>>279687
>Pay the fat man a day worth and nothing more.
Well, he did ease our travels a little bit.

>>279687
>Pay the fat man a day worth and nothing more.

Albeit you don’t care for the man telling what you owe or don’t, he does have a point. “Fair is fair” you mutter as you hand him two Anurian shields. They are worth double a Qartian wheel, the common peddler coin, but the man’s face remains sour as he pockets them. Wouldn’t hurt for the fat man to be even a little grateful, now would it? That solved you turn to leave, but again he calls to you.

“Can I ask why you’re travelling this ways, Exarch?” As you level your eyes with his’ he iterates. “Not that it is any of my business…”

This man has shown no interest in you this entire trip. It is very suspicious that he is so engrossed now. You have seen braver man cower at your shadow, his arrogant tone is somewhat of novelty to you. But to be fair he is unarmed and terribly out of shape, even more than you, so you see no reason to fear what he knows or doesn't.

What will you tell him?

>“You are right. It is not.”
>Curtly tell him your destination.
>Tell him why you came and nothing else.
>Explain why you are travelling and where you are going.
>Tell him a lie about where you are going.
>Lie about why you are travelling.
>Nothing. In silence, leave.

>>279802
>Tell him why you came and nothing else.

>>279802
>>“You are right. It is not.”
He could possibly sell this information to someone.

Rolled 1 (1d2)

For the sake of fairness I will roll a tiebreaker

>>279860
>>279856
1, tell him nothing
2, tell him why you came

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Irritated, you blast the man with the full force of your glare. He wither at the undivided attention of your evil eyes. "You are right" you say. "It is not." This time he doesn't interrupt you when you turn your back. It is about ten paces when you hear the cowhorn pull the cart away.

You can't help but look onward to the town of Kirkihill. It is pretty small. Only half a dozen houses and maybe twice that in huts and judging from the billowing smoke from the hill itself perhaps a barrow or two. Maybe even a fire hearth. It must be home to perhaps two hundred souls, tops. No crops, no fruit trees or plantations of any kind. Some small pens, for subsistence only. Anymore people and they would go hungry, you think. It might be difficult finding enough supplies to last you the following week, now that your bag is getting lighter. You take a minute to rummage through it.
>You have a scrivener's kit, a day's worth of smoked fish and a canteen of water, now empty, besides your clothwear.
>As for money you still have 12 Anurian shields and an Anurian moon (a silver coin worth 11 coppers) inside your purse.

What else did you bring with you from Anun Loqemar? (Choose one)
>A shard of White Glass, with enough power in it for a night's worht of light
>Five bone dice to play some casual poker
>A porcelain cup for brewing tea
>The figurine of Ursula, goddess of love and war, sculpted in floatwood
>A witching ring you found by the docksides
>An imp in a ceramic jar
>A truenamer's catalogue

Behind it lies the sharpest and straightest cliffs you have ever laid eyes upon. You heard about the walls of Vanardrot, but seeing it firsthand is something else. Perhaps you should sketch them. You do enjoy Memorancy as a hobby and sketching is somewhat of a guilty pleasure.

(1/2)

>>280072
>A truenamer's catalogue

The closer to Kirkihill you get you get the darker it becomes. It is no problem to you since your evil eyes see just as fine in broad daylight as they do in moonlit nights like this one.

Around the edge of town you see two abandoned shacks that you could squat for the night. You have no idea how the town you treat an Exarch so minimizing their contact with you might be beneficial. But the conditions inside the shacks would be marginally better than sleeping outside. However, the smell of roasted pork and hot bread makes you mouth water and you wouldn't say no to spending the night in a warm room with warm food. Being a stop-point town you expect at least a small inn or caravansary that would give you room.

>Sleep in town, you have the coin, they can deal with their prejudices once you are gone.
>Stay the night in an abandoned shack, no need to attract trouble.
>Stay out of town. You don't need to trust this town.
>write-in

>>280072
What do those last four items do, what are they and what do they mean?

>>280091
And sadly it is very late for me, I'll come back tomorrow and see if you decide to keep running for so few players. Seems like new quests have an even harder time staying afloat on this new board.
>>280125
>Sleep in town, you have the coin, they can deal with their prejudices once you are gone.
>>280127
Isn't it all about finding out later for the mystery of it? Besides, you can roughly guess.

>>280125
>A truenamer's catalogue
>Stay the night in an abandoned shack, no need to attract trouble.

>>280140
Sure, but it never hurts to ask.

>>280125
>Stay the night in an abandoned shack, no need to attract trouble.

>>280127
In order;
The figurine is good for prayer and offerings, and albeit capricious, gods are known to answer from time to time.
A witching ring is a normal ring that has some sort of mystery, quest or puzzle to it, once you find it out and solve it it will often grant a wish or something like that.
Imps in jars are used for all sorts of trickery and mischief, but can be really useful. Upon freeing an Imp it will perform one task for you and be gone forever.
A truenamer's catalogue is a scroll, parchment or book full of descriptions of spirits, gods, demons, angels and whatever else you can think of. Studying such things can reveal their truth and give you power over them.

>>280140
Thanks for playing, I will definitely try.

>>280157
>>280146
Squating it is.

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You knew it would sooner or later come to this. At least you won't risk getting a tomato thrown at the back of your head, or a kid with more guts than brains try to confront you. No wonder so many Exarch end up completely mad by the end of their lives. Isolation, misbegotten hatred, the temptations of power and the dreadful promise of the nothingness at the end of it all.

You put those dark thoughts aside as you make way inside one of the abandoned shacks. It was once a quaint little home for one to four people, you can still see where hammocks were strung and the beds where made. A small firepit in the middle suggests your suspicions about a fire hearth in town to be correct. Creating fire is the endeavor of Firestockers and Sorcerers, manipulating it is even more dangerous, so there must be someone in town that knows the Pyromancer's ways. You could buy some cinders from them if so.

You clean a small square just besides the firepit and lay your bag down. The leather is worn and the seams are unmaking. You should definitely buy a new one come the morning sun. Now all is left is to decide your timetable. You could draw some sketches in vellum. You still have nothing to show from your travel aside from a lighter purse. To tell the truth there is a myriad of things you could do before hitting the bunk.

What should you do?

>Go to sleep. The early wyrm catches the bird, after all.
>Do some stargazing. Some constellations should be visible by now.
>Read your truenamer's catalogue. Might glimpse some Truth from it.
>Do some Memorancy, remember your past, put your thoughts in order.
>Sketch a bit about your travels.
>Meditate and pray to the gods.

>>280319
>Do some Memorancy, remember your past, put your thoughts in order.

>>280319
>>Read your truenamer's catalogue. Might glimpse some Truth from it.

Rolled 1 (1d2)

>>280386
>>280357
For the sake of fairness, I will roll a tiebreaker.

1, memorancy
2, truenamer's

It has been a while since last you relived your memories. Perhaps it would do you good, give you direction. Resolved, you cross your legs and sit in front of the empty firepit. It is not an ideal place for meditation, but you will make do.

As you close your eyes and center yourself you drift away from your conscious thoughts. Your skin becomes like clay before the kiln, pliable and smooth. It is always a numbing sensation. As you accommodate to it you feel your surroundings with your mind. There is a throne in which you sit, king of your own self. Your ego seems healthy enough, if a bit arrogant. Across from your feet lies three basins, each filled with water, each reflecting a different moon. One old and yellow, one young and pale and one you have never seen before. As you stand up from your throne of marble and bone you feel your past coalesce. Your mind becomes hyper aware of who you are, what you are. You could see it clear as crystal if you looked into one of the mirrors that cover the walls.

You are Exarch, fateless, unshackled, ruined. The first and oldest basin hold the memory of why you are Exarch, if you wish to relieve it.

The basin with the pale moon hold your recent life in it. To look into it will bring back all these past years from which you are now running away from.

The last basin holds an unfamiliar feeling to you. It could be some trickster god or spirit playing games with your soul, or it could be a demon preying upon your insecurities. If you wish to brave it you can look upon it.

>Old yellow moon.
>Pale young moon.
>Strange and unfamiliar moon.
>Look in a mirror. http://pastebin.com/yfmLxnyr

>>280583
>Old yellow moon.
I like your writing.

>>280583
>>Old yellow moon.

>>280583
>>Pale young moon.

>>280583
>Old yellow moon.

>>280583
>Old yellow moon.
Gotta hit up that origin story before we open the mystery box.

