can learn as well, while I wait. First, however, let’s ensure that you have the basics thoroughly memorized…”

Six hours of murderous practice, four hours of study, and two hours of packing later, dawn finally comes rolling over the hill. With no horse to call your own, you take to the cart instead, Galblassa cramming his own huge frame in shortly after, something that would likely make for a comical entry in the next town over, but you’re resolved to burn that bridge when you get to it.

“Keep yourselves safe!” Galblassa calls after as the cart begins rolling away, giving a wave to the assembled groggy gorgons, small lizard man, and single human lined up near the entryway. “And, Yesh, don’t let Cass overexert herself doing something stupid!”

“Take care, Lee,” Cassandra retorts, “and help Galblassa keep his arrows out of anything roughly man-shaped, would you?”

“By Mr. Bones! By Uncle Gal!” Cici calls with a wave. “Come back soon!”

“And Georgy,” Michael throws back over his shoulder. “I get one negative word from the lady of the estate when I come back and yar getting’ bumped back to stable boy. Understood?”

“Y-yes, sir! O-of course, sir!” he says with a bow, his face red from embarrassment or exertion, you aren’t sure.

“Alright, well, ain’t nothin’ too it, but to get rollin’ then! A short stop in Jonasburg to load up on supplies and check the post, and we’ll be on our way! Heeya!”

With a whinny and a massive tug, the horses pick up speed, carrying you further and further away from the place that you call home. It’s an odd feeling, fresh for lack of a memory that must have occurred in another life when you’d done the same thing, but as you wave goodbye and those figures grow smaller in the distance, a part of you wishes you could go back.

-Cont

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>>137721

The other parts, however, see the long winding road ahead of you and the adventures yet to be had. Tales to be told, enemies and lovers to be made, daring feats to accomplish: You subconsciously attempt to breathe in the scent of that unfamiliar air and let it fill you with vigor for what’s to come next. You’re even substantially less bothered by the futility of that act than you otherwise might have been. Past the graveyard, into a small thicket of forest, and out the other side, you find yourself rolling through quaint pastures and picketed farm land in fairly short order. Still, you can’t help but notice your companion’s eyes are still turned decidedly back whence you came.

“Cheer up, Gal!” you say. “We’ll be back again before you know it with a veritable bounty on our backs to bring our beloved lady and her daughter.”

“Beloved?!” he questions, and for the first time, you see what must be panic flit through the stern man’s features. “Who said anything about that?”

“Nobody, my good man,” you chuckle. “Just a turn of phrase.”

The sun hasn’t even risen half to noon by the time you roll into Jonasburg, a small village, a hamlet really that was more farmer’s market than anything else. Still, from the look of the children at play, the clean streets, and friendly looking shopkeeps, you’d never have suspected such a location to be the root of such dire problems. You sigh as you try to remember that there is little harm in good country people themselves, only in the suspicions and gossip which they breed in their wayward corners. You imagine that must be why even now, those catching sight of your large, scaly companion are getting decidedly different expressions on their face, ones of fear and perhaps loathing, but if Galblassa notices, he’s doing his best not to show any sign.

“Whelp, this’d be the post office!” Michael sighs, dismounting his horse in front of a house that appears to have a tree growing out of it. “Margy and Ricky yer on supply duty.”

Without further notice, they disband, going about their tasks with a bound in their step. Seems you have a bit of time on your own hands.

> What to do?
> [] Stay. Talk with Galblassa
> [] Check out the armorers shop
> [] Socialize with the locals
> [] Try to assist Margy and Ricky on their tasks

>>137802
>Write-in
Follow the Father into the post office, try to remember where our sister lives, and try to send her a letter.

>>137802
Sounds good to me >>137822

>>137833
>>137822

Alright, give me a d100 roll.

Rolled 8 (1d100)

>>137843

Rolled 22 (1d100)

>>137843
Come on, Lee!
Remember!

Rolled 71 (1d100)

>>137843
last post of the morning for me

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>>137849
>>137863
>>137867
That was close

>>137867

Interesting. You must live overseas then. Thanks for tuning in.

Rolled 59 (1d100)

>>137843
lets see how it goes!

>>137867
>>137863
>>137849
>>137894

Well, then, let's add some backstory.
> What was Lee's last name?

