>>2617860
“I see,” Laura nods. “And as for my second question?”

“On the first day of the fight my crossguard broke,” you explain. “It belonged to the former number 7, Emma, who was a close friend of mine. So I'm having a local smith do some repairs so I can continue using it.”

“How sentimental,” Laura replies, her tone betraying neither disdain nor approval. “And I suppose necessary. After all, the Organization still believes you dead or worse.”

“I suspect Tomas will be annoyed,” you roll your eyes. “It feels like he's been trying to get rid of me for months already.”

“I would be careful who you admitted those feelings to,” Laura cautions. “However I have shared that sense of things myself for years. I suppose Olivia has already told you about that, has she not?”

“It might have come up,” Olivia admits, twirling her hair.

“You just can't help being who you are,” Laura sighs dramatically. “Well then, number 13, what information should I take back to the Organization when I let them know you're neither dead nor awakened?”

>Give her the full report, only sparing the detail about your last-moment gamble.
>Explain that you wore an awakened being down with tricks over a six day period.
>You took care of the awakened being and recovered Fiore's remains. That's all.
>Other?

>>2617864
>>You took care of the awakened being and recovered Fiore's remains. That's all.

>>2617864
>Olivia came to my rescue and dealt the killing blow.

>>2617864
>You took care of the awakened being and recovered Fiore's remains. That's all.

>>2617864
>Explain that you wore an awakened being down with tricks over a six day period.

>>2617864
>>You took care of the awakened being and recovered Fiore's remains. That's all.

>>2617864
“Anren's population was annihilated by an awakened being, who subsequently killed the former number 25,” you recount the details. “I engaged and defeated the awakened being, but he town of Anren itself was destroyed in the fighting.”

“That concludes my official report... but unofficially, I recovered Fiore's remains and buried both her and the former number 7 in the churchyard here in Baiko.”

“I'm sure there's more to the story than that,” Laura decides, glancing at Olivia. “But I'm sure that Olivia will tell me some of it later. I'll relay your report to the Organization and have your handler sent here to collect you in a couple of days.”

“Thank you for your understanding,” you tilt your head slightly towards Laura. “Is there anything else?”

“Not for you,” Laura shakes her head. “Olivia? It's time to return to duty. You've spent enough time chasing shadows out here in my territory.”

“I agree,” Olivia nods thoughtfully. “In fact I should hardly think it necessary to 'chase shadows' as you put it ever again.”

“You found her?” Laura's eyes widen. “Was she the one...”

“In Anren, yes,” Olivia completes the thought. “And it was thanks to the 'Lonely Queen” here that I was able to speak with her one last time before the end.”

“I had no idea how right I was...” Laura muses, taken completely aback. “I knew there had to be more to the story that you weren't telling me, but this...”

“Is Olivia's story to tell,” you observe. “Not mine. I won't risk trampling her feelings by recounting the battle in my own words.”

“Huh,” Laura chuckles at your proclamation. “Well, would you look at that. Emma was right about you, Thirteen.”

>You knew Emma? In what capacity?
>... what did she say about me? That I took myself too seriously?
>Fare well, both of you. I hope we meet again some day.
>Other?

>>2617915
>You knew Emma? In what capacity?
>... what did she say about me? That I took myself too seriously?

>>2617915
>You knew Emma? In what capacity?

>>2617915
>>You knew Emma? In what capacity?
>>... what did she say about me? That I took myself too seriously?

>>2617915
>>You knew Emma? In what capacity?

>>2617915
>>You knew Emma? In what capacity?
>>... what did she say about me? That I took myself too seriously?

>>2617915
>other: ...wait what?
>... what did she say about me? That I took myself too seriously?
>other: is this about my "other" nickname you single ladies gave me? why do I get the feeling that I'm a huge subject of gossip?

>>2617915
>You knew Emma? In what capacity?

>>2617915
“How well did you know Emma?” you ask. “And how much could she have told you about me?”

“I like to think we were friends,” Laura insists calmly. “As for your second question, she mentioned that you carried yourself with nobility and 'inspired' her to the same. I always thought that meant you were stuck-up and acted with self-importance all the time, so I wondered why Emma said it with such fondness.”

“Now I understand what she meant. You show others your best self, and seeing that makes them want to do the same.”

You glance away. “If you insist on giving me too much credit, what choice do I have but to accept?”

“That's the spirit,” Olivia chimes in, holding out her sword. Laura draws her own blade, letting its tip rest against Olivia's in what you recognize from training as a group gesture. A certain form of ritual where warriors seal a verbal pact with each other.

You draw your own blade with its misshapen guard and tap it lightly to the steel of Laura's sword.

“To the memory of those who went before us,” Laura declares, “and to the ones we've yet to meet.”

“For each other, and for the ones we can still save,” Olivia adds. “Let's be sure this isn't the last we see of each other.”

“I don't plan on dying any time soon,” you smirk. “So if I can get by on my own, I'm sure the two of you will have no trouble doing the same until we see each other again.”

“Don't get too cocky,” Laura chides you, “or it's back to 'Pink Princess' for you.”

“Please, anything but that...”

Your vows sealed, Laura and Olivia swiftly withdraw from Baiko to meet with their respective handlers. You don't doubt that Tomas will be here soon enough, so it would pay to remain visible and in Baiko proper until such time that he does.

>Remain in Baiko and read your book. You can kill any amount of time with reading and practicing.
>Head to a tavern, sift for rumors of other yōma you can practice on as a 'side job'.
>You can kill yōma gratis for a day or two. It might boost the Warriors' reputation if you could.
>Other?

>>2617966
>You can kill yōma gratis for a day or two. It might boost the Warriors' reputation if you could.
>other: kill them barehanded with white fist.

>Head to a tavern, sift for rumors of other yōma you can practice on as a 'side job'.

>>2617966
>You can kill yōma gratis for a day or two. It might boost the Warriors' reputation if you could.

>>2617966
>>You can kill yōma gratis for a day or two. It might boost the Warriors' reputation if you could.

>>2617971
I'm in with this

I'm just curious, weren't we suppose to seek out a possible Yoma hidden in the monk monastery?

>>2617997
That was the last arc, prior to the bandit encounter.

>>2617997
That mission was all the way back in thread one. And the "supposed yoma" was in fact not a yoma. it was a murderer who tried to frame it as a yoma attack. otherwise we would've smelled Yoma bits from a mile away in the monastery.

>>2617997
That was awhile ago mate.

>3d10 to pick up on rumors
>18 gets you some general idea of events
>23 gets you a possible specific goal

Rolled 4, 6, 5 = 15 (3d10)

>>2618005

Rolled 1, 3, 8 = 12 (3d10)

>>2618005

Rolled 2, 9, 3 = 14 (3d10)

>>2618005

>>2618002
I suspected that was the case.
I don't remember us finishing that, I might have missed reading a few posts.

>>2618009
>>2618008
>>2618006
cue a clueless princess.
dammit. all the luck's been sucked away.

>>2618006
>>2618008
>>2618009
Noel doesn't get much out of her snooping, but there's still a chance she reads something useful with her day.
>3d10, best of two

Rolled 2, 3, 8 = 13 (3d10)

>>2618005

Rolled 1, 8, 8 = 17 (3d10)

>>2618015

Rolled 7, 5, 10 = 22 (3d10)

>>2618015

>>2618013
You mean Pink Princess.
Initials PP

>>2618018
Well, this was bit better

>>2618033
it was best of two. and my roll was the third roll. which didn't count.

>>2618034
No, your roll was the second, my roll was linked to the wrong spot.

>>2618015
You find a tavern that looks popular with a mix of travelers and locals alike, and invite yourself in. The sight of you seems to draw quite a bit of attention, though most of the patrons can't seem to place what exactly is so threatening about your presence. If any of them know what you are they keep it to themselves.

There's a booth free, one bench in which is soon occupied by your sword and the other by yourself.

“You got an order?” a server asks.

“Half pint,” you order, considering how full your stomach already is and how little coin you have.

The server nods in confirmation before disappearing to tap the cask for you.

Listening to the conversations in the tavern as you read, you're stuck by the fact that you've made your own job harder: now all anyone seems to want to talk about is the total annihilation of Anren.