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You turn away from the mirrored halls of your inner self and stand atop the three basin. You look into the yellow moon and it smiles like an old friend to you, pearly white teeth glistening with starlight. Her eyes are sparkling golden jewels which you used to lose yourself into if you weren't too careful. The moon has slowly and surely become the heart-shaped face of Diana. She is wearing her night gown and is looking at you for comfort and strength. You tighten the hold over her hand and pull her tight as you make your way through the streets and alleyways. We will come out of this together you say. She smiles meekly one more time, and nods. You lied.

A huge wave batters the trireme warship of your family. Two more sets of roars break like twigs under the crushing might of the roaring sea. The Trierarch is cursing the clumsiness of his sailors and chanting powerful incantations against the storm. It does little to stop the bombardment of manafire and lightning bolts that is constantly battering against the hull and deck. In your arms lies Diana. She is cold and motionless, has been for awhile. Her eyes are smoldering craters. You do nothing but look at the shore where her killer stands defiantly among the ruins of your entire race. Around him his marauding army gathers as they hurl spells and thunder against the fleeing ships that carry the last surviving members of your people.

As the ships sink around you you curse the gods and their complacency, you curse the leaders of your people and their arrogance, you curse yourself and your inability to do anything to save anyone. Smelling your vileness a terrible star shines upon you. From the night skies it falls straight through your heart, filling you with a molten purpose. He steals your destiny, your soul, and eats it hungrily. You become Exarch, pathless, fateless.

The vile star fell into the seas and was lost to you.

(1/2)

>>280787
The basin is empty now, as you recollect yourself. You turn to the other two and notice in the corner of your mirrored hall there is an emptiness. A star-shaped hole left there five years ago. It left you filled with a molten light that shines through your eyes, giving you excellent sight and otherworldly energies unachievable for normal kith. It fuels you and frees you of any shackles, any bindings, any obligations or emotions. You search for that vile star to this day.

There are still two basins from which you could perceive yourself.

Which one you want to look into?

>Pale moon basin.
>Strange and unfamiliar moon.

>>280822
>Pale moon basin.
Seven posts in and you've already killed a waifu, I'm certain that's a new record. You've got me wondering at the history of the event, though.

>>280822
>>Pale moon basin.

>>280822
>Strange and unfamiliar moon.

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The pale moon is an old acquaintance you held much bile against. It had this serious face, a cruel eye and the callused hands of a swordsman. The Trierarch Gammon, captain of the trireme warship Rapida Carraca. You stayed with him as your people's last remnants sailed aimlessly west, towards a land none knew for sure was there. The Trierarch himself was a cold man that taught you much and held your family, specially your mother, onto a great esteem and left it very clear it was the only reason you hadn't been breathing saltwater already.

Exarch are feared things and any crew would be loath to let one sleep under the same deck as them, but the Trierarch was well feared and respect, so he stayed their hand. Mostly. Those were the worst days of your life, when your hunger for magic was allconsuming. You dreamed of the void. You forgot your name, who you were. Being full of enchantments the ship was like a searing sun to your eyes, which made it all the more anguishing to hold back your emptiness.

Only years late you met this red skinned woman who claimed powers over the immaterial. She taught you meditation, discipline and the crafts of the Weird. She used you for labor and warmth and you despised her as much as the Trierarch, but you owe your sanity to her.

(1/2)

>>280973
The last years of your stay in the new land have been the only time you fully remember well. You peddled, you begged and worked dock and construction, without aim. People would usually use you as scapegoat for every little thing and whenever the list became too heavy you skipped town, changed names, profession and looks. You did it a number of times you can't even count before finding yourself back in the new cities of Anun Loqemar and Qart Hadar.

In Anun Loqemar you paid your respects to the Trierarch's grave. You don't remember how he died, but you secretly hoped to have something to do with it. Rumor was it some people saw a star up northways so you ventured that way in hopes of finding your soul.

In Qart Hadar you stole an old scroll full of truenames and their Truth, in the hopes you'd make a shine, but no one would buy from an Exarch. So you stole more coin and made your way to the Copperways where a mouthy peddler gave you a ride northward.

From all that you lost and left behind you still carry some burdens.

What is the memory you still carry with you all these years?

>You training with the Trierarch. He was an unmatched Vanguard, a professional Enchanter and a vicious Rogue.
>The sorcery and hexery from the red skinned matron of Qart Hadar.
>The forbidden tomes of your family from before the exodus and its dark sciences.
>You cared little for work or education and spent days among the wild gardens listening to the song and feeling the heartbeat of the universe.
>You forgone civilization to enjoy the hunt. You learned to swing axes, shoot bows and all the trickery and guile of the wild.

(It will open a different starting class, but won't close your progression in any way. Choose carelessly.)

>>281012
>The forbidden tomes of your family from before the exodus and its dark sciences.

>>281012
>>The forbidden tomes of your family from before the exodus and its dark sciences.

>>281012
>The sorcery and hexery from the red skinned matron of Qart Hadar.

>>281012
>>The sorcery and hexery from the red skinned matron of Qart Hadar.

>>281012
So, just guessing at these
>Frontline Fighter/Crafter build
>Full Caster
>Maybe some magitech stuff?
>No idea, maybe charisma build? Disney princess?
>Ranger/survivalist/stealth

>>281068
The classes are mixed in there. I will make a pastebin with all of them as you find them and find more about them, but the basic stuff is here.
http://pastebin.com/9gDTUysg

If you have any questions just ask.

>>281107
Having read this, I think I'll switch my vote from >>281034 to:
>>281012
>The forbidden tomes of your family from before the exodus and its dark sciences.

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>>281119
(Decided to make a consensus between both, because why not)

Demons, blood rituals, magic from the times immemorial, it was all a quaint obsession for you. It still is, to a certain point. You spent most of your youth reading about these pacts with devils and fairies and the trickery behind their kin, not to mention the powers one could take from it. It was pretty romantic at the time, but it became all too real when the vile yellow star stole your soul. Ever since you have practiced. You are no slob with the pactblade either.

Aside from your dreams of hungry and dark power you gave yourself to the arts immaterial. Arcane casting haunted your nightmares ever since the exodus so you decided one to conquer that fear and learn all you could of it. It brings you a smile when you summoned your first manafire ball and singed the eyebrows of your teacher, the red skinned matron in Qart Hadar. Mama Kula they called her.

As you catch yourself smiling you notice the basin's water gone and with it the memory. In one hand you have a bloody Black Glass dagger and in the other a hungry burning energy lips at your fingertips. Your third weapon is hexery, your mind. Sharper than your blade and more hurtful than your manafire it can stun, slow and hurt your opponent in ways they can't protect themselves against.

Armed, you feel confident about facing the last basin.

(1/2)

>>281155
(the typos are multiplying, getting sleepy. - Decided one DAY -)

Whatever you expected you were not ready to see what appeared once peered inside it. You see standing bellow you the five tribes of your people who survived. There were eleven Kith tribes in total, but six never escaped from the Old Lands purging. They are the Lost. You can sense their bones beneath your feet and the guilty of walking on them.

Beyond your sight you hear the alien giggle of fairies and their madness. You can see their glamour, even if you can't see them. Behind them, equally alien, are the Riders Eternal, the Sidhe and their Tuatha Everlords. They are immortal atheists from the Land of The Ever Young, Tir Na Nog. Bellow them there are the Firbolg, the slavekin of the Sidhe. The Kith and the Sidhe march to war against each other. Spells, blood and gore spill upon the boneyard beneath your feet, painting everything red.

To your side you hear the whispers of a deity. "A war is coming." It is Ursula. You can't see her, but you remember her voice.

"You will choose the wrong side, Empty One, and it will cost you dearly."

_

You wake up shivering in the cold morning air. You can't remember falling asleep, but it must have happened while you meditated. You are lying on the ground next to the wall. You catch yourself thinking about your vision. It is unheard for a deity to talk to an Exarch, they are said to not be able to see your kind, and being fateless you never have visions of the future for you have no future.

You hear a thunderous boom outside and it almost make you jump out of your skin, so loud it is. Gunpowder, you think. As you stand up you see a glint in the fireplace.

>Investigate the noise.
>Dig into the fireplace, see what you find.
>Pack your things and leave, you will deal with the supplies later. Guns are lethal, even to the gods.

(Updated sheet: http://pastebin.com/yfmLxnyr and again, any questions just ask)

>>281235
>Pack your things and dig into the fireplace, see what you find.
the siren calls me, OP, gotta go. will hover the thread in some hours or so

>>281235
>Dig into the fireplace, see what you find.
Then
>Investigate the noise.

I will make only one more post, it's getting late and colder by the second. Fingertips are all numb.

>>281250
Thanks for reading and playing.

