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You hear the soft scrabble of sand, and the curtain falls on your thoughts and feelings. You roll to the side without thinking, both arms extending and your head down. Out of the shadow of the rock you lift your eyes, see the two men coming around one of the rocks, fifty feet away. Your pistol speaks twice and you roll back behind the rock, laying flat. The sounds of their bodies hitting the ground doesn't tell you they were dead. They were dead before you ever pulled the trigger. Curses and foul language, and the stench of fear. A few seconds later and you have twenty-two cartridges, and six in the cylinder. Thirteen men and women to kill, and you might get to live through this, Gunslinger, and say that you do Remember the Face of Your Father.

In addition to being a Gunslinger, with all the fearsome, wondrous potential that brings, you may choose two of the following perks. They're not gifts; ka does not give gifts. Red indicates a perk for battle, blue indicates a spiritual perk, green indicates a perk associated with willpower and memories before the World Moved On.
>Knives
You have a knack for the sharp, and you have a harness with five wicked friends. Quick and light, you are no less deadly throwing them than you are with a gun, and you can end most close combat much quicker with one in hand.
>The Shine
You have been trained well in the ways of khef, the water of a man's life and mind. You have the touch, a powerful touch, and it makes you spiritually strong as well as vulnerable in a way others are not. Khef can be used in many ways; speaking to another without voice, mastering your body and mind, and even seeing pieces of the past and the future.
>Her Royal Highness' Favor
Dead though she may be, the Princess of Gallowglaighs lives in your heart and memory. Ka brought you together, and while you may no longer be ka-tet, you still hold to a higher standard than other men and women in her name.
>Wiry Little Beast
You are small of frame and might be a member of the fair sex, but you are a Gunslinger. While you might have had it tougher than the young men, you learned to give much worse than you got, to the point even your teacher considered you a challenge when you took your test.
>Manni Ways
You are a friend to the Manni, whose religion accepts, even demands its adherents to travel between worlds. You have learned secrets from them; dowsing, the understanding of the gaps between worlds called thinneys, the methods by which a fella could tame demons and ghosts, and can name some of the nameless things that live in the between places.
>Ka-tet of Claws and Fangs
You haven't much use for human companionship, but that doesn't mean you travel alone. You've a pair of wings to hunt for you, and a set of claws and teeth that will fight at your side; they'll die for you, they will, and they share your ka. Their deaths might sadden you, but the wheel of ka ever turns.

>>555022
>>Knives
>Ka-tet of Claws and Fangs

>>555022
>>The Shine
>You have been trained well in the ways of khef, the water of a man's life and mind. You have the touch, a powerful touch, and it makes you spiritually strong as well as vulnerable in a way others are not. Khef can be used in many ways; speaking to another without voice, mastering your body and mind, and even seeing pieces of the past and the future.
>Ka-tet of Claws and Fangs
You haven't much use for human companionship, but that doesn't mean you travel alone. You've a pair of wings to hunt for you, and a set of claws and teeth that will fight at your side; they'll die for you, they will, and they share your ka. Their deaths might sadden you, but the wheel of ka ever turns.

Ah who needs sleep anway

>>555022
>Wiry Little Beast
You are small of frame and might be a member of the fair sex, but you are a Gunslinger. While you might have had it tougher than the young men, you learned to give much worse than you got, to the point even your teacher considered you a challenge when you took your test.

>Ka-tet of Claws and Fangs
You haven't much use for human companionship, but that doesn't mean you travel alone. You've a pair of wings to hunt for you, and a set of claws and teeth that will fight at your side; they'll die for you, they will, and they share your ka. Their deaths might sadden you, but the wheel of ka ever turns.

>>555022
>Knives
>Her Royal Highness' Favor

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>>555022
t-the

the COLORS

MY EEEEYYYEESS

Sorry, couldn't resist.

>Knives
>You are small of frame and might be a member of the fair sex, but you are a Gunslinger. While you might have had it tougher than the young men, you learned to give much worse than you got, to the point even your teacher considered you a challenge when you took your test.

>>555022
>Wiry Little Beast

>The Shine


Although honestly XS, I'm voting for Shine because reading how you write various systems of magic is always a real pleasure.

>>555022
>>Manni Ways
>Ka-tet of Claws and Fangs

>>555022
>Her Royal Highness' Favor
>Wiry Little Beast

>>555076
...God fucking dammit I JUST realized this is XS! I didnt even read the QM's name I just saw this on the catalog and thought it looked interesting!

>>555022
>Knives
>Manni Ways

Calling in 4 minutes.

>>555095
Is that good or bad?

>>555125
Check your emails damnit.

>>555125
It's always bad, you were made to bully

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>>555125
How could it be anything but good?

>>555095
>>555125
(changed browsers so my id might have changed)
Yes it's good, I fucking love bestdragon quest.

I love your writing XS, but I unfortunately have to work in the a.m. and it's already 4. I'm looking forward to seeing what happens with this tomorrow!

>Knives
>Wiry Little Beast
>Ka-Tet of Claws and Fangs

There is a high pitched chuckle to your right, as the hyena you've taken to calling Beauty stares at the dying horse, which has taken to huge, heaving gasps for air. You have very little doubt she'd tear into it, and likely eat a goodly portion of the poor beast too, but that might expose her to fire. “No, Beauty, stay with me.” You glance up; there's no sign of Hark; that might be for the best at the moment. He could be anywhere, but up isn't one of those places at the moment. He's most likely watching from a distance. But he's no less a part of your ka-tet than Beauty is, and Harrier was. If you need him, he'll come.

The hyena giggles again, and stares off to the side. You hear it too; someone maneuver for a better position. You lose your eyes but you just don't see them being that stupid so quickly. You wouldn't get a shot, and they would be waiting for you to roll out again. You check your wrist straps as you wait patiently for your next chance. Both right wrist knives are in place; left hand is good. Left side boot knife is secure. The one along your back is heavy; toy don't need to check that set of straps.

You pull yourself back up to the rock and look at your leg. Bleeding freely again; you need to take care of this. Of course, you need to do a lot of things; at least the bullet isn't in the wound, seeing as it is in your horse. It's not the first bullet wound you've treated, not even on yourself. But whether or not the enemy gives you time to treat it properly is another matter. There's only so much blood you can afford to lose.

“So little rabbid, still alive! That's a good thing, means more than Hapi will get a turn with you, cully!” The harsh, and decidedly angry voice of Carlito Vaughn, leader of this tet of mercenaries and bad men, floats across the desert. “I'm gonna have to give you real for-special treatment, my cully! Maybe even take you to the Good Man to see what happens to boys who disobey their betters!” The use of Farson's moniker makes them not getting what lies in your message bag even more critical.

Now you in it deep, little miss, for they've got worse for you than they would for a man, don't they?

Not really, but it's hard to shut out that nagging little voice.

[] Tobacco and a bandage will have to do your leg for now.
Roll 1d100; lower is better.
[] Cauterize the wound; you have them cowed at the moment.
Roll 1d100; lower is better.
[] Blood flows only as fast as the heart beats, Gunslinger.
Roll 1d100; lower is better.
[] Call them out, see if you can take another life beforehand.
Roll 1d100; lower is better.
[] Other?
Write ins can be combined with other choices if they make sense. You cannot currently combine two choices from the above list.

>Yes, I allowed for the three way tie. Work connection is a bit touchy, sorry for the delay.

Rolled 28 (1d100)

>>555183
>[] Cauterize the wound; you have them cowed at the moment.
>Roll 1d100; lower is better.

'ere we go 'ere we go

Rolled 7 (1d100)

>>555183
>[] Blood flows only as fast as the heart beats, Gunslinger.

Maaaaaaaagic.

Also woo 3 powers and a Hyena

Rolled 82 (1d100)

>>555183
>[] Tobacco and a bandage will have to do your leg for now.

Rolled 96 (1d100)

>>555183
>[] Cauterize the wound; you have them cowed at the moment.

>>555194
damn, good work anyon

Rolled 65 (1d100)

>>555183
Are you doing the thing where rolling happens at the same time as voting, not after a tally has been made of votes?

[] Tobacco and a bandage will have to do your leg for now.

>>555194
wait fuck we roll after you call it right XS?

>>555183
>[] Tobacco and a bandage will have to do your leg for now.

>>555201
Yes. That way I already have the rolls.

>>555183
>[] Blood flows only as fast as the heart beats, Gunslinger.

Rolled 74 (1d100)

>>555203
Shit, forgot to roll.

>>555208
Oh thank god

If you haven't already rolled, please add one linked to your post.

Just wanna go on record, Hyenas are a cool companion animal.

Very intelligent, also the giggling is usually a sign of distress or high tension.

also they make poor pets because they can't be house trained.

Rolled 16 (1d100)

>>555217
>>555209
But I like leaving rolls to other people because I'm an irresponsible person XS.

You know this.

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[X] Tobacco and a bandage will have to do your leg for now.
Roll 1d100; lower is better. 82, 65, 74= Marginal Success.

You pull your leg up, the pain meaningless at the moment. After you're done here, then you can suffer with it. You pull a small pouch of tobacco from one of your belt pockets, take a couple of pinches and breathe deep; you then press the tobacco onto each oozing wound. It sticks readily enough, the acidic sting immediate and just as uninteresting as the pain that it intensifies. A length of dark felt from your wallet makes a serviceable bandage, but a sharp barking cough from Beauty informs you that you haven't any time to do more than tie it off tightly. Perhaps a little too tightly.