“I hear it was a gas explosion,” one man insists for the fourth time.

You continue to read over an illustrated discussion of joint compression in strikes: the bones of your wrist offer much greater compression than your elbow, meaning some of the force of your punches will always be absorbed by your own body rather than being transferred to your target's body. Which you're not entirely sure helps, since you can't use White Fist with your elbows nor is it strictly speaking your fists that are doing the most damage. But still, it's an interesting discussion and placing the anatomical knowledge into a martial framework may prove useful later.

“All I know is the whole town's gone,” a traveler confirms. “Down to the foundations, they say.”

Who says, you wonder.

“I hear tell it was a silver-eyed witch as did it.”

Not entirely. Mostly it was Saria and the gas explosions.

“Not a single survivor.”

Well, one.
>1/2

>>2618040
>The sight of you seems to draw quite a bit of attention, though most of the patrons can't seem to place what exactly is so threatening about your presence. If any of them know what you are they keep it to themselves.
Now I want more Noel in disguise. it's so useful when it comes to blending in. compared to the rank and file uniform, the muggle reaction to seeing Noel in Hazari civilian clothing is almost night and day. almost.

>>2618040
“What I don't get is why there?”

“Dumb luck.”

The speaker glances over at your table. “What was that, lady?”

“Sorry, I didn't realize I was speaking aloud,” you sigh into your ale.

“Hang on,” one of the men at the table narrows his eyes at you. “Silver eyes and a big old sword. Are you...”

>I'm not. It's the ale going to your head.
>What Claymore have you seen with PINK hair?
>Yes. And I'm the one you're talking about.
>Other?

>>2618050
>What Claymore have you seen with PINK hair?

>>2618050
>What Claymore have you seen with PINK hair?

>>2618050
>>What Claymore have you seen with PINK hair?

>>2618050
>>What Claymore have you seen with PINK hair?
And not without the uniform

>>2618050
>>What Claymore have you seen with PINK hair?

>>2618050
>Other?
Let him finish the question before responding. Assuming the question before he asks it would seem unnecessarily defensive.
>What Claymore have you seen with PINK hair?

>>2618060
Yes let him finish, the will never suspect a thing, we wouldn't hurt a flying yoma....

>>2618050
>What Claymore have you seen with PINK hair?

>>2618050
>What Claymore have you seen with PINK hair?
>other: Do you see ANY Claymore walk around in casual clothing? I'm pretty sure that the organization has a strict ban on clothes that AREN'T Organization official.
>other: The sword's just decoration. a big lump of metal that's a holdover project from my "dead uncle", the crossguard broke so now I'm stuck in this town waiting for the local smith to fix it up. And its a pain in the ass to carry.
Make sure when we interact with our sword, we act cranky and clumsy since it is a bigass heavy slab of metal. we'll need to act it out in struggling to lift or carry it.

>>2618050
>other: also mentally remind yourself NOT to speak your thoughts out loud. Olivia, Emma, and even Laura already gave you shit about it.

>>2618064
I'm not sure if you're being facetious, but surely
>"Are you...?"
>"No, I'm not a Claymore!"
is at least marginally suspicious than
>"Are you a Claymore?"
>"No, I'm not a Claymore!"

>3d10 best of three to bullshit

Rolled 2, 1, 4 = 7 (3d10)

>>2618092

Rolled 4, 9, 8 = 21 (3d10)

>>2618092

Rolled 9, 9, 2 = 20 (3d10)

>>2618092
inb4 Noel can't bullshit.

Rolled 6, 3, 8 = 17 (3d10)

>>2618092

>>2618097
>>2618096
Not too bad.

>>2618092
“A.. what?” you ask as the man falters.

“One of those Claymores?” one of his friends picks up where he left off.

You do your best to pretend to chuckle. “And when was the last time you heard of a red-haired Claymore?”

“Your hair is pink,” one of the men at the table points out.

“You say pink, I say lightish red,” you correct him. “And even if we agreed it was pink, Id just change my question. When was the last time you heard of a pink-haired Claymore?”

“Folks were sayin' one stopped by the fort, just about a week ago,” the first speaker insists.

“Folks.” you repeat, stroking your chin. “Folks were saying this. Well then it must be true... you see it yourself?”

“... no,” the man admits.

You shrug. “I came into town to get this old slab fixed up.”

“That's a claymore, like the ones the witches carry.”

“It's been in the family for generations,” you lie, before pointing out something true. “The guard was showing signs of corroding, so I brought it here for old Brutus to make a replacement. He and my da are old drinking buddies, said 'come an hand it here' if anything needed fixing. So here I am.”

“You sure that ain't yours?”

You laugh again. “Maybe some day. But I have no idea how to use the damn fool thing. Still... it looks pretty menacing when I carry it around, right? Like having a big dog out in your yard.”

“So what were you sayin' bout dumb luck?” the first man asks, relenting for now.

“Well,” you pretend to ponder your point. “There's things that are out of our control, you know? Not like it's an act of god or something... I hear it was yōma? Who knows what those things are thinking... it's the fact that we don't know that makes us call 'em monsters.”

“I guess that makes sense,” one of the men admits. “Still don't sit right, thinkin' there's nothing to be done.”

>It shouldn't. When we recognize something is wrong, that's the first step towards fixing it.
>It doesn't matter. It's outside our control, so all we can do is keep coping as best we can.
>I've always figured that feeling is why they do it. Claymores, I mean.
>Other?

>>2618123
>I've always figured that feeling is why they do it. Claymores, I mean.

>>2618123
>>I've always figured that feeling is why they do it. Claymores, I mean.

>>2618123
>>It shouldn't. When we recognize something is wrong, that's the first step towards fixing it.
muggle perspective folks. muggle perspective.

>>2618123
>It shouldn't. When we recognize something is wrong, that's the first step towards fixing it.
>I've always figured that feeling is why they do it. Claymores, I mean.

>>2618123
>>I've always figured that feeling is why they do it. Claymores, I mean.

>>2618123
>>It shouldn't. When we recognize something is wrong, that's the first step towards fixing it.

>>2618123
>>It shouldn't. When we recognize something is wrong, that's the first step towards fixing it.
>I've always figured that feeling is why they do it. Claymores, I mean.

>>2618123
“It shouldn't,” you admit rather frankly. “The first step in fixing something is admitting that something is wrong. That's probably why they do it.”

“Who?”

“The Claymores,” you shrug. “I just figure they felt powerless, and so that's why they do what they do.”

“Never thought about it like that,” one of the men lowers his gaze, staring resolutely at the table. “Hell, if they took men too... I wonder what it might take for me to get that desperate?”

“Sorry to have soured the mood,” you sigh, returning to your beer. “Next time I'll be certain to keep my thoughts to myself.”

With no rumors having made themselves apparent during your time at the tavern, you eventually settle up your miniscule tab and leave, embracing the chilly evening air of high Hazaran. As stimulating as that was, and as much reading as you did, you still haven't picked up any leads on tasks to occupy yourself with. And now its starting to get dark.

>Find someplace out of the way to sleep.
>Head back for the fortress for now.
>Head for the church. They won't turn you away.
>See if Brutus will let you sleep on the forge floor.
>Other?

>>2618183
>Head back for the fortress for now.

>>2618183
>Find someplace out of the way to sleep.
Roughing it out in the fields or forest.

Just a roll and a blanket is more than enough.

>>2618183
>>Head back for the fortress for now.

>>2618183
>See if Brutus will let you sleep on the forge floor.
FORGING MONTAGE as payment!

>>2618183
>Head back for the fortress for now.

>>2618183
>>Head back for the fortress for now.
>Head back for the fortress for now.

>3d10, best of two this time

Rolled 3, 10, 4 = 17 (3d10)

>>2618220

>>2618183
>>See if Brutus will let you sleep on the forge floor.

Rolled 9, 4, 5 = 18 (3d10)

>>2618220

Rolled 7, 10, 1 = 18 (3d10)

>>2618220

>>2618183
You decide that it would be best if you headed back to the fortress now, cutting your losses for the evening to get some rest instead. After all, you're still exhausted from the six-day battle which took place not long ago.

The sun is dipping low in the sky when you arrive at the headquarters, allowing yourself in the front door.

“Lady Noel,” the general bows his head respectfully.