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Curiosity grips your guts and pull you forward. Inside the fireplace you find a something red and crystaline. At first you confuse it with a ruby, vilestone or shard Blood Glass, but it dawns on you that it is an Arachnite egg. You don't know much about them except they are mana parasites and fetch a good price in the markets.

The matter at hand calls knocking again with a thundering boom so loud it makes you grit your teeth. Why are guns so goddamn loud? You pocket the egg and fetch your belongings before bolting out of there.

It is still very early and a heavy fog has clouded the land, but your sight is unimpeded. The moment you lay eyes on the direction the shots are coming from you see a black dog barking against a bolder. No, correct that. A fucking Troll. Stoneskinned monsters that regenerate with terrible speed and have an affinity for the Solid element. The thing is on its back and trying to get away from an unseen pursuer. From behind a crevice you see a man wearing heavy traveler's cloak and carrying a long gun of some description.

He aims and shoots again. The thunder is louder this time and the Troll tumbles over on a nascent behind the hills.

The man has not seen you and is probably half-deaf from shooting that thing.

>Make your escape while the troll hunter is preoccupied. This is not your problem.
>Take this opportunity to run to the city. They must be warned there is a Troll on the loose.
>Sneak up to the man.
>Hail the hunter the best way you can.

(Last post people, will catch up tomorrow. Thanks for reading, for playing and for being excellent)

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>>281327
>Troll
My gut says sling some fire at it, since y'know. Trolls and fire don't usually mix. The fact it's stone-skinned makes me somewhat wary.

I dunno, I'd say help the hunter out in whatever way we think is best, but keep an eye on him. Maybe stay behind some cover just in case he turns that rifle our way.

>>281327
>Hail the hunter the best way you can.
I'll go with this I suppose.

Back.

>>281337
>>281359
Writing for trollhunting.

(Internet is a piece of shit today)

Reflexively, you crouch behind a disrepaired wicker wall. Trolls are huge beasts with strong hands capable of popping a head like its a grapefruit, if it catches you you are dead. As you observe the Hunter you begin to understand his pattern. The hound barks and run around distracting the creature while the man takes aim and reloads. Then, as he fires, the dog bolts out of action and he leverages his damage. Rinse and repeat. It is slow, methodical, practiced. He is good.

You guess you are feeling a special brand of reckless today. You run out of cover as the dog does his thing and leads the Troll to another trap. There is a dropping feeling in your guts, but you risk it, covering your head once more and praying the man can't read you from this distance.

As you get closer you throw a rock in front of the gunslinger and to his credit he levels the deadly weapon right in between your chest.

You raise a hand in a peace gesture. He doesn't lower aim. For a moment you begin to fear he might dislike Exarch more than Trolls, but in a blessed second he lowers aim. From this distance you have no way of talking without alerting the Troll.

>Just show the man your manafire and motion towards the limping Troll. Try igniting the creature at a distance. (Chance of burning is lower the farther you are)
>Try to attack the Troll's mind. If you succeed he won't notice, but if you fail he will be aware of your senses.
>Crawl forward and try to touch the monster. It is a sure thing, but stupidly dangerous.
>Search for some of the creature's blood to use in a sympathetic ritual, it could be devastating.
>Just speak to the man anyways - write-in.
(In either case, roll a d20, lower better)

>>282396
Troll seems clearly wounded, this is the best bet I'd say.
>Search for some of the creature's blood to use in a sympathetic ritual, it could be devastating.

>>282396
>Search for some of the creature's blood to use in a sympathetic ritual, it could be devastating.

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Without much ado you depart in search of some Troll blood. Your best chance is to make a strong connection. The Hunter is still wary of you, but resumes his routine and before you take notice he already jumped out of a rocky formation and found another nesting spot farther from your position. That man takes Troll hunting very seriously.

It doesn't take long for you to find some blood on the rocks. It must be bleeding a river to leave so much of it behind. Trolls are really remarkably resilient creatures. He's taken terrible abuse being shot time after time from that thundering gun to the point he must be full of holes by now. With this much blood you could do any number of things. If you took your time you could draw a hexing circle and try to charm, frighten or stun the beast. At best you can brainwash or lobotomize it completely, at worst it will harmlessly blow up in your face. Another option is to set a connection with his blood, blood for blood and all that voodoo, and either try to sever a vital organ that can't be regrown with your Glass dagger or simply boil it with manafire. Blood boiling is a gruesome and painful way to die, but if done right, it's an inescapable demise.

So. What will it be?

>Make a connection and boil his blood. [easy] (-2 breath)
>Make a connection and try severing his vital organs. [medium] (-3 breath)
>Draw a hexing circle in blood and go for a hex (either charm, terror or stun). [very hard] (-5 breath)
>Do something else. Write in.

Will grab something to eat and check back in about 30 minutes.

Rolled 13 (1d20)

>>282561
>Make a connection and try severing his vital organs. [medium] (-3 breath)
Roll under, right?

>>282561
>Make a connection and try severing his vital organs. [medium] (-3 breath)
Seems most reasonable.

>>282706
Roll under, yes. If no one else rolls in the next 10 minutes I will take that roll.

Writing.

Rolled 5 (1d20)

>>282742
>>282848
From me

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>>282868
(Ooh boy that does it alright.)

You quickly think of something. You smear your hands in blood and give your breath for power. You can feel small doses of warmth, confidence and memories leaving your body by your nostrils and mouth as you give life to the spellworks. With one hand you dig for your pactblade inside boot, with the other you a heart on the soft soil, then a liver, then a spinal cord.

Your mind is the sun, your body is castelar, the vile yellow energy of your eyes empower you. In vitae est sanginem per sanqinem. Your blade raises high and comes down the like a lightning strike.

You hear a roar and feel the edge cut wet muscles instead of soft soil.

You strike again and one more time, each time infusing it with the breath of your life. With each cut you are rewarded with a gurgling and pained roar.

You look over your shoulder to see your handiwork. The Hunter is hidden from you, but you can make out the huge form of the Troll slumped against a boulder. He isn't moving. You might have done it.

>Go find the Hunter.
>Get closer to check if the Troll is alive.
>Use this opportunity to slip away.

>>282929
(I swear to god, my typos get worse every day. - you DRAW a heart on the soft soil)

>>282929
>Go find the Hunter.
I'd rather not take risks with the troll, then again the hunter is fairly dangerous as well.

>>282929
>Go find the Hunter.

>>282979
I'll back this.
>>282946
just finished reading the thread. this looks promising. hope you get more players.

Rolled 2, 19 = 21 (2d20)

A smile creep up your lips uninvited but you let it stay. It is not every day you get to show why they fear your shadow. You take a moment to stand up with a bit of unsure footing. You are slightly out of breath. [Breath 07/10] Magic is like swinging a heavy sword, or pulling a strong warbow, it takes from you in energy, aka breath, what you want to put out in power. Training reduces that fatigue and increases your output, but not even the greatest archmages have invented an infinite engine. The search for such things is the stuff of legends.

"Hup" You jump over a small boulder towards where you last saw the Hunter take nest, but find nothing. Before you can call out to the man you hear the dog barking and turn towards the sound. There you see the Hunter laying crouched about five meters away from the Troll. He is loading the gun with a cartridge.

Then it all happens very fast. He notices you and turn to look at you, waving somewhat cautiously. A rock roughly the size of your torso lifts up in the air held in a huge and ragged hand of the still conscious Troll. Bloody as it is it holds firm as it swings for the Hunter's head.

You have a second or two.

>Hex the Troll (either Charm, Terror or Stun).
>Fire a bolt of manafire at the Troll.
>Scream at the Hunter.
>Let the Troll kill him. That gun is worth a small fortune.
>Help the Troll. Hex the Hunter.


>>283078
Thank you for reading. So do I.

>>283164
>Scream at the Hunter.
He was good enough to not shoot us on sight, might as well repay the courtesy.
I assume the hex and manafire'll be too slow.

>>283164
A single bolt of manafire probably won't kill it, so best to give the hunter a fighting chance to escape or blast its cock off.

>Scream at the Hunter.

Moving to a new location, be back in 30 min tops.

Back. Writing for warning the Hunter

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(let me reiterate my previous statement that the internet today is a piece of shit)

You only have time to think of one thing.

"Watch out!" You split your lungs with the strength of your scream. It is not enough and far too late, but to the Huntsman's credit he does try to shield his head.