“Hey hey, why don't we talk this over?” This is a different voice, feminine, with a harsh bur from too much drink and too much smoke. “Surely you can see that you're outgunned and out numbered?” Tucking the tobacco away you glance at where Beauty is trying to peer over or around the rock to the side. Laughable – if they wanted to talk they should have done it before you decided to kill them all, which was right after they tarted chasing you. “We can grant you parole, and then you can take your ease while we send that burden of yours to a place it will never return from.” As if.

You lean over, and see two people silently sneaking their way towards the rocks you are hiding behind. One has the head of an ibis, his otherwise human hands clutching some kind of long arm or rifle; he has his head turned to the side, watching where he came from at the same time as watching where he is going. A taheen, a servant of the Crimson King. There are undoubtedly more of them. The other is a Low Man, his mask-like, baggy face expressionless, his wide brimmed hat nearly covering the dime sized, bloody mark on his forehead that never quite spills over. He's clutching a single small pistol of the same caliber as the one now in your wallet.

They're easy kills now, but you wouldn't mind a couple of weapons more. On the other hand if you let them get close, that could be a problem. Still, they haven't rushed you. Seems like their leader is sacrificing men to draw you out for a lucky shot. Bad move on their parts; they'd have a better time if they all just rushed you.

[] Give them to Beauty. She can handle herself well, and they sure as Na'ar won't expect it.
Roll 1d100; lower is better.
[] Take them out now; two more bullets is an easy price.
Roll 1d100; lower is better.
[] Try and get a Touch of these two fools and this new woman.
Roll 1d100; lower is better.
[] You can talk a bit; let these two idiots come closer to death and giving you their weapons.
Roll 1d100; lower is better.
[] Other?
Write ins can be combined with other choices if they make sense. You cannot currently combine two choices from the above list.

Rolled 20 (1d100)

>>555283
>[] Try and get a Touch of these two fools and this new woman.
>Roll 1d100; lower is better.

Maaaaaaaaaaaaaaagic

Anything you can say about how magic works here XS? I donno what to do for writeins quite yet

Rolled 65 (1d100)

>>555283
>[] You can talk a bit; let these two idiots come closer to death and giving you their weapons.

Ouch, only using the winning vote's rolls eh

Rolled 41 (1d100)

>>555283
Well, since we use knives and guns, how about we show them our "whittling" skills?
Rolling to stab them/throw a knife at them when they get close

Rolled 1 (1d100)

>>555283
[] Try and get a Touch of these two fools and this new woman.

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>>555312
Magic is good

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>>555312
Oh.

>>555312
Yup, that'll work.

>>555303
The Touch, or the Shine, is less magic than it is low grade psychic ability. It's not the same as a gut feeling or a hunch. The Touch is almost literally that - the ability to touch another's mind and feelings, to sense that beyond the realm of the other five senses. Even without having taken the Touch, a Gunslinger does learn to develop what he can of it, and you're no exception. It does take some effort.

>555311
Added to votes.

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[X] Try and get a Touch of these two fools and this new woman.
Roll 1d100; lower is better.1, 20
[X] Other?
Cut a bitch or two = 41+bonus for Knives+Wiry Little Beast

“Beauty, hep.” She immediately whirls around and lopes to the other side of you, crouching and guarding your right flank instead of the left as she was. You roll to your feet, and draw one of the two knives from your right sleeve with your left hand,your loaded gun still in the right. You ignore the ache in your leg, but keep most of your weight n the right anyways. No reason to cause yourself more pain than necessary even if you aren't feeling it.

The woman is talking again, but you're not listening. At least, not with your ears. She's not the leader; the Big Coffin Hunter with the mad-on for you is the leader. But she's what they call 'trum' for sure, could probably talk birds out of their nests and jewelry off of a queen's neck. The Low Man is just bolder than the rest, he's not bright, just vicious and mean. The taheen, though, is a trig son of a bitch, clever and wily. No fool he despite the boss' orders. He'll let the Low Man take the brunt and then take you from behind.

You concentrate on Hark and visualize what you want from him. He's diving already now, and you listen close for the footfalls of your two enemies. They're cautious, so cautious....

“You sure you don't want to step out and talk it over with us, gunslinger?” You open your eyes at the word. She's trying to flatter you, more than anything. They still think your shooting prowess is a fluke. And why wouldn't they? The echoes and smoke would make anyone wonder how many shots you fired compared to how many animals and men they lost so far. “Won't you at leat let us palaver a bit, arms down and no tricks?” She's got that sweet talk down, she does, that sultry sort of talk that anyone else might fall for. All she needs is to start you talking and they might have a chance to trick you into a conversation to distract you.

Not in ten thousand years, lady.

Only a faint flutter of wings betrays Hark's presence before the taheen is squawking like a bird himself, and the faint “Huh?” of the Low Man as his companion is torn into by the vicious falcon' claws. You're up and around the rock, your knife buried in his solar plexus for a few seconds as he tries to bring the gun up. His body protects you from them, and his own bright red duster conceals you from them more than it conceals them from you. It doesn't protect him at all.

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He looks down at you with a beady eye that looks more rubbery than real, the bloody hole in the center of his forehead quivering and almost spilling over, yet not quite. This close, you can see the mask for what it is – a mask. Under it, something less than human, something with sharper teeth and thicker bone, long faced and unpleasant. He reeks of tobacco and now of death, but you've already slashed open the taheen's neck before the Low Man finishes his last breath. Not a killing hit, not a sure kill, but he's lost an eye to Hark and has deep furrows all over his head along one side.

The bird-headed man brings up the rifle and tries to ward you off, but you're already leaping over the rock to the sounds of gunfire. A bullet zips past your face, and then your down, your leg screaming in protest as you land hard on your feet and hunker down. Several more careen off the rocks, but the grunts and thumps of the two bastards tell you that they took the brunt.

Two more dead. Eleven now, and you without spending a single shot that time. The big boss is cursing up a storm while someone else is telling them to “stop all the goddamn shooting, damn their eyes.”

Hark flutters to the ground next to you, unharmed, though his feathers are surely ruffled. There's blood all over his talons and beak. Beauty yelps, and licks Hark clean (who suffers the attentions with open mouth and injured dignity).

[] Have Hark and Beauty circle out and flank them from a distance. You'll have to buy them time....
Roll 1d100; lower is better.
[] Press your advantage, you an gun down a couple, maybe a few if you're quick.
Roll 1d100; lower is better.
[] Push, Push hard and see if you can get the Big Boss to do something stupid.
Roll 1d100; lower is better.
[] Ask them if they think Farson's claim is worth dying for still; they could leave this place alive.
Roll 1d100; lower is better.
[] Other?
Write ins can be combined with other choices if they make sense.

Rolled 33 (1d100)

>>555370
>[] Press your advantage, you an gun down a couple, maybe a few if you're quick.
>Roll 1d100; lower is better.

So when we focus with the touch or shine how distracted are we persay, like how easy would it be for someone unexpected to sneak up on us while we were doing Psioooonics

>>555372
>You cant do anything physical, but as long as you're not dealing with anything that is inherently supernatural or alien, it's no more distracting than trying to color in the lines of a very detailed coloring book - difficult but you can drop it in an instant.

Rolled 52 (1d100)

>>555370
>[X] Ask them if they think Farson's claim is worth dying for still; they could leave this place alive.

Rolled 10 (1d100)

>>555370
>[] Press your advantage, you an gun down a couple, maybe a few if you're quick.
>Roll 1d100; lower is better.

Rolled 13 (1d100)

>>555370
>[] Press your advantage, you an gun down a couple, maybe a few if you're quick.

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[X] Press your advantage, you an gun down a couple, maybe a few if you're quick.
Roll 1d100; lower is better.33, 10, Unlucky 13

You wait, half a breath a full breath, then you turn ignoring the screech of protest in your left leg as you half-crouch behind the rocks. Several of the harriers are still shooting, but more have stopped, but their confusion is enough to keep them from dropping down below sight.

Three of them pay the price before they realize you're shooting back; the big boss is screaming, screaming at his men to get down. The woman who was trying to get you to surrender is looking appalled at the sight of the men firing at you, and you kill her too, just as she turns to look at you. Her shock of recognition is more than enough; she needed to die right then anyways, and she does, one bright green eye taken along with the pigtail on that side of her head. There's a whine and a tug at your hat at; you feel heat spilling onto your shoulder.

“Annah?” The soft, horrified question seems to cut through the chatter and sudden silence as you drop behind the rocks once again, you leg feeling like it's on fire. You grit your teeth and press the hot barrel of your gun against the notch high on your ear, cauterizing the wound partly. “ANNAH!?” If you had to hazard a guess, the woman was the Big Boss' lay, and you're in for it now.

Not like you weren't before, but oh well.

“YOU COZENING SON OF A BITCH! I'M GONNA CUT YOUR BALLS OFF AND FEED THEM TO YOUR DAMN SQUAB! I'M GONNA GUT YOU OVER AN ANTHLL!” His rage is satisfying and intense. Four more dead. You wipe your niff off on your trousers, opposite the wounded side, and tuck it away before reloading your machine. “I THOUGHT WE COULD WORK IT OUT, BUT NOT NO MORE! YOU'RE FOR A SLOW DEATH, CULLY!”

