File: Purps Bored.png (120 KB, 256x256)

120 KB PNG

>>2682207

A silence falls over the group, with determined expressions on every face. You are the first to break the growing quiet, the flatness of your voice underlying the gravitas of this situation; "I think Chiron has the right of it. We have some of the most gifted wizards in existence on site; we should use them."

"I concur." Inquisitor Tarth says, with the Headmistress joining us shortly and the portion of second and third year magic users who refused to evacuate we can put together multiple strong rituals with enough hands to maintain the barrier.

Chiron looks torn between smugness and frustration that the magic users are getting centre circle. "We need ta be certain the wizards won't erase any evidence of what went down."

"No need for concern. I will reinforce the wards on what's priceless and scry the orb's location." He lights up a cigarette, "Once we blow our load on these goblins we'll send in some of the fighters. Make sure we got 'em all. Secure the orb so I can figure out what's wrong with it."

Honamurei nods, "Vell, If I am to go in I vill be visible." She begins walking off without you. "I vill make preparations in case zey escape. Call me if I am needed."

"Of course we will." Inquisitor Tarth booms, she looks at the scarred old orc at her side, "Zar, any beasts of burden you can provide would be appreciated."

"Doctor Lexington, please come with me and we will evaluate our best options for this ritual and maintaining the barrier." Inquisitor Tarth marches off with Doc Lexington, the old man leaving a thin trail of smoke behind him.

They leave, talking about magical theorems and logistical demands. For the first time since this all started nobody is looking at you for a decision. The fate of the battle isn't squarely on your shoulders and ability; whether martial or as a leader. It's an empty feeling realising that you're not really necessary for the next part of this plan.

> Chiron is milling around. Maybe you could talk to her.

> Go after Hona

> Find somewhere to smoke and pet Fox

> Walk the barrier

> Walk amongst the Inquisition Men

>>2682209
>> Walk the barrier

>>2682315

Giving another fifteen minutes.

>>2682209
Find somewhere to smoke and pet Fox

>>2682315

Writing.

File: ofcourse.gif (640 KB, 500x249)

640 KB GIF

>>2682378
>>2682315

Motherfucker. Waiting on Tiebreaker

>>2682384
barrier time

>>2682393
>>2682378
>>2682315

Writing god damnit.

>>2682209
Smoke and pet fox

File: Purps Intense.jpg (19 KB, 210x240)

19 KB JPG

>>2682393
>>2682378
>>2682315
>>2682420

Without much to do you work your way through the quieter parts of the makeshift camp. Your only company are those who are either just arriving or running for supplies. Such a hectic gathering of men and women should be chaos to you; almost indecipherable to someone who has not warred or served.

Instead navigating the tent city is like second nature to you and the many voices speaking to each other are almost reassuring.

The hushed voices of veterans gossipping about superiors and their doubts, the fearful cries of the wounded, even the angry voices of the bloodthirsty youths ignite little flickers of golden light on your skin as a warm glow of contented comfort stirs in your belly.

The barrier, silvergreen as most of Vernon Lexington's magic, is much less peaceful to you. Such an impossibly thin barrier almost makes you question all of your experience with the old Archpriest and has small parts of you worrying about the strength of his protection.

After all how could such a thin dome be anything more than a trifle to penetrate. On the inside of the dome all of those talons, claws and spitting mandibles test the magical field. But more than that the thousands of drones blind you all to whatever the deceptively cunning creatures are plotting within. Those blues had horribly strategic minds in their serpentine skulls and while you move forward with your plan they might be moving forward with their own.

Each step around the barrier serves to give you distance and perspective, the Inquisitor and Survival teacher called this an "infestation." That implies these things can both fester and spread. Do the blues have some kind of spore reproduction? Egg laying? Are the Praetorians some kind of Alpha leader? They have the brute strength of a dragon after all, it is difficult to imagine what they could take a backseat to.

What's more, this was unleashed by Vernon, or more accurately Lexington's portal device. From what was discussed in the camp, it seems wherever those goblins came from wasn't the first place the portal opened to.

As you finish a lap of the caravanassery's courtyard, you're left with one question to ponder; what exactly happened to unleash this infestation.

> Lex did it deliberately.

> The device is faulty.

> Someone tampered with the device.

> This reeks of God bullshit

> Write-In your theory

>>2682495
Lex did it deliberately.
The headmaster asked hi. To do it as this is a traning thing

>>2682620
This.

>>2682495
>This reeks of God bullshit

File: Purps and Hona Cook.gif (1.74 MB, 366x295)

1.74 MB GIF

Shill stuff:

Tw: @StarbornQ

Discord Invite: [Temporarily REDACTED]
Lewd/Extra Content Pastebin: http://pastebin.com/u/StarbornOP

Starborn Thread 0: https://yuki.la/qst/486356
Starborn Archive: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=Purps
Starborn CS: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1csg7vC-Yz10aAqk9ZwdCNv24obLGTtM5p6bKkPq1Pgc/edit#

>TFW you forget your shillpost.

