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@haremhorn

...did I miss anything?
http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=Old+Leader+Quest

Influence points, a voting system we'l be testing out!
http://pastebin.com/E6anfvag

Write-ins are permanent now!

For lore details:
http://manga.clone-army.org/wiki.php?entry=index

And for all your very specific himehorn related questions:
http://ask.fm/himehorn

We are going slow today!

The powerful cold breeze shakes from you all the pain and the fatigue like the fire on a candle struggling against the wind; briefly. Right outside the theater’s big gate, you look down to a wide white stairway almost under your feet. Then you raise your horns to nohorns looking at you and the haremhorn from across the street that spawns after the small, fancy plaza that gives to the stairway; they seem startled. You look at your right, the plaza dies at a big wall that starts on the theater and ends on the street, not far from you, and you turn your horns in a wide spin to look at another street going across the first one, some nohorns and wronghorns looking at you near and far, some just keep on walking, the street almost as far as the wall.
It’s cold. Not so cold.
Horns weight down on your neck as you look towards the roof of this big, big cave, and your eyes are met with gray dark clouds that just seem too close; you wonder if this is day or night, as slight shades of white like veins struggle against the gray mass. You ask the haremhorn if she’s cold and she shakes her head, the very big gate still lying behind you. With one deep breath from your nose you slightly raise your head and close your eyes, focusing only on the fresh feeling of the air going inside of you.

Then you exhale. Basket, smallhorns, vampire. If they could kill you, they would already had; you chose not to bring a musclehorn along. You pat the wheelchair and point towards the flat stairway to your left. At the end of it, your tiny trip towards the railing is cut short as your eyes are met with a trashcan, almost hidden at the corner right behind a house. It has eyes. They lean barely from under the reclined lid.

…Nohorns are very interesting creatures.

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Trash’s wide smile and shining eyes remain still as you are gently pushed towards the trashcan. Your golden pupils stuck at the upper corner of your eyes, you scratch the back of your mind towards one tiny detail. Then you call her Suhuru. One of her eyes twitches.

“We had a deal.”

Before you say another word the trashcan lid closes with a dry “thump”. You just stare dumb folded at the trashcan, then at the haremhorn; she shrugs so slowly. From the corner of you eye you spot Trash coming from an alley, her smile back as she walks towards you leaning forward like she has a hump, both hands in the pockets of her pants. Once near you, she lets her eyes wander on you and the haremhorn longingly.

“You don’t look ok.” she states, with conviction.

You raise your cheeks at the clever comment.

“I’ll introduce you to some of my friends.” A “hmm” leaves you as you wonder if they are waiting in a dark alley. “Some, but usually everywhere. You’ll see!”

Hmm... well, if she wanted you dead you would be still be in that alley, at least until you rot. You shrug. Last time you asked Trash not to help, you wanted her cover up, you need a spy among the enemy. And here you are, both of you amidst a crowd.

“My cover stands. They think I’m earning your trust to backstab the whole lot of you at the same time.” You frown at her as you feel your grip on the handle; what makes her think they couldn’t be hearing right now? “They are.”

Staring at her, you freeze; and yet she looks calmly at your eyes. You close your recently open mouth. Trash turns around and walks, as the wheels under you make their calming sound behind her, some humans looking at your off party as you pass by.

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“This is Cigarette, “nishe chu met chu leedur!”

You tell her there is no need for that; it seems your voice came out rather sharp. She puts the brown end of the cigarette in her mouth and lights a fire with a red, small device on the other end, then takes a deep breath. Trash smiles widely as she exhales a tiny gray cloud into the sky. She then puts the same cigarette in your mouth. You look at it; then at her.

“Breathe!”

Telling her himehorns smoke too is a bit hard like this. You hold the cigarette with your only hand and take a deep breath, then you both look quietly at the gray cloud as it vanishes in the wind.

“This is coffee!”

She hands one of the cups to the haremhorn as well, the tiny horned thing looks at you from the corner of her eye without moving until you nod as slightly as you can.

“It’s very hot! Blow in it a little before you take a sip.”

The three of you blow on your cups as the passerby’s stare at the scene and put all sorts of weird faces on weird faces of all shapes and sizes; the ones who notice you looking at them quickly do something different. You drink slowly from the cup; it tastes bitter.

“It wakes you up! It’s good for a little kick. Or a big kick. Sometimes it’s just ten more minutes and then ten more minutes until you have ten more minutes to get to work again.”