Eighteen cartridges, six in the cylinder, seven harriers.

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It's always the last one that will get you, my dear.

You frown at the messenger bag, then look out at the arroyo, and the oasis beyond. Trap, escape, plan or palaver; you've got a lot more to lose now. They won't be stupid again, because you've killed all the stupid ones. And two of the smarter ones. You recall whom you shot: cat headed taheen, a weasel headed taheen, Annah, and a Low Man. One Low Man, four humans, and two taheen left.

Of course, you could give them a real reason to be pissed. That would draw at least some of them out. Or you could put the fear of Eld into them. Maybe both!

[] Hark can flank, send Beauty to draw them, which may get her killed but will tilt the odds in your favor.
Roll 1d100; lower is better.
[] Leave; make for the arroyo and get gone; you'll be in the open if they catch you, which means it would be a last stand.
Roll 1d100; lower is better.
[] Glamour draws everyone. Use the bauble in the bag to draw them out and make a trap of it. Hope it doesn't grab you too.
Roll 1d100; lower is better.
[] Announce yourself, and reveal that they've been slaughtered by a Gunslinger who doesn't have the balls they want to cut off anyways. That'll rile them up.
Roll 1d100; lower is better.
[] Other?
Write ins can be combined with other choices if they make sense. You cannot currently combine two choices from the above list.

Rolled 7 (1d100)

>>555414

>[X] Announce yourself, and reveal that they've been slaughtered by a Gunslinger who doesn't have the balls they want to cut off anyways. That'll rile them up.


Thanks for the Fuuta's Tale XS was short but sweet. It all makes sense now why Ryu is so good at cutting peoples clothing off.

Rolled 96 (1d100)

>>555414
>[] Glamour draws everyone. Use the bauble in the bag to draw them out and make a trap of it. Hope it doesn't grab you too.
>Roll 1d100; lower is better.

Any other numbers we should watch out for?

Rolled 47 (1d100)

>>555414
>[] Glamour draws everyone. Use the bauble in the bag to draw them out and make a trap of it. Hope it doesn't grab you too.
>Roll 1d100; lower is better.

>>555418
....well, high ones....

13 will make even more sense as an evil number shortly. There are three good numbers too; only 13 is bad.

>>555423
is my 7 good?
>>555417

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>>555423
>...well, high ones...
Pls no Bully


Also neat, guess we'll find out teh good ones once we roll them then?

>>555423
I have to agree with >>555417

Fuuta's tale was great.

why do clothes bother her so much?

>>555424
Yes. Now convince others to back it with their own rolls....

>>555428
Allergies.

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>>555429
Easy, Everyone lend me your eyes, Pissing off a pissed off enemies make them more pissed off there by we win. Most convincing argument ever made.

>>555430
I did some research on highly sensitive skin after reading that, it's surprisingly poorly addressed.

Rolled 82 (1d100)

>>555417
>[X] Announce yourself, and reveal that they've been slaughtered by a Gunslinger who doesn't have the balls they want to cut off anyways. That'll rile them up.

>>555430
Neat

she won't have to worry about being allowed to be naked for much longer

>>555436
Lots of people in XS' quests end up doing research on lesser known medical conditions.

Soon Xs' true goal of a more medically informed 4chan will bear fruit

>>555439
And here i thought she just had scary fetishes, not seeing the true depth of her writing.

>>555440
>And here i thought she just had scary fetishes
well there's that too but that's a given

Rolled 17 (1d100)

>>555414
>Announce yourself

Writing.

When I saw the premise for this quest earlier in the QTG, I thought it was gonna be just a spy/assassin thing, I wouldn't have dared to think I'd see a Dark Tower/Gunslinger Quest, much less one ran by my favorite QM. I'm a bit sad that I was on a plane and thus missed most of the thread, but it's good to see there's still a decently sized audience.

>fell asleep at keyboard
>wake up and wash face
>square key imprints still there in red lines
XS I am suffering for this. Just felt like sharing.

>>555460
Also now that I think about it, mechanically this quest is pretty neat, in that we might need to weigh the options we feel work best against the dice attached to them?

>>555460
Tell me about it, I didn't even wake up to catch it. Oh well.

>>555470
I for one am lucky (?) that I'm up working grave at the same time as this. I usually end up sleeping through half or more of ryukuza threads.

>>555493
I was lucky enough to not had even gone to bed yet! But now the sun is up and I'm gonna hate myself once the thread is over

>>555496
Wait... you need a reason to hate yourself?!?
My life is a lie!

>>555493
She actually started at 9AM over here but who wakes up before 1PM on a Sunday without good reason? If only I had known this was the time it would run!

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[X] Announce yourself, and reveal that they've been slaughtered by a Gunslinger who doesn't have the balls they want to cut off anyways. That'll rile them up.
Roll 1d100; lower is better.Lucky 7, 82, Sweet 17

Checking the cylinder happens as automatically as reloading the gun. You don't think about it, you barely even notice it. You glance at your ka-tet, your companions. They might not be human but they're as much gunslinger as you are in their own way. Beauty is breathing heavy, giggling softly at though to herself, strange, sharp teeth bared. Her tail is a tight curl along her flank. Hark has been smoothing out his feathers, as unconcerned for the life and death fight going on around him as the sky is by the passage of the sun. You close your eyes, and then pitch your voice higher than it normally is, though it isnt necessary to pitch it too much higher.

“I'd say you have balls of steel yourself, threatening to cut off the balls of Demiana of Gallowglaighs, Gunslinger of the Line of Galt, 'cept I have none, and neither do you anymore.” Pebbles rattled by a breeze, and the buzzing of flies. You open your eyes and look up, noting the number of vultures has gown to seven. With a smile you recall the seven words the king sent you off with, despite the despair in his eyes. “Farson shan't have the Apple, any more than he'll have Black Thirteen or the Grapefruit. The Bends of the Wizard's Rainbow aren't for the likes of him any more than my death is for the likes of you!”

“THRICE DAMNED BITCH! WHORING CUNT!” You hear the scabble, the rustle of leather and cloth, the gasps and growls, and the softer spoken others. Rush her, take her, she can't kill us all, six bullets and seven of us, she's ours, the Apple is ours!

Your horse heaves one final gasp, and falls quiet, gone to wait for you in the clearing at the end of the path. The end of all paths.

“Hile, Hark, hile Beauty, hile....” You murmur the words; Hark takes flight in a rush and Beauty is around the rocks in a heart beart. A distraction as much as an assault. But you rise up on your good leg and turn, toe of your bad leg in the sand. “HILE GALT!” The crash of your gun kills the Big Boss as you put a bullet through his head.

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More bullets fly; you can't spare the attention to see if Hark makes the air, but you see the splash of red as Beauty takes one, two. Then she's all over the Low Man, who is screaming bloody murder as she bring him to the ground, before falling silent forevermore. You put another through the man with the twin six shooters, and he goes down still shooting at air. One bullet ricochets off the rocks before you and you feel heat along your ribs and the flutter of your greatcoat, chance doing what skill has not. The taheen with the head of a rook takes a bullet in the chest and falls; the woman next to him, thin, teeth stained green by devil grass, hollers and put a bullet through your left arm. She dies with your bullet in her heart. The taheen with the head of a stoat takes a bullet in the throat and goes down spraying blood. The two men remaining start backtracking, firing wildly, and you put them both down almost as an afterthought.

The cold, remorseless curtain of death lifts from you as the last of them is laid out; none move, no one breaths. Beauty looks up and sees no further threat; Hark calls from high up, safe in the air. Beauty limps as she moves over to the second man you killed; you are reloading, your left hand trembling and wet heat running down your arm; not a drop of blood touches your weapon, and three of your fingers aren't cooperating. There is a deep, bad tingle through them. As beauty takes a bite out of the man's guts, you can see she's hurting bad. You're better off by far.

[] Quick patches for the moment, and then see to Beauty.
Roll 1d100; lower is better.
[] Get the bullet out of your arm now, while the adrenaline is still hot.
Roll 1d100; lower is better.
[] Slow heart, slow blood, share khef, turn ka.
Roll 1d100; lower is better.
[] Sit down and wait a moment, then take care of your wounds properly.
Roll 1d100; lower is better.
[] Other?
Write ins can be combined with other choices if they make sense.

Rolled 49 (1d100)

>>555512
>[] Quick patches for the moment, and then see to Beauty.

Rolled 9 (1d100)

>>555512
[] Quick patches for the moment, and then see to Beauty.
Roll 1d100; lower is better.
Take care of our buddy, then maybe she can watch out for us

Rolled 26 (1d100)

>>555512
>[] Quick patches for the moment, and then see to Beauty.

Rolled 60 (1d100)

>>555512
>[x] Get the bullet out of your arm now, while the adrenaline is still hot.
Can help her better if we don't have to worry about our own arm.

Rolled 18 (1d100)

>>555512
>[] Quick patches for the moment, and then see to Beauty.

Rolled 89 (1d100)

>>555512
>[x] Get the bullet out of your arm now, while the adrenaline is still hot.

Rolled 68 (1d100)

>>555512
>[] Get the bullet out of your arm now, and then see to Beauty.

Actually, would this be possible?

>>555531
I'd hope so, might be the same as just voting for the bullet option and then helping beauty though i.e. measurably slower to help her.

>>555531
>Yes, it is possible. It will be added to whichever of the two options that get chosen, as a write in option and additional roll.

