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>>383048

“Don’t look a gift horse in the arse,” Father Michael warns.

“Face,” Lucy corrects.

“Aye, that’s the common expression, but I’ve always been more concerned with the end that spews crap out of it, personally.”

“You implying people can’t spew crap outta their mouths?”

“Not at all,” Father Michael assures her, “but now yar tanglin’ yar metaphors with your allegories.”

“Well, before we get too deep into arguing semantics,” you interject. “I think it’s about time we get back on the road.”

With that said, everyone quickly finishes gathering up their things, and are back on the road to Hastor in short order, speeding along to where your three allies, a young Arachne, and a cart full of silk will hopefully be waiting. For your part, you spend a good portion of the trip just mentally flexing over the task that is to come, of the division of resources that may prove necessary to gather the evidence needed to bring a case against one of the largest trading groups in this territory and the abilities you have at your disposal (both new and old).

On the latter, Phineas’ improvements earlier this morning are already becoming familiar to you. A simple enchantment really, you can see the embedded particles sparkle in the morning sun as you ride, the glow amplifying as you pour in a bit of extra mana to test what making the mail more durable will cost you. Of course, the truth of their worth will only be revealed in battle, but at least you can tangibly feel a difference and know that it’s working to some extent, unlike the Flames of Retribution ability you had received after consuming the demon’s flames. Seriously, what was the trick that you had to-

“Lee…” Lucy calls nervously.

“Yes, Lucy?”

“Your head is on fire…”

Well, that’s a thing, and you are Lee: bard, lover, fighter, Champion of Battle, and self-declared Spirit of Vengeance. After fighting your way through an ex-colleague’s underground lair and setting the record straight, you’ve since been trying to make your way back to where this sort of side journey spun out from and begin setting the records straight. Unfortunately, a great horned demon seemed to take issue with that for some reason, and you found your camp besieged as it attempted to eviscerate the lot of you last night.

Its attempts were in vein come the end, narrowly. However, it clearly did not see fit to pass without leaving its share of marks.

> You are on fire. Response?
> [] Panic!
> [] Say something? What?
> [] Try to control the flames [2d100]

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>>383050

I was feeling terrible today. Gonna post this tonight and try to get writing when I get up. That said, welcome to RE: Animated round 10. For those dropping in for the first time, welcome to the tales of Lee Townsend, a recently re-animated skeletal bard on a quest to do some good and tie up some loose ends in his inexplicably extended time on earth.

The backlog can be found here:
http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?searchall=re%3A+animated

And all announcements for the quest are posted to my twitter:
https://twitter.com/bananon_QM

Rolled 46, 49 = 95 (2d100)

>>383050
>Try to control the flames

Father Michael just keeps getting better.

Rolled 97, 35 = 132 (2d100)

>>383050
> [] Say something? What?
> [] Try to control the flames [2d100]
" I have long since ceased to be surprised by minor occurrences such as spontaneous combustion.".

Rolled 69, 19 = 88 (2d100)

>>383050
>[] Try to control the flames [2d100]

Rolled 92, 49 = 141 (2d100)

>>383050

> [] Say something? What?
> [] Try to control the flames [2d100]

Is it just me or is just a bit hot in here?

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>>383179
>>383144
>>383108
>>383060
>>383055

> 97, 49

“I was thinking it was getting a bit hot in here, but I assumed it was just me,” you joke, trying to catch a reflection of your head in your gauntlet.

Sure enough, your helm is presently ablaze, meaning that clearly something about your previous thoughts or actions had triggered the ability. Now to see if you can replicate it with your hand.

Maybe it has something to do with envision the chaotic feeling when first you consumed the hellfire… and sure enough, with a satisfying fwoosh, it seems you are on the right track.

“Oi, chief,” Lucy calls. “Looks like it spread to your hand.”

“Please, my dear,” you tut. “I assure you at this point it’s intentional. After all, I’ve long since ceased to be surprised by minor occurrences such as spontaneous combustion.”

“Well, you can fuck around with your magic all you want, but something tells me your horse-“

With a loud whinny, and a sudden jerk, you feel yourself lifted from the saddle, thrown to the ground as your equine companion no doubt catches site of the roaring flames so near its mane. And, not one to pause for questions, it’s already well down the road by the time you’re finished sorting which way is up.

“Well, that’s unfortunate,” you sigh, dusting yourself off before forcing divine power into your legs. “I say! Get back here you cowardly cob!”

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>>384707

--

Funny thing about horses. When a flaming, skeletal warrior comes chasing after them at an unnatural clip, they don’t just slow down and accommodate him. So it is that you spend the better part of the remaining trip chasing that damnable cur down the thankfully vacant backroads. Needless to say, your threats involving glue factories and butcher’s shops probably didn’t help matters.

Fortunately, however, what the horse lacks in restraint, it also lacks in stamina, and it eventually tires to the point you can catch it by the reigns and reseat yourself. You even manage to find the off switch for the flames as you try to stop the beast from thrashing you or itself to death in the incoming rebellion.

“That horse has been holding out on us,” Lucy says through the remains of her laughter as she pulls up. “If we’d have known it could run that fast, we could have made a killing on the race track!”

“Oh aye,” Father Michael agrees. “Ye’d just have to have the caddy chasin’ the poor bastard in this case.”

“Haha, very funny,” you growl. “I couldn’t help but notice neither of you were much help in the chase.”

“We just didn’t want to interfere,” Father Michael assures you. “Ye seemed a bit hot-headed at the moment, and we didn’t want to make matters worse.”

They all have a good round of laughter at your expense as you silently chalk up a vendetta in the making, but you’ve little enough time to contemplate it truly as you notice you’d somehow ended the chase just a stone’s throw from Hastor’s gate. Vengeance will have to wait.

> What to do?
> [] Check in on the prisoners.
> [] Check in on your allies.
> [] Other

>>384714
>> [] Check in on your allies.

>>384714
>[] Check in on your allies.
Especially the girl. She needs Phineas to apply the ointment and to examine her spinnerets for permanent damage.

>>384714
> [] Check in on your allies.

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>>384714
>>384758
>>384759
>>384760

Truth be told, the criminals don’t concern you much at this point. In all likelihood, justice has already been served for them and there’s no reason you should interfere. Instead, you think of your allies, beginning your search at the last known place they were staying.

The town inn, also known as the Courteous Copper proves to be a well-lit, well-managed establishment, as much a country store as a tavern, with piles of goods stacked toward the front and a bar in the back. Along the way to the cashier’s desk in the former, you can’t help but notice a few familiar wares from the cart you’d sent with Gal. You breathe a bit easier seeing that he arrived more or less intact.

However, the black-haired girl behind the counter apologizes that she must inform you that they are no longer staying with them due to certain unfortunate incidents that occurred during their stay. And while she refuses to go further into the matter for fear of perpetuating the negative feelings surrounding it, she is quick to point you toward a granary outside of town where they are purportedly waiting on their contacts.