Two arms, two legs, a head and chest, humans and himehorns are very alike… on the outside, to the warm brown drink.
She ponders at this, giving you a funny look. “It’s true and tested, you won’t be the first himes horns to say it’s too bitter. Don’t worry.”

“This is a painkiller!”

You tilt your head a bit to the side as your sight is met with a tiny white pill.

“It kills pain” she states, with feeling.

You blink at Trash as she spins the tiny pill in her fingers. “The anesthesia did work on your arm and it should be wearing off by now; this is kind of more of the same. Maybe not that strong”. She scratches her chin. “Definitively not that strong.”

What little remains of your arm is, indeed, hurting a whole lot. You’ve been enduring the pain out of sheer power of will, but now that you think of it you do feel compelled to give it a try. Your daydreaming will be an issue, again, but at least the himehorns already know.
And you have the Pathfinder. Your faithful, painful Pathfinder.
You rise your eyes to Trash; she's taking a cup of water from a tired looking frog-thing and hands it over to you.

“I wouldn’t do it like this, Boss. I’d be the very first suspect, and I like burritos too much to die.”

You weren’t considering a murder attempt anyway. Burritos weren’t a thing back in the caves, however.
“It’s like chewing paradise. You fart a lot later.”

She extends her arm and opens her hand the white pill resting on the palm within reach.

>You tell Trash to put the pill on the cup, and watch as it goes down slowly. Then you drink it; the pill bounces softly on your throat.
>"Later.” You make a mental note about adding pockets to the robe. Hornmothers sneaking snacks should be the least of the haremhorns concerns by now.

>>235360
>>Take the pill

We could use it.

>>235360
>>take pill

>>235360
>You tell Trash to put the pill on the cup, and watch as it goes down slowly. Then you drink it; the pill bounces softly on your throat.

are we doing the points thing?

>>235838
That's only for when things get NOT NICE, you can relax for now!

>>235360
>Take the pill

>>235885
Good to know. I'll leave it up for now because I'm lazy.

Won't be able to stay long. Early start tomorrow.

>>235607
>>235642
>>235838
>>235899

And you can't help but sigh. Because even If your right arm still hurts, and a whole lot, you at least didn’t had to worry about the Pathfinder. You feel kind of guilty, selfish, and think that you could have done a lot better for the herd without your mind taking a fun tour at every ten steps.

Even if it doesn’t make any sense because you would have gone crazy from the lack of sleep anyway.

The himehorns, the dreams, the Witch, all the new things... they just weight on you badly.

"…Looking pretty down there. Leader?"

And it seems you spaced off. Trash is looking at you as she blinks, constantly. You pat the wheelchair and Trash waits for you to catch up and walks alongside the wheels. and you ask her about the manor and Alina since you were going to Enna for directions, suddenly maybe very worried about leaving your smallhorns alone with... a vampire.

“I was going to take you there myself. That’s why I waited for you in the trashcan!”

You ask her why she was in a trashcan.

“Told ya, I’m a nutjob.”

You barely resist the powerful urge to ask again and instead wonder if she’s familiar with Alina.

“Kind of like everyone else. Some blame all this snow on her because she’s the last vampire. It’s silly. Well, crazy.”

You raise an eyebrow. With how the templars dealt with the himehorns, she certainly must have had a very bad time. Maybe even murder attempts.

“Yeah, some have. Just the ones that forgot Snacks is a living shredder. Oh, but she didn’t kill them. Not one of them.” You notice Trash cringing a little. “Last time, she even had tea with one of the sisters, the one with the black twin tails. She made her sandwiches with a gun pointing right at her nape. Just picture it, a sister eating a sandwich while aiming at a vampire on pajamas humming…” she goes “hmm hmm hmm!” to make her point, “…to herself!, while she shapes a heart with ketchup on her own cheese and avocado sandwich.” Trash frowns. Badly. “Terror movies are a complete rip-off!”

She then nods absent mindedly to nowhere in particular. Well, she didn’t call her Alina so either they are very close or the vampire tells everyone to call her by that nickname; that makes you shiver. You turn your horns at Trash and ask her about the city, only to find her pointing to the distance… right to an isolated, big house on a hill, almost next to a cliff. A manor, they call it.

“Get ready to meet the single most terrifying, dangerous, brutal and bloodthirsty creature of this domain.” She turns at you smiling with her eyes very open. “BRACE!”

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>knock kno--- KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

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"Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii!"