Rolled 41 (1d100)

>>555512
>[X] Get the bullet out of your arm now, while the adrenaline is still hot.

But dem Beauty rolls...

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Get the bullet out, then patch up, then tend Beauty. 49, 9, 26, 18, 68 Well done.

'Pain rises,' they say, or said. Maybe for others but for you it just hurt. You glance at your arm, looking at the red hole in your coat. Holstering your gun, you shrug off the greatcoat and grimace at the river of red that runs down your sleeve, plastering the material to your skin. A quick tear and you bare the finger sided hole, flesh risen around it like a crater.

One thing the other students never called you was a cry-babbie.

You grit your teeth and lose your eyes, plunging your fingers into the wound and taring your skin open to do so. White hit fire radiates through your arm, and the tingling of your fingers gives way to an utter lack of feeling as the bullet moves. All you can do is breathe and dig, and then you have the squashed piece of lead, which slides along your humerus and makes you laugh not at all. You open your eyes as a splash of red heat flows down your arm, half the length of your forearm and the three lesser fingers tingling so hard they feel more like they're vibrating.

You flex your hand and it works, but you're not sure what strength you'll have for a while. Then it's more felt, more bandages. You've got a nice slice along your side, not very deep; the bit of your ear that's gone is gone for good. Your leg is in fair shape, for all that you've abused it. But your left arm is done badly, and will be slow to heal. Drawing the thinner blade from your right sleeve, you spin it over your fingers and catch it by the handled, flip it twice. Every touch is like ants eating at your skin, but you can use them just as well as ever. But you won't be shooting straight or throwing knives left handed for a while.

Hurts like you've dipped your hand in a Charyou Tree fire.

“Hey-la, Beauty. On your feet, let's see you.” You approach slowly and kneel before her, your right hand near your gun and your left at your side. The hyena rises to her feet, muzzle and throat red from her meal, and not bullets. Her left front leg has a single through and through, while she's taken a bullet to her gut as well. That's the one that's bad.

Going to your hands and knees, your left arm protesting with fire, you lean close to her belly and inhale through your nose deeply, smelling the wound. Blood, of course; fur, spicy hot; dirt; grasses from before you reached the Hardpan. What you don't smell is shit or bile. Placing your good right hand against her side, you look at her seriously, and speak with utter conviction. “Hold fast, be strong, gunslinger. Never mind me.”

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She pants heavily, and turns away, watching some vultures that are on descent for the field of corpses you've sown. You close your eyes and feel for the bullet. She makes a heavy coughing sound, but you ignore it for the moment, feeling through dense muscle and hard bone, touching her slowly, intimately, feeling for – there. She giggles and sits on her haunches, favoring her left fore-paw; you slip the thin blade into the bullet hole, and press on her side hard....

The bullet comes out finally; her belly is as soaked as your arm. She turns and laps at your throat and shoulder and you lean into her, panting a little yourself as you look at the misshaped lump of lead. You were both lucky. “Commat, Beauty.” She rises to her feet and takes a last bite of the human she chose for lunch, bones snapping and grinding as she chews them, flesh, leather and cloth alike.

[] Get yourself and Beauty properly patched up.
Roll 1d100; lower is better.
[] Head to the oasis and get washed up before you take care the injuries.
No Roll
[] Take a moment and make sure you're done with this battle for certain.
Roll 1d100; lower is better.
[] Take a look at the Apple, and the other thing.
No Roll
[] Other?
Write ins can be combined with other choices if they make sense. You cannot currently combine two choices from the above list.

>There will be a short delay; finishing up work and then off to home.
>Two or three ore posts for this chapter.

>>555606
>[] Head to the oasis and get washed up before you take care the injuries.
>No Roll
If I stop posting when you return XS let it be know I fell asleep in public with 4chan open on an unlocked phone

Rolled 95 (1d100)

>>555606
[] Take a moment and make sure you're done with this battle for certain.

Rolled 38 (1d100)

>>555606
>[] Head to the oasis and get washed up before you take care the injuries.
Cleanliness with dressing wounds is important, but I'm assuming the oasis isn't very far. Maybe do a quick light dressing to stem any significant blood loss.

Roll in case it matters for write in.

>>555625
>95
ah, ha..
dammit

Rolled 43 (1d100)

>>555606
>[x] Get yourself and Beauty properly patched up.

>>555606
>[X] Take a look at the Apple, and the other thing.

>>555606
>[] Head to the oasis and get washed up before you take care the injuries.

Dam we are divided when we are not protecting smiles.

>>555647
It's a new girl we gotta figure her out/decide what the fuck she wants first.

You are currently witnessing presynchronization, soon the hivemind will form like a caterpillar becoming a butterfly, except it's a bunch of neckbeards yelling at a lady on the internet about what a make believe lady should do to other make believe people

>>555653
It sounds beautiful.

>>555653
Quite. As it is we're rudderless. Personally, I want our make believe lady to s

>>555659
>anon was never heard from again.

>>555659
>I want our make believe lady to s

To what? TO WHAT ANON!

Smile? Sleep? Stay? Sit? Slack off? Ski? SHOULD WE GO SKIING?

Huh, that was strange.

>>555661
>>555663
Sorry, my head finished the sentence but my fingers neglected the duty.

*see the deeper secrets of the world, and hopefully survive doing so.

>>555669
That's a good answer anon, I'll support that.

Would also have supported smile, ski andsex. But I'm too lewd so that's okay.

>>555675
I get the feeling this gunslinger isn't one to get her heart aflame easily. That said, she could be the type up for a casual romp if she lowers her guard. I don't really prefer that though.

>>555659
>>555661
>>555663
Candlejack, is that y

>>555713
Well now that you've said it...

>>555713
Eh, it's fine with me if it doesn't take that direction either. I was just amused it fit nicely with the dangling s.

>>555719
Actually, even lowering her guard might be a Big Fucking Deal. I don't think we'll be running long enough for this character to have an appropriately slow and arduous courtship.

This is great.

I am home, I am writing. I am also switching back to laptop, because templates and pictures.

>reads commentary

Boy are you people in for a shock.

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>>555891
>what could it mean?!

>>555891
Worry.

>>555915
>>555891

Is Mc actually a man who is gelded? who identifys as female?

>>555935
The MC is superfreaky

>>555891
Excite.

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[X] Head to the oasis and get washed up before you take care the injuries.
No Roll

Picking up your gunna, you leave the heavy coat draped over your shoulder as padding for your wallet and the messenger bag. The latter you keep tucked against your hip and slightly behind you, to protect it and the terrible evil it contains. Limping, Beauty dogs your footsteps, though she's no more a dog than you are a billy-bumbler. Hark is already at the oasis, which isn't all that far. You do angle towards it rather than taking a direct route, curious about the arroyo itself.

Deadpan is not a wide desert, but it it leads to foothills and buttes in the grasslands that soon become mountains. It's not truly a desert at all, but a floodplain that is extremely dry in the summer and fall. Winters and spring turn it into a mire in places and expose vast sheets of shale and basalt in others; it is said the Old Ones designed it that way by the elders, but you can't imagine a reason why they would do so. Since it is from the clay that ends up at the edges of Gallowglaighs that the line of Galt gets its name, pushed there by flood-waters and deposited over the course two seasons, there must have been some reasoning behind it.

The arroyo has a small stream in it, and the slope towards the oasis is barely noticeable. It is five feet deep here, slithering towards the lake like a shimmering serpent. You would like to say it is just a touch past noon, but you're not entirely sure. Time is in drift and the world has moved on; at least the sun is still falling west. It really annoys you when it doesn't.

The lake is not huge, and there is both devilgrass and tumbler-weed about it, as well as the more wicked thistle. There are plenty of tracks proving the water is safe at the edges, though you might not be so certain further out than you could wade. Beauty immediately starts lapping at the cool water along the edges, while you start shedding your gunna and your clothing, after taking one more good look around. The spiral of vultures numbers, you have no doubt, seventeen. Seven, seventeen. “Ka,” you mutter and Beauty looks up and chuckles weirdly at you. It's a more reassuring sound than her giggles, though.

First you undo all the bandages, and peel the coagulated tobacco and clotted blood that bound your leg with away. Then you stretch, then place your holster and gun in your wallet, and divest yourself of most of the harness and knives, save one. You have plenty of time to scavenge the gunna from the Crimson King's soldiers; at least two of them are carrying calibers you need, and the longarm would be nice, if it has bullets left. Taking Beauty by the ear, you lead her into the water. She balks a bit when it fist touches the wound in her leg, but that can't be helped. Its deep enough, so you start scrubbing the blood from her wiry pelt.

You take your time, and she enjoys the bath, hooting at you and lolling her tongue. You tell her a story, one of the tales from your childhood, and that keeps her occupied while you cleans her injuries. Once you've done that, you pack the wounds with salt, which she gives great whooping-barking-laughter at, but you persevere At least she doesn't turn and bite your hand off.

You've seen her do that to people.

Then it is your turn, and you wade out thigh deep into the water to start washing yourself down, facing the shoreline. Your injuries receive much rougher and more thorough attention; Beauty generally takes care of her own wounds much better than you can aside from bullets. The groove under your left arm is not deep, and easy. Your ear, already mostly cauterized is equally simple. The one in your leg is a vicious bitch; you moved around far too much. But you'll live.