“General,” you return the bow, a little shallower. “Any word of 'unusual' events in the area?”

“Define unusual, ma'am,” Noventus sighs.

“My kind of unusual,” you clarify.

“Then no,” he replies, “nothing of the sort. Though the civil governor of this city keeps making more work for me than I'd like, that would be my own burden.”

“If you're sure,” you shake your head, marveling at how often you hear of administrative madness in Hazaran these days. At least under your father the governors and petty nobles were too terrified to get on his bad side by getting themselves outed as corrupt or incompetent.

“Then I will rest,” you decide. “Same room as last night.”

“Where's your friend?” Noventus muses. “She have another mission?”

“Something along those lines,” you frown. “More like she had to report back, since she was never technically supposed to be here in the first place.”

“Sounds like a pain.”

“Only if you're a fan of freedom,” you clarify with a sigh. “Settling down somewhere isn't something we warriors are allowed to do. The only reason I'll be staying here for the next few nights is that it will take the Organization some time to redeploy my handler now that they know I'm not dead.”

“If it were me I might not have informed them,” Noventus admits.

>I'll admit I felt the same.
>I prefer to keep living.
>You wouldn't be the first.
>Say nothing. Only sleep.
>Other?

>>2618271
>I'll admit I felt the same.

>>2618271
>Say nothing. Only sleep.

>>2618271
>>I'll admit I felt the same.
>>I prefer to keep living.

>>2618271
>other: If only if it were so simple...
>other: So how's the politics in the capital?

>>2618271
>I'll admit I felt the same.
>I prefer to keep living.
>You wouldn't be the first.

>>2618271
>>You wouldn't be the first.
>>I prefer to keep living.

>>2618271
>You wouldn't be the first.
>But I prefer to keep living.

>>2618271
>I prefer to keep living

>>2618271
“You wouldn't be the first,” you admit with a slight, knowing smirk. “However I would prefer to keep my head firmly attached to my shoulders.”

“They'd have you killed for trying to leave?” he asks, somewhat surprised at first. “We don't even do that to deserters, except for...”

“In time of war?” you complete his thought. “In the Organization's view that's precisely what we're in.”

“A war, is that it?” Noventus muses, his tone grim. “I have to wonder then, who are the generals? And where do they come from?”

“That, General Noventus,” you sigh, “is a very good question indeed.”

You leave Noventus to finish his work for the day without further interruptions, retiring to your temporary room and removing the clothes you've borrowed, folding them neatly on the bed. Rather than using that, you lean against the wall at the foot of the bed, and listen to the sounds of a gentle rain falling outside.

Strange. Now that you have the option, you find yourself distinctly happy to be out of that dreck and inside where it's warm. Funny how not having a choice changes how you see things like that.
>3d10, best of three

Rolled 4, 5, 8 = 17 (3d10)

>>2618314

Rolled 7, 1, 3 = 11 (3d10)

>>2618314

Rolled 7, 7, 7 = 21 (3d10)

>>2618314

File: oooh.png (885 KB, 1356x705)

885 KB PNG

>>2618320
JACKPOT.
>tfw Noel prefers sleeping in the nude.
My kind of woman.

Good night, and thanks for running! Will catch up in the morning!

>>2618327
umm buddy? wrong quest?

>>2618331
He's going to bed because it's nighttime where he lives.

>>2618320
When you wake in the morning the weather is still wet, though the rain has grown no heavier overnight. You take a tentative sniff at your slip before deciding that you didn't perspire much if at all yesterday, so it still just smells like your perfume. The shirt, pants, and deel go back on, and you heft your sword over your shoulder and into its spring-steel retaining clip.

“Good morning,” Noventus bows politely, offering you a small bowl of oats and fruit.

“Thanks, but I didn't use any yōki yesterday,” you apologize. “So I'm not very hungry.”

You eat two spoonfuls anyway just to be polite.

“Speaking of yōki, one of my Lieutenants got word of something unusual,” the general informs you.

“Unusual how?”

“Several horses belonging to a prominent local noble were found mutilated,” Noventus explains. “Or so the rumor goes. It also describes the blood as 'oceans' and threats written in the poor beasts' entrails, so who knows what the actual truth is.”

“Who indeed,” you sigh. These sorts of rumors pop up every now and then, and rarely have much truth to them. But when they do have some truth to them... that's when one of you is usually called in.

>I'll go and confirm the details, but it doesn't sound like a yōma.
>Sometimes yōma do make things personal. I'll investigate it.
>I'm not especially interested. Sorry, but this is a civil matter.
>Other?

>>2618352
>I'll go and confirm the details, but it doesn't sound like a yōma.

>>2618352
>>I'll go and confirm the details, but it doesn't sound like a yōma.

>>2618352
>I'll go and confirm the details, but it doesn't sound like a yōma.
>other: you got an umbrella I can borrow?

>>2618352
>>I'll go and confirm the details, but it doesn't sound like a yōma.

>>2618352
>>I'll go and confirm the details, but it doesn't sound like a yōma.

>>2618352
“I'll admit my curiosity,” you muse quietly, “though this doesn't sound like the work of a yōma. I'll go confirm the details and whether or not a yōma was involved, then report back. And I'll need an umbrella.”

You follow the directions that Noventus dictates to you, which take you out to the edge of town where the buildings are further between and the plots of land wider. You can tell those houses who style themselves 'horse lords' from the peasants by the imposing walls, their tendency being to build vertically for effect rather than fill up precious arable and grazing land with elaborate walls and sprawling halls.

The one you're looking for is a great spire of lightly-colored stone rising some four floors from its hard grey foundations, with two obvious phases to its construction. An effective use of space and material, if self-defense were placed just more highly than practicality and well above any notion of comfort. The proper word for it isn't 'castle' or 'fortress', but 'tower-house'.

In the green and tawny grasses before the tower-house you find the commotion you were looking for. The smell of blood, the sound of angry rabble... this is certainly a place where something bad happened.

But you don't get any sense that there was ever a yōma involved.

You work your way into the throng of locals, outraged at what they've seen, trying to get a closer look.
>3d10, best of three

Rolled 8, 8, 7 = 23 (3d10)

>>2618465
DETECTIVE NOEL IS ON THE CASE

File: Ballyportry_Tower_House.jpg (78 KB, 512x640)

78 KB JPG

>>2618465
Forgot I had an image of what I had in mind.

Rolled 9, 6, 10 = 25 (3d10)

>>2618465
Dice!

Rolled 4, 9, 4 = 17 (3d10)

>>2618465

Rolled 3, 1, 6 = 10 (3d10)

>>2618465

>>2618479
Nicely done!

File: Detective_Noel_is_on_the_(...).jpg (170 KB, 484x471)

170 KB JPG

>>2618471
>>2618479

>>2618465
What you can see from where you're standing in the middle of the crowd, hair and eyes hidden by a cloak with a deep hood, makes it clear that this was no yōma attack. The butchery markings are too shallow for how broad they are... a yōma would probably have torn these animals asunder, leaving deeper and cleaner wounds. But these horses have been eviscerated by multple blows, leaving their detached limbs ragged at the edges and the openings in their torsos irregular for their length.

In short? Someone with not much more upper body strength than a reasonably fit man killed these horses with a large axe.

And yet, with the rumors of Anren still fresh on the peoples' minds, many of them assume the worst.

“You don't think...”

“What else could have done something so horrible?”

“Absolutely monstrous. It's barbaric!”

“Has to be yōma, like in Anren...”

“Are we next?”

“How do we contact the Organization?”

“Has it gotten so bad?”

“I hear one of their Claymores was through here, got 'erself killed.”

“Killed? One of them? They're practically monsters themselves.”

“And the yōma what killed her would be an even worse monster.”

“Could it be the same one?”

“Who knows, who knows...”

>Actually, I know. I'm the warrior you're talking about.
>This was no yōma attack, everyone calm down.
>Not my problem. I'll report this to Noventus though.
>Other?

>>2618507
>Other?
Everyone calm down, this was no yōma attack.
I'm here to investigate this incident on General Noventus's orders.

>>2618507
>>Not my problem. I'll report this to Noventus though.