You patiently wait for the sweet, soft voice to finish the very long greeting as the haremhorn struggles with the stairway, pushing the wheelchair with her back until Trash lifts it with a single hand and the blunt sound of the wheels bouncing on the entrace ends along the vampire’s introduction. Trash then stares at Alina and one of her eyes twitches.

"You look horny" she states.

You turn your eyes to Alina and notice her almost stuck on the time, her mouth still open as her hands float... until she explodes in hearty laughter

“Is that you? Suhuru?”

“It’s Trash now” she states without as much as blinking.

Alina pauses again at this. “Oh. I see!” She then turns to you. “Hello Leader! Come in, I made some snacks!”

She then grabs Trash’s hand as the templar started a sentence and slowly but surely drags her inside the house, just like if Trash were an oversized plushy made in bad spirits or a decoy to practice throwing rocks at. You follow without even noticing, the haremhorn moving with utmost care to avoid all the smallhorns running around and playing with some toys laying around like the templar’s never came to the caves… and that really lifts your spirits. You then gaze at Snacks while Trash accepts her fate as all your fear and wariness are replaced with an Immense feeling of gratitude...
This time, you notice it. It’s the same that happened when you tried to hug the broken horn Leader; you feel like a shy smallhorn that just did on a tiny bully and felt a little bit guilty, in a body as big as a musclehorns, a smallhorn that wants to cry and be hugged and sleep on the hands of a haremhorn.

You feel very weak. And before you realize it, you are by the cute round table and the haremhorn left you to tend to the smallhorns, the templar and the vampire sitting along you. You look at Alina’s tasty smile, then at the plate right under her, then at yours; it has cookies, a muffin, tiny donuts, a small piece of chocolate cake and by it there is a glass with orange juice and another with water; Trash’s plate has crumbs. She looks at you, her eyes brimming with true sadness, her cheeks wide as she chews slowly.

>You wonder if you should talk.

>>236136
Weshould say something, although I'm not sure what. I'm not even sure I understand what's happening with Trash.

>>236136
Good night, Haremhorn. Thanks for running. I'll catch up on the thread tomorrow after work.

>>236136
Um, it kind of seems the two other options got... cut from the post. Somehow. Nana!


>You wonder if you should talk.
>Eat in peaceful silence as you hear the smallhorns being smallhorns.
>Write-in!

>>236328
>Offer to share with Trash and your Himehorn, you are probably not very hungry anyway

>>236340

You slide your plate between you and Trash; her eyes glimmer. The feast last night was brutal enough to quiet your stomach for even a few days, and yet that tiny slice of cake is something Trash won’t be getting for her hands onto.

So you save some for the haremhorn in your corner of the plate and then you close your eyes, grab the slice of cake whole, and let the sweet embrace of chocolate take you somewhere else.

Seconds later and still chewing, you slowly open your eyes to Alina’s smile welcoming you back to a new world of troubles you pretty much have no clue how to deal with. Yet.

You swallow; then, as you defiantly look at her closed eyes, you mutter a “thank you”, and it doesn’t come out quite right. “Anytime, Leader!” replies the golden cloud of messy hair.

There is so much to ask… a very lot to ask. You glance around the small cozy room, the walls heavy on paintings of all sorts and colors surrounded by detailed wooden frames; would she know what’s in any of these?

The small voices of the smallhorns behind you (one seems to be crying, and you are certain it’s nothing tragic) set in motion the gears under your horns.


You need a clue. About everything.


Flinching slightly, you ask Alina about the big white “horns” you saw after your herd left the caves.

“Well, you aren’t so lucky that them caves are just close to this place you know” the voice is slightly muffled and paused. It’s Trash, erasing a donut from this plane of existence. “See, Leaders horns, Enna moved the thing, the whole thing, here. The city” she states, then swallows roughly. “She moved the whole city. Yep. Then she got some folks down there in the snow to lead the himes horns to the old theater and help the ones too screwed up, like you were.”

You glance at her in disbelief, then look at Snacks.

Trash goes on. “But then a muscles horns crushed the brains of one of those cyclops ladies with a single hand and another muscles horns stabbed soma human guy with both armed, lifted it sky high, then RIPPED HIM APART! It was awful!”

Alina visibly flinches as Trash smiles and you stare at her in dry awe. “Very awful. Now they want the muscles horns gone, and they’ve been saying all kinds of things everywhere. Do they really eat the small ones when you don’t feed them?”