There is a wet cracking noise that sounds terribly similar to bone breaking when the rock connects to the man's upper body and sends him sprawling in the grass about ten feet to the side. In turn the Troll is panting heavily, his beady eyes are red and his mouth and nostrils are leaking blood. He tries to crawl forward toward you as the black dog scampers away to his master, whining and barking futilely in equal measure. The monster is slow and lethargic, probably have something inside him that is irrevocably broken, but it could heal if left alone.

What will you do?

>Let's try an open prompt.
>You can check your powers in the updated sheet. I will answer any questions.
>http://pastebin.com/edit/yfmLxnyr

>>283534
OP, I think you linked to the editing page instead of the page itself. Comes up blank for me.

>>283534
http://pastebin.com/yfmLxnyr
There we go, figured it out.

So the Monster is pretty slow. I say we get close so we can cast Manafire on touch rather than at range. Since that guarantees ignition and does more damage, and it seems like it's already on the cusp of death.

>>283534
Manafire first, if it's still capable of moving them hex: stun

>>283574
That I did. I don't know why I did that. Thank gods you are smart, anon.

Rolled 1 (1d2)

>>283581
>>283594
I am getting a manafire feeling here. Any more input? Without other options I will roll a 1d2 for melee vs ranged, in that order, for the sake of fairness.

I guess with so little players an open prompt isn't that fun to do.

>>283645
Open prompts in general are kinda hit-or-miss in my experience. Good for inspiring panic in a large player base at a tense moment and getting them to toss ideas around, though.

With one more exhale of power you conjure the burning element to your hand, feeding it mana. The energy licks at your fingertips and dances on your open palm. You decide killing the Troll is your objective for now, but dying in the process would be counter-productive, so you will try to hit him from a blind spot. Still, it is as dangerous as trying to fence against a bear. You circle around as it crawls, trying desperately to grab you. For the Troll, killing you would be like breaking a wicker doll.

But not before long you see an opening and go for a lunge. You smear manafire around its back without much effort and it roars in agony as the ethereal flames begin to spread. You just step back out of its reach and wait a minute until it slumps to the ground. Once it is dead the flames become purposeless and are snuffed out.

That went smoothly, all things considered.

Now you turn to where the dog is whining and licking at his master. When you get closer you see the Hunter is still breathing, but without aid won't be long for this world. He probably have broken ribs and at the very least a strong concussion. You could take him to the villagers or try to take of him by yourself. Alternatively, there is nothing but a young and malnourished mutt stopping you from putting the man out of his misery or taking his stuff.

>Carry the man to the village.
>Take him to that abandoned shack you spent the night.
>Rob the man blind. The dog might protest.
>Give the man the ultimate mercy. The dog will definitely protest.

>>283786
>Carry the man to the village.
Doesn't look like we have either the skills or the supplies to play healer.

>>283786
>Carry the man to the village.

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There is something to be said about the camaraderie one feels for those they do battle with. You wonder if your situations were reversed, would the Hunter have tried to help you. Still you crouch down besides his limp body and hold his head on your shoulder, lifting his weight best way you can. He doesn't seem to be bleeding, which is a blessing, but one of his legs looks bent in a weird angle. The black hound stops in front of you, sadness pooling on his eyes. You level your evil gaze to his. You half expect it to bark at you or growl or even try to bite your leg. Instead it nuzzles against your leg and walk besides you trying his best to help you along.

"You are a smart dog, huh?" It looks at you, but doesn't answer.

As you slowly make your way to town there is a visible gathering of people forming up. The whispers and stares begin immediately as soon as you get close enough for them to see your eyes or otherwise sense you are Exarch. A woman start screaming bloody murder and your explanations are deafened by a man calling you filth and screaming at you to leave. This could get hairy.

What should you do?

>Stay your ground. They need to know how the Hunter got injured.
>Try to Hex the noisiest of them with a charming tone.
>Ignore them and make your way to the nearest healer.
>Make them fear your shadow. Expose your vile yellow light.
>Leave while you can. They can take care of their own.

>>283915
>Try to Hex the noisiest of them with a charming tone.
after that
>Make your way to the nearest healer.

>>283944
Ten minutes, let's go with this. Can you roll a d20 for me?

Rolled 13 (1d20)

>>284006
Yep

>>284023
yeah rip

Rolled 12 (1d20)

>>284006

Rolled 15 (1d20)

>>284006

>>284106
Shame it's roll under

>>284069
(Oooh almost)

You are starting to feel a lot fear and insecurity coming from them. It is a terrible mixture and you know it well, in any other situation you would had made yourself scarce already. For some reason you don't, instead you hold the Hunter tighter against your back and try to come up with a plan. All you can think of is using their own fears against them, charm them to spread some doubt about this hostilities.

You breath out, make into power. It is becoming harder to sustain your burden and weight now, but you can manage. You use the energy you spent to spread sympathy in crowd. It is diluted and weak, but the hex seems to stick. Most don't realize it and begin muttering about that poor huntsman, some note the dog's heavy face and sad eyes, others simply feel sad because they can feel sad. It is a good charm, all in all. But it didn't stick to some of the more vitriolic types among the villagers. Worse, you were careless. Someone noticed because shortly after the screams of "Hexer!", "Witchcraft!" and "Burn the warlock!" begin to take hold of the mob. All you can do is try to limp away carrying your burden.

"Can't you see I am trying to help one of you, you blind mudfarmers!" You scream in frustration as someone throws a rock surprisingly close to your head.

Whatever your appeals it doesn't reach them. Soon you feel a hard pressure on the back of your head. Somewhere inside your mind you rationalize someone must have gotten bold enough to throw another rock. The world is spinning, but you march on. [Blood 9/10, Breath 4/10]

This has become a public stoning and you are in the middle of it.

>Call for help, any help.
>Start spraying manafire around, maybe they will disperse.
>Try another Hex? (Harder)
>Drop the Hunter and make a run for it.
>Expose them to the full brilliance of your evil yellow and molten light.

>>284123
>Expose them to the full brilliance of your evil yellow and molten light.
Fuck off or we'll make 'em fuck off.

>>284123
>Expose them to the full brilliance of your evil yellow and molten light.
Enough is enough.
inb4 steals souls

Roll me a 1d20 everyone.

Rolled 13 (1d20)

>>284197
I have a good feelin' about this roll.

Rolled 1 (1d20)

>>284197

Rolled 4 (1d20)

>>284199
Well there's most likely no need for this roll

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>>284203
Let it begin.

Good night QM, players.

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>>284203
You decide that enough is enough. There is a reason they fear Exarch as much as they hate them. You will remind them that reason.

You kneel. The hunter is too heavy to carry now. You level your hands to your eyes. They burn. Inside you feel that fire that has nothing to do with fire, that consuming madness that caresses your brain at night. The fill your body with molten light. Inside the emptiness it bids its time, blind and terrifyingly evil. You stand before it, full of confidence. You have tamed it and it serves you now. How could it not? It took so much. Five years you have been in this weird land, five years since the exodus. Five years your people rebuilt, resettled. Lived again. And what did you do?

You forgot everything. You can't remember your mother's face, or your father's name. Who was Diana? Why did you hate the Trierarch so much? Who was that man on the shore that killed Diana and why does it matter so much to you? All memories lost forever to the insatiable hunger of that molten yellow fire.

You reach out your hand, confident it won't hurt you and it doesn't. You tap into its depthless pool of power.

On the material world your eyes are filled with vile light. From your mouth rivulets of molten evil drip like acidic liquid gold. You spew it forth in a wild spell.

(1/2)

>>284272
(Goodnight anon, thanks for playing)

>>284288
Above the village of Kirkihill opens a gateway to the emptiness inside you. It is as black as the void and drinks hungrily from existence. The air is pulled inside it with great impetus.

That certainly did the trick. Panic is widespread, they all just forgot about you and ran away in every direction. Like ants being chased by a magnifying glass. Of course, the spell is all but a show of force, it hovers many meters too tall to drink in the people of the village and you are in no danger of being dragged into it. What a pathetic and poetic end that would be, consumed by your own void.

You just use this opportunity to make your way past the terrified villagers and carry the huntsman inside the great hall. A wizened old man of the faith of the Martyred God is inside, his eyes like two great saucers. "What have you done?" it speaks in a hushed tone, as if fearful to anger his god.

"Who are you?"

>Tell him your name and the reason you are here (write in your name, anything will do).
>Tell him your name. (Lie)
>Tell him you are Exarch and nothing more.
>Tell him the huntsman needs healing and nothing else.
>Tell him nothing. Leave the huntsman inside and get out.
>"I am death, the destroyer of worlds."

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>>284356
(Seens like the image ate itself.)

>>284356
>Tell him the huntsman needs healing and nothing else.