You tip her a bit of coin for the information, and she thanks you for your patronage. With your business there thus concluded, it’s then back on the road and out into the sticks surrounding the town, leaning toward the direction you had just cleared of bandits as a matter of fact.

The Primrose Farm, which you’d passed many times but only just now learned the name of, sits sleepy and quiet amidst amber waves as you pull into their drive with your cadre on horseback. Fortunately, with the clamor of your approach being so pronounced, it’s door is swinging wide far before you have to knock, a wide-set gentlemen in farmer’s clothes greeting you with a smile.

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>>384907

“Supposin’ you’d be the guest we’ve been expecting then,” he says with a deep laugh, leading you around to his stables and helping you unpack. “We thought ye’d some troubles on the road from the way ye were draggin’ yer feet in headin’ our way.”

“Only a little,” you insist, falling in behind him as he leads you into his home, a roaring fireplace now set before you as well as a few familiar faces.

Margy you can spy ducking in and around the kitchen, apparently helping with the preparations of an evening meal with a squat, older looking woman occasionally offering gentle requests. Meanwhile, Ricky and Gal sit about the fire, the former with one arm in a broken sling and the other a decidedly different color then when you had last seen him, his formerly azure scales now a shining mesh of gold and blue accents.

“Well, look what the cat dragged in,” Gal grunts.

> Now where to start? What do you say?

>>384907
Now, I don't want to sound racist, but did the group needing to relocate have something to do with Gal?

Most likely it was the townspeople disrespecting a lizardfolk like him, and him punching the offending human in the face.
And then Lee can be all, "See? This is why we can't get arachne silk anymore! Bigoted yokels ruining it all for everyone else."

>>384921
First, the arachne girl.
"Where is the girl? My old friend Phineas here has some healing salve, and has some knowledge of spider anatomy. We don't know how well that'll translate to arachne physiology, but it's better than what I can come up with."

>>384921
So, one, why arent you staying at the inn anymore, two why is Gal Iridescent now, and three we need to see the arachne girl, whom were going to need to get a name out of at some point.

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>>384921
>>384925
>>384939
>>385091

“So, one,” you begin, “Why aren’t you staying at the inn anymore, two why is Gal iridescent now, and three, we need to see to the Arachne girl? By the way, can anyone tell me her name?”

“Pah,” Gal snorts. “Her name’s Ariana, and she’s sleeping at the moment. And before you go pointing fingers, it wasn’t me that got us all kicked out.”

“Aye, he kicked himself out before all that,” the farmer confirms. “And before we get ourselves into another one a’ those queer situations, the name’s David Prim, the rose just makes the farm sound fancy. Anywho, I was grabbin’ a drink down by the tavern of an evenin’, happens time to time, and I see this big bastard drinking on his lonesome with a sour expression. Now that ain’t no way to be. So’s I go up to ‘im, strike up a conversation, and order some pints. Ain’t long before we’re both chattin’ like old friends.”

“And fightin’ like old friends!” his wife shouts from the kitchen.

“Aye, that too. Anyway, can’t say how it started, but it ended with the lot of us both bein’ hauled out by our ears and into the streets. The lass that runs the place has a no fights policy, and welcomed us to sleep our cups off elsewhere. So, I dragged him back here a couple days before the rest of yer group followed suit.”

“Believe it or not it was Margy that threw the first and the last punch,” Ricky laughs, wincing as he jostles his arm. “Would have done it myself if it wasn’t for this though.”

“Her skinny arse?” Michael questions, eyebrows raised. “And just how the bloody hell did that work out?”

“She got ahold of a blessing it seems, and it seems some assholes were just in time to be on the receiving end. You should have heard the things they said, though, to a child… They said she belonged in a cage… or in a goddamn noose next to the other bandits I brought in.”

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>>385364

“Neelson, Sr. was a wise man,” David sighs, “but his son’s a daft shite fer brains if there ever was one. And he don’t even have a cork to keep it from dripping out of his mouth from time to time.”

“And now he and his buddy will be sleeping off skull fractures for the next couple of weeks,” Ricky chuckles, “While we enjoy you are your wife’s kind hospitality.”

“Ack, think nothin’ of it,” the man insists, taking a seat with a groan and taking up a pipe. “A tavern ain’t no place for a child anyhow, and ye’re friend here’s as good as an ox out in the fields.”

“Thanks, I think…” Gal grunts.

“Now, as for this, Lee-“ he says, gesturing to his newly scaled arms. “Reckon it was just time for another evolution, I guess. Good thing too, because after going another round with that fucking minotaur, I didn’t think I was going to make it back in one piece.”

“The minotaur?” you question.

“My fault,” Ricky explains, gesturing to his arm. “He and the other one got the drop on me and it was about all I could do to chase them off.”

“Then I’m guessing the bastard came looking for a last payday and got the drop on me as well,” Gal grumbles. “Though thankfully, it looks like he bit off more than he could chew without his blessing. Sent him away with a lot more than a limp, I’ll guarantee, but then passed out. Woke up with a new set of scales and hit the road again. That’s about all there is to the story.”

> Seems you may not have seen the last of them, but what to do now?
> [] Wake the girl up. Medicine is more important than sleep.
> [] Let the girl sleep. She probably needs it.
> [] Ask more questions. About what?
> [] Other

>>385369
>[] Wake the girl up. Medicine is more important than sleep.

>>385369
> [] Wake the girl up. Medicine is more important than sleep.
Cant wait for possible infection to set in.

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>>385369
>>385391
>>385440

“No sense delaying,” you say, turning to Phineas. “The longer she goes without an examination, the higher the risk of infection or permanent damage is.”

“Well, if yar looking for the little one,” David says. “Her room’s up the stairs and to your left at the first door. She’s been resting for the most part of her time here.”

“Thank you,” you call back as you lead the way, noting the hesitance in Phineas’ step as he trails behind you. “Come now, Fanny, relax. Everything’s going to be fine.”

“Says the one who won’t be entering a young girl’s room in the dead of night to give her unsolicited medical advice,” Phineas quips. “That’s not even considering… other factors in this whole debacle…”

“I’m telling you, it will be fine,” you repeat. “Though are you certain you wouldn’t like me to come in with you, for moral support if nothing else.”

“Old friend, while I appreciate the offer, I fear that I’ll be touching on some delicate areas during the examination, and for her peace of mind, I believe I will have to sacrifice my own and keep things private.”

“Understandable,” you admit, gently knocking on the quiet room door.

“H-hello?” a small, sleepy voice calls after a tense moment of silence.

“Hello, my dear,” you say, opening the door. “Pardon the intrusion on your rest, but my friend here is a doctor, and he would very much like to take a look at you.”