>>2682495
>Lex did it deliberately.
>The headmaster asked hi. To do it as this is a traning thing
>But something went wrong.

>>2682680
>>2682639
>>2682636
>>2682620

Writing.

>>2682680
>>2682639
>>2682636
>>2682620

Now that I have had to Thots B Gone some people irl. I can actually start writing.

Fuck me I hate my life sometimes.

File: Inquisition Ranger.jpg (252 KB, 800x1216)

252 KB JPG

>>2682680
>>2682639
>>2682636
>>2682620

Lexington did dodge the question as to why he had some sort of stable portal device in his backroom. In fact, all he provided for an explanation was that he had a portal to that hive on orders of the headmistress.

Was this, all just training? Some bizarre crisis that forced out the character of those nearby? Like, a trial by fire. Only with monsters?

Is it possible The Headmistress had a core of people dedicated to staging things like this? Vernon is the most powerful illusion wizard, perhaps in all of history; if anyone could fake a horde of monstrous beings, an enemy army and simulate the wounds done by both forces... It would be him.

But then Inquisitor Tarth would need to be in on it.
Nerrick too, since he was leading one of those squads.
Chiron might have been duped, since she just threw herself into battle.
The Orcish survival teacher, would have had to be in on it too. Since he was the one confirming what these things were.

You stop, finding yourself in the midst of some kind of equipment centre. The sound of metal clanging on metal fills the air as damaged equipment is deposited on great heaps by a collection of hard working smiths and leatherworkers.

From within the crowd of craftsmen you notice the Centaur Artisan whose, name just slips from your mind like smoke in your hand, working alongside The Donkeyperson Nortagh. His ears flick back and forward as the heat from whatever weapon he toils over lights up his face with amber.

Drawing your gaze closer to yourself, you notice a squad of hooded figures have arrived from behind you, each one giving you a Minervan salute and murmuring "Steward" or "Champion" as they do. It is deeply uncomfortable standing there as their action draws more and more eys to your position.

Soon enough every non craftsman is inclining their head and offering their tribute as if you were Minerva herself.

> Talk to Nortagh about your Replica weapon not transforming

> Leave. (Random Encounter)

> Seek out Nerrick or Tarth. Ask about this.

> You need answer from Lex.

> Write-In

>>2684515
> Talk to Nortagh about your Replica weapon not transforming

>>2684515
> Talk to Nortagh about your Replica weapon not transforming

>>2684515
> Talk to Nortagh about your Replica weapon not transforming

>>2684515
>pride: strut a little
I was gonna say blush but we don't have embarrassment.

>>2684515
> Talk to Nortagh about your Replica weapon not transforming

>>2684515
>> Talk to Nortagh about your Replica weapon not transforming

File: Nortagh.jpg (426 KB, 1200x1534)

426 KB JPG

>>2684908
>>2684792
>>2684789
>>2684773
>>2684616
>>2684520

With as much grace as you can muster you head straight to those surrounded by hills of broken down equipment. Weaving between the wide eyed infantrymen as politely as possible is the easy part; the hard part is trying to pretend they aren't staring at you as you do.

"Whit you wantin ye wee tart?" Nortagh demands long before you're even ready to address him. He takes your silence for imperiousness for some reason, "Whit, you hink because these sunfuckers worship yer dull arse ah will too? Fuck it. Whit you wantin?"

The repeated request shakes you from the miniature stupor, "Well, I've been having trouble with my replica weapon and;"

"An whit? Yer usin yer real wan anyway right noo. So whit ahm a supposed tae fuckin dae aboot it?"

His hammer begins clanging on his anvil. Clearly intent on saying no more; "Well, for starters you could make sure your replicas actually work." The sound of metal on metal changes from sharp to flat as he misses a hammer stroke.

"Hen you better hiv a damn good reason fer this shite or at least the commonsense tae change that comment." He demands, the tiny but broad blacksmith says with grim promise in his eyes.

"Your replica; is nothing but a basic buzzsaw! It doesn't even transform!" You protest, squaring up to him.

"TRANSFORM? The fuck you think I am ya dumb fuckin cunt." He steps out of his forge and you just now notice how large that hammer he holds in one scarred arm is. "Do ah look like some spell slinging nancy wizard? Bitch ahm a fuckin smith. Whitever magic enchanted cheat you hid in your weapon willnay transfer. Because the replica's no fuckin enchanted!"

"What." Is all you manage.

"Simple. Me no magic. Me no make magic replicas. You magic weapon, no copied." He talks down to you like a child, "Now fuck off! I got to make sure these fuckers hiv gear that won't get them eaten alive!"

> [PRIDE] Demand he apologise for speaking to you like that.

> [DETERMINATION] Have him look at your saw, you're pretty sure it isn't magic.