>>2618515
I've been sent here*

>>2618507
>>2618515

>>2618507
>>2618515
this.
>This was no yōma attack, everyone calm down.
>other: I've been sent here to investigate this incident on General Noventus's orders.

>>2618507
>>This was no yōma attack, everyone calm down.

>>2618507
>>2618515
In with this guy.

>3d10, dc 19, critical 24

Rolled 3, 7, 9 = 19 (3d10)

>>2618568
oof. public speaking. Lets hope Noel remembers those courtly lessons.

Rolled 8, 1, 9 = 18 (3d10)

>>2618568

Rolled 1, 2, 8 = 11 (3d10)

>>2618568

>>2618574
She's a little rusty, but not too bad?

so remind me why are we going through the trouble of keeping Noel's identity a secret from her people?

>>2618596
Organization kill teams.

>>2618596
It might lead to a revolution and destabilize the country. The organization would also through a hissy fit. They want her to be a killslave not a ruler.

>>2618596
Oh another reason, we cannot actually ensure the continuation of our line.

in Normal CLaymores, they may as well be barren given how their insides are technically outside, and while we don't have that disadvantage, we could still very easily awaken via childbirth. And the drugs won't work on us because lol regen. Which would also make the whole thing even messier.

>>2618596
1. Claymores are supposed to throw away their old lives when they are made
2. Noel is actually quite popular with the people and her return would majorly destabilize the country, leading to civil unrest and even potential civil war. All of which is prime grounds for Youma to revel in
3. Noel does not want to make a fuzz
4. Noel feels that she is in no position to announce her return.

>>2618653
Drugs? In this timeperiod?

>>2618658
The island were in seems to be way more advanced than the island that the cannon takes place. I would not be surprised if the people here knew about morphine and other opioids.

>>2618568
“This wasn't a yōma attack,” you declare, drawing attention from all around you.

“And how do you know, girl?” the horse-lord himself, at least judging by his fine, bordering on opulent clothing, demands.

“Because the bone is clearly crushed and the tendons had to be severed after the attacker got through the rest of each limb,” you point out. “No yōma could be so lacking in physical power. My guess is that a man did this with a large axe, and it took him some time to do so.”

“And the threats?” the horse-lord quizzes you. “There were threats spelled out in entrails and blood!”

“Why would a yōma bother?” you dismiss his question entirely. “They only play with humans before eating them. I can't tell that these horses have been eaten in the slightest.”

“Then how do you explain all this?”

You shrug. “That, sir, is not my concern. I was sent here to establish the facts of the matter and report them back to General Noventus. I suspect you will be hearing from him as a matter of regular security... someone apparently hates you enough to want to make this dramatic of a point.”

And with that, you excuse yourself amidst a wave of muttered questions and bemused commentary. This was hardly what you would call a good use of your time, but short of actually having a mission to pursue and yōma to kill you would just be growing bored sitting around inside instead.

When you return to the fortress it's around noon, and you still can't sense so much as the faintest traces of yōki anywhere within several miles. Which is good... but it also means more boredom.

>Settle in for the afternoon and read. Not even just the training book, but actual pleasure reading too.
>Stop by Brutus' shop, see how his work has been progressing since you dropped off your project.
>Return to Noventus' office, keep your ears open for potential side work to carry out.
>Other?

>Sorry for the delay, real life interfered

>>2618679
>>Stop by Brutus' shop, see how his work has been progressing since you dropped off your project.

>>2618679
>Stop by Brutus' shop, see how his work has been progressing since you dropped off your project.

>>2618679
>>Stop by Brutus' shop, see how his work has been progressing since you dropped off your project.

>>2618679
>>Stop by Brutus' shop, see how his work has been progressing since you dropped off your project.

>>2618679
>>Settle in for the afternoon and read. Not even just the training book, but actual pleasure reading too.

>>2618679
>3d10, best of TWO

Rolled 9, 9, 4 = 22 (3d10)

>>2618744

Rolled 4, 2, 1 = 7 (3d10)

>>2618744

Rolled 4, 4, 5 = 13 (3d10)

>>2618744

>>2618744
You decide to pay a call at Brutus' shop, more out of curiosity and boredom than any actual expectations of progress.

The front shop is so warm that it's practically steamy, the heat from the forge in back washing over you as you pull off the heavy cloak and hang it on a peg on the wall. After a few minutes of waiting, Brutus himself shows up at the front.

“Aye, lass,” he greets you, wiping a mix of sweat and soot off his brow. “Yer back soon. You movin' on sooner than you thought?”

“No,” you shake your head. “Quite the opposite problem I'm afraid.”

“Yer bored.”

“Painfully.”

“Well, not much ta look at as yet,” Brutus admits candidly. “Though I did get my forge hot enough ta soften that chunk a steel ya left me... wasn't an easy thing neither. Stuff's tougher than anythin' I've ever worked before, almost ruined my furnace tryin' ta get 'er hot enough. But I manged ta hammer off some strips with a chisel head an' the water-hammer in back, so I'm fiddlin' with those just now.”

“Amazin' that it ever broke in the first place.”

“Clearly it was possible after all,” you sigh. But to your surprise, it seems that's not what Brutus had in mind.

“Everythin's got a breakin' point, lass,” he insists. “This stuff? It's crazy how well it dissipates force given how hard it is. There's somethin' not normal 'bout it... but it ain't perfect. See, when you strike it, the whole thing kinda... resonates. A bit like a bell, but not nearly as strong. Real subtle-like. You'd barely even notice if you knew what to look for. Thought I was goin' crazy at first.”

“And this resonance is what contributed to its failure?” you ask for the sake of clarification.

“Not quite,” he admits. “Sa bit more complicated. See, there was a tiny impurity on the edge of the crack.”

“And so an impact opened a crack, which was propagated by the vibration?”

“Agin, not quite,” Brutus insists. “But damn close. See, what yer missin' is the sheer amount of force it'd need to crack this damn thing in half. Nothin' short of the world endin' could do that... least, not in one shot.”

“This was gradual?”

“My guess is whatever broke it was hammerin' on it for a good long while,” Brutus suggests. “An with somethin' at least as hard.”

So... was Saria deliberately trying to break her sword by exploiting this impurity in the steel that Brutus noticed? Or was it more a question of her beating on it hard enough that the crack appeared well away from where she was hitting it?

>I see. That's somewhat troubling news.
>Can you take a moment to examine my edge?
>So... can you replicate the finish?
>Other?

>>2618843
>>I see. That's somewhat troubling news.
>>Can you take a moment to examine my edge?

>>2618843
>Can you take a moment to examine my sword edge?
That wording threw me off.
>other: do you need any help with the forging? A spare pair of hands wouldn't hurt.
Also a good way to kill the boredom. plus FORGING MONTAGE and King doing some very descriptive scenes of forging and hammering.

>>2618843
>>Can you take a moment to examine my edge?

>>2618843
Other: Yeah, that pretty much matches up to what happened. Each of her strikes were capable of crumbling the earth where she struck, and i was using the blade as a shield.

>>2618843
>>2618872
This. Helping Brutus would pass the time in a productive way.

>>2618843
>>Can you take a moment to examine my edge?

>>2618872
This, let's ask if he needs or would want an assistant.

>>2618843
“Would you mind taking a moment to examine my own edge?” you ask. “No sense rebuilding the guard like this if the blade itself has a fatal flaw.”

Brutus gestures to you, and you hand him your blade. He examines it carefully, angling it under natural light and under the light of a candle, he slides the edge of his fingernail along its metal. It seconds pass into minutes of scraping, tilting, and even lightly flicking. Eventually he shakes his head and hands it back to you.

“There's a single flaw in yer blade, but it's nowhere near tha edge,” he reports. “It's more likely that an attack powerful enough ta seriously damage this blade'll shatter all yer bones first.”

“I guess that's good to hear,” you muse. “And it sounds like unless I let someone deliberately try to break my blade it wouldn't likely shatter under combat stresses anyway.”

“No, I'd imagine it's not likely ta.”

“Need any help?” you ask.

Brutus shakes his head. “My forgin' setup's meant fer one, an' it's not a job fer a rookie. Yer heart's inna right place, but best let me do my job, yeah?”

“Fair enough,” you reply, admitting defeat. “I'll be sure to arrange something if I'm obliged to leave town.”