“I don’t know you…” she says quietly, her voice tinged with fear. “I d-don’t know either of- Where’s Ricky? Where’s Margy?!”

“Calm yourself, my dear,” you tut, summoning an orb of light and trying to remember what your armor looked like when you first met as the panicked girl skitters against her headboard. “I assure you that you’re perfectly safe now. However, we both know you aren’t perfectly well. The slavers, they did things that hurt you, that made you bleed when you gave silk. The rapscallions have been taken care of now, but we want to make sure that you don’t catch an infection so that you can heal properly.”

“Where is everyone else?” she questions tearfully. “I want to see them.”

“Of course, my dear, as soon as your inspection is-“

“Now!” she demands through quivering lips, clawed hands puncturing the bedding as she grips it tight.

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>>385845

“What’s all this then?” comes a deep grumbling from behind you as Gal ascends the stairs. “You makin’ a scene, ya yappy pipsqueak?”

“Gal!” she breathes quietly, seeming to relax a little. “Thank goodness, I thought I was-“

“We told you, you’d be fine here,” he reminds her. “Ain’t no one going to hurt you, and ain’t no one even gonna get near you without our say.”

“I know… It’s j-just-“

“It’s just nothin’ is what it is,” he growls. “Lee here is one of the people who got you outta that camp that night, and while the scrawny doc here is a mystery to me, I know Lee probably went through hell to get him for you. So how about you relax, stop tearin’ up the sheets, and let him do his job?”

“O-Okay…” she finally relents, shoulders sagging as she leans back into the bed.

“Good. Now, I’m gonna sit here while the doc finishes patching you up, then we’re all going to go down for dinner. Alright?”

Phineas just sighs, clutching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger before letting a long, slow breath out.

“Let’s get started then.”

--

For an hour or more, you find yourself sitting there outside of the room’s threshold maintaining your lights within and listening to the sounds of Phineas at work. From the first gentle sounds of rattling tools being placed on a table to the eventual whimpers of pain, you can now understand why Phineas was so nervous. You follow along by ear through it all, from dilation to examination, diagnostic to anesthesia, but it’s about the time that he comes around to abrading the scar tissue that it all becomes difficult to listen to, sobs of pain becoming truly forlorn and miserable as he undoes what time put back incorrectly.

You never would have imagined that Gal had such a tender side as he gently but firmly walks her through it by voice if not by hand, grabbing her when the pain becomes too much. Needless to say, this is the last way that you ever would have wanted to learn about it. Still, all visits with the doctor have an end, and eventually the sobs run dry, Phineas administering another sedative to help her sleep before walking from the room with bloody hands and a hollow look on his face.

“I-It’s not as bad as we thought,” he says shakily before wandering away.

“Better not finish that with ‘it’s so much worse’,” Gal threatens, tenderly closing the door behind him and nodding at you to dim the lights.

> Your fleshy companions need to eat, but then what?
> [] Strategize how to get the evidence you need against Morrison’s.
> [] Train. With what? (2d100)
> [] Other

>>385848
>> [] Strategize how to get the evidence you need against Morrison’s.

>>385848
>[] Strategize how to get the evidence you need against Morrison’s.

>>385848
> [] Strategize how to get the evidence you need against Morrison’s.
> [] Other: ask about the prisoners.

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>>385855
>>385880
>>386051
>>385848

Bread, wine, fresh cheese and vegetables straight from the farm. No one’s expression is left unchanged as they dig in to the meal set before them. As per the usual, you can only look on helplessly as the feast commences.

“Don’t be shy, stranger,” David insists, motioning to a stack of empty bowls. “There’s more’n enough to go around, and yer folks were kind enough to buy so we didn’t have to put out none for it.”

“I’m afraid I’ll have to pass,” you sigh. “It smells wonderful, but I’m afraid that I gorged myself on trail rations on the way here and wouldn’t want to be a glutton.”

“Now why would you go and do a durn fool thing like that?” the farmer asks, spooning more food onto his plate and grabbing another mouthful.

“Well, I wouldn’t want to impose…”

“Impose? Ha! It’s been a plentiful year for farming and we’ve more fat than we know what to do with to not heap some of those blessings on our neighbors. Even were it a lean year, I know of few around these parts that’d turn a hungry man from their table. Come now, at least a taste. It’ll put some meat on yer bones!”

“Trust me,” Lucy chimes in. “Anymore after earlier, and he’d probably be ripe to bust a gut.”

“Well, here’s to a man who knows his limits, then,” David concedes, taking a gulp of wine.

“And to a most generous host and his charming wife,” you add, conjuring the illusion of you pouring wine from the open bottle before taking an illusory sip.

“Just mind yer toasting,” the woman laughs. “Else, ye’ll toast yerselves into a stupor. The names Matilda, by the way, though people call me Matty for short.”

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>>386168

“Well, you certainly have an admirable homestead, madam.”

“And safer thanks to you and yours,” she adds. “Reckon it’s a scary thing to find slavers runnin’ through your own backyard with cargo in hand.”

“A most unfortunate situation,” you agree. “If you don’t mind my asking though, what became of the prisoners?”

“Ack, a poor business for the supper table that,” she scolds, “but if ye must know, they got their just end on the hangman’s noose not two days past, to a man, woman, and child.”

“A shame on the last one, that,” David sighs. “The lad mighta made somethin’ of himself given a bit more time.”

“Well, what’s done is done,” the woman concludes. “T’ain’t no use frettin’ over it.”

--

With that business settled, dinner gets back under way with gusto, platters and plates soon clattering empty in time for large pies to be rolled out fresh from the ovens. By the end, you imagine you’d had an illusory pitcher of wine and your host a real one, the man lulling happily as he takes long drags from his pipe.

“A fine meal,” Michael compliments while patting his gut.

“An fine company to have it with,” David fires back. “It’s not every day we need to pull up the extra chairs, either. Does ‘em some good to get an arse in ‘em from time to time.”

“Anyhow,” he continues after patting out his pipe. “I’m of a mind that ye’ve a mind to be discussin’ business shortly. Piss work for a full stomach, if ya ask me, but granted recent happenin’s I’m more than an ought curious as to what grindstones ye’ll be setting to next. If you wouldn’t mind me sittin’ a spell to listen, maybe tellin’ me somewhat of yer travels since ye split, I’d be appreciative.”

> What do you say?
> [] Sure. It’s only fair that he knows since this might effect him.
> [] No. Better to keep him and his family in the dark for their safety.
> [] Other

> Also
> [] Tell him you are an undead?
> [] Tell him of Phineas’ prior role in all of this?

>>386175
>[] Sure. It’s only fair that he knows since this might effect him.
It doesn't matter if they don't know or not, they'll be tortured to death all the same if the trading company gets ahold of them.
> [] Tell him you are an undead?