>>284356
>Tell him your name and the reason you are here (write in your name, anything will do).
All I have to go on really is Trierarch Gammon, and Gammon is another word for the language of the Irish Travellers (as well as the name of a victory in backgammon), so I guess maybe Irish names would be appropriate?

Murchadh, Maellan, Darragh, Feidlimid, or Ruaidhri? Those are names, I suppose.

I'll put my vote forward for Maellan, and also tell him that we're just here looking to get the hunter fixed up. Tell him not to worry too much about the giant hole in the sky.

>>284382
>>284402
(I will try to compromise this two instead of rolling)

You punch the table, patience exhausted. "This man needs quick treatment. He has many broken bones all over his body because he was fighting a Troll to defend your ungrateful people!"

The priest seems to wake up from a shock and quickly run to the back screaming for supplies; herbs, potions, unguents. He only stops to tell a young acolyte to run to the caravansary up north as quickly as she can and grab the doctor there. She only stops a second to look at you and the terrifying magical construct outside before bolting out. That is one brave acolyte.

As the priest rummages around in the back you are left alone with the huntsman, now prostrated on the same table you punched. All sorts of offerings, candles and incenses lie on the floor. Above you the statue of the Martyred God gazes at you with his stubborn eyes.

You don't know why it matters to you that much that this man is dying, but it does. You are Exarch, a ticking time bomb, a walking natural disaster. But that man lying in front of you is nothing of the sort. While the villagers were fast asleep he was probably lying on mud all night waiting to spot that Troll. What would happen if he wasn't there? The Troll would have probably gorged himself in livestock and villagers. You don't care if they hate you, you do too, but you won't let them waste this man's life.

"Maellan" you say under your breath. "Maellan Kane. That is my name. I think." You confide to the injured man.

(1/2)

>>284465
You sit down besides the dying huntsman. "I am following the star that stole my soul. A fisherman told me a crow sighted a yellow star by the shore of the Sea of Fallen Gods." You laugh a sad little laugh.

"To believe a fisherman who believed a crow. It feels like putting my life on the word of a council of shameless liars. That is how desperate I am." You clean your face with your hands. They smell acrid and ferric. "That hole out there? That is what waits me after death. No judges, no punishments, no rewards. Only nothingness. That scares me most, that my life will go unwitnessed. That is why it matters. Sorry if I don't make sense, some days I truly believe I am going half-insane." You scoff.

"I understand."

The voice comes from behind you. You turn your face at neckbreaking speed and are met with the visage of the Martyred God's statue. "Lord Illfather?" you sigh under your teeth.

"No, ya wanker. Me." As you look down to the table you see the huntsman alive and conscious. It is a great relief to you, but also a great embarrassment.

"Now let me up, boy, I gotta get back to that Troll."

>"Woah! You are in no position to stand, mister."
>"No way. I carried you all this way here and you are getting treated even if it kills you."
>"Un - fucking - believable." Leave grumbling about wasted efforts.
>Call the priest. Tell him his patient is trying to get away.
>"Sure." Help the man up.

(Accidentally deleted the entire post when I was almost done... feelsbad)

>>284522
>"No way. I carried you all this way here and you are getting treated even if it kills you."
Tell him the troll ought to be a smoldering corpse by this point, but admit to being no expert on trolls. Ask if we might accomplish whatever task he feels the need to accomplish.

>>284537
Seconding this

"You stay exactly where you are. I set the Troll alight with manafire, he should be charred charcoal by now."

He lets out a pained laughter and immediately regret it. "Boy. Trolls don't burn. They're afraid of true fire, true, and it hurts them, but when they die..." he lets out a groan. "when they die they turn ta stone. From dust ta dust, from stone ta stone." You didn't know that. He notices and laugh again.

"The Troll is dead anyway. What is it you need to do there?"

As a way of answer he pulls up a pendant from under his shirt. "This, you daft boy." As he presents it to you you can already feel the taste of a strong magic coming from it. Inside it there is Troll blood, you presume, and it seems to be emanating a small aura. "Trollblood's amulet. Worth a small fortune. Heals wounds, knits flesh back together. Hee hee hee."

Only now you notice he is breathing better, his leg is still bent out of shape, but much less so, his face has color to it back again.

"Tell ya what, boy. You gather me some of it, fresh of course, and I will fashion one for you myself. How about THAT for a reward, ay? Haa haa haa"

>"Count me on, old man."
>Try to bargain for more. You DID just save his life.
>Call the priest. Tell him his patient is a warlock.
>"Do your own dirty job." Leave.

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>>284584
(Dropping pics left and right)

>>284584
>"Count me on, old man."
Ain't nothin' wrong with a bit of healing magic.

His good humor is contagious and you wouldn't say no to magical artefacts that simply drop on your lap like that. "You are on, old man."

"Good! Good. Now git." You start to run out the door as he yells one last time. "Fresh, boy!"

Had you known the old hunter was this full of life you would have left him there. Honestly. Who speaks like that to his savior? Your smirk turns sour again as you see the village outside still eclipsed under the roaring nightmare that is the blackhole spell. It has dragged a chicken or two, maybe some clothes that were drying outside. You don't feel like it devoured any bodies. If someone where careless enough to get caught in its event horizon it could quickly become a tragedy.

What do you do.

>Try ending the spell. Vile spells don't answer to their creator's will too well, but if you put some breath into it...
>You are in a hurry. Take care of it when you get back.
>Eh. It will go away in a day or two.
>Good. It should remain for a long time. These people treated you like shit.
>Pull it closer to the ground. Make them suffer. Feed the Hunger.

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>>284649
>Eh. It will go away in a day or two.

Nothing lasts forever, even spells. It will fade in time. You decide whoever is too careless to get pulled into it has brought it upon themselves.

You just ignore it for this time and go to where you left the body. The way is mercifully free of angry villagers, so you make it in good time. Not before long you are jumping bolders and crawling around the muddy recess of a river bank before you step on something hard. Looking down you see the bulky body of the hunter's manalock gun. It boggles you how you missed it, but you must have dropped the huntsman's gun as you dragged his body to the village. You sling it across your shoulder and carry on.

When you finally see the body you notice the old man wasn't joking. Its skin is completely petrified now, not even his eyes are fleshy or organic. You will have to pierce its now rock hard skin somehow. Alternatively you could go collect some of the blood that was spilled, but it might be unusable now.

>Collect some spilled blood. Easy.
>Try piercing the creature's neck with your Black Glass dagger.
>You could try firing the huntsman's gun.
>Rock against rock. Pick a bigger and not particularly sharp boulder and go to town on the Troll's head.

>>284738
>Rock against rock. Pick a bigger and not particularly sharp boulder and go to town on the Troll's head.
I'd vote for using the black glass dagger but I worry that may risk damaging what is likely a valuable piece of ritual equipment.

Will be back in 20 minutes, peeps. This time for sure, internet allowing.

Cooking is gonna take more time than I thought it would. What you guys think about putting it up till tomorrow? I will get back in about 12, 14 hours if so.

If people still want to play today I will make two more updates in one hour after I finished this pasta.

>>284738
>Try piercing the creature's neck with your Black Glass dagger.

>>284834
I'm fine with holding off until tomorrow. Seems like a lot of people have gone to sleep. I'm probably headed that way myself.

>>284834
Sounds good OP, I'm probably about to go to sleep myself.

>>284927
>>284864
Very well then. I will pick it up back again in 10 to 12 hours with all the suggestions we have until then.

>>284968
could you Maybe do 1 more mapdate

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Back and writing. No hurry everyone.

>>285001
I am sorry, if I'd seen I would have posted another update.
Hope you come back to check later. We are at the end of this road too.

You pick up an impressive-looking rock after laying down the gun. It looks simple and sturdy enough. You wouldn't want to break a geode of nora or slimestone on your hands.

Satisfied with your amateur perusal that this is, indeed, a stone bolder, you start swinging it up and down against the cranium of the Troll. The first five hits send vibrations up your arms that numb your hands and steal your breath. Every other swing seems to get diminishing returns. This thing is way sturdy and you are no warrior. Perhaps it would be best to change to a more finesse oriented approach?

>You won't let a petrified Troll push you around. Spend the rest of your breath and smack his head off.
>Switch to your Black Glass knife. You don't need to decapitate the thing, a severed artery would do. [less breath, chance of damaging the knife]
>Use ritual magic. Perhaps you can pull the blood out by making a connection using that which he spilled. [all the breath]

(different approach will lead to a different reward at the end)

>>286348
Might toss out an announcement that you're resuming the thread in the /qtg/.