You spend the rest of the afternoon studying, putting in some light practice with your strangely off-balance blade, and then you take some time after the garrison has taken their evening meal to practice your footwork. It feels like you're just shy of figuring out something useful from your studies, not just a mimicry but a synthesis. But for now, that breakthrough remains frustratingly elusive.

What is it you're missing...

It's that thought which fills your mind as you fall asleep.
>1/2

>>2618997
>What is it you're missing...
>It's that thought which fills your mind as you fall asleep.
Oh hey, *that's* where that shoe went...

>>2618997
You arise just after dawn.

Taking a few minutes to see to things you wash your face, your hair, and your body in a small washroom the officers seem to be leaving empty for your use. Your Hazari outfit goes on, and you head back into the washroom to clean your teeth.

“Long time no see, Noel.”

The voice and the face in the mirror are enough to provoke a startled cry as you pelt your handler with your toothbrush. “Dammit Tomas, don't just sneak up on people like that in the bathroom! Let alone a lady!”

“If I see a lady I'll be sure to ask for your esteemed advice,” Tomas smirks. “The Hazari style suits you.”

“That shouldn't be a surprise,” you counter. “So what's the latest from the Organization? I've been out of contact for more than a week now.”

“Same as usual,” he admits. “Really not all that much changed when we thought you were dead.”

“Not surprised,” you shrug.

“I was rather upset you know,” Tomas insists with a little grin. “Really. I mourned.”

“How could anyone tell,” you grumble.

“True, I always wear black out of habit,” he admits. “But this time I was wearing it in your memory, I swear.”

“I take it you have a mission for me,” you press, changing the subject.

Tomas nods. “And it's a good thing you have something to wear other than your uniform. We're sending you to Skansen.”

“Skansen?” you repeat. The island capital of Morbian, to the southeast... Skansen is a series of islands set in a large freshwater lake formed by the meeting of two large rivers born in the mountains of Cerces and Kun. It's a thriving city, a hub of regional trade. Perfectly located both for being accessible by waterway and to be protected from land invasion.

“What cause draws me so far out of my territory?” you press.

“That is the interesting part of this mission,” Tomas grins. “It suits you perfectly.

“And why's that?”

“There's been a reported yōma attack on the King's islet,” your handler explains. “An islet where by law all weapons are prohibited. And so we're sending our best warriors at fighting without the use of their sword.

“Don't disappoint me now."

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>>2619069
And with this image I forgot to add, it's time to call it. 1am and I need to be in the office earlyish tomorrow.

Thanks for turning out, hope you enjoyed, and next week we'll get on to the new mission. Be prepared to see a familiar face...

>>2619069
... This reeks of a trap and I am glad we had a huge breakthrough with White Fist.

>>2619083
You got a sleepin' loicense ya wanker?

>>2619107
Saria's sacrifice was never in vain.
But then how will the yoma react to smelling Noel walking up partially WOKE?
>>2619069
This feels very awfully contrived. So many coincidences and of all things for the organization to pull on Noel. And looks like Noel gets to have something else than her business uniform. Hooray for wardrobe expansions!
>>2619120
yes. he is a normie by weekdays.

>>2619127
Won't be particularly different than their reactions to normal claymores.

now if it's an AB? We'll draw notice hard.

>>2619161
>“An islet where by law all weapons are prohibited. And so we're sending our best warriors at fighting without the use of their sword.
wait. there's more than one claymore who good at something other than SWORD?

>>2619172
Well, Olivia can basically cancer touch at will.

>>2619183
besides olivia.

>>2619235
We'll see won't we?

I have this theory that the Organization does not want claymores that are able to fight effectively without the swords the organization provide. Swords that just HAPPEN to have a single flaw that could be exploited with strong enough vibrations. So what to do when one or more of your supersoldiers show sings of developing a fighting style that makes the swords obsolete?

>>2619083
>>2619069
>“An islet where by law all weapons are prohibited. And so we're sending our best warriors at fighting without the use of their sword."

....are we about to be entered into Mortal Kombat or Tekken? And either way can we claim the title of Queen of the Iron Fist?

>>2619653
>muffled mortal kombat cries in the distance.

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>>2619653

>>2619653
A fighting Tournament where the last opponent turns out to be a Yoma and it becomes the most flashiest fight of the century would be pretty cool.

>>2619390
There's more to that. The fact that there are nations that have developed technology capable of mass-producing early iterations of the rifle implies there's an arms race between the organization and the countries on this continent. Fear of both yoma and claymore has pushed muggle technology. And the advancement of said tech is pushing the org to take more desperate measures in order to stay relevant. Which is heavily implied in the conversation between Noel and Noventus.

>>2618843
>“My guess is whatever broke it was hammerin' on it for a good long while,” Brutus suggests. “An with somethin' at least as hard.”

So Saria made the same deal with Fiore as she did with Noel.

>>2620427
We'll earn the moniker 'One Punch Woman'.

>>2620889
And then we get stalked by a bunch of plucky humans who all aspire to be trained by us.
Cue the silly music when we have to balance between doing our job and having to bail their collective asses out of the fire while Tomas laughs his ass off in the background.

>>2620903
I beT one guy is somehow not normal and seems to be way to serious

>>2620889
>So Saria made the same deal with Fiore as she did with Noel.
That's not the implication there at all, and the explicit explanation by Saria was that she accidentally killed Fiore far too quickly.

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>>2619069
“I'm going to need more details about this,” you insist before Tomas can stroll off leaving you still, for the most part, in the dark about your assignment.

“I thought I had made the situation clear,” Tomas frowns.

“You said warriors, plural,” you observe. “If we're being expected to work as a team, there should be a meeting point?”

“That's correct,” Tomas admits with a smile. “My apologies, I'm afraid I was already getting quite used to the idea of an early retirement. My mistake.”

“You will be meeting your partner for this mission in the river port of Fumaiolo within the next two weeks. Her handler will fill you in on the other relevant details... as I had no warrior in my charge when the mission was first planned I was not privy to all of the information you see.”

“I see,” you grumble. “I rarely get the impression that the Organization plans its missions on the spur of the moment, but this time feels different. Is there some other reason why the Organization wants me to go in particular beyond what they've told you?”

“That is none of your concern, thirteen,” Tomas chides you, “and you would do well not to ask too many questions. Other handlers are not so fond of conversation as I am.”

“By the way, how is it you plan to reach Fumaiolo?”

“There are a few options,” you sigh, considering them in your mind. “There's a trade route that runs the length of the mountains from Tarsus to Edessa, but it's rarely traveled anymore. The weather can shift at a moment's notice, and the road can be poor in places. Those spots inevitably become ambush points.”

“Though such a road would be the most direct approach,” Tomas points out.

You nod in agreement. “It would. The alternative would be to travel to the port of Talje, on the Tarsan-Bretonnian border. From there any number of options could follow the south coast to Ostia, from longships up to clippers.”

“You would resort to a longship?” Tomas muses. “Are you certain you were once a princess?”

“A longship can't be becalmed,” you shrug, “and it takes no time at all to load and unload them in port. So my understanding is that their trips usually involve prearranged short legs carrying goods along the coast. The volume of trade done in that way also guarantees you won't have to wait around long, while clippers only run once every few days.”

“And if it stops in Audiern you lose several days that way.”
>1/2

>>2638630
you accidentally took the eraser tool to the name shukzan in your map

>>2638640
it's still legible!

>>2638630
>I prefer to walk and ideally get there quickly. Any of the variables that may come up along the road I'm more than equipped to deal with personally.
>A longship might be slower but it will take a more or less known amount of time. No need to mess around with complicated clipper schedules.
>The clipper ships are probably fast enough to make up for time lost waiting in port, and they're less prone to weather damage than longships.
>Other?

>>2638640
And I'm far too lazy to go back and touch it up.

Besides, it adds character.

>>2638648
>>A longship might be slower but it will take a more or less known amount of time. No need to mess around with complicated clipper schedules.
WE'RE ON A BOAT

>>2638657
dear lord not the Berserk boat ride.

>>2638648
>>The clipper ships are probably fast enough to make up for time lost waiting in port, and they're less prone to weather damage than longships.

I'M ON A BOAT, BITCH!