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>>386175
> [] Other
Advise him this is of a sensitive nature, so just knowing will put him at risk, and saying anything he learns to someone else moreso. if he thinks he can hang, let him stay, but he should leave if it gets too hairy.

Also: No, and No

>>386202
>>386191
>>386175

I'll give this a bit more time and clock out for tonight. Will start up again tomorrow.

>>386175
>> [] Sure. It’s only fair that he knows since this might effect him.
>> [] Tell him you are an undead?

I'm kind of hurt that the girl doesn't remember us. I mean, we aren't that easy to forget, are we?

One of the worst insults to a bard to call them forgettable, after all.

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>>386202
>>386191
>>387308
>>387131
>>386175

“Listen, Mr. Prim-“

“Just David’ll do.”

“Listen, David,” you correct yourself. “I’ve no intention of keeping you in the dark when you’ve done so much for us, but you also have to understand that what we are about to discuss is of a sensitive nature, and just knowing may put you and your family at risk. We’ll be aiming for the head of the slave trade and some very powerful people in the process.”

“The girl stays, then,” he affirms. “I’ll not hear of ye bringin’ her into these grim matters. So consider that settled.” He packs some more herbs into his pipe and casually takes a few puffs before continuing. At the same time, it means I’ve more a need to know what yer about. So, no more secrets. Just get on with it.”

“If you’re certain-“

“I am.”

“Then let’s start with another secret altogether,” you say, unstrapping your helmet, and laying it on the table to the wide-eyed shock of your host. “You see, I’ve a bit of a condition.”

“That’s one bloody thing to call it!” the man responds shakily, taking nervous puffs as he seems to be trying to find something to do with his hands. “I take it this is a matter what keeps ye from yer rest then?”

“Not quite,” you say. “Just one of many matters that’s come to my attention since coming back to this world, one that I stumbled across when traveling with our group here to resolve a matter with the baron.”

“Aye, the baron is it, then?” the man questions, a tremble still in his voice and hand. “The barony’s not been well under his hand, for certain. Maybe a bit o’ fear will set ‘im straight.”

“That not quite my intent.”

“Well, whatever the hell is yer bloody intent, put that tin-topper back on before me wife gets back from the barn. She’d have a spell and the girl would be poking at yar insides trying to see what makes ye tick.”

“You have a daughter, you question?”

“Aye,” he confirms. “Alice, she’s a bit of a tinkerer, all gadgets and gizmos since she came back from the city visitin’ her aunt, Ramona Aventhor.”

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>>388157

That name, it’s familiar, but you can’t lose focus now.

“Well, I suppose you can inform them on our behalf when all of this is done,” you say. “For now, we have matters to discuss, namely how we’re going to go about getting the evidence we need to prove Morrison’s involvement with the slave trade.”

“M-Morrison’s…?” David stutters.

“Lee, that’s going to be a messy uphill battle to prove. Are you sure?”

With a deep non-breath and a sigh, you then begin unpacking the tale of everything that had happened since last you departed, from hunting down the bandit’s den and bringing them to justice, to then following the trail one of the former leaders had set out for you to find her final destination. Of course, you have to spin the tale a little crooked to omit Phineas’ particular role in it, but Father Michael and Lucy are kind enough not to correct you.

“So, yes, I imagine the chances are fairly good they’ve been involved,” you conclude.

“Aye, smugglin’ that much silk through the border wouldn’t be an easy feat,” David contributes.

“And few people in the territory would have the facilities to do all of that post-processing work in a timely manner,” Ricky adds.

“The devil’s just in the details,” Lucy posits, chewing gently on one fingertip. “And the slop that they’ve left to get us this far isn’t enough to pin them yet. So really all we have to go off of are the murders or the state of the farm itself. Chances are, we’ll need both.”

“If you check through the local ledgers kept for tax purposes, you also might be able to find discrepancies,” Margy throws in. “If they’ve been moving this silk via cart, there’s probably a discrepancy in ingoing and outgoing trade.”

“Holtheim’s Garden is where they keep their facilities last I heard,” David notes, “Have a friend or two up that way who could put a roof over yer head and offer a pointer in one direction or the other. As for the city proper, it’s more or less run by the silk herders, but the Holtheim family estate still holds the final say and control over the territory.”

“And how are they as people?” you question.

“Nobles,” the man waves dismissively. “Vain, arrogant, with more frills than sense, but they’re not a bad lot. They treat their workers right and keep the peace in those parts. If ye could arrange a visit with them, then ye’d do well to get on their good side.”

“Well, that leaves us a lot of ground to cover and not much time,” Lucy sighs, clearing away a few empty dishes and unfurling the map across the table. “It’s the murders, the manner, or the Holtheim’s between the lot of us and we’ve yet to settle on what number are even going.”

“Arianna needs to have someone here for her,” Margy notes.

“Someone with battle experience in case anyone gets ideas about repeat kidnappings,” Ricky adds.

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>>388171

> Looks like there are decisions to be made?
> [] Who do you want to bring?
> [] Who do you want to leave?
> [] Where do you want to start investigating?
> [] What tasks are you willing to delegate?

>>388174
Leave Gal, Arianna likes him and so does David, if she still needs medicine leave Fanny
Bring everybody else
Start with us investigating Holtheim with Lucy
Let the Father and his two henchmen go investigate the murders

>>388174
>Bring Lucy
>Leave Gal and Phineas
>Send Michael and his crew to the noble's manor
>investigate the murders with Lucy
Father Michael knows when to keep his mouth shut and be the charming priest.
He doesn't need to do much with the nobles, just talk and be nice.

>>388361
>>388626
Oh, wait, Fanny has to go back to his lab and we have to take those kobold girls home.

Will we have enough time to do all this and then escort Fanny and the girls to their homes?

>>388638

The center of the territory is a few days away, and as is, you are a few days from his house. Assuming reasonable delays, he may be able to spare a couple of days in Holtheim's. Otherwise, being here might be more convenient for him.

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>>388626
>>388361
>>388174

“Well then, I imagine you would be the best person to leave here then, Gal,” you conclude. “You get along well with Arianna and know your way around an axe. Phineas, I’d like you to stay as well, in case she has need of your medical expertise or we’re delayed longer than we think dealing with matters when we get there. In the worst case scenario, you’ll need to make your way home before we resolve matters.

“Now, once we get there, I’m finding myself slightly torn. Either Lucy and I put our ears to the ground and solve some murders or we send you remaining three out hunting while we start trying to resolve business with the Holtheim’s then the farm. Margy, I know that you’ve a head for books and ledgers, just like Lucy has an ear for duplicity and political intrigue. If possible, I’d have you both working double shifts between the outer perimeter and the inner, but that just isn’t possible.”