>>286435
>Use ritual magic. Perhaps you can pull the blood out by making a connection using that which he spilled. [all the breath]
Boost to ritual magic, maybe?

>>286435
I wonder what happens once we're out of breath.
Use ritual magic. Perhaps you can pull the blood out by making a connection using that which he spilled. [all the breath]

>>286452
Nobody checks the QTG

Writing for ritual.

>>286452
Good advice.

>>286478
I will do it anyway. Eggs and baskets and all that good mojo.

You tire from your physical exertion and decide it is better to go with the tried and true approach of dark science.

It takes you less than a minute to find a heavy stone covered in clotting troll blood. Quickly, you center your breath around the stone. It fills with your power and assumes a neutral attuned state. By concentrating on the dying body you can imagine the veins, the blood inside them sitting there. It is always harder working with stagnant blood because it acquires solid characteristics to what is a mostly fluid element. Still, you are no pushover, and you call over the connection you had before when you helped cripple the creature. Success. The blood outside is linked to the blood inside.

Now the only question is to how you will manage to push or pull it out.

>Use correlation. This blood will be that blood. Move one, the other will follow.
>Use heat transfer. Boil this blood and the other will jut out like a geyser.
>Use gravity! Turn the ritual stone upside down and let gravity slowly pull the blood out from the creature new-found orifices.
>Use something else! Write in.

Sorry OP, I became busier than I thought I'd be. Let's git to it!

>>286579
>Use gravity! Turn the ritual stone upside down and let gravity slowly pull the blood out from the creature new-found orifices.

>>286579
>Use correlation. This blood will be that blood. Move one, the other will follow.

>>286579
I'm torn, gravity and correlation both sound pretty good.
>Use correlation. This blood will be that blood. Move one, the other will follow.
Guess I'll go with bloodbending.

>>286632
Feels like gravity'd come in much more handy on things which don't have blood. I'd change my vote but I think that QM started writing

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>>286607
(No need to apologize, my good man.)

You smile wickedly as you think of something simple. This is a trick kids use to impress their colleagues. It is so simple that it borders on cheating. All you need is a recipient.

You pull out your ink jarrett and open the top. It smells faintly of iron and rugged silica, the old smell of red ink from Qart Hadar. It feels nostalgic, for whatever reason. Without much thought you spit inside and mix it with a bloody finger. When completely diluted you empty the rest of the jarrett on the floor with a clean mind. It isn't hard to produce more ink, if you ever need it. You repeat the process until only clear ceramic remains. You then lodge it, mouth up, inside one of the Troll's petrified nostrils.

By going back to the ritual stone you can already feel the pull of the blood trying to mimic each other's movement, so all you have to do is give a huge push on the stone with your boot. It rolls lazily and down around a corner, about ten meters or so, before hitting another stone and stopping for good.

Turning back to the Troll you see a huge red line of blood, freshly spilled, following the way of the ritual bolder. It would hardly work on a fighting and breathing creature, took you ten minutes to set it up, but it is a nice trick. When you pull the jarrett back it is filled up to half. More than enough, you assume.

You clean yourself and your things the best way you can before putting the lid back. Now all is left is to check on the old man hunter.

(1/2)

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>>286724
(Either way was good. It was mainly show different tricks you can do with sympathy, really)

The track back is simple enough. Not much stands in your way beside the huge black hole, but you put that there in the first place, so you pay it no mind. Inside the stone hall of the temple of Lord Illfather you find the huntsman sitting up on the offerings table, with a smile as contagious as ever. He is surrounded by all sorts of acolytes, the old priest and a woman you haven't seen before. Her head is under a heavy cowl and her skin is a small tone of white. Qart Hadarian, you assume. He beams when he catches sight of you holding the jar in one hand.

"My good boy! Maellan!" You were praying he wouldn't use your name so liberally. "Ya did the deed, I take it?" You nod.

"Excellent! Now would kindly tell this ol' hag to leave me leg alone?"

The woman in question stands up defiantly when he starts protesting. "I don't care how much magic you have on you, old fool, your leg will heal facing the other without the splint." Her voice is resolute, stubborn, full of purpose. The classic demeanor of a physician. She turns to you with a glare that is as cold as iron. She seems to be silently asking for your approval on the matter.

>"Come on, woman, leave the poor man alone."
>"Old man, you listen to your doctor. She knows what's best."
>Don't take sides.
>Look at the old priest for guidance.

>>286785
>"Old man, you listen to your doctor. She knows what's best."
No need to be a headstrong fool.

Tell me if you guys prefer faster and smaller updates or slower and more elaborate ones. Either way they feel rushed to me, used to taking my time writing...

>>286796
10 minutes, if no one post before I finish writing we are going with this.

>>286813
Depends on the scene, you'd expect combat to be faster, allowing for more player input depending on how it changes, and everything else to be slower. Whether it's exploration or interaction with other sapient life.

>>286796
>>286813
I support this, often if I agree with the way a vote is going I won't post. I know some act the same.

You buckle somewhat under this woman's forceful personality. Her eyes are a sight to behold. Vitriolic red with brilliant orange irises that leave you feeling scrutinized. In turn, she seems completely unperturbed by your evil eyes. All you can do is agree with her. "Y-yes, ma'am." you manage to say, meekly as you feel.

"Not to me." She says with finality, stepping to the side and letting you face the old hunter. "To him."

He gives you a sympathetic smile. You are now both at her mercy it seems. "You heard the lady, old man. Take your pills."

"Bah!" he scoffs. "Very well. Go fetch your equipment, ya butcher. Twist me like a twig if you must, I am done arguing with yer lot." The physician give both of you a cold and triumphant smile, the type you would give after winning a challenge you had absolute certainty was under your belt. She nods and turn around like a hurricane, pulling a young acolyte along claiming she was now first nurse and explaining a veritable mountain of jargon to her. The poor girl only shakes her head bemusedly.

After they are gone you see the old priest visibly deflate. "Well... that went alright." The old huntsman laughs raucously. You are left with nothing else to do than to make small talk before the strange Qartian lady comes back.

>Talk to the huntsman, learn about that trollblood trinket of his.
>Ask who the strange lady was.
>Introduce yourself properly to the priest. He seems to be a nicer person.
>Talk to the priest about the village, his faith or supplies you might want to procure.
>Pet the dog. He is a faithful hound.
>Let them lead a conversation.

>>286872
Can we select multiple options?
>Talk to the huntsman, learn about that trollblood trinket of his.
>Pet the dog. He is a faithful hound.
Don't think those two exclude each other.

>>286872
Resisting the urge to say "do all the everything."

>Pet the dog. He is a faithful hound.
>Talk to the huntsman, learn about that trollblood trinket of his.
>Ask who the strange lady was.
>Introduce yourself properly to the priest and ask about the village, his faith or supplies you might want to procure.

Writing.

>>286887
>Can we select multiple options?
Absolutely.

You take this time to relax and unwind. As you sit down on the floor you finally notice how exhausted you really are. [Breath 0/10] You couldn't cast a single manaball even if you wanted to. As you pull in long lungfuls of air, trying in vain to regain some Breath, a small and cold snout touches your bare arm. The black hound was resting under the table all this while. What a good boy, you think. "What a good boy." You whisper as you scratch behind his ears. He looks up at you with adoring eyes. There is something in there, but you don't know what.

"Baku." The huntsman says seeing you looking at his dog. "His name, it is. Good boy, that one."

"Yes. Yes, you are a good boy Baku." After some scratching and ruffling of his head you turn to the old man hunter.

"About the trollblood trinket-" he cuts you short before you finish.

"Jonny Robert. Peeps call me ol' Jon." You extend a hand awkwardly towards him and he shakes it. "I will probably be lying on me back for the next week, thanks to that witch. If ya want to learn about the amulet and how to make one bring the blood to me on me cabin. The good priest knows where it is." He then turns on his side, groaning and moaning all the way. "Now let me catch a rest. That butcher will be here any minute and if I am asleep maybe she'll leave me alone."

You smile. Even facing brutal surgery he is cracking jokes. You get up and go toward the door where the old priest is talking to some acolyte. All you catch of it is something or another about them trying to hire some help to get rid of the blackhole spell. Oops.

(1/2)

(Let's all sing the internet-is-shit song)

As he sees you approach he raises a hand to you and shush the acolyte. "Before you say anything, Exarch, let me say we of the Martyred Faith are proud of what you did. Not only did expose yourself to danger for the life of that old fool, but he also told me how you helped him kill the Troll. Without you surely we would have many more losses than a some chicken." His smile is honest enough that it makes you blush and leave you out of words.

"Well... uh..."