>>2638648
>A longship might be slower but it will take a more or less known amount of time. No need to mess around with complicated clipper schedules.

>>2638657
Supporting LONGBOAT ride
This isn't going to bite us, ... no ... of course not ...

>>2638677
Meant to link to >>2638648 too of course

>>2638648
>other: snark back at Tomas "besides, have you ever seen me on a horse?"
>other: Can I keep my clothes? Do I have to take my sword with me? Am I allowed a backpack to keep the spare uniform you so generously gave me to replace my other burnt uniform?
>other: I know a guy.
>A longship might be slower but it will take a more or less known amount of time. No need to mess around with complicated clipper schedules.

We can use our connections with Lawrence to vouch with him. He can arrange transportation for us. And for our finished quillion once Brutus is finished with it. Have the quillion shipped to Fumaiolo or Skansen.

>>2638648
>The clipper ships are probably fast enough to make up for time lost waiting in port, and they're less prone to weather damage than longships

>>2638648
“I think the longship has several advantages,” you assert. “First and foremost I won't have to waste time waiting around in port. Any ship heading to the east making calls at any point will do, and I can make arrangements as I go if need be.”

“It's also quite a bit cheaper,” Tomas grins, holding out a small bag for you to take. Inside you find a heap of small gold coins: more than adequate to get you to Skansen and back, though with less to spare at the end if you took a clipper. “This is your budget for this mission.”

“You read my mind,” you admit your curiosity at the amount. “Should I be trying to blend in as a civilian?”

“That is the intention,” Tomas nods. “Though your partner's situation may be different.”

“I see,” you nod. “Then I'd best be off. What will you do in the mean time?”

“I will remain here in Baiko,” Tomas tells you calmly. “I will keep an eye on your sword, and ensure that your repaired crossguard is properly fitted to it.”

“Thank you,” you nod, a little surprised that he's willing to remain here for who knows how long just to make sure your little side project, which you're not even sure the Organization would officially approve of, is completed. And he definitely doesn't have to do it, either.

Maybe he actually understands how important it is to you.

>3d10, best of three

Rolled 8, 10, 3 = 21 (3d10)

>>2638707

Rolled 9, 4, 10 = 23 (3d10)

>>2638707

Rolled 3, 10, 7 = 20 (3d10)

>>2638707

Rolled 1, 6, 6 = 13 (3d10)

>>2638707

>>2638707
It takes you a day and a half to walk to Talje.

By morning you've already walked out of the mountains of your home of Hazaran and into the rolling hills and fields of Bretonne, the region where Fiore used to serve. This place is fairly quiet compared to many other parts of the world, and when its proximity to the usual prowling grounds of not only the number 2 warrior but several higher-ranked double digit warriors in Tarsus is considered it makes sense that a warrior ranked in the mid twenties usually occupies this territory.

In theory at least, someone should always be available to make sure that a warrior like Fiore didn't get into too much trouble.

The roads are fairly well-traveled as you pass through the northwestern part of the district, whose border swelled into the foothills after a skirmish with Tarsus some thirty years ago. You can recall growing up listening to word of Bretonnian patrols straying into territory loosely claimed by Hazaran, which your father for the most part allowed. After all even you could scarcely tell when you actually crossed into Bretonne, and trade here doesn't exactly respect the border with any sort of religious fervor.

But when the patrols tried to penetrate deeper they found themselves bracketed by Hazari garrisons, and engaged not only by border reivers but by legions of regulars. Few returned to tell of their rout.

“It's so peaceful here,” you muse, taking a brief rest at a roadside inn to munch on a small snack. It seems to be similar to the pastry-wrapped mince pies you sometimes see in Hazaran, but with potato and vegetables instead, and with less spice.

“Our region has been stable for many years now,” the server admits, taking your coin with a nod and a resting smile that tells you he has no idea who or what you are. “We get the odd yōma attack, but for the most part it's like everyone's forgotten we're here. And that works for me.”

“I have to be going,” you excuse yourself, rising to head out once more. “But can you tell me how the weather has been on the south coast?”

“They say a storm has been brewing out over the water,” he replies, “though sailors will say a lot of things. So I don't know for sure, sorry.”

“Well, thanks anyway.”
>1/2

>>2638755
When you arrive on the outskirts of Talje, you're relieved that you can't sense any yōki... meaning the number twelve warrior isn't here right now. If she was she'd probably stop you and chew you out for some invented misstep or imagined slight that you'd committed against her, mostly because she likes to complain you think. Either that or she's been deliberately trying to provoke you: sometimes stupidity and belligerence are difficult to tell apart.

As you head downslope towards the waterfront you can begin to smell the briny scent of the sea, and everywhere you can hear the gulls crying. People here are busier than they are inland, and large barrows laden with goods head up and down the streets from one business to the next. Shipping warehouses to porters to workshops to vendors... some things from here, others from far away. Strangely-scented fruits, pungent spices, the sweet smell of unprocessed sugars, the heady smell of beer being served to thirsty horse-drivers... probably not the best of plans, really.

Finally you arrive at a neighborhood of old, fancy brickwork and finely-wrought metal signs: the merchant quarter. Here you'll find the owners of boats that travel from the coast of Sakia all the way down to the east end of Aquitan, and everywhere in-between. Anything can go anywhere for a price, and anything that can be sold can be bought here.

You stop in at a moderately-sized but clean shopfront, where a gray book-keeper sits at a counter with a pen in hand, adjusting his spectacles.

“Can I help you, young lady?” he asks, peering at you over the top of the frames for his thick lenses.

“I'm not from around here, so I'm sorry if this isn't your area of expertise,” you begin, opening with an admission of uncertainty to fish for something like sympathy from the man. “But I would like to pay for passage to Ostia on a longship.”

“You are at one of many possible 'right places', in that case,” he replies, making a few scratches in a ledger-book. “A few of our longships carry passengers from one port of call to another, though we rarely have requests for such a long journey by such a slow method.”

“I have my reasons to consider,” you nod, acknowledging that your request may well be unusual. “But can it be done?”

“We have partners in Ostia, and all along the south coast,” the book-keeper informs you. “Though I hope you are not expecting a direct journey.”

“Only the fastest possible,” you insist. “If it means switching boats a few times that's fine.”

“Very good then,” he nods. “I can have a writ of passage for you shortly, feel free to kill the time as you please, but be back within the hour.”

>Stay here, read.
>Take a look around town, you've never been here.
>Go down to the water, you haven't seen the ocean in years.
>Other?

>>2638803
>Go down to the water, you haven't seen the ocean in years.

>>2638803
>stay here and read our book on martial arts, but don't practice since people will see and ask questions

>>2638803
>Go down to the water, you haven't seen the ocean in years.

>>2638803
>Take a look around town, you've never been here.
We'll see enough of the ocean soon anyway.

>>2638803
>Go down to the water, you haven't seen the ocean in years.

>>2638803
>Go down to the water, you haven't seen the ocean in years.

>>2638803
>other: find a nice spot on the beach to read.

>>2638803
Can't we sit and read a little at the shore?
Otherwise I vote for reading

>>2638843
We can probably do that when we get there.

>>2638803
>>Go down to the water, you haven't seen the ocean in years.

>>2638803
Outside the shop you turn left, and walk down an alleyway towards the water. It's only a minute or two before you step out onto a street that runs right along the shoreline, which is where the land rather upsettingly seems to terminate in rocks and shortly thereafter water. There's no actual 'beach' here to be found, but that makes a certain amount of sense. This whole area must be reclaimed shallows, leaving plenty of water for boats with a deeper draught to maneuver themselves to a dock.

Many more smaller craft can pull into one of the numerous piers which line the far side of the road, masted ships and rowed ships of all shapes and sizes. But particularly numerous are the clinker-built longships, which all share a similar design though they differ in size and beam.

One has only just pulled in, and its crew are hauling... those are live pigs. They sailed with live pigs aboard.

That's got to smell awful after a while.

You half-consider heading back to beg the book-keeper to pick a ship that won't have livestock aboard, but instead you eventually resolve to take a long bath and coat yourself in perfume when you reach Ostia should the worst come of it.

Instead you find yourself taking a seat in a small cafe, clearly intended to serve the locals working to support the shipping and fishing fleets, and sip a cup of coffee while flipping through your book.