“No, Trash.” It’s the vampire’s soft voice. “Those musclehorns must have felt their herd threatened, and that is why they retorted… they should have just stood apart and let the himehorns in. It was poorly handled at best, Leader.”

The Southern Witch Apostle wouldn’t have let something like this happen; it’s worst than one of your stories.

You ask Alina if the witch called her for advice.

“Enna and I are quite close. I told her all I knew and I do recall explaining the nature of musclehorns, so I fail to understand this kind of outcome. Did you not ask her about this matter?”

No, you didn’t. You should have, almost certainly. You tell her you will, it seems this is as much as she knows about this issue… and the Witch moving the entire domain doesn’t really come as a surprise to you. However…

“Oh, that is because Enna was aware of the nearby Templar encampments. She laid the city just outside their sights, and we waited for the himehorns to leave the caves.”

This doesn’t answer your question.

“There are things Enna can do… but will not do.” Alina “hmms”. It sounds lovely, because she came to save your smallhorns after the basket was kicked into the air. You notice yourself smiling slightly at her, and then you realize something.

She nods at you carefully. “I was there, too. They were frenzied by then. I had no choice but to be rough, I hope those musclehorns are fine by now. As I was saying…”
“Do you have spare emergency donuts?”

Trash pouts at her and blinks dramatically; the vampire laughs. And there is one question to ask, even if Enna’s powers have to wait a bit longer.

“She can see through the wind. It’s crazy.” It’s Trash, cutting off Alina as she started to answer. You blink a few times in a row and stare at Alina.

“Oh, it’s a goldhair thing, Leader, don’t delve too much in it. I can feel the wind, like If I was touching everything around me at the same time. The stronger the wind, the more details I can feel. No need to feel weird if you catch me blowing at things, it’s just how I focus my eyes.”

You wonder how much she can “see”.

“That’s why I got you here.” It’s Trash talking, as Alina rises from the table and heads for the kitchen. “It’s fairly far from everything, and they know that Snacks would know if they got too close. Here, we can talk. No worries!”

You kind of repeat your question, maybe a bit more clearly.

“It depends on the day mostly. If it’s windy, she can see a whole lot of what’s going on, like, a few blocks from here, three or four give or take. It’s awesome, and crazy. I still don’t get how we killed them all. Well, almost all of them. I wouldn’t ask Fair to mow my lawn if I had one, not even for free; that’s how much I care about this city.”

You get a nod before you even ask.

“Fair is the thing that killed the Big White.”

The Big Bad Goldenhair. Gone. You shudder slightly.

“She also ate her.”

You shudder slightly less slightly… but now is not the time for that. Trash told you about a deal she did with your enemies the first time she came out of a trashcan… you hear some chop chop chop coming out of the kitchen.

“They want the himes horns dead, and I think they got some of the sisters in this too. I spoke to two of the nine, both said they rejected the deal and told me to go fuck myself. They like to joke around.” She nods to herself closing her eyes briefly. “They didn’t tell me why, but they want you dead. Well, they want all of you dead, they just can’t lay a finger on you because Enna told everyone not to, and she’s a very very serious Witch and there is just nothing as scary as that. So, Leader, I think they will try to bait you. I’ll put it simple; they can’t hurt you, but they can hurt the himes horns. They just need a reason to do it. I think that’s how it works now.”

You ask Trash who are "they". She shrugs, as Alina lays one big plate filled with more cookies and more donuts and more snacks right at the center of the table, and as you stare in awe with your mouth open you don’t fail to notice she really overdid it.

“It’s no issue, I can save some for the smallhorns or make more. I’m trying not to spoil them so much… but it’s so hard!” she balled both fists to her chin as she said so. “Do you want something else to drink?”

“Did you know too much orange juice makes your butt hurt?”

“I was aware” Alina nods. “Leader?”

You still have your water, so you shake your head slightly at her. She sits by the table as Trash goes for the snacks without any mercy or regret you can witness.

“As I was saying, there are things Enna will not do. She laid some rules with Algis, the White Witch of the templar’s, since none of them like each other, but a fight between the two of them would leave less than nothing in it’s wake. And that is something none of them wants. First and foremost, they agreed that Enna was to do as she pleases with her domain, as long as it remains the same size… which means that she can move it anywhere she wants, and Algis realized too late to complain. I… I recall Enna mimicking her face when she found out. She even got black tape over her eyebrows to do the impression, she told me Algis eyebrows are very big. Anyway” she scratches her head, her fingers bordering one of her horns, “Enna will not harm any of the templar’s, except for the “heretics” in her domain like Suhuru. I mean, Trash. Dear… why are you calling yourself that?”