Also, based on your choice of profession with Mage's college, it's likely he was part of a wealthy family, but feel free to suggest parts of backstory, even if they lie outside of that.

>>137882
I have never seen that gif before and I love it.

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>>137904

I'm interested to see what you guys come up with.

>>137904
Leroy "Lee" Howlson.

Son to a successful mage who was in the employ of the government. They had a falling out after Lee chose to leave the college, leaving behind a distraught sister who felt like she had to step into his shoes.

>>137904
>>137937
I HAVE NO IDEA

How about Swatreband for the last name? I used a name generator and it looked interesting

>>137940
>>137943
Didn't we already have a last name?

>>137940
Perhaps they had a close relationship before but afterwards they hardly ever saw each other again. The knowledge of lee's death was never revealed and was believed to have gone over the seas to never returned or dead in a gutter somewhere.

>>137948

You only had your first name, that being Stanley. You also know your sister's name is Sarah.

>>137904
Stanley "Lee" Townsend
Lee had the raw magical talent to have followed in their father's footsteps, but Sara was the only one to actually give a damn about her academics and schooling.

Grandfather had been the adventurer in the family.

>>137940
Also crap I completely forgot that his full name was Stanley. How did I forget that?!?!

I support the last name of >>137986
his write in is similar to mine anyway for backstory.

Did Stanley have more than one sibling? A brother perhaps? What about his mother?

His mother died from illness during some time while he was away on his adventures and he never got the news of her passing? Would he be able to tell when he was on the otherside?

>>137802

It’s a nice little town, quiet and serene. You wonder if you may have visited here before, in another life, in another time. What kind of person were you then? How many of these places had you visited when you were still alive? How many of them still remained?

So many questions and so few answer; you wrack your brain to try to get more, any snippet of who you were before all of this. Twenty years, a young sister, you must still have family somewhere. There had to be something tying it all together. Maybe if you think of Sarah, of your sister, something will come to mind.

“Too drunk to even get out of bed?!” comes the phantom voice from so long ago, filled with anger and disappointment. You really only remember how annoying it was from that time, the room a blur as you struggled to stay upright. “That’s just perfect, isn’t it? The future heir to the family, lying in a bed filled with his own—URR! You’re a disgrace to the Townsend family name!”

A slamming door, loud footsteps from tiny feet as they hammered down the hall. What was the name of the city where that residence was? Ashport, was that it? Your head spins around the question, flowing like so much rushing water as you remember how that’d been the day you’d resolved to leave your family home for a life of adventure.

“I need to send a letter!”

Those are your first words as you pull yourself back to the waking world, Galblassa giving you a strange look at your sudden proclamation. However, you’ve no time to explain, no idea how long this bout of inspiration will last. So rather than explain, you march into the post office, right past where the father is checking the post and straight to the unoccupied cashier.

“Pardon ma’am, but I’d like to send a letter,” you tell her, forgetting for a moment that lifting your visor is out of the question. “My name is Lee Townsend of Ashport. I am seeking to contact my sister, Sarah Townsend of Ashport. Can you help me?”

The shy, brownfeathered girl ruffles in surprise at your sudden approach, face leaning away and feet scooting back before she seems comfortable answering your question.

“Ashport?” she questions. “That’s quite a ways from here, isn’t it sir?”

“It is,” you say, “but I’ve a message to be sent, all the same! If you require money, I will pay. Just please, my need is desperate!”

“It would take three carriers as many weeks to fly that route,” she says. “It’s down by the ocean, near the great eastern mountains!”

You remember the mountain air, the spray of the sea.

“Yes, I understand, but can it be done?” you question, perhaps too emphatically from the way she shies away.

“I just… It would cost around 50 crowns for that sort of flight!” she says. “Are you certain you have that to hand?”

It’s only then you remember this is not your other life, and that your pockets are filled with nothing but lint, let alone gold coins.

> What do you do?

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>>138119

>>138119
> What do you do?

"I-I'm sorry miss. I don't have that kind of money on me in such large amounts. If you will but give me a week I believe I would have gathered enough for the services of those couriers. All that I require is that you hold onto the letter until then. Just one week that's all I ask. Please."

>>138119
Damn, we don't have the money.
But, once we take care of the baron, we should have the money to do it.
Thank the cashier, and go back to the cart.

>>138151
If we think this is accurate. Then I'll second it.