The busy people of Talje pass you by, paying you no notice, while you commit a few more pages to memory...
>3d10, best of two

Rolled 6, 8, 7 = 21 (3d10)

>>2638900

Rolled 9, 10, 4 = 23 (3d10)

>>2638900

Nice.

Rolled 4, 9, 2 = 15 (3d10)

>>2638900

Goddamned what is with the rolls today? Bad Luck Noel my ass.

>>2638930
Shh!

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1.29 MB JPG

>>2638900
You don't have much time to spend flipping through the book, but you find a section of text that deals entirely with communicating during training: in it are the hand signs for combat-related concepts such as 'attack', 'defend', as well as types of strike such as 'kick' and 'slash'. Given your line of work those are important concepts to be able to get across.

You also find a section of text in tiny print relating to the proper movements for sheathing a sword quickly without cutting yourself.

“Interesting,” you mutter, making a mental note to return to this page at some point. Being able to rapidly sheath your claymore to more easily strike with your fists is an interesting prospect, though it would have to be matched by equally dedicated training in drawing the sword swiftly from your back. To your knowledge no warrior particularly excels at that style of combat, since it was intended for a single-edged, curved blade drawn from the hip.

Who knows, at this point.

Eventually you find yourself retrieving a carefully-written writ from the shop detailing that you wish to travel from Talje to Ostia and aren't picky about how many stops you make.

“I suggest talking to Thorbold,” the book-keeper tells you as you arrange payment details: sixty crowns, or about a month's unskilled wage, half of which is to be collected at Ostia. “His ship is the Snekkja, a long ship with a figurehead of the twin goddesses and a red sail.”

“Is that an uncommon combination?” you ask.

The man shakes his head. “Somewhat. Mostly you'll know it's Thorbold because Thorbold is impossible to miss. Man has a physique like a small mountain and one eye.”

“Understood,” you nod. “Thank you.”

True to the book-keeper's words, Thorbold really is impossible to miss... you can hear him long before you can see him, and you can see him from about the same distance as you might be able to see the peak of a mountain.

“Ah, and what do we have here!?” Thorbold booms when he sees a prospective passenger walking towards him. “A Hazari all the way out here on the ocean, what a pleasant surprise!”

“I've just booked passage to Ostia,” you explain, showing him the writ.

He reads it with some amusement. “You know you'll be on longships, dear? Not one of those fancy new clippers?”

“Worked for my father and his father,” you shrug. “It should be fine for me.”

“Now that's the kinda talk I like to hear!” Thorbold laughs deeply. “I've always heard Hazari women are made of sterner stuff. Welcome aboard the Snekkja, young lady, it'll be my pleasure to take you as far east as the Skerries.”

The Skerries... if memory serves, that's in the eastern half of Audiern.

>How many stops will we be making, and for how long?
>Will you help ensure my onward travel from the Skerries goes smoothly?
>Quietly let him know who you are, suggest a bonus if he arrives ahead of schedule.
>Other?

>>2638996
>Will you help ensure my onward travel from the Skerries goes smoothly?

>>2638996
>Will you help ensure my onward travel from the Skerries goes smoothly?

>>2638996
>Will you help ensure my onward travel from the Skerries goes smoothly?
>offer to arm wrestle him and buy him a pint before we sail off

>>2638996
>Will you help ensure my onward travel from the Skerries goes smoothly?

>>2638996
>>How many stops will we be making, and for how long?

>>2638996
>>How many stops will we be making, and for how long?

>>2638996
>How many stops will we be making, and for how long?
>other: offer to arm wrestle him.

>>2638996
>How many stops will we be making, and for how long?

>>2638996
“How many stops will we be making?” you ask.

Thorbold considers it for a few seconds. “Three, we're moving some cargo. Shouldn't be more than a few hours' job at each port.”

“And would you mind helping me find a ship from the Skerries eastward?” you press, bringing up the one possible sticking point with this plan: if you can't get out of the Skerries with this writ you've bought, that could cost you some serious time.

“I know a few fast ships that run out of there,” Thorbold scratches at his stubble. “Sure, I can give you a hand.”

“I appreciate it,” you nod. “Very well, I shall be in your capable hands, Thorbold.”

“And I'll be sure not to capsize us or run us aground!” Thorbold laughs. “Relax, lady... or at least as much as you can. This may not be the most comfortable way of doing it, but I'll get you where you need to go.”

He wasn't lying.

Your resting place ends up being at the bow of the boat, looking back at the crew in their rowing positions and Thorbold at the rudder well aft. Were you not so used to sleeping propped up against trees, your own sword, or in the best of times an actual wall you might have been miserable. But no, it's the continual swaying of the boat that gets to you after a while, makes you want to just close your eyes and ignore everything that's going on around you.

The cargo below your feet and below the rowers' benches keeps the ship from rolling too much, and you don't really notice it in the sheltered harbor while the crew rows out into open water, but then the sails unfurl...

>3d10, best of two
>DC 19

Rolled 6, 3, 7 = 16 (3d10)

>>2639097

Rolled 8, 7, 2 = 17 (3d10)

>>2639097

Rolled 5, 2, 5 = 12 (3d10)

>>2639097
We are so gonna hurl

Oh, There's the bad luck...

>>2639097
“It's alright,” one of the crewmen assures you after the sun has gone down. “It happens more often than you might think, especially if it's your first time out.”

You stare at him in the dim, unable to even work up the energy to hate him.

The night is dark and cloudy, with no moon or stars to navigate by, so Thorbold keeps close to the coast and lets the wind propel the Snekkja quietly through the night. Thankfully your stomach is now totally empty, so you physically can't vomit anymore, and you use that respite to try and steal a little sleep before the sun comes up.

The next day it rains from dawn until dusk, so dark and thick you can hardly tell where you are based on the coastline. You have no concept of how fast you're going, how much progress you've made, or how far the nearest place to put ashore might be. All you know is that if you huddle under your waxed fabric coat you can keep from getting too wet from the rain, and oddly the prow of the longship splits enough of the spray that you don't have to contend with that.

But you can't read to pass the time, since your book would likely be destroyed by this kind of weather if you tried to take it out.

On the second day one of the kindlier crewmen offers you something to eat...
>3d10, dc 18
>best of two

Rolled 7, 2, 2 = 11 (3d10)

>>2639162

Rolled 5, 4, 9 = 18 (3d10)

>>2639162

>>2639171
Clutch.

>>2639162
You cautiously accept the small meal of rice crackers and salted pork, eating it with a little bit of rainwater to wash it down. Thankfully, although your stomach does complain it seems like you manage to hold the food down.

“Thank you,” you grumble, continuing to play up the fact that to this point you really have been quite ill. If you can keep the crew from realizing that you still don't eat anywhere near the portions of a normal human woman even after your semi-awakening, that works out to your favor in the end.

It's at noon on the third day that the Snekkja pulls into a harbor, barely-improved and consisting of little more than a few noosts worn into a gravel beach. The locals here seem to be farmers and herders, and the town itself is small: the largest building here is the church and that's only a single floor, discernible however by its angled roof.

Some of the rooves around it are actually thatch.

“How bout this weather!?” Thorbold booms with obvious delight at the continued rain and wind.

“Almost washed away my crop of cabbages last night!” one of the farmers shouts back as the locals set to work offloading the cargo the Snekkja has brought in.

>Offer to help unload, make a good image for yourself.
>Take some time to look at the two or three stores here, find something cheap and rugged to wear and a bag to stow your finer Hazari clothes in.
>Offer to speak to the trading company representative here on Thorbold's behalf. That's official business you can handle so he doesn't have to bother.
>Other?

>>2639241
>Offer to help unload, make a good image for yourself.

>>2639241
>Take some time to look at the two or three stores here, find something cheap and rugged to wear and a bag to stow your finer Hazari clothes in.

>>2639241
>Offer to help unload, make a good image for yourself.

>>2639241
>Take some time to look at the two or three stores here, find something cheap and rugged to wear and a bag to stow your finer Hazari clothes in.

>>2639241
>>Take some time to look at the two or three stores here, find something cheap and rugged to wear and a bag to stow your finer Hazari clothes in.

>>2639241
>>Take some time to look at the two or three stores here, find something cheap and rugged to wear and a bag to stow your finer Hazari clothes in.