“I like trash, nobody wants it and it stinks.”
Alina pauses at this. “I… I see.”

The vampire faces you. “Also, it has been some time since Enna started doing her best not use her powers. She even goes to the market at times, and argues over high prices, at least until they realize who they are talking to. She thinks her nature as a Witch makes everything too easy and it bores her, but she cannot help being aware of everything. Altough, she does not understand it all at the same time; it’s much like how we don’t see everything we see with our eyes until we pay exclusive attention to every little detail.”

“That’s very strange coming from you.” Trash munches another donut. You wonder if she eats well at home.

Then you ask Alina If she used to see; she shakes her head slightly.

“The thing is” Trash’s voice comes somewhat muffled, “they can still screw you up big time as long as they hide from the witch. They won’t be straightforward…” she swallows quickly, “but they will be mean.”

“Leader” Alina talks as you reach for a cookie, and you stop for no reason. “How did it went with the himehorns?”
You look at her.

>You tell her the truth; about the Leaderhorn, about the broken horn Leader, about your new past. You tell her you lied; she did save your smallhorns after all, and Trash could have killed you if she wanted.
>You lie to Alina and Trash: it could be very dangerous for anybody else to know about the Leaderhorn, and you are not sure you'd rather have your enemies know than your own herd. You tell her you told the truth.
>...You have a plan (write in!)

>>238329
>they accept my status as Leaderhorn. It took some effort, but they came around.

I don't want to lie to our allies, but I don't think anyone but us and Broken Horn Leader should know about the lie.

>>238928
This is a diplomatically good idea.

>>238928
>>239738

Occasionally, you glance with your black eyes at the mountain of cookies and goodies as it slowly fades to crumbles, as you tell Trash and Snacks that you are really are a Leaderhorn, what a Leaderhorn is, and how you gathered the herds after the Southern Witch Apostle warned you about the resumed extermination campaigns.

Trash mouth remains open as you explain in gruesome detail how you lost your arm as himehorns and templar’s all around you were shredded to pieces, as you struggled your way out of the caves.

You’d rather not have them know about Leader, and even if you feel a bit guilty after all the cookies you excuse yourself by thinking you are saving them the burden of the lie; and should they caught by the enemy, there would be nothing dangerous to take from Trash… since it seems by now that Alina is very, very safe from "them", whoever "they" are. And maybe, just maybe, you don’t trust Trash that much; she is a templar after all, heretic or not.

As she nods slowly as you detail them how a templar slowly crushed a smallhorn in her fist, as the little thing pushed the finger around her with all her tiny strenght, you stutter; not because of the horrifying story (a bad story is more painful than a horrifying story) but because you realize that, just like Leader, you are putting the both of them in danger by earning their trust.

Your missing limb still hurts like fire, you took that pain like proof to yourself that you’ll make everything happy again… but it’s getting unbearable.

“…I, I just wanted to die in peace. You know?”

That was you; interrupting your own story. The guilt and pain suddenly make you shy, like haremhorns scolding a musclehorn- you.

Just another day, maybe; sleeping in your tent, letting your horns rest against that tiny table.

Just another day, and templar’s wouldn’t have come to the caves.

And as you pause, Trash explodes in laughter.

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Resuming shortly!

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Snacks stays petrified as Trash laughs, and you can tell she’s trying to kick her under the table mostly because she’s kicking you. You flinch a little, and the vampire face goes red as she realizes. “Suhuru!” she says.

The templar gets a balled fist on her mouth, almost whole; her head still trembles for a while.

When she stops she’s still smiling and her cheeks are as red as Alina’s, but she grabs another cookie without hesitation. And she chews it very, very slowly; you hear the sound of the cookie being crushed as you look at the table, as smallhorns argue in the background.

Trash told you plenty of times she’s a nutjob, and you’d rather spare her the explanation as a gesture of confidence. She could be laughing at literally anything else, and you don’t particularly care about it.

You notice Alina is struggling for words, so you tell her that she and Trash seem very familiar with each other.

“Oh, we used to work at the same restaurant!” the vampire rushes to say as her smile returns, shaking slightly. “I was one of the chefs there and Trash here was a waitress, I used to give her food made with some of the leftovers over the day because we had to work for too long a time. That’s why she calls me Snacks!” She nods repeatedly. It seems this brings her happy memories, that or you are getting fond of her too quickly. “And that, is what I really wanted to talk to you about, Leader!