>>138161
This is fine after the convo

>>138119
>> What do you do?
I am such a fool, that was no way to act in front of a lady.

Flirt with her.

>>138173
That feels implied at this point. Give her the puppy dog eyes...wait a second...

>>138151
It's a week to get to the baron's place, though.
And then another week to come back here, instead of sending the letter from Walden's Keep?

That's two weeks at least.

>>138186
alright then it's a fine idea to make it a month.


"I-I'm sorry miss. I don't have that kind of money on me in such large amounts. If you will but give me a month I believe I would have gathered enough for the services of those couriers. All that I require is that you hold onto the letter until then. Just one month that's all I ask. Please."

>>138201
No, I mean it's kind of stupid to have her hold on to a letter for a month, when we could just as easily send a letter from the post office in one of the town along the way or at Walden's Keep itself.

Why are you so fixated on sending the letter from here instead of from the post office at our destination?
This isn't a big town, just a small hamlet. It would stand to reason that bigger places would also have a post office.

>>138251
Because from the sounds of it this may be a moment of clarity that we won't be able to hold onto for that long. As in we will have forgotten where our sister lived by the time we reach the next post office.

>>138264
Then write the letter, put who it's supposed to be addressed to on the envelope, with the name and destination, the sender, and relation.
It's not that hard to write notes to ourselves or on the letter's envelope.

It's not like the letter itself will disappear if we don't send it immediately.

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>>138119

“I… Well, I’m sorry ma’am,” you say, regaining your composure. “You’re perfectly right! I seem to have let my excitement overcome my accounting skills! You see, it occurs to me, I’m far overdue for a correspondence. However, that may have to wait till my pockets are a bit fuller. I’ve some business to attend to, you see, with the baron up north. However, after that, I’ll surely have enough coin to pay my way. Could you hold onto the letter for me, until I can come back?”

“Sir…” she begins nervously. “I-if I might suggest, most baron’s residencies would surely have an outpost! It’d be far safer to send the package when you arrive than to come back all this way.”

“You’re… You’re quite right!” you respond. “Silly me! I’ll take my leave and be on my way then. Father, if you need me, I’ll be in the cart.”

Good thing you’re undead, or your face might be red with embarrassment from that exchange. As is, you are safely protected behind a helmet and a lack of cardiovascular system, making it far more difficult to betray that little indiscretion. Galblassa also seems unwilling to pry as you enter the cart and resume your seat where you sit in concentration until the other humans return.

“Sorry for the wait,” the father throws back your way as the carts resume rolling. “And the fact that I didn’t have the coin to loan ye on yer transfer. Guessin’ you remembered somethin’, and I’da helped if I’d had the gold to hand!”

“My family,” you say, uncharacteristically quietly. “I’ll need to contact them when I have the chance.”

“Of course!” he says with a smile. “Once we’re done wringing fatty for every copper he’s worth, we’ll have plenty left over to send a letter. Sure Cassandra wouldn’t mind!”

“She’d insist,” Gal confirms with a nod. “She’s never been one not to pay her debts.”

“Well, lovely,” you say. “Now all we have to do is cross seven more days through human land and shake down the most powerful man in the territory for his weight in gold.”

“It’ll be a blast!” Michael agrees while urging the horses onward, to the next destination and whatever mishaps surely waited along the way.

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>>138302

Alright folks. So, it's getting a little on there in the evening. I could stop here, if people want, or I could go on for about another hour before packing it in. Let me know what you think, and we'll go from there.

>>138323
How do you feel?

Tired yet?

>>138323
Nah, this is a good time to stop, I think.

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>>138333

Well, I do have work tomorrow. That's true. So, maybe I should call it quits now and get to bed at a reasonable hour. It's been fun, though, guys, and I'm looking forward to next weekend. On the unfortunate/fortunate side, I have a party for my coworkers I may be hosting this coming Saturday.That may move the run time around a bit, but just keep an eye on Twitter, and you should be fine. Also, here's the twitter:

https://twitter.com/bananon_QM

Here's the archives:
http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive.html?tags=RE:%20Animated%20Quest
http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?searchall=RE%3A+Animated

Vote 'em up if they catch your fancy. Otherwise, have a great week, folks. Take care.

>>138423
Thanks for running Banaon. Hope you have fun at the party!