“There’s also a matter of which batch of us’ll do to have gallavantin’ about a noble estate and askin’ hard questions,” Michael notes. “I ain’t much a one for stealth or politics, but a troupe of divine missionaries might raise less of a red flag there than a random spook and an elf in this situation. Not guessin’ you want to wrap yerself in bed sheets and declare yerself a sanctified mummy to close that gap, at any rate.”

“Well, though I’ve often fancied what I might look like in a papal hat and flowing robes, do you really think I have the figure to pull it off?”

*Rattle-Rattle*

“Oh aye, a bit of paddin’ about the ribcage and a big arse scepter and ye’d no doubt be the spittin’ image of some figure o’ piety.”

“Positively scandal-“

“Enough!” Lucy shouts, slamming her hands down on the table. “Now you two lovebirds can play dress-up all you want later, but right now, you’re at the grown-ups table and you damn well better start acting like it!

“Now the girl’s got a head for books and ledgers, so send her to the goddamn Holtheim’s and put that egg head of hers to use! That leaves two, two man cells we’ve gotta construct. Ricky and I have the most experience in tracking, while you and Michael have the best way with people. Granted I’m the better of the two of us at picking out lies, I’d prefer to be on noble duty.

“So it comes down to this, you either go with Ricky and track down the murder scenes, or Father Michael goes with him and you come with the two of us while we try to unpack some leads in Holtheim. We’ll need a member of the church acting as our judiciary in either case.”

“And since I’m not a formal member…” Ricky speaks up.

“I guess that settles it, then,” the elf says with a sigh. “Lee, you’re coming with me and Bookworm McGee to crack open this goddamn mystery.”

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>>388990

“Should anyone tell her she just spoke in rhyme?” Michael whispers to you.

“I don’t know, do you think now’s a good time-“

“AM I UNDERSTOOD!?” she demands, glaring daggers at the two of you.

> What to do?
> [] Agree
> [] Disagree (and propose something different)
> [] Other

>>388996
>> [] Agree
Do so in rhyme

>>388996
> [] Agree
We'll make a proper bard out of you yet Lucy.

>>388996
> [] Agree

>>388996
>> [] Agree
Rhyme Time!

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>>388996
>>389012
>>389030
>>389069
>>389096

“Never you fear, my elven dear. We’ll be on our way by the break of day.”

*Rattle-Rat-*

A finely made crystal serving dish comes slamming into your face plate with a sonorous ring and a roll of thunder as you and your chair both go toppling to the floor. An impressive piece, to be certain, it lands still very much intact over your now prone form, drooling the remains of gravy through the slits in your visor as you lay there momentarily stunned.

“Ack, bloody hell!” you hear the man exclaim. “That was a fairly heirloom, ye knife eared bint!”

“Some things have to be addressed quickly,” the elf says after a very tense pause.

“Oh, woah is me!” you gripe from beneath the gravy stained ceiling. “So near yet so far from earthly delights! Release the hounds that I might be free of this misery!”

*Rattle-Rattle*

*Tappa-Tappa-Tappa*

“Oi, how the bloody hell did Rover get in here?” David demands.

“It’s not my fault,” his wife insists. “He followed me back from the-“

But it was too late. It was all too late as the hound fell upon you, intent upon his ambitions.

“Ack! I take it all back!” you call as his jowls surround you, teeth and tongue raking against metal as he no doubt smells the bone through the gravy. “Call back the hounds! Call back the-“

Theoretically, you could keep talking unabated as he begins licking at your mouth, but phantom limb was a hell of a thing as your plea for mercy devolves into helpless sputters for breath as you attempt to gently push the fluffy mutt off of you without the power of the gods. Unfortunately, with so much of you misaligned and tangled in the upholstery, it proves no easy task, Father Michael eventually coming to the rescue as he lifts the dog bodily by the scruff and escorts him gently back outside.

--

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>>389217

Strange how being undead has certain things escape you, like breathing or eating or most recently, you realize, bathing. With nothing but bare bones to scrub away at, and none of those smelly meat organs to cause much of a muss, there just wasn’t much point to it all. However, tonight would mark the first of many, you don’t doubt as you take a scrub brush to yourself in a locked bath and begin peeling away at not only the gravy, but at the layers of grime your travels had heaped upon you.

Ash, soot, dirt, mud, splinter of wood, and bits of grass, it all flakes off as you gently rake back and forth in an attempt to reach that pearly white that scholars showed off in their classrooms. Peculiar to realize how you envy those dummies now, with their sparkling white or off yellows, free of cracks or pits or scorch marks from hell’s flame. You also envy them their cleaning staff as you realize how many individual surfaces there were now available to scrub, such as behind the cage, inside the pelvis, or finally within the confines of your skull.

Curiously the last proves ticklish. Not painful as was your only other feeling in this state, but just ticklish, prone to draw a giggle from your non-existent lips as the grey water runs down through your jaws and into the filthy muck below. It’s so distracting that you almost don’t realize the draggled remains of a cobweb now hang down the front, a wooly and rather distressed looking spider clinging for dear life as the clear tides seek to wash him away.

He shivers as he swings there back and forth with what seems to be a wrapped up wasp in his legs, a nasty little devil you had remembered plaguing you a few days past before its mysterious disappearance. It gives you pause as you consider what to do with this unwelcomed interloper.

> What to do?
> [] Kill the spider
> [] Let him go
> [] Put him back where he was when you’re done
> [] Other

>>389224
>> [] Put him back where he was when you’re done

>>389224

> [] Put him back where he was when you’re done

He is certainly very welcome, the sp0der

>>389224
>[] Put him back where he was when you’re done
Eh. We seem to do okay with spiders.
Uninvited he may be, if he got rid of that damnable buzzing wasp, then he's certainly not unwelcome.

>>389224
> [] Put him back where he was when you’re done
At least the spider we dont have to worry about actually eating us. ought to keep the flies and other bugs out too. And lets be honest, this is not the weirdest thing weve had in our body.

>>389352
>this is not the weirdest thing weve had in our body.
This life or our previous life?
I can see Lee getting up to some weird stuff back in college.

>>389441
Probably both!

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>>389352
>>389350
>>389330
>>389224

To squish or not to squish, that is the question. Whether tis nobler in your mind to bear the… yadda-yadda, so on and so forth…

Much like Phineas, you’d never held much love in life for the eight legged vermin known as spiders. Sure, you could rationalize come the end of the day that they served a noble purpose in the world and dealt with far more inconvenient pests by the very nature of their existence. Still, you’d hardly have ever considered yourself an enthusiast on their behalf.

However, as you look at the tiny form clinging on for dear life amidst the steady drizzle, clutching what may very well be its last meal with desperation, you feel a spark of guilt for having been the source ousting him from his home. Perhaps it’s because you’ve no skin left for him to make crawl. Perhaps it’s because somewhere deep down in your ribcage that there’s no room in a life dedicated to good deeds to be racist (or was it specist?), to split hairs on who was and wasn’t worthy of a good turn.