You wonder what a restaurant is; back in the caves you wanted something and a haremhorn came with it, whatever it was, whenever you thought about it. It was wonderful, easy, and a bit scary; at least to you. How did they always know?

“I’ll tell you all about it later” says Alina. “Are you familiar with the workings of the economy?”

You shake your head and mutter something; you are not very sure what.

“You work, get cash, buy things. Rinse and repeat until you stop breathing.” Trash is still smiling. Both of them smile quite a lot it seems. “What Snacks here is trying to say, is that you should open a restaurant to get Enna’s for your little guys.”

“Simply put, Leader, you trade your efforts for currency. And with that currency you can thrive; but most importantly, we have to prove the himehorns can be a worthy asset to the community. I thought of a restaurant since haremhorns are very good at cooking and musclehorns can help with heavy loads, but it can be anything really!”

Back in the caves helping the herd was its very own reward, so you don’t really understand much about cash. You came up with a few issues, however.

“We can either teach the haremhorns to talk a tiny little bit louder… or we can get the hornmothers to do the talking.”

And that would be a catastrophe.

“Both us aren’t really good at anything else” Trash states as she grips an invisible cookie, and frowns at the empty plate as Alina rises from the table. “We might have the wrong idea here. You might want to take your time and think it over.”
You ask Trash if she heard you talking to the witch.
“Yep.”
You just stare at her in silence as Alina returns with even more snacks.

>”So… how do we go about this?” You think it over, and while haremhorns can do a lot of things the carvings on the food are too great."
>”I’ll think it over. I do appreciate your help, but with a matter of this size I’d rather think it over, at least briefly.” While they do cook very well, haremhorns can do a lot of other things. And you still don't even know what a restaurant is.

>>240269
>”I’ll think it over. I do appreciate your help, but with a matter of this size I’d rather think it over, at least briefly.” While they do cook very well, haremhorns can do a lot of other things. And you still don't even know what a restaurant is. "'

And

>Do Nohorns even eat the same things the Herd does apart from sweets and cake?
>Ask what on earth a Restaurant is.

>>240269
I concur with this Anon >>241213.We need to understand what nohorn things are before we commit the her to a project

>>241213
>>241742

"I would not make this proposition if that wasn't the case... Leaderhorn?" she smiles as you nod once. “It’s hard to believe I get to meet such a... mythical being, but I guess that in times like these…”

Trash just looks at her quizzically; chewing.

“It’s a being of old himehorn stories” Alina’s soft voice is somewhat soothing. You feel sleepy. “A hero. But it seems to be different in every story I've heard of. I recall a new hornmother from another herd arguing with one of our own, she said that the Leaderhorn did not fly, than that’s silly, that she just jumped very high. So,“ her hand vanishes in her hair; it seems she was scratching her head, “when did you learn of it?”

You tell Alina that you did not know until the Southern Witch Apostle told you.

“I don’t think you can fly.” It’s Trash. By now, you wonder if her stomach is a portal to a better place. “Who is that lady anyway? I keep hearing that long name.”

“The Southern Witch Apostle is the caretaker of all himehorns. Most herds have their own witches and apostles that favor them, but she cares for everyone in the same way, and she always happens to be near at the very right moment. Her timing is astounding. Usually a hornmother would get angry when the herd lacks resources, and just as the herd splits and fights she just happens to be nearby to take the hornmother and a piece of the herd to another cave.”

“So she’s like a magical himehorn breeder.”

“…of sorts.” Alina can’t help but smile, but manages to regain her composure. “Simply put, all the himehorns love her. She’s very important.”

The memory of the apostle that used to visit your herd what now seems like two lifetimes ago flashes vividly through your head; one day she just wasn’t coming. All of you waited day after day, but she was to never return. You recall her looking a bit silly… while the memory is not one of sadness, you feel nostalgia is something to be held as a prize for now. One you don’t feel you have earned.

Going back full circle, you ask Alina about the whole restaurant thing, but it’s Trash that answers.

“It’s a place where folks go to eat. They ask for their food, they sit, they try to seem interesting and they eat. Then they pay, and then they leave. That’s my favorite part.”

“Simply put.” Alina nods. “The principle is quite simple, and yet there are quite the formalities to be held. It’s a place that thrives on art using dishes as canvas.”