The one in your arm...that's bad. The burning sensation has subsided to a sharp, constant tingle, at least, as opposed to the chewing ants earlier. You wash the blood off and look at the damage you did to yourself. The glint of light out of the corner of your eye is all the warning you get before the rifle is fired at you.

[] Stand fast, Gunslinger – you of Galt will not be cowed by any man or woman alive.
Roll 1d100; lower is better.
[] Race to your gun – they get one more shot, and no more....
Roll 1d100; lower is better.
[] Let Beauty or Hark take the hit as they will; you cannot let the Apple go to the Good Man.
Roll 1d100; lower is better.
[] Make for deep water, and wait your chance. This battle is only begun.
Roll 1d100; lower is better.
[] Other?
Write ins can be combined with other choices if they make sense. You cannot currently combine two choices from the above list.

Rolled 63 (1d100)

>>556034
Aww geez, no rest for the wicked eh.
>[] Make for deep water, and wait your chance. This battle is only begun.

Rolled 21 (1d100)

>>556034
>[] Make for deep water, and wait your chance. This battle is only begun.

Rolled 17 (1d100)

>>556034
>[] Race to your gun – they get one more shot, and no more....

Rolled 75 (1d100)

>>556034
>[] Make for deep water, and wait your chance. This battle is only begun.

Have Beauty prowl from the devilgrass.

Rolled 42 (1d100)

>>556034
>Race to your gun – they get one more shot, and no more....
Hurl your last knife toward the shooter in an attempt to buy time

Beauty is creepy in a lovable way. I can't believe I slept instead of playing this quest.

Rolled 28 (1d100)

>>556034
>[X] Race to your gun – they get one more shot, and no more....

>>556061
Hm. Changing my vote to this.

>>556034
>[x] Race to your gun – they get one more shot, and no more....

Rolled 24 (1d100)

>>556066
Oops, roll.

>>556064
haha keep that 75 away.

>>556061
>>556064
>The distance is too great; even a slow mutant would be able to get out of the way.

>If the opportunity comes, you will know.

>>556078
Ah, I see.

>>556078
Well I'd say getting them to move rather than aim would be the primary point of the move. I can easily buy that it wouldn't really buy enough time to stop them getting a shot off though.

>>556064
>You may reroll. Let ka fall as it may.

Rolled 51 (1d100)

>>556092
ALRIGHT CHUMS LET'S DO THIS

>>556089
>>556082
>The description of the mother-knife will make the situation more clear.

>>556078
So be it. Keeping with the rest of my vote though.

>>556096
>mother-knife
Now that is exciting

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>>556094
>51
Ehh.

>>556096
Silver linings.

>>556096
Hurrah!

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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AT0krI4mpS0

[X] Race to your gun – they get one more shot, and no more....
Roll 1d100; lower is better.Sweet 17, 42, 28, 24, 51

You are not surprised that the bullet splits a tuft of Beauty's fur from the back of her neck; even if he had killed you, Beauty would have hunted him down and killed him. She is a canny hunter and her immediate reaction is to yelp a warning and then dive for deeper water, mke herself less a target. You should probably follow suit, but you can ill afford the loss of the Apple. Hark takes off of course, and flies high and fast, climbing hard.

You, naked except for straps of leather that do little more than draw the eye to your lack of feminine curves as far as you are concerned, bolt for your gun. You an see him track you, then deliberately aim off. He fires at your gunna just before you get there the devilgrass and tumbler-weeds doing little to hide or you. Your wallet jerks, though you don't hear the dreadful sound of a ricochet.

That would have meant he hit your machine, and that would have been unforgivable.

“That is....far enough....gunslinger!” You freeze as the rook headed taheen you shot in the chest steps away from the protection of the arroyo's last few feet. Seven steps more would be enough to reach your revolver. “Hands hup high....fingers laced....I can't see as....you've....you've those pretty....knives of yours. I can see....where they're....kept....” His raspy voice is calm and collected, but you an see the tremble in his arm, the too-rapid blinking of his large, black eyes. He cradles the longarm his fellow tahheen had under one arm, finger on the trigger; there's a lot of blood on his duster, and more under it. Lung-shot, sure, and short of breath. Held his breath when you surveyed the battle field, he did, sure.

You raise your hands slowly, and lace your fingers, placing them behind your head as you face down the last person standing. “You're a Big Coffin Hunter, aren't you.” He stalks towards you slowly, his ears sharp enough to pick out your word even though you don't shout. He walks closer, closing down the distance.

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“Yar, gun....gunslinger. Tedders....was the man who....gave the orders....I was the one....who....who lead.” He takes several quick, pained breaths, and the rifle wavers, but he doesn't lower it enough. “You did....for my boy....you did....with that fancy....fancy....knife of yours.” The Low Man you stabbed in the wind-bag before his own people shot his dead body to pieces. The taheen stops, seventeen feet away; you might guess he was frowning, the corners of his beak so turned down.

Despite him having the drop on you, you have the edge. You know it as sure as ka turns. That cold veil over your mind lets you see in crystal clarity.

[] “And you'd be thinking you'll father another on me, yah?” Lure him with his manhood and let Hark have his eyes.
Roll 1d100; lower is better.
[] “Not much of a man, your boy was; more like a monster under a mask, and I think you know it.” Antagonize him into acting out of stupidity.
Roll 1d100; lower is better.
[] “Why did you not shoot me when you had the chance, sai? You had two, even?” Incite his curiosity and draw his better soul away from the King's influence.
Roll 1d100; lower is better.
[] “I did that very thing, but it was your boy who let me.” Only the truth now; this is no less a battle than one with guns and knives.
Roll 1d100; lower is better.
[] Other?
Write ins can be combined with other choices if they make sense. You cannot currently combine two choices from the above list.

>Last vote of the chapter.

Rolled 92 (1d100)

>>556241
>“Why did you not shoot me when you had the chance, sai? You had two, even?” Incite his curiosity and draw his better soul away from the King's influence.

Rolled 30 (1d100)

>>556241
>[] “Not much of a man, your boy was; more like a monster under a mask, and I think you know it.” Antagonize him into acting out of stupidity.

>>556241
>[x] “Not much of a man, your boy was; more like a monster under a mask, and I think you know it.” Antagonize him into acting out of stupidity.

Rolled 39 (1d100)

>>556241
>[] “I did that very thing, but it was your boy who let me.” Only the truth now; this is no less a battle

Rolled 31 (1d100)

>>556241
>Only the truth

Rolled 7 (1d100)

>>556265
Ooops, roll.

>>556286
Well, not really sure that's the best tactic, but alright I guess.

>>556294
Now now, anon. You shouldn't vote just for the rolls!

>>556303
I didn't, but my vote has already been cast and it looks like people are dropping off

>>556312
Can confirm. Dropped off about six hours ago.

Posting from the abyss.

>>556294
I'll let you in on a secret.

I am perfectly aware that the votes get cast for the rolls, but they can also do the opposite if they want to vote for something better/more interesting.

In my opinion it increases player agency, not decreases it

>>556312
I'm sure a couple

>>556337
Sorry, a couple more anons will show up.

Rolled 87 (1d100)

>>556241
>[] “Why did you not shoot me when you had the chance, sai? You had two, even?” Incite his curiosity and draw his better soul away from the King's influence.

Rolled 57 (1d100)

>>556241

>[X] “Why did you not shoot me when you had the chance, sai? You had two, even?” Incite his curiosity and draw his better soul away from the King's influence.

>>556361
yup here i am.

Rolled 57 (1d100)

>>556241
>[x] “Not much of a man, your boy was; more like a monster under a mask, and I think you know it.” Antagonize him into acting out of stupidity.

Writing. I'll take both.

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[X] “Why did you not shoot me when you had the chance, sai? You had two, even?” Incite his curiosity and draw his better soul away from the King's influence.
[X] “Not much of a man, your boy was; more like a monster under a mask, and I think you know it.” Antagonize him into acting out of stupidity. 30, Lucky 7, 57
Roll 1d100; lower is better.

You look into those black, beady eyes, filled with an intelligence not human, and smile slowly. “Why did you not hot me when you had the chance, sai?” The bird-headed mans finger tightens on the trigger and his mouth opens, his tongue vibrating. “You had two, even? Yet you shot at my friend, tried to break my ka-tet. You feared her, more than me?” His throat pulses, jerks up like a man's belly before he heaves, and his turns his head to let a gobbet of half-coagulated blood fall from his lipless mouth. The touch does you not good against this alien, this soldier of the Crimson King.

Mayhap another tack might.

Lowering your hands further behind your head, makes the harness digs into your skin. You're well aware you've little enough to boast about up top, but the rough hide of the sea animal on the underside of the leather harness catches at your skin to keep it stiff along your body. It also releases the catch on the Mother-Knife's hilt, making for a clean and easy draw.

“You might....you might say true gunslinger....but....” He pauses to catch his shallow breaths. Deflated a lung, not just pierced it. His pain is intense and terrible, but he'll likely live.

Not long, cully, not long, just long enough to get me to Farson, the feather headed fool!

Not going to happen, on your watch and by your warrant.

“I tell you a thing that is true, though, sai.” He snaps his beak shut but it can't stay so, and he opens it with quick, harsh gasps. “Can-toi, can-tak, can-de-lak. Not much of a man, your boy was; more like a monster under a mask, and I think you know it.” his eyes widen, the lids peeling back until they are dark bubbles of black ink, ready to burst. “If he'd been a man, he'd not have let me slip a knife under his ribs. He'd be living this very moment.” A soft, purring noise starts at the back of the taheen's throat, prelude to a squawk or diatribe. His finger tightens on that trigger, ever so slightly. Only a little more. “I warrant he isn't the only one who forgot the face of his father either.”