And so, with a bit of care, you scoop up the flagging arachnid with your hand and gently transfer it onto a nearby towel, deciding that should it remain until your bath is out, you might as well return it from whence it came. Better the devil you know, and all that.

With that matter wrapped up, you waste no time attending to the rest of you with the scrub brush. Spine, vertebrae, femurs, and ulnas, everything gets a good polish by the time you’re done, leaving the whole of you a far more pleasant shade of white-ish grey that doesn’t scream ‘fresh from the crypt’. And through it all, the spider simply waits, staring at you curiously as it peckishly munches at its meal and no doubt watching on with horror as you rinse the rest of its home down the drain.

Nothing to be done for it, of course. You realize it as well as the spider must as it hops back onto your hand when you profer it, swiftly scurrying up your arm, neck, and into the skull beyond as it sets about starting anew. Better the devil you know, you remind yourself once more, scrubbing yourself dry before once more dawning your wicker stuffed mail and regaining your semblance as a knight.

--

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>>389595

Outside the washroom, the quiet of the night has well and truly settled in, not a soul stirring as they all prepare for an early tomorrow. Yet one more thing you find yourself relieved of as you stride those quiet halls in silence, finding the entryway beyond and then exiting into the nighttime air, reveling in the starlight as you seek a place to continue honing your skills.

Spirit magic, armor craft, regeneration, fire control, golem-mancy, and illusions. You were really starting to rack up an impressive list of talents for a corpse, and that’s not even counting all of the martial disciplines you were testing on a daily basis. An extra eight hours a day to devote to learning was a major component of that, you’re sure. While others were chasing dreams, you were chasing goals, though apparently by the light you see shining through the barn loft window, that didn’t apply to everyone in these parts.

--

“Alright, that should just about do it…” comes a female voice as you approach.

*Bzzt*
*Whirrrrr*
*Thud*

“Yes!”

You watch curiously as the woman cycles through another repetition.

*Bzzt*
*Whirrrr*
*Thud*

With a wave of her hand, a hay bale goes soaring into the air at the behest of a glowing winch. There it’s held briefly dangling aloft before it comes crashing back down to the barn floor below, prompting another candid smile and cheer of approval before she stops to scribble notes into one of several journals set beside her. A rare beauty with a rare intellect it seems, and you don’t use that phrase lightly. A young woman in the full blush of her adulthood, she’s a thin thing save for in all the right places as the saying goes, wide hips and a wide bust offset with a messy black ponytail and the hay and grease caking every square of inch of her freckled skin. Still, the muck does little to affect her spirits as her green eyes sparkle with joy.

“Alright, Gizmo, just one more go and we’ll pack it in for the night!” she promises, excitedly waving her hand once more to crank up the apparatus.

*Bzzt*
*Whirrrr*
*Cr-Accck*

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>>389599

A thunderous rapport sounds from above as a beam in the roof gives way beneath the weight, hay bale swinging wildly as its thrown off of its vertical line and directly toward the girl. And you know from the moment your feet begin rushing toward her that you are too far away to do anything about it. Curiously, though, at that moment, as though in slow motion, you see a pair of missiles come flying into the fray to shift the odds, one pushing the hay bale off its given course as the other grabs the girl by the arm and pulls her the rest of the way out of the line of fire.

The bale lands with a raucous thud thereafter, landing heavily against a support beam with an unsettling creak. However, it seems no further chain reactions are forthcoming as you watch what you realize is a floating limb detach itself from the hay bale and go sailing across the barn. There, in addition to the girl, you finally see a squat little golem with a spherical body at her heels.

“Ugh! Dad’s gonna kill me for this one,” she moans, looking at the wreckage of the support beams in dismay.

It’s only then that she seems to notice you standing beyond the doorway.

> How do you introduce yourself?
> [] Scold her
> [] Play it off
> [] Offer to help fix this. How?
> [] Other

>>389604
>[] Play it off
> [] Other
"My, my. Golemcraft has come quite a ways since my days in the Academy. Then again, it wasn't my major, either, so I can't say what was cutting edge back then. Where did you learn?"

>>389604
>>389616

Another day, another standstill. Gonna go to bed and resume updating tomorrow maybe. I have a dnd game I'm supposed to run.

>>389753
Goodnight, bananon.

>>389616
Sounds good, backing this

>>389604
>> [] Play it off
>> [] Offer to help fix this. How?
Does she have a plan, because other then mending spell, which I don't think will help, I got no ideas.

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>>389895
>>389803
>>389616

“My, my,” you begin. “Golemcraft sure has come quite a way since my days in the Academy. Then again, it was never my major, either, so even back then I couldn’t have said what the cutting edge was. Where did you learn, my dear?”

“I guess you’re one of the guests dad brought home,” she posits, not answering your question but seeming to relax a bit. “Well, first things first, my names Alice, and you are?”

“Lee, Lee Townsend,” you say with a bow.

“Not that Lee Townsend?” she questions, seemingly excited. “Are you a bard and an illusionist by any chance?”

“Why yes, I am,” you confirm, “but how would you know-“

“Auntie Ramona thought you were dead!” she exclaims, and there’s that name again. “One of those classic tragedies I needed to remember if I ever made it out on the road. Guess you didn’t make out as bad after all. By the way, do you still have that enchanted whip she was talking about?”

“I’m afraid not,” you apologize. “You see, I did meet with some unfortunate circumstances which caused me to fall much under the weather for some time. It certainly delayed my career in the process, and not to mention, resulted in a few articles wandering off.”

“Liar,” she huffs, pointing to your waist. “I can see it right there, you know.”

“What are you-“

“Anyway, if you don’t want to show me, that’s fine. I’ve gotta figure out how to get this thing back in the roof before Dad finds out.”

“And precisely how do you plan on that?”

She blanches for a moment before rubbing at her chin and surveying the room, taking precise notes of the other remaining ceiling rafters and a few articles around the floor before scribbling a few things down in her notebook.

“I’m gonna need to get it back up to the ceiling first of all and then properly align it. I’m also gonna need some scrap firewood unless I want to pick up every splinter off the barn floor for a mending.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s just a basic principle of the spell,” she shrugs, casually walking out of the door before returning with a few chopped logs in hand. “When something breaks, all mending does is put back the pieces back where they belong. However, since it’s a pain to gather up the little bits, most people just wind up grabbing the big chunks and wind up with only a superficial repair.

“As a result,” she continues, grabbing some lengths of rope before strategically slinging them around the room. “You get cracks, and something that’s not as good as when first it was broken. To counterbalance that, you have to add material for what you’ve lost. Hey Gizmo, mind lending me a hand?”