He continues before you can find your tongue. "However, the people of the village don't see it that way. You have my word we will try our best to placate them." When he catches you looking up into the blackhole he gives another warm smile and pats your shoulder. "Don't worry. I know you could have cleansed the village with that kind of power, but you chose to use it to save a life instead. Those are the tenants of our Martyred Lord Illfather."

"Now, is there anything you wished to talk about?" He guides you inside with a hand while shooing the acolyte with another.

>"Introduce yourself."
>"What where you and the boy talking about?"
>"Tell me about the village."
>"Who was the physician woman."
>"Tell me more about Lord Illfather."
>"Tell me about yourself."
>"No, thank you. That was all."

Having connection issues but will hold out for as long as I can. Let's finish this!

>>287052
>"Tell me about the village."
>"Tell me more about Lord Illfather."
>"Tell me about yourself."

Git dat exposition.

>>287052
>"Introduce yourself."
>"What where you and the boy talking about?"
Could mention that it'll pass soon.
>cabin location
Which we could visit in a week.
>"Who was the physician woman."

First things, first. You extend a hand and the old priest shakes it happily. "Maellan Kane" you say. "Jarred Ramn" he smiles.

"About what you were talking to the acolyte-"

"Pay it no mind, Exarch." He interrupts you again. "He is just fraught with doubts. I am sure a bit of meditation will clear his head."

You nod. "If it is of any help, the spell should be gone in a day, two at most. It is pretty far up so as long as you are careful it should pose no danger." He smiles again and claps on your back. "Thanks, my son, we will take care of it."

As you come to stop before the altar of Illfather you begin making small talk about the village, its people and its history. They have settled here after the Vanir retreated from these lands into Vanardrot beyond the great mountainous cliffs, which was about 3 years ago at most. He laughs it off and say it is really hard to count when you are far from Anun Loqemar. The sun gods here, as well as the gods of the seasons, are all wild and capricious and care little for the daily routine of Kith. Days may be as long as weeks and years are worse; some are all winter, others are five times the length of a normal Anurian year, but mild and good. "Such is the way of wild gods" says the old priest with finality. He also points you toward any place of interest to you; the hearthfire's guild, the snake seller, the caravansary, which doubles as market, and even old Jon's cabin [will draw a map for the next thread].

"What about Lord Illfather" you ask. "You seem to have very little faith in the gods, for a priest." He lets out a joyous laughter.

"Our Martyred Lord is the god of willing sacrifice, of noble intentions and putting others above oneself. His statue is in the godhalls of Anun Loqemar and he is as civilized as you and I."

He continues. "As you must know, our civilized gods are ancient spirits that embody and represent different aspects of our world. Wild gods are uncouth and care little for our way of life, but they are just as powerful in their own domains. That is why, to fight them back, we build the statues of our god as huge nexus of divine influence in Anun Loqemar and small representations are scattered across the lands to push that influence against the wildness." He then points to the statue and its emblems and explains each one in detail.

By now the Qartian doctor has returned and woke up the hunter. They went into the loud and painful procedure of setting his bones. [will make a pastebin bestiary with gods, monsters and things you encounter, so you can check on them at leisure.]

(1/2)

>>287201
>"Such is the way of wild gods" says the old priest with finality.
>push that influence against the wildness

So this world can potentially just fall apart at the seams between the domains of god's orderly and god's wild. Very, very good to know.

>>287201
After the surgery the Qartian woman introduces herself as Nakesh. You notice a lack of a surname, something very unusual for a Qart Hadaran, but you guess everyone has their reasons for travelling so far up north. She is curt and direct, borderline laconic, but not unpleasant of tone or demeanor. She insists you have her check your head as well (only now have you noticed there is blood on your cowl, probably from the stone you caught on the back of your neck), but you aren't bothered enough to remove your head clothing. "If you change your mind, come to me at the caravansary where my office is." With that said she leaves with a bare nod to the old priest.

You spend the rest of the morning speaking to the priest about nothing but small talk. By now the acolytes have already carried old Jon back to his cabin and you are left with not much else to do. The priest insists you stay for the day, as it is dangerous to go anywhere else where the villagers could harass you.

>You guess you could stay until nightfall (restore your breath).
>Go to the caravansary and have your head checked.
>Go to old Jon's cabin and pester him more (he is still out for the count, but healing fast).
>Go back to the shack you spent the night in.

>>287251
>You guess you could stay until nightfall (restore your breath).
>Explore the place a bit while we stay.

>>287263
Seconded.

>>287263
I can get behind this.

You see no reason not to stay here until nightfall, so you nod to the priest. "Very well. I'm in your hands, Father Ramn."

"Please, son, only Jarred is fine. I am no Father anymore." His expression is solemn, like that of someone who dug up bitter memories. You leave it at that. He soon departs to prepare a small room for your accommodation. Meanwhile you are left to wander. The hall is made of two main buildings, the public hall where all can enter and talk to God Illfather, or any of the many other small statuettes around the room. You notice one of Ursula, goddess of love and war, one for the God King Heracles, god of strength and thunderbolts, one for the Masked Sade, lord of subterfuge, and many many others. There is even a small altar for the traitorous goddess Hecate, three-headed lady of witchcraft. You could pray to any of them. By yourself you are invisible to them as Exarch, but inside a temple they are forced to recognized your presence. They might not like it tho.

Before you can decide the old priest comes back. He leads you to an isolated room on the other side of the second building, the private hall, for the acolytes that attend the temple. He must know you are a warlock. He set up one far enough from the others so you can have your privacy. Warlockery and witchery are not practices punished by law, as long as they don't infringe on other malpractices like murder or theft, but it is still something seen with distrust and full of ill-repute. Being Exarch you are somewhat beyond that kind of social reprisals anyway.

Well, you have the whole day to yourself, what do you want to do?

>Rest, get back your breath. Otherwise you are almost defenseless.
>Meditate about your experiences, put them in order [you have leveled, you have points to assign].
>Get something to eat.
>Take a shower, check on your body. Been a while since you last saw yourself, better check now before you forget again.

>>287368
>Take a shower, check on your body. Been a while since you last saw yourself, better check now before you forget again.
and
>Meditate about your experiences, put them in order [you have leveled, you have points to assign].

>>287386
Second.

Your clothes are caked in dried blood, dirt and mud. You assume your hair and skin is much the similar situation. You ask a passing acolyte for water and towels. He returns after not too long carrying a heavy jar and a ceramic basin. He apologizes for the lack of hot water and offers to heat it himself. Since you are out of Breath you accept and he quickly sets the water in the jar to boiling point by channeling power into it. He leaves shortly after and you are left with yourself.

The room itself is bare of any tapestry or glass. The priests are poor, you could guess. The window is minimal and locked behind bars. Perhaps to not let the cold enter. Or fairies.

You begin removing your clothing, layer by layer and pour the hot water inside the basin. What do you see in your reflection?

>A man. Young. 18, mostly, maybe 16, but with eyes of molten yellow.
>A boy that lost his everything before he was 12.
>A tomboy. A young girl about the age of 17 that never really fit anywhere.
>A princess turned bandit. Young, but fraught with loss.

>>287461
heart skipped a bit when I saw these option
well here we go

>A man. Young. 18, mostly, maybe 16, but with eyes of molten yellow.

>>287461
>A man. Young. 18, mostly, maybe 16, but with eyes of molten yellow.
Man we're way younger than I thought, here I was thinking we were like, 30-something.

>>287461
>A man. Travel weary and down on his luck, sunken eyes shining through with molten yellow. Appears to be in early twenties.

You are a man. You lost everything you had when you were very young. And you still are, some would say, but they haven't given what you had to give. They aren't Exarch. You feel older than you look, and you look older than you are.

For kith you aren't particularly special. Some Qartians have rolls of horns on their head, skin as colorful as ink and eyes of many different combinations. Ulmarans in turn are all raven haired and clear eyed, blessed by the Carrion God. They die young, but are stronger, faster and can call upon weird powers. Anurians are fair-skinned and long-lived, wise and strong they tend to fulfill positions of power. Some say they are just full of ambition and sin. Then there are the poor people of Salahad, dark skinned and full of life and full of joy, capable Paladinos. Their voice have some strange powers. The last surviving Kith tribe was the mysterious Telkine, deathly pale and white haired. They are said to be closest to godkin and to never die of old age and be capable of breathing salt-water.

What tribe does your family mainly hails from?