Your hand closes around the hilt of the two pounds of sharpened steel that lays along your back, fifteen inches of blade forged from the broken pieces of Gram.

>To Be Continued at Midnight PST,

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>>556487
Reposting the votes correctly.
[X] “Why did you not shoot me when you had the chance, sai? You had two, even?” Incite his curiosity and draw his better soul away from the King's influence.
Roll 1d100; lower is better. 92, 87, 57 = Not Done Well.

[X] “Not much of a man, your boy was; more like a monster under a mask, and I think you know it.” Antagonize him into acting out of stupidity. Roll 1d100; lower is better. 30, Lucky 7, 57

>>556511
Thanks for running XS! Pretty tense stuff.

>>556511
I will say, this is a somewhat curious voting and resolution method. Works, though.

>>556487
>>556511
Thank you for running XS now I'm going to sleep until the next session starts.

>>556487
very fun so far XS your quests always too good.

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Thank you for reading and playing. We continue this evening, appx. Midnight PST. I hop the suffering was worth it.

I will post the archive listing when I wake, and we may continue in this very thread. I wll also most likely post the tale itself in a pastebin later.

I thought about a pair of scissors rather than a knife but Mysterious Girlfriend X is far too lewd.

>>556487
Thanks for running! Didn't you say once that you used to do ghost writing? Because you've got the lingo of the series on lock.

Also, do you have any thoughts on the Gunslinger movie they're working on? Idris Elba wasn't really who I pictured when reading the books, but he's a solid enough actor that I'm still hopeful.

>>556538
My, I wasn't aware anything was too lewd for XS.
Well, it would have been a little weird to carry scissors around like that in a gunslinger setting though.

>>556539
I have and I do.

My only complaint, and this is strictly a complaint based on the book series, is that by changing Roland into a black man, they are forced to utterly change the character(s) of Susannah. I know sacrifices must be made for any movie, and Elba is actually a really good actor who can actually handle the role (his interviewer mentioned that he spoke almost not at all), but I wish this left less taste of panderign to the SJWs.

Especially when Roland himself didn't give a fuck about her skin color - nor, as a matter of fact, did anyone else in Mid-World except one outright asshole who hated all five of the gunslingers! That fact is what really ticks me off: white Roland gave her just as much and even more credit as a woman and as a gunslinger, and treated her as an equal in all ways, with respect, right from the very start., even when she hated his guts.

>>556542
....I have issues with oversalivation.

>>556542
Anon have you read Mysterious Girlfriend X? SHit way to lewd, they even kiss.

>>556575
Ah, that would explain it. Certainly no lack of that in MGX.

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And now, because fluff: The Fiveknives.

The Mother knife is 15 inches, and lays along her spine in a flexible catch-toggle sheath, harnessed to the three other sets of straps along her forearms and right calf. which are strapped on.

Elder brother is a 7" long fighting blade in a drop-or-draw sheath along her left arm.

Younger Brother is a 5" throwing blade long the outside of her tight calf in a hilt-down quick release sheath.

Elder Sister is a 6" double edged fighting knife in a spring-loaded sheath along her right forearm. This is what she killed the Low Man and his taheen companion with.

Younger sister is a slender hiltless throwing blade that is 4" blade and 2" hilt in a catch-toggle sheath next to Elder Sister. She used this to dig the bullet out of Beauty's side.

The Fiveknives awere forged from the fragments of the sword Gram, which was once used to slay a dragon and was later broken when the king who used it forgot the face of his father. The shards were collected and kept away; when the Line of Eld forgace the Line of Galt for their trespass, it was reforged into the Fiveknives.

I didn't want to use her gun as a retooled sword; after all, Rolands revolvers are literally made from the reforged Excaliber. Anon seemed to want her to be a close in fighter as well, so it suited much better. Those of you who read strange things might recognize this as a slight variation of the Endasmian Five-Knives cult of Susan Matthews Judiciary Worlds trilogy.

>>556690
Knives are great, the more the merrier.

>>556690
Thats pretty cool.

>>556568
I didn't really consider that, and yeah it does make me worry a little that they might minimize the racial aspects of Odessa/Dessa/Susannah's character arc, even though that'd be disastrous.

>>556900
I mean she's from the 1960s for god's sake.

>>556900
Whoops, meant Odetta/Detta/Susannnah
Well, got most of the letters right.

>>556900
I have given up on Hollywood ages ago. Its better to have no hype and be surprised if its atlest ok.

>>556985
I fear for the hope instilled by the Doctor Strange trailers.

I have been waiting for this opportunity forever, ever since the travesty of the 1970 version and the growth he has experienced in his comic series.

>>557006
The way they handled the Ancient One is already not really the -best- sign, and I'm kind of lukewarm on Bandersnatch Cummerbund, but it's still possible for it to be okay.

Also, I hope you haven't been following Marvel too closely for the past, like, fifteen years or so, since they haven't really been doing the doc much justice, except I guess I've heard some good things about the Oath.

Sorcerer Supreme Quest when?

>>557006
>>557095
Its ever going to give hope or take the last slivers of it away forever. The trailer looks good atlest.

>>557134
My brother's girlfriend's coworker saw an early screening and didn't like the ending at all. Then again, test audiences didn't like the original ending of I Am Legend, despite it being vastly superior to what we got

>>556538
>>556690
A pair of scissors is a little less mythic.

>>557095
I don't really mind Tilda as the Ancient One. After all she doesn't do ordinary human roles well.

No practical experience.

>>557186
I loved the original ending. I also walked out of "The Fallen" (`1998 version with Denzel Washington) suffering from what passes as laughing for me at the ending.

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PART 2

Two pounds of steel is heavy for a knife, and the Mother-knife is not an exception to that rule. The cord wrapped handle is thick and hard in your grip, wrapped about the tang of them blade and all that protects you from the cold steel. She is still sheathed, but the sheath is loose and free, while the harness creaks against your skin, the rough hide gripping tightly along your neck, around your shoulders, under your breasts, and along your arms. Otherwise, you are bare naked, standing in a foot of water in the oasis of Deadpan. Your left hand tingles painfully, more than half your fingers in nearly numb agony after the bullet in your arm nicked the bone.

The raven headed taheen whose son you killed with the Elder Sister knife glares at you, angered beyond clear thought by insult and cruel truth alike. The can-toi Low Man's father has the rifle trained on your belly, his deflated lung making him tremble in pain and exhaustion after you shot him in the chest. He managed to fool you once, playing dead well enough to hide among the corpses littering the battlefield of Deadpan Arroyo. Now he is here for the wicked treasure you have been entrusted with, one of the Bend of the Wizard's Rainbow, an orb of red glass often called the Apple. He is a Big Coffin Hunter, a soldier for the Crimson King who would be a hero to his other soldiers, someone who would leave their mark on ka's wheel.

And then he found your ka-tet.

There is one other treasure you have, one that could spell disaster for Gallowglaighs if discovered, and if he finds it, it would be worse than him taking the Apple to the Good Man, Farson who would burn all cities and end the White if he can. This you will not abide, and you stare at him, the cold veil of the gunslinger's only armor more than enough to cloth you and arm you. Your fingers tighten about the braided cord hilt behind your neck, and he finally realizes that he is not in charge here, that even naked and seemingly unarmed, you are still and ever a Gunslinger.

[] Have Hark the falcon take him frm abve as you attack.
Roll 1d100; lower is better.
[] Hurl the blade; at seven paces it's a death sentence.
Roll 1d100; lower is better.
[] His spirit is fraying; send him West with but you gaze.
Roll 1d100; lower is better.
[] Ask him if hell kill you now, or have his way with you – his a man, taheen though he is.
Roll 1d100; lower is better.
[] Other?
Write ins can be combined with other choices if they make sense.

Archive Part 1 & 2: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/555009/

Rolled 76 (1d100)

>>561010
>[] Hurl the blade; at seven paces it's a death sentence.

Rolled 72 (1d100)

>and it continues
aww yiss

>>561010
>[] Have Hark the falcon take him frm abve as you attack.
From above and behind as an initial distraction.

[] Hurl the blade; at seven paces it's a death sentence.

Rolled 97 (1d100)

>>561010
>[] Have Hark the falcon take him frm abve as you attack.
>Roll 1d100; lower is better.

Probably too late

>>561027
bugger me with a stick, you had to do low roll XS

Rolled 38 (1d100)

>>561010
>[] Hurl the blade; at seven paces it's a death sentence.

>>561031
Well, unfortunately I have to go to work in like five hours, so good luck everyone. Seems you'll need it.

Rolled 36 (1d100)

>>561010
>[] Hurl the blade; at seven paces it's a death sentence.

File: 1396770201207.gif (1.55 MB, 480x270)

1.55 MB GIF

>these rolls

>>561036
Also just remember everyone, it doesn't look like XS is doing a best of three thing, so even if an option has some bad rolls attached to it, you can still vote for it if you want, try and bring that average back down?

Rolled 44 (1d100)

>>561010
>[] Have Hark the falcon take him frm abve as you attack.
CAAW CAAWW!