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>>390417

“Gonk,” the little bot confirms, waddling quickly along the floor and grabbing one of the winches before, for lack of a better term, firing his arm at the rafters. The detached limb lashes out, fingers spread, then grabs hold and drags the rest of the tiny golem along with it, where he promptly affixes the winch to the beam. “Gonk.”

“Good job, buddy,” she applauds. “Just one more over there then, and-“ She frowns as she seemingly comes to a realization. “Hey Lee?”

“Yes, Alice?”

“I kinda need somebody to hold this thing up from down here while I cast the mend from the rafters. Think you could do that for me? I could break out some latch ratchets and slowly bring her up, but with a couple of pulleys, I think it’ll be a one-man job, just maybe not a one Gizmo job.”

“Bzzzt Crrrrk,” the little golem complains, even as he snaps on the second pully and drops back down.

“Come on, Giz. You’re a scrappy little guy, but you know it’s too big a job for you.”

“Wrrrrt zzzzt gork!” he objects, flexing his tiny arms.

“Oh, I know exactly what you’re made of,” she insists, climbing her own way to the rafters like a monkey. “You’re made of a pile of spare junk I found lying around the thrift shops in the city. Now, no means no, but could you please help Lee thread the pullies?”

The robot shakes his head as he looks to you, pointing to the rope and a series of pullies on the floor, offering no other advice as he begrudgingly tugs a rope end over one shoulder, launching himself from the floor again before hooking it through the first loop.

From there the process moves surprisingly quickly, with you attempting to mirror the golem’s work on the other side rather than force yourself under his miniscule feet while he works. Of course, he’s got a far better mind of what he’s doing than you do, and he seems to take a certain delight in staring at you victorious as you finish your setup far behind his, the lumber already setup to hoist by the time you are done.

“Alright,” the girl affirms. “Just pull her nice and easy now, and I’ll have this done in a jiffy.”

And so with the ropes from each pully in one hand, you slowly begin pulling them toward you, watching as the heavy log sails almost weightless into the air and up to where it formerly resided. It’s quite a bit of work to jury rig it into the right alignment from there and just the right height, but eventually, with a flash of magical light, you can feel the weight begin carrying itself, the lumber made whole once again and almost good as new. That is, if you can ignore the parts of the wood that are obviously a different color now around the former breaks.

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>>390421

“Whew, there’s one catastrophe out of the way,” the girl sighs, nonchalantly stretching as she lands right next to you. “Thanks for the help, old man.”

“Old… man?” you question, internally shattering as she pecks you on the visor.

My god, all of your nightmares were coming true.

“I mean yeah,” she says innocently, looking a bit confused. “You’re about Auntie’s age, which would make you almost 50, right? It’s not an insult, really. Older guys are nice, and if I’m still kicking around at your age with a back like that, I’ll count myself lucky.”

“Old… man…?”

> Just have to play this off… somehow…
> [] How does that robot do his projectile hand trick? It’s very impressive.
> [] How do you reinforce an object to perform a more perfect mending?
> [] Other

>>390426
>> [] How do you reinforce an object to perform a more perfect mending?

>>390426
>> [] How does that robot do his projectile hand trick? It’s very impressive.
>> [] How do you reinforce an object to perform a more perfect mending?
So we're forgettable by the girls we personally save and the ones that do remember us consider us a nice old man.

My god, this isn't a second chance at life to right wrongs, this is a true bardic Hell.

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>>390562
>>390479
>>390426

“I didn’t mean it like that…” she says nervously.

“Perfectly alright, my dear,” you apologize, somewhat snapping out of it. “It’s just, well, I don’t tend to think about my age that often. You’re only as old as you feel, after all, and I find that’s a lot harder to do when you’re constantly active and learning new things. Speaking of which, I’d only vaguely touched on mending, it seems, and wasn’t aware of additive substitution. Any chance you could show me how?”

“Of course,” she offers gladly, pulling out a sketch book. “All you really need is to create a transmutation circle that describes the material as a destructible substitute for the spell’s intended purpose where applicable. Just a quick mark like this where the surfaces meet, and it’ll go off without a hitch. Well, mostly without a hitch, I guess. It tends to pull mostly when the spell falls short, which means you get concentrations of different material near the break rather than distributing it evenly throughout. Doing those sorts of composites though is pretty indepth transmutation.”

“Oh, I believe you and Phineas are going to get along swimmingly,” you comment. “He’s a bit of an expert in that art, you see. Surely he could help you with that sort of thing and whatever this is.”

You gesture back to the winch.

“Ah, right. This stuff,” she says. “Call it a hobby, practice, or whatever, but I’ve been trying to figure out a way to make things easier on the farm for Mom and Dad. They’re… Well, they’re getting on in years, and quarter dwarf or no, Dad’s back isn’t gonna last forever.”

“So he’s a quarter dwarf?” you ask.

“Yep. Gramps was a half and Great Grams was a full blood that came down from the mountains. Guess that leaves me an eight, not that you can tell much.”

Actually, it tells you quite a lot about what you couldn’t peg before. That distinctive, button nose, those strong shoulders and statuesque jaw of hers. A rare beauty, indeed… Granted who also thinks of you as a doting old man.

“I figure once I’m done with this,” she continues unabated, “I’ll try to turn around and figure out how to get this thresher fully automated. Imagine what it would be like if you didn’t even need an ox to mow a field anymore. Heck, a little bit of smarts and you could loan it out to the neighbors.

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>>390709

“Frrzzt Grrrk!” the golem objects.

“Relax, Gizmo. I’m not about to go plugging an AI in there permanently. Don’t think anyone wants a thresher going bonkers after too long out in the sun.”

“So you want to build agricultural golems?” you question. “A fairly worthy goal, if I do say so myself.”

“Well, you’ve gotta dream big to get anywhere,” she laughs. “Of course, it’s all easier said than done.”

“How so?”

“Transhuman Principle,” she huffs in annoyance. “When you bind an animus to a golem, you’re creating an imprint of a living thing and transferring it onto something else. Too many steps away though and, well, it doesn’t work so well. You’d almost have an easier time building a hand to turn a rod than to build a rod that just rotates.”

“Sounds troubling,” you admit.

“Ugh. You don’t know the half of it. Anyway, I’ve manage to get a winch that can turn itself. All I need now is to perfect it, upscale it, find a power source that can run it out in the fields, and then some way to make an unstable, inhuman animus from scratch.”

“So basically, you just need to move heaven and earth,” you joke.

“And that’s the punchline.”

“Still, if you can get this off the ground, you’d surely be a wealthy woman, and it’s always nice to see a young woman with a good head and her heart in the right place.”

“Anyway, thanks again for the help, but now I think it’s about time I hit the hay.”

“Ah, if you could just tell me one more thing,” you ask, as she’s packing up a rather large bag. “How is it that Gizmo does that thing with his hand. It’s rather fascinating.”