>>2639241
>>Offer to help unload, make a good image for yourself.

>3d10, best of three

Rolled 6, 2, 5 = 13 (3d10)

>>2639316

Rolled 1, 8, 9 = 18 (3d10)

>>2639316

Rolled 7, 10, 3 = 20 (3d10)

>>2639316

Rolled 7, 4, 7 = 18 (3d10)

>>2639316

>>2639316
“I need to take care of something quickly,” you inform Thorbold. “I won't be gone long.”

“That's fine,” he assures you. “Gotta take on some cargo anyways.”

You head for the center of the village, and quickly find what you were looking for: a local who owns a loom and a spindle, and makes woolen clothes for their neighbors.

“I need to purchase a few things,” you announce, stepping into what looks like just the front room of their modest home.

“Well, look at you!” an older woman exclaims, looking up from her work. “I'll say... you're traveling with Thorbold then?”

“I am.”

“In a boat in your church clothes,” the woman chuckles.

“These are Hazari riding clothes,” you correct her.

“So you want something a little more durable,” she glances at you probingly. “Something you won't feel bad ruining.”

Ah... maybe she's insulted?

“Then you're in the right place!” she tells you, and you shake your head in disbelief. “The stuff I make's meant to be worn until it gives out, usually covered in mud and worse by the end of it.”

“Good to hear,” you nod. “Simple breeches and a shirt should do, and if you have a waxed cloth bag I'd like to stuff my riding clothes into it.”

“I think I can arrange something.”

Several minutes later you find yourself wearing woolen breeches and a simple cotton shirt, with your previous outfit tucked neatly into a protective bag. You were sure to have the spinner-woman glance away as you changed, feigning modesty but examining where your stigma was while undressed.

It seems there's no real sign of a problem around the sutures, which is good for the time being. If you removed them a 'spot inspection' could cause a problem for you: as things are you might just get away at a glance.

“You look much better dressed for what you're doing now,” the woman nods approvingly as you hand her a few coins more than she asked for. She tries to hand the excess back to you, but you're already at the door.

“Keep it,” you insist.

“Thank you kindly, ma'am.”

You offer a sly grin of your own. “Hey, it's not my money anyway.”
>1/2

>>2639419
The rain falls more gently now than it has been since that first miserable night, and after rowing out a few hundred yards with their newly-loaded cargo the crew of the Snekkja unfurls the sail once more and a stiff breeze propels you further along the coast.
>3d10, best of three

Rolled 9, 8, 8 = 25 (3d10)

>>2639429

Rolled 4, 4, 5 = 13 (3d10)

>>2639429

Rolled 5, 1, 4 = 10 (3d10)

>>2639429

>>2639429
The Snekkja cuts through the now-gentler waves for hour after hour, and though the weather remains stubbornly blustery it seems that the worst of it has passed well to the west of you. Over Thorbold's shoulder heavy, dark clouds tell you that the coast that direction is being battered by a powerful storm that you left just in time to escape the worst of.

“Seems someone grew her sea legs pretty quick!” Thorbold calls out over his crew to amused laughter all around.

“What can I say?” you smile back. “I guess I got tired of hanging over the gunnels.”

“Well, had to happen eventually,” one of the nearby crewmen chuckles.

The rest of the day passes more smoothly, and you graciously accept another offering of dried meat and dry crackers, along with something Thorbold clearly traded for at the last port: some sort of leafy greens that taste a little like lemons for some reason. Strange, but definitely to your taste.

“You should eat more.”

“I prefer not to tempt the fates,” you lie to the crewman who pointed out how little you've been eating.
>3d10, DC 18
>best of three

Rolled 1, 4, 10 = 15 (3d10)

>>2639515
aaaannnd the vomit begins again.

Rolled 1, 5, 2 = 8 (3d10)

>>2639515

the jig is bound to be up. we're going overboard gents.

Rolled 3, 2, 7 = 12 (3d10)

>>2639515

Piss.

>>2639515
You tempted the fates.

>>2639515
The next morning you pull in close towards the next stop, on day five of your voyage east.

Where it had been stormy, the weather has now given way to a thick, clinging mist that shrouds the whole coastline and extends well out to sea. You can hardly see when Thorbold puts his boat ashore, but you're immediately struck by how quiet it was compared to the last little village.

“Nobody came to greet us here,” you realize, staring ahead into the mist which obscures the buildings you know by Thorbold's account should be not too far from where you stand on the pebble shore. “It's quiet.”

“Maybe they weren't expecting us?” one of the crewmen offers.

Thorbold strokes his stubble thoughtfully. “We are ahead of schedule by a half-day.”

>You all stay here with the ship. I'll go on ahead... don't worry about me, I can take care of myself.
>I'll take a small group. Thorbold, you stay here and make ready to push off at a moment's notice.
>We should investigate the situation cautiously. I have a bad feeling about this.
>We should go. Now.

>>2639581
>You all stay here with the ship. I'll go on ahead... don't worry about me, I can take care of myself.

>>2639581
>>You all stay here with the ship. I'll go on ahead... don't worry about me, I can take care of myself.

>>2639581
>sense for Yoki
>We should go. Now.

>>2639581
>>I'll take a small group. Thorbold, you stay here and make ready to push off at a moment's notice.

>>2639586
>>2639587
If it's bandits there is NOTHING we can do about it. If it's an AB staying is suicide barring us getting lucky. we'd sense a youma by now.

>>2639581
>I'll take a small group. Thorbold, you stay here and make ready to push off at a moment's notice.

>>2639581
>>I'll take a small group. Thorbold, you stay here and make ready to push off at a moment's notice.

>>2639601
Remember what we did to the last group of bandits?

>>2639581
“I'll take a small group into town,” you declare. “Thorbold, you stay here and make ready to push off at a moment's notice.”

“I'll go...” Thorbold begins to insist, but you place a hand against his chest and effortlessly halt his momentum without so much as wavering: as if he'd walked headlong into a brick wall.

You stare him in the eyes, lowering your voice so only he can hear it. “You'll do as I say. This isn't negotiable.”

The man seems totally taken aback by your sudden change in tone, and by the surprising strength of your arm, relenting without argument.

“You, you, and you,” he orders, pointing to the first three oarmen he sees. “You go with her.”

“Any metal on you leave it here,” you order the three men, who glance back at Thorbold.

“Do it,” he confirms your order.

After leaving a few small items with their crewmates, your little group quietly moves up the pebble beach until your boots hit grass. Eventually you find a path in the mist that leads into the silent town, where you quickly realize what it is you're dealing with.

“What the hell is this?” one of the men with you gasps, covering his mouth.

One of the other sailors hisses at him to silence him, but you shake your head. “Don't bother. We're too late for it to matter.”

“Was it bandits?”

You approach the wall of what proves to be the town's general store, which has been spattered with a chaotic pattern of blood and what you suspect are little fragments of human bone. Upon closer inspection you find that you were right.

“No,” you tell them, turning away from the grisly scene before they get a chance to look closer... or to see what you caught a glimpse of through the window of the store. “Head back for the ship.”

“But we still don't,” one of the men begins.

“Go,” you repeat. “There's nothing any of us can do here now.”

Upon your return to the Snekkja, you pull Thorbold aside.

“What was this town called?” you ask him.

“This town is called Varkild,” he informs you.

“It's not anymore,” you glare over your shoulder. “Everyone who lived here has been slaughtered by yōma. At least one, maybe two. It's hard to say.”
>1/2

>>2639676
“Are you sure of that?” he asks tensely.

You nod. “Humans don't leave bits of skull embedded in the walls.”

“Damn,” he curses, almost looking as sick as you were a few days ago. “Horrible... absolutely horrible. There were women and children living here, and you're telling me they're all...”

“Put it out of your mind,” you suggest. “There's nothing you can achieve by worrying over it now.”

“I know that,” he insists, sounding as if he's trying to convince himself. “I know. But still...”

“Grieve if you must,” you shake your head. “But do it in your own time. Right now we need to put back to sea, put this behind us.”

>I need you to stop in the next major town. There's something I have to do.
>I need you to backtrack to the last town. They need to be warned.
>Continue as we were. The Organization will deal with this as it always does.
>Other?