“Hey I liked that, that was nice.”

“Thank you.” Alina nods again, at Trash. She turns her messy golden cloud towards you.

“Take your time to think about it. There is yet to explain, but this is what matters to your choice.”

You wonder what could have made a flesh-rendering, blood-sucking, soul-stealing monster with black wings ten times her size something you feel like hugging; at this point she’s just a big plushie to you.

And yet… you wonder why she wants to help so badly.

“Why do you want to?” she replies.

Since she came from a herd, you feel there could be no better answer. Your horns turn towards Trash. “Cash and videogames”, she doesn’t even shrug.

You wonder what videogames are.

“Something you don’t want me to teach the horns mothers.”

“We are here to help, Leaderhorn! Do not forget!”

Those were her last words by the door as you left the smallhorns with her; by now it seemed crazy not to do it.

Maybe you are just too eager to trust; maybe that will be your downfall. But with the way things happened, having nowhere to lean on to… it’s was just too tempting.

Trash walks silently between you and the railing, both hands in the pockets on her pants and leaning forward like she had a hump; that seems to be her usual stance.

You realize there is real reason to trust in her, yet, besides she stealing a wallet; it seems your eagerness to trust already turned out to be dangerous.

She didn’t kill you… but you wonder if cash is what she really wants.

The only way to predict somebody is to know what it wants; once you do, they become like a book; so far, she’s like reading fire.

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A blurry image comes from your side and stops in front of you; it’s the snowhorn, the one that got very drunk at the feast and started hugging everyone, not even sparing the serious broken horn Leader.

She smiles at you, then looks at Trash, Trash looks at her; then both look at you, as you gaze past the snowhorn towards the heavy gray sky; it feels like it’s about to fall on you at any moment, and the feeling is so real you clench the Pathfinder… but the dim light that makes it through the clouds is eclipsed by Umo’s big smile.

You look at her, and then at her extended arm and her open hand; you grab it, and move it up and down, up and down, up and down. She giggles.

“Leaderhorn! Where were you, I looked everywhere for you!”

“You are so cute!” It’s Trash. “Love me, I want ignore you. Then watch that pretty face of yours as you beg for my attention!”

You both look at Trash quizzically, then glance at each other; then at Trash.

“But” Umo replies, getting both hands in her back and putting on a cute puppy smile, “you can’t watch me and ignore me at the same time. Right?”

“You are right.” Somehow, Trash seems genuinely startled, her eyes drifting towards the sky. Then she smiles. “Leader horns should ignore you then!”

Umo pouts. “She wouldn’t do something like that; for your information, miss, we have a PACT.” She stands proudly as she closes her eyes and lifts her horns, then the snowhorn looks at you. “Right, Leaderhorn?”

>”…hmm?”
>”Trash…”

>>242517
>Headpat Snowhorn
>Trash, do not be mean to her. Actually, you should try to be less of a bully in general. More people will like you.

>>242517

Anon >>242866 has a good idea

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>>242866
this

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>>242866
>>243444
>>243561

You notice the snowhorn glancing at Trash with a smirk as you pat her white, dense hair, but the templar just continues to smile.

"But why would you want people to like you if you aren't having fun? There is just so much you can't do without being a nuisance..." she states, then her eyes drift briefly to a corner. "I've always wondered that."

"Maaaaaaaybe so they aren't mean to you?"

"But that can be fun, too. I'm Trash!"

Umo tilts one of her eyebrows as Trash points at her with her thumb.

"You can't be Trash. That isn't even a name."

"My parents made a living by making things with things others threw away. Like me!"

The snowhorn crosses her arms. "You are a templar."

"I dye my hair."

"You can't be made of trash, that doesn't make any sense!"

"Well" Trash "hmms"; "you could be wrong, you know. Anyway, stuff calls; see ya!"

She waves her right hand in the sky as she takes her leave into the city, leaving you, the snowhorn and the haremhorn to wonder.

Umo then turns to you.

"So!"

You look at her. The sky behind her is too gray, too dark; yet there's light. You wonder if this is what days look like.

"We have three months of day then nine months of night here, every year. It's still daytime, and it's not even cold!" she points at the distance; it's the place you saw Leader for the last time. "Let's go to the balcony first!"

I take you are familiar with the basics.

“Hornmothers lay eggs, haremhorns do laundry and musclehorns hunt. Something like that, right?”

We could say so.