“Hmm,” she murmurs, fishing inside of her bag before tossing you something like a spiky circlet a little smaller than your arm and split along the radius. “It’s a standard attract and repel rune configuration. The little guy kept falling to pieces. So I figured at least having him be able to snap himself back together would be useful.”

“Don’t you want it back?” you question as she heads for the door.

“That? Nah. Consider it a little present if you’ll keep quiet about the roof.”

With a gentle laugh and one last look back, she’s off into the night, back to the farmhouse and an evening’s rest. That just leaves you with a bit more time to kill.

> What to do? (Pick one)
> [] Train. With what? (2d100)
> [] Try to figure out some way to use the repulsor ring. How? (2d100)
> [] She mentioned a whip? (1d100)
> [] Other

Rolled 61 (1d100)

>>390715
>> [] She mentioned a whip? (1d100)

Rolled 19 (1d100)

>>390715
>>[] She mentioned a whip?

Certainly interested in just how this thing's enchanted.

Rolled 78 (1d100)

>>390715
>[] She mentioned a whip? (1d100)

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>>390778
>>390826
>>390879
>>390715

> 78

No sense giving up on your previous ambitions, you suppose. You came out here to train, and train you shall. However, what’s a little training without some self-discovery, and as you recall, the young lady had attributed a whip to your possession that you’d until now been none-the-wiser of.

Correction, you still had no idea what she was talking about. However, were she to claim there was something in your possession you’d had all those years ago, that certainly narrowed the list down. In fact, with your hat safely stowed away, there was only one thing you yet kept at your side from those olden times, that curious cane you’d found beside you in the crypt.

Hardly what you’d call a whip, of course, and it seems no amount of mumbling gibberish or shaking it about or above your head is fit to change that fact during your renewed examination. It’s simply a well-appointed cane, silver-banded and regal, topped with a molded dragon’s head inset with a red gemstone. Strangely though, that small detail does bring a verse to mind:

“In the dragon’s eye
There bloomed a heavenly flame
A rose of pure light

“Tempered in blood
Twisted thing, silver and black
I snatched it from him

“Trapped in the dark
We waited on salvation
The Thorn and its rose”

As the words leave your lips, the visage of the dragon clad in metal melts away beneath your hand, revealing something shining beneath, a softly shining spear of light that pulses pleasantly as wood warps and metal twists into the shape of a fine blade, a rapier sharp enough to cut through the fog of memory.

After all, this was your blade, the thorn hidden in darkness. You had rescued it from a dungeon in times and with allies long past, and ever from that day had it been your companion. What’s more, with a flick of the wrist, you remember something else, sending the blade racing from its hilt in a silver flash, striking through a bale of hay before it comes whipping back to your hand.

Of course, as you continue to swing the blade experimentally about you, it only reminds you of how rusty you’ve become, of how slow and oafish your movements are compared to the way the blade practically sings as it slices through the air. However, this is a piece, an important piece of who you were, not to mention a timely replacement for the blade you’d dented on the demon’s skull a day past and the other Michael had snapped in half by the end of your engagement the day before that.

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>>391089

For now, you simply hope this blade won’t meet so timely of an end as you continue to swing it well into the morning light, sending it back to its cane form when you are done as you stride confidently toward the farm house where your allies are already having breakfast. You suppose they must have slept truly comfortably from the look of them, their bodies seemingly more fatigued from finally being able to have a true moment of rest and relaxation. Still, no one seems in the mood to groan too loudly as they tuck away their eggs, biscuits, and jam, not to mention the dozen or so other things the kindly matron had stacked about them.

In fact, the only one not eating happily is the timid looking spider girl presently tugging at your leg.

“Yes, my dear?”

“I-I’m sorry,” she whispers sheepishly, not looking you in the eye as she squeezes your waist to her chest. “I’m sorry I didn’t remember you. It was dark, a-and you looked d-different…. And I’m so sorry…”

> What do you do/say?

>>391097
>"Worry not my dear girl, sometimes even I forget what I look like."

Also ask the farmers daughter not to mention us to "Auntie Ramona" as theres still much to do before we start visiting old friend as the aparition of dead jokes.

>>391097
"Don't worry, my dear. I've not much of a face to remember.
"But more importantly, how are you feeling today?"

>>391387
>I've not much of a face to remember
That's good

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>>391097
>>391311
>>391387
>>391401

“Not to worry, dear,” you assure her, tenderly patting the back of her head. “I’ve not much of a face to remember, anyway. In fact, even I forget what I look like sometimes. The more important question is how are you feeling today?”

You notice that the back end of her abdomen has been bandaged and wriggles at your mention.

“It hurts…” she admits. “It hurts a lot…”

“I’m sorry to hear that, but at least now you’ll get well properly, hm?”

“Uh-huh,” she sniffles.

“Tell you what, then,” you say, putting a smile on as you gently pull her away. “You be a good girl while we’re away and I’ll bring you back a present from the city. How about it?”

“I-I’m n-not a baby,” she whimpers, even as tears start flowing from her eyes. “I’m three years old, n-now. I’m an adult.”

“Of course you are, dear,” you say, patting her arm reassuringly as you realize you have no idea how old that is in Arachne years, “but even adults get presents from time to time. So, how about it, is there anything you want?”

“N-needles…” she finally manages to murmur. “I want a pair of kn-knitting needles… for when I get better.”

“I think I can manage that,” you promise. “Now how about you put some food in your belly before my compatriots here finish stuffing themselves?”

Several minutes of nose blowing later, the little one is scurrying back to the dining table and making up for lost time. Meats and fruits, vegetables and even some sort of breakfast cookie go down the hatch in rapid succession while the rest of the table more civilly finishes up their morning meal and begin packing up for the road.

Groggy minds make for slow hands, of course, but it still isn’t long before the horses have been watered and saddled, and butts planted on their respective mounts. That just leaves a send-off from your remaining crew and your hosts as you pull away.

“Take care of yerselves!” David calls.

“And come back in one piece!” Matty adds.

“Come back soon!” Arianna calls from next to them, still nibbling on a scone as she waves you off.

Thus with full stomachs and clear skies, you disembark from Primrose farm and toward the roiling underbelly of trade politics that lies beyond. What challenges shall yet await you on that road? What new discoveries yet lie in store?

> Find out, next time, on RE: Animated.

>>391473
Can't wait until next time. Can't forget that we have those kobold girls to take home. Their parents are probably so worried.

>>391473
>you say, putting a smile on as you gently pull her away.
A skullish grin, eh?

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>>392571

A true bard doesn't need lips to smile! However, it's meant to be one of those things that sometimes Lee forgets that he isn't quite human anymore. He smiles with his metaphorical heart, even if his face can't follow suit anymore .

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>>392578

Well, I guess if this stays up for the weekend, I might just continue writing on it. Not like we have to worry about the getting bumped off the board.