>Qartian. You have weird skin tones, maybe a small set of horns.
>Ulmaran. Raven hair and blessed by the dark gods.
>Anurian. True power lies in action, not in blood.
>Salahad. You have angelic voice, but you seldom use it.
>Telkine. They are blind the moment they see your white hair.
>Crossbred. Choose two.
>Crossbred. Choose one, the other is one of the fallen tribes.
>Fallen Kin. You are one of the lost and damned to never know your heritage.

>>287553
>Crossbred. Choose one, the other is one of the fallen tribes.
>Telkine

>>287553
>Telkine. They are blind the moment they see your white hair.
Mer-man
Mer-MAN!

>>287553
>Telkine. They are blind the moment they see your white hair.

Rolled 5 (1d6)

(totally not rolling for mud-bloodied shenanigans)

Of course, your white hair is a dead give-away. Doesn't help that you looked like someone bleached your skin and that your teeth look more at home inside a shark's mouth. Aside from that, your blood really haven't shown any miraculous properties. You have no idea if it is because your blood is diluted or what, but you certainly aren't immortal and definitely can not breath saltwater. You almost drowned a number of times to burst that myth.

Without other Telkine to tell you about the secrets behind your blood, however, there is very little you can do.

You remember Diana had golden hair and there is no kith alive with hair like that, so perhaps your family was into the practice of cross-breeding, who knows.

As you wash yourself, the pain leaves your body and you visibly relax. [blood 10/10, breath 2/10] It feels divine to wash all that dirt and grime. Still, you feel something spiritual pooling inside of you and it bothers you tremendously. You decide to close your eyes, still inside your basin full of hot water.

There is an impasse. Your power is divided between many provinces of knowledge and there are many more you could open up to your mind. Perhaps you forgot some of it just to remember now. Perhaps it is the vile molten light inside you opening forbidden gates. Only one way to know, really.

>You leveled

>You have 1 point to distribute between:
>Dark Magic [0/5]
>Arcane Casting [0/5]
>Hexery [0/5]

>You also have 1 point to distribute between:
>Body 7
>Mind 8
>Spirit 9
>Blood 10

>You can either level up one discipline, feed your Exarch status, or open up the mistery one:
>Manafire [3/10]
>Mind Casting [3/10]
>Blood Sympathy [4/10]
>Basic Arcane Training [2/10]
>~Exarch~ [2/10]
>~Unknown~

Pastebin for help http://pastebin.com/p7J6hKUr

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>>287670
And dropped the pic

>>287670
Votan for
>1 point to Dark Magic

>1 Point to Mind

and
>Mystery Box

>>287670
>Dark Magic
>Body
>Exarch

>>287670
Also, could you explain how stats affect our capabilities?
As in- is hexery willpower based? Intelligence? And so on for others.

Rolled 2, 1 = 3 (2d2)

>>287709
Sure.
It is quite D&Desque in nature. You roll a 1d20 against a target stat depending on the activity, and gain a bonus or penalty to that target based on the situation at hand. So lower better. Stats affect activities differently, but not too different from D&D.

The atributes of D&D are divided among them like this:
Str, Con, some Dex = Body,
Int, some Wis, some Dex = Mind,
Cha, some Wis = Spirit.

Rolls draws from the Mind as an active effort, from the Spirit when it is a passive effort and from Body when you try to move the physical world in either situation.

The relations will then be like this. Attacking with magic = Mind roll. Defending with magic = Spirit. Attacking or defending physically is Body. The rest fall into offensive, defensive and neutral actions as well, neutral being the hardest to judge.

>>287681
>>287693
I will take this opportunity to roll tiebreaker.

>>287693
>>287748
ah then, swap my body choice for mind

>>287767
Done.

At the end it was
+1 dark magic
+1 mind
+Mystery box, you learned Abjuration (the art of binding and enslaving demons, phantoms, fairies or elementals)


Writing

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You decide yourself how to grow your power and that decisiveness makes you sharper. Your mind is in better focus now. Clearer. Deadlier, too. Inside you you are aware your dominion over Dark Magic is growing steadily, making your rituals slightly more potent. Something else too, calls to your attention. A trapsmaker art, cruel and cold, efficient in its bindings. You remember the ethereal circles and certain rituals that were, before, fogged by your shattered memories. Now it is clear.

Once your eyes open the water's cold, some hours have passed. You can remember the trapmaker's art of the immaterial, Abjuration. You smile wickedly knowing if you do it right you might never have to cook, clean or lift a finger ever again. Still, knowing to build a trap doesn't mean you know what to trap, or where.

In a moment of relaxed bliss you look upon your now tepid water basin, from where a blue moon stares back at you nestled among your lap.

Your blood turns to slush, your heart jumps out of your chest. You have seen that moon. That blue, strange and unfamiliar moon from your dreams last night.

You look outside through the minimal window and see the nightstars and that same cold moon staring back at you. It was supposed to be high noon. There is only one explanation to this anomaly; the wild gods march upon your doorsteps!

(1/2)

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>>287847
There is a high pitched scream. You hear heavy wooden doors swing open. Without thinking you grabe only your shirt and dagger and run down the stairs to the public hall. What you see send a shiver down your spine.

The old priest Jarred is on the floor atop a girl, an acolyte. Judging by the spray of blood, his head has been thrown on one of the altars on the other side of the room. The doors have been pried open and left ajar. Outside the nightsky is full of unfamiliar stars, the blue moon coldly mocking you among them. You notice your blackhole is gone, to where you don't know. And in the very center of the hall, holding a terrifyingly long sword, armored head to toe in the heaviest armor you have ever seen, is this creature. You know it not to be kith, for kith don't walk like that, don't breath like that. But most important of all, kith don't use glamour.

"Fey..." you mutter under your cold breath. You notice frost growing on the floor and ceiling. On the broken altar of Ursula you see the statue crying rime and ice. You remember her words - you will choose the wrong side and pay dearly for it.

The fey, Vanir you assume, points his huge sword at you and his glamour becomes a mirrored hall of images, all identical copies of him. "We come for the Exarch" it says in a deep, sharp and unforgiving voice.

>End The Vagrant

_

Thank you for playing everyone. I still don't have a twitter, but I am working on it. Next thread will begin this weekend for sure, tho. I am thinking Saturday afternoon.

Any criticism is welcome. Thank you everyone, you guys were excellent!

>>287895
Well shit son, guess it's time to fuck up a fey. I liked that old man.

As for criticism, I'd say get a twitter and post it in this thread and then announce on the twitter several hours before you run and at what time. I will absolutely be there.

Though I do have a setting question, in that do we know anything about the weaknesses of fey?

>>287895
Aw man I really didn't want to be an albino. In the pic we look more like a snooty Draco Mathoy then anything

>>287913
My headcanon says that's a past picture, when we weren't a scarred vagrant aged by some weird cursed star.

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>>287908
I really have to conquer my social anxieties and get a twitter, I know. I will do it as soon as I grow a pair. Of plums. In my garden. Scout's honor.

Fey have many weaknesses depending on their Court and their Affiliations. Without knowing those it becomes quite hard. But one thing is real for all Fey, they use Glamour. Illusion. Only ones capable of doing so. So they are never what they seem to be.

>>287913
Haha sorry about that. I swear we are not nearly that snobby, that was just the pic I had at hand. I will draw us for the next thread.
For now have a picture of old man Jonny Robert and his biggest catch.

>>287948
Well, our breath is cold, so I'm assuming this thing here belongs to the Winter Court. I suppose we'll have to figure out the rest as we go.

>>287895
Thanks for running, love the setting.
Wonder how can a god know our fate if we have no fate, smells like she's trying to coax us into doing something.

>>287948
beutiful drawing

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>>287948
>>287913
Going off >>287679 I might have some art that fits the setting actually. Characters of our race at least. Probably aren't too many of them, come to think of it. Since we kinda went with the mysterious (supposed) immortals.

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Glad the thread's over because this is looking like a pretty big artdump. Hope yah don't mind OP.

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Okay, turns out I have a LOT of art which fits the pale/white hair look. Color me surprised.

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And I think that's it. Hope some of this will end up being useful.

Ooooh nice. I didn't have many of these. They can surely come in handy.

I will be honest with you guys, I had forgotten the description for the Telkine and just went with the first thing that struck me.
I honestly did not think you'd vote for it. Still, there is some impurities in the blood. It could manifest later.

This is how I invion our hero. This body with this face
>>288300
>>288327
Thanks for the art anon

Ok everyone, I have a twitter.

You can all fine me at /fallQM or by punching the link bellow.
https://twitter.com/fallQM

By the end of the week I will have you all informed of when the next thread is going to be.
Now to brave the mechanisms of how to archive this thing.

>>288300
>vatis
shitposting intensifies