“So! How does a herd work? I mean, what does a herd mean?”

It’s a show done by the hornmothers, sustained by the haremhorns, protected by the musclehorns.

“What does that mean?” Umo blinks as she tilts her head.

It means that haremhorns don’t care for being the star of the show; they just want the story to be fun! So they almost don’t even talk, they don’t draw attention, they can be very stealthy and they take on all the weight of details from the hornmothers; they do the cooking, the cleaning, the harvesting, the paintings; they set up the stage for the tale to unfold.

“But that what doesn’t make any sense! They get all the work and the hornmothers get all the fun; what about that?”

Hornmothers carry a weight of their own but they hardly ever realize it; they have to be happy. Everyone wants to be happy, everything we do is towards being happy; but if they are not, then the eggs don’t hatch, or don’t come out right… so it turns into duty. They are given all of their tools by the haremhorns, leaving them to focus only on living the story that the herd loves to watch, a story the herd is a part of as well. If you had to be happy, if things fell apart if you weren’t … how would you deal with the pressure? So they talk out loud, they complain when they want, they don’t dream too far… they are very careful when it comes to making things fun. So good, it can’t be noticed.

“And when do the haremhorns get to have fun then?”

There is nothing more sacred to a haremhorn than being good at her job.

“What if a haremhorn doesn’t want to work?”

She wouldn’t be fed. Not because she does not do herdwork, but because we can’t grasp that a himehorn wouldn’t want to invest herself in the herd. It doesn’t make sense to us. So we would take her for a defective.

“And why should she?” she crosses her arms.

Because that’s how we enjoy living; by being brave enough to love the herd and wise enough not to get hurt or disappointed. By investing ourselves in our herd. It’s a game of gambling, you love because you expect something from the herd; and whether you get it or not, it’s up to your wits. So; we got pretty smart at that. We got quite good at loving. And everyday, hornmothers come up with new things and ways to love.

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“That sounds kinda nice! But what about the musclehorns? I’ve been hearing very bad things about them.”

Musclehorns love haremhorns because they spare them the weight of choices, which either leaves them defenseless and dependant of them. But that is their nature; they don’t crave independency. And since haremhorns do the thinking one could be forgiven to consider that musclehorns can’t grow a wit on her own. But they are smart. Very smart. After all, they can do everything that is asked of them; complex structures, stealthy hunting, digging… Their main issue is their constant struggle between obeying the haremhorns and going into a frenzy, which is one of their main pleasures in life; to be free from doubt. The temptation to just act. It usually ends up with them smelling bad and breaking a lot of things, so they can be quite the headache for the haremhorns.

Every himehorn wants to invest herself in the herd as much as she can. Tensions rise and herd split when that gets harder; even if it’s over matters that might seem trivial to nohorns.

“Um… why are we “she” if… well, there are no such thing as male himehorns…”

We took that from their lingo long ago, since we resemble their females. It is wrong, but we do not mind.

“So this is like a training to become a true himehorn, right?” she seems excited, her eyes brimming.

It could be said.

“So do they all know about this?”

Hardly. Most don’t. Himehorns can live fully without the details; that is the proof of our progress.

Umo pouts. "This is so dense, when will I learn the “nohorn go home” dance? I want to do it to Ado, they say it works even if he says it doesn’t!”

You smile. And as you smile, ten thousand tiny explosions tear your smile apart.

It’s drizzling; you lived long enough to see the rain. Some got in your eye. Now is not the time for that.

"...And that's the pharmacy, they sell weird things that are good and that there is the bar. Do you see it?"

Hmh.

"My home is just around there. That one! Can you see it? It's the one with the patched window, that was my fault."

As you both walk next to the railing with the haremhorn pushing the wheelchair behind you, you wonder what that bright thing is.

"That's a lantern, it's kinda dark lately so we have a lot of those everywhere. It's been like this for a while, like a year. Do you like chocolate? I love chocolate! Do you have chocolate in the caves?"

Sometimes cakes would appear out of nowhere at the cave's entrance. Some had chocolate. You really enjoyed it.

"Did you know it's made from milk, sugar and a thing called cacao?" She points at the distance, far into the dark. "They make it over there.."

You nod. Both of you keep walking.

>>244747
Thanks for running, Haremhorn.

>>244747
And don't forget to archive for future herds!

>>244759
>>244771
Done! =w=

Now, for the next thread!

>>244778
Thanks for running!

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>>244778
Waaah, thanks for running!