Rolled 52 (1d100)

>>561010
>[] Have Hark the falcon take him frm abve as you attack.

>>561010
>Hurl the blade; at seven paces it's a death sentence

>>561045
>>561046
>>561054
Didn't really pick the best time to remind you guys of that I guess, but who needs a bird anyway

>>561045
This would be correct....

....but remember that trying to turn back the wheel of ka often ends in you being run over.

I kid. I'm not usually that evil without cause.

>>561058
Now add a dice roll to see if we accidentally stab our bird

From what I'm seeing, it looks like we send the bird who misses and hopefully doesn't get hurt, but he's distracted and we range shank him?

>>561064
At least it's not a string of 100's.
>throw mother axe
>get shot
>axe bisects burd
>one lungman takes the finishing shot
>beauty leaps between and takes a bullet to the brain
>one lungman takes the real finishing shot
>bad end

>>561060
>I kid. I'm not usually that evil without cause.
Thank god.

Current tallies averages - 66 aka deep 6, and 55 or power & power.

Have to say that it's telling.

>>561074
I only ask that you entertain us, and have fun with it too.

Rolled 8 (1d100)

>>561010
>[X] Hurl the blade; at seven paces it's a death sentence.

to late/

>>561108
Dammit

[X] Have Hark the falcon take him from above as you attack.
Roll 1d100; lower is better.72, 97, 44, 52+Ka-Tet of Claw and Fang bonus
[X] Hurl the blade; at seven paces it's a death sentence.
Roll 1d100; lower is better.76, 72, 38, 36, 8+Knives bonus

The flutter of wings is enough to warn him; and he lifts the rifle to fire. Even as he does so you have hurled the Mother-Knife at him. There is a puff of blue, red and white as the bullet passes through Hark, and the crack of the rifle commingled with the meaty thunk of the mother knife biting into flesh and bone. The taheen pitches sideways, falling away from you with the blade buried to the hilt in the left side of his chest. He drops the longarm as Hark falls to the ground nearby.

The taheen's chest hitches, trying to draw breaths into lungs that no longer work. One, two, three....then he falls silent, a bubbling breath his final word on all matters.

The cold veil falls away, and you collapse to your hands and knees in the water, your guts churning from pain and adrenaline. You force yourself up, rising to unsteady feet. You hear the thudding pads of Beauty running to regroup, but you have eyes only for Hark, who lies all too still upon the ground.

He lies dead, and Beauty comes to kneel as you smooth the feathers at his brease and wings with slow, gentle hands. Tears burn in your eyes, but you will not shed them; not yet. “Fare thee well, gunslinger. We will be well met in the path at the end of the clearing, thee and me.” Beauty makes a slow, rolling growl, a deep-throated rumble, as she noses the terribly small feathered form before you. Saying her own goodbyes as well.

Beauty immediately rounds and savages the taheen though that is all she does; tear him open, tear him apart; she won't eat that poison flesh. You rise, and wash off the remaining mud from your staggered walk to your friend's dead body in the stream before you get dressed. You replace the Fiveknives, Mother-Knife last, cleaning her well. It's not that you are ignoring Hark at this moment, but you need a few to steady yourself.

You've lost too many already.

the taheen save his head. Bones are shattered, limbs torn to pieces, and his body a vast red canvas upon the soft sand at the edge of the oasis. Beauty dips her face into the lake, shakes it. You'll finish washing for her up after you've finished a more grim duty. A wide flat piece of shale serves as a spade, and you turn up a deep part of the dirt, before laying your friend to rest. He was instrumental in the battle, and you murmur a prayer for him Beauty lets loose ululating laughter, weirdly morose despite what most would take as joyful sounds.

Slate and shale are the best you can do for a cairn, but there is little enough wildlife out here that would be interested in his grave, with so much fresh meat for the taking elsewhere.

[] Have Beauty lead you to the best of the other harrier's gunna and property.
Roll 1d100; lower is better.
[] Fuck them – take only the cartridges you need and be gone.
No Roll
[] Do what you must, take what you need, be thorough and swift.
Roll 1d100; lower is better.
[] Take your time; you're injured bad, and you will need to camp soon in any case.
Roll 1d100; lower is better.
[] Other?
Write ins can be combined with other choices if they make sense.

>Connection is sketchy.

>>561125
>>561125
>First sentence:
By the time you've finished dressing and arming yourself, there is little that remains whole of the taheen save his head.

Rolled 72 (1d100)

>>561125
>[X] Take your time; you're injured bad, and you will need to camp soon in any case.
He as a good birdslinger.

Rolled 53 (1d100)

>>561125
>[] Do what you must, take what you need, be thorough and swift.

Rolled 71 (1d100)

>>561125
>[] Do what you must, take what you need, be thorough and swift.

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Rolled 75 (1d100)

>>561120
>he lies dead

>>561125
>[] Do what you must, take what you need, be thorough and swift.

>>561120
There goes our eye in the sky...

>>561125
>[] Have Beauty lead you to the best of the other harrier's gunna and property.
Don't want to hang around. The sound of gunfire carries and you have been here long enough.

Rolled 15 (1d100)

>>561125
>[] Take your time; you're injured bad, and you will need to camp soon in any case.

Rolled 63 (1d100)

>>561142
Sheeit

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Hark will be missed.

>>561160
>that translation

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[X] Do what you must, take what you need, be thorough and swift.
Roll 1d100; lower is better.53, 71, 75 = Poorly but not Badly

The vultures do not scatter when you and Beauty walk among them. Why should they? You are not here for what they seek, you are here for what remains that can be of use to you. Beauty moves to ne of the humans – the Big Boss – and starts eating unconcerned by the vultures. For their prt they simply move to other pickings. The scavenging you do is for tools, rather than flesh.

You do indeed find cartridges for the outworld gun you have, 9^^^^ shells; you alo find four slide-in holders for the bullets, which is nice. For your machine you find bullets as well, plain brass and simple lead, rather than the copper and lead of the outworlder guns., these in two belts. It has been far too long since you had what you could consider enough ammunition.

By the time you are done with that task, Beauty has eaten her fill and she wanders back to you as you collect what foodstuffs you consider safe. Tinned, mostly; you leave anything wrapped or touched. Another canteen with fresh water within is welcome though, as are a couple of Annah's large shirts yet unworn in her horse's packs. A bit more rope, tinder, and a sparker as well. Little else is serviceable or light enough to carry, lame as you are, but you do take the remaining longarm, and the double handful of shells for it. No long-sight, which is fine by you; neither you nor the taheen who carried the gun wouldn't have a use for such a thing.

Another slaughter, another day; such is ka, eh, gunslinger? Eh?

The tittering laughter in your head doesn't feel like your own.

You make your way back to the lake, and wash Beauty's muzzle and neck once more, the dirty beast. She lolls her tongue at you and you thump your forehead against hers. Then you fill your canteens – well away from the dead taheen and the mud your remaining companion stirs up – and start walking westward around the lake.

It doesn't take too terribly long for your leg to complain, but you ignore it for a while yet, the pain no issue as long as it's a surface pain. Nor do you let yourself limp. Your shoulder aches as well, the extra baggage and the wound in your triceps combining to make it a misery you work hard at ignoring. That too is surface pain; your not going to make the injury worse just yet. A few, or many, hours later and the sun is sinking into what is still West, Gods be thanked. You see something glinting off in the distance, away from the lake, toward the dark buttes. Abut three miles, you'd say, no more than an hour's journey while you're wounded.

[] Continue around the lake towards Mid-World and Mejiis.
[] You don't recall any such thing being there before; it's worth a look.
[] Camp here for now, and rest while you may before deciding.
[] See what you the touch says.
Roll 1d100, Lower is Better.

Rolled 51 (1d100)

>>561166
>[X] Camp here for now, and rest while you may before deciding.

Rolled 43 (1d100)

>>561166
>[] See what you the touch says.

Rolled 39 (1d100)

>>561166
>[] See what you the touch says.

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Rolled 1 (1d100)

>>561166
[] See what you the touch says.
I genuinely have no idea what the text says, I was mostly looking for something appropriately expressive in the art.

Never did learn the art of reading moonrunes, what does it actually say?

Have a Taylor, since I know you've read it.

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>>561175
>Rolled 1 (1d100)

>>561175
"I see..."
"The two of you....were always looking out for me."

>>561175
>1
>again
I guess the Touch is the key to maximum low numbers.

File: 1450920855224.gif (2.01 MB, 500x281)

2.01 MB GIF

>>561176
I am genuinely excited about the crit, and apparently I perfectly stumbled my way through gigs of jpg and found literally a perfect moonrune filled art for the scene. Huzzah!

I should do this more often. Apparently tequila makes me lucky.

File: ae3c4ea0be2bda1119ff9e635(...).jpg (1.41 MB, 1050x1300)

1.41 MB JPG

[X] See what you the touch says.
Roll 1d100, Lower is Better.43, 39, 1 = Great Success.

You stare at that twinkling, glittering object. Glass? Silver? Mica paint? You don't knw, you know only that it is out there.

It's trouble, and it's in our way.

Even though you had no intention of approaching it now, you realize that ka will not care. It is trouble, and it is in your way. Even were you to camp here tonight, it would trouble you in some fashion. Send you todash, dream traveling perhaps; maybe send something through the air to look upon you. Perhaps just plant a seed of distrust in your mind and itch you that way.

Oh, gunslinger, how hopeful you are!

You frown, the voice certainly not your own. It's never been yours. Your hand tightens on the straps of wallet and messenger bag.

I'll be waiting, gunslinger – but not long, never long, for the world has Moved On, as they say!

That tittering laughter stick in your craw. Beauty giggles softly to you, and you run a hand along her withers. “Yah, you got that right.”

[] Continue around the lake towards Mid-World and Mejiis.
[] You don't recall any such thing being there before; it's worth a look.
[] Camp here for now, and rest while you may before deciding.
[] Take a look at the Apple and the other thing.
Roll 1d100; lower is better.
[] Other?
You can combine “Take a look” with one of the other choices., and write ins can be combined if they make sense.

Rolled 62 (1d100)

>>561186

>[X] Take a look at the Apple and the other thing.
>[X] Continue around the lake towards Mid-World and Mejiis.

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Rolled 54 (1d100)

>>561186
I genuinely have no idea what's going on as I've never read past the first novel of the Dark Tower, well over a decade ago. It was so bad I just didn't bother with the rest of the series. Suppose I should eventually.

[] You don't recall any such thing being there before; it's worth a look.
If it's going to be in our way eventually, out of some sort of karmic obligation, then we might as well suck it up and look into it / scout it out to see what it's going to be. Avoiding problems tends to only make them worse, but we should scout as carefully as possible seeing as how're we're pretty badly wounded.

"I'll be waiting, gunslinger – but not long, never long, for the world has Moved On, as they say!"

I literally have zero idea what on earth the disembodied (or crystalline) voice is going on about. Is this a normal thing? Caused by the bad juju we're apparently carrying around? A consequence of our character's backstory? An omnipresent malignant force taking a personal interest is us?

Yuuhi guide my dice!

>>561195
>that feels when anon saves your sketches.
Thanks anon.

We seem to be carrying two dangerous objects.
1. Some kind of apple we are transporting
2. Something that we might not really want to be carrying. I believe the voice is coming from number 2

>>561198
I have saved literally every picture of every thread of Ryukuza quest, I'm an art hoarder. I did really like that one though!

Seriously though I have a problem, and it is over 40 gigs of jpg from 14 years or so of continuously saving cool art I see from anywhere on the internet.

Mostly unsorted.

>>561198
>>561195
Th Apple is one of the Bends of the Wizards Rainbow, a series of thirteencrystal balls. Each is named after one of the 13 colors of the Wizards Rainbow; the Grapefruit (called so because it is the color of the flesh inside a grapefruit) shows up in "Wizard and Glass" and allows sight over distances, at the cost of obsession. The worst and most terrible is Black 13....which might even be the Eye of the Crimson King himself.

The apple is one of them, and the Good Man, Farson, seeks to use it against the rulers of the lands of Mid-World; so Demiana was sent to take it far from his grasp. She thought it was lying quiet....and now suspects she has been badly mistaken about that.

>>561201
So what is the other magicalish object we are carrying?

>>561200
Once had the same save problem only a hard drive crash saved me.

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>>561201
The Thirteen colours consist of: Crimson, Orange, Yellow, Pink, Dark Blue, Dark Green, Indigo, Lime, Azure, Violet, Brown, Pearl Grey, and Black

Maerlyn's Rainbow, also known as the Bends o' the Bow or Wizard’s Rainbow, consists of thirteen colored spheres. The first twelve represent the Twelve Guardians of the Beams, each having the secret of a different form of magic; the last, Black Thirteen, represents the Dark Tower itself, which was filled with the evil of the monster-infested void that existed between worlds.

Some have different powers to others with some showing Mid-World, some which show All-World, and some which have the power to transport. Others look into the future and the demon infested worlds as well as revealing the locations of secret doors which give access to other worlds. Additionally, others can see far into the world and witness vile acts most people would wish kept secret. One is said to give the power of levitation, and another the secrets of telepathy.

>>561201
Well that's fascinating. Almost reminds me of Saberhagen's swords + Palantir.

I take it the "Good Man" is along the lines of "no one is as dangerous as a good man who will do anything for what they see as Just?"

and the Crimson King is something along the lines of the King in Yellow, as far as ominous sounding names for what is sounding like a powerful force for evil in the word.

>>561200
Oh and Farson is not really a "Good Man"

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>>561203
Well this is genuinely extremely interesting, but it's past 6 am here, and I actually need to sleep at some point or be really worthless for work tomorrow.

Have a good evening y'all. Hope we get some more people in here, but the timeframe leaves something to be desired. Either way, I'll catch up on this tomorrow.

Best of luck!

>>561186
Alright, I'm finally awake!
>[x] You don't recall any such thing being there before; it's worth a look.

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>>561186
>>561193
>>561195
I'll place the quest on hold until 8:00 am PST this morning (aka 4 3/4 hours from now) and still accept votes for tally when I resume.

>>561202
Spoilers, sai.

>>561211
Cool cheers for now

>>561211
Right-oh.

>>561186
>[x] You don't recall any such thing being there before; it's worth a look.

Rolled 16 (1d100)

>>561186
>[X] You don't recall any such thing being there before; it's worth a look.
>[X] Take a look at the Apple and the other thing.

>>561226
Forgot the roll

>>561237
hehe

Put it in the options section.

You only need to roll if you're looking in the Messenger Bag this time around.

>>561186
>[] Camp here for now, and rest while you may before deciding.

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[X] Take a look at the Apple and the other thing.
Roll 1d100; lower is better.62, 16 = Success
[X] You don't recall any such thing being there before; it's worth a look.

You set down your gunna, which earns you an inquisitive hoot from Beauty, and kneel. Well, you kneel at first, but your calf protests mightily at such flagrant abuse, and you go to one knee and crouch instead. You set aside your gunna and the longarm, and place the flap over your pistol. Your teacher might have yelled at you at one time for such and act, but after you were given the Fiveknives, it was far less a problem to hide you pistol from your hand.

In this case it seems like a wise precaution.

You open the messenger bag and look at the two items inside of it. The bulky one you leave for a moment, and carefully, so very carefully, you take out the Bend of th Wizard's Rainbow. It's small, hardly four inches across; it fits nicely into your hand. You carefully untie the kotted double-kerchief that encloses it, revealing the dark crimson glass that shines malevolently in the sun. You're careful to keep the kerchiefs between your hand and the ball.

It seems like such a fragile thing and mayhap it is

Nothing but misfires against me, gilly-cully!

but you doubt you possess anything that might break it, save the Mother-Knife. You turn the ball slightly in the sun, the insides seeming like liquid, yet not moving at all. The malevolent whispers you thought were your own are not.

The glass speaks. It speaks the thoughts of others from afar, and undoubtedly channels this strangers tittering laughter and his wicked claims to you. You could send your thoughts through it to him, without doubt....but you tie the kerchiefs back up and over it, hiding the accursed thing from your sight. You place it back in the messenger back, and look at the other bundle within.

Beauty lowers herself to the ground, laying her neck out and looking up at you with mournful golden eyes. You feel it too, that melancholia that accompanies the breaking of ka-tet. You would have felt it before, if you'd not been mid battle. Hark's death was not the first, though it was painful enough. “Hile, gunslinger; do you see me?” Beauty's head comes up, but it isn't you speaking to her. Those were words another spoke to you.

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The bundle is heavy, heavier than it has any right to be, and yet lighter than you would have thought it. The magic in this cloth, this staying cloth, is old and used by the kings and queens of Gallowglaighs. You unwrap it from the top and lay out the folds of it over your hand and arm, revealing the head it protects from decay and rot. You can smell the copper of her blood, the scent of her perfume, the soaps with which she washed and the smoke from the fireplace where she fell. There is still rouge upon her pale cheeks, and her hair, once so long, was chopped short by the men who hacked her head off her stilled body.

“Hile Princess Deidre Kelles of Galt; I see you. I see you very well.” Your voice tries to stick in your throat. You remember the men who did this, dying one by one as you entered the room where they'd caught her and killed her, your machine grinding their lives to a halt. No parole for them, the Good Man's people. The look on her father's face as he entered after you. A kiss for the princess, then you return her to the silent dark.

He sent you West, not as an exile or a failure, but to protect the land of Gallowglaighs from crumbling in an instant with the last heir, the king's daughter, and your beloved Deidre dead. They might show the body, but it could be any maiden's body, now. The Apple too he gave you, to take far and away from the land of your birth perhaps to Mejii to be kept by the Line of Eld, for the Line of Galt was failing, falling, and felled. You might be the last for all you know.

No, gunslinger, not the last....you are not so unlucky as all that!

Perhaps not, but the tittering laughter does seem to put the lie to it.

You narrow your eyes and rise, picking up your gunna. “Fine then. Let's see what we have found, and then see whom we may find, hey-la Beauty?”

Harsh, warbling yelps, and she rises with you, trotting apace towards the mysterious shine.

[] Walk with Beauty all the way; you'll not break ka-tet before you must.
Roll 1d100; lower is better.
[] When you get close enough, send Beauty off; she can live well here, and grow strong again.
Roll 1d100; lower is better.
[] Share khef with your ka-mate and prepare yourself for the clearing at the end of the path.
Roll 1d100; lower is better.
[] Get the longarm out and ready, just in case it is a trap after all.
Roll 1d100; lower is better.
[] Other?
Write ins can be combined with other choices if they make sense. You cannot currently combine two choices from the above list.