> [FRUSTRATION] If you were capable; maybe your replica wouldn't have got me killed?

> [CURIOSITY] Why do you talk funny?

> Write-In

>>2685092
>> [DETERMINATION] Have him look at your saw, you're pretty sure it isn't magic.

>>2685092
> [FRUSTRATION] If you were capable; maybe your replica wouldn't have got me killed?

>>2685092
> [DETERMINATION] Have him look at your saw, you're pretty sure it isn't magic.

>>2685092
> [DETERMINATION] Have him look at your saw, you're pretty sure it isn't magic.

>>2685205
>>2685135
>>2685120
>>2685105

Alright fellas. I'm going to need 1d20 best of 3.

Rolled 3 (1d20)

>>2686300
May the gods smile upon my roll

Rolled 20 (1d20)

>>2686300

Rolled 19 (1d20)

>>2686300

>>2686453
>>2686451
>>2686363

Well fuck. Excuse me while I work out exactly what Nortagh works out.

>>2686460
Its made from vitbraum or a metal that changes its its shape depanding on the mood of the user?

File: Protag Weapon 1.jpg (20 KB, 324x305)

20 KB JPG

>>2686453
>>2686451
>>2686363

"No, I won't fuck off until you look at this saw and tell me why exactly your replica messed up." As he stares holes in your skull you meet his gaze with your dull crimson eyes, accusing him with lifeless certainty, "This isn't enchanted. There's no magic here. Vernon, Headmistress and other wizards have sensed nothing from it."

At this Nortagh grows stoic, then intrigued at the mention of Vernon, then excited that there is some mystery the Oracle Headmistress could not unravel. "Why'd ye no fuckin' tell me it was weird! Give it!" The donkey makes grabby hands like a toddler wanting his parents.

When you hand over your weapon, the silken glove is scarcely off your hand when a fey mood overtakes the blacksmith and he begins pulling assorted instruments devices and powders from his huge sack. Even before you met him, the frenzied gleam in your eye would firmly advise you not to interrupt the master craftsmen's thoughts with your input.

File: Serious Purps.jpg (13 KB, 200x200)

13 KB JPG

>>2686587

"Nay magic but does weird shit. Fae, artifact, dwarven, elvish or infernal." He says aloud to himself, laughing full on as he doses blue dust all over the flat of the blade. Nothing seems to happen but Nortagh dons a protective mask custom fit for his skull shape. A pair of freestanding tongs grip the saw as whatever the dust is settles. Allowing Nortagh to vice your glove in order to inspect the wire with an extendable lens that grows from his protective mask like something from Huyon's own tinkerings.

"Well it's no infernal." He claps his hands hard, the dust scattering. With a wet sponge he begins applying a thick cream that smells vaguely of rotten egg. "Let's see whit-" The cream starts fizzling, bubbles of sweet cinnamon smelling gunk dripping off of it to congeal onto the floor in a pile of silver.

The smith makes noises you normally associate with intimate moments with Honamurei, intriguing, exciting and making you feel deeply awkward. Such confused interest only rises when the ecstatic noises changes to enraptured braying.

"What did you find?" you ask, finally addressing the elephant sized donkey in the room and blissfully hoping that this encounter ends.

"What ye hiv here? This, you lucky wee dyke. Is a fuckin Dwarvern Warsoul!" As he gestures towards it, your saw has seemingly shed it silvery steel exterior in favour for a gleaming black that seems to shine despite the overcast weather. Where once it was adorned with vague engravings, now each engraving has leapt free of the surface and shines with gold. Glittering writing that you cannot decipher practically demands your attention and witnessing the sheer brilliance of it roots you to the stop for a solid five or six seconds.

"Wance in a lifetime sight... Hard tae look away fur me too." Nortagh says.

> [CURIOSITY] Okay so, like. What does that mean?

> [PRIDE] I knew it was special. The Ancient Ones gift will be useful.

> [WORRY] Wait, aren't the dwarves gone from the surface?

> [DETERMINATION] Can you make an actual replica of this?

> Write-In

>>2686592
> [WORRY] Wait, aren't the dwarves gone from the surface?

>>2686592
> [CURIOSITY] Okay so, like. What does that mean?

>>2686592
> [WORRY] Wait, aren't the dwarves gone from the surface?

>>2686592
> [CURIOSITY] Okay so, like. What does that mean?

>>2686592
>> [CURIOSITY] Okay so, like. What does that mean?

>>2686592
>> [CURIOSITY] Okay so, like. What does that mean?

File: Purps 16.jpg (10 KB, 240x200)

10 KB JPG

>>2686942
>>2686890
>>2686721
>>2686686
>>2686608
>>2686596

"Okay okay. I have a Dwarvern Warsoul." You take the saw from his instruments and slip the glove back on your right hand. With a flex, the blade comes whirring back into your palm. A very reassuring sensation. "What does that actually mean?"

"Fucked if a know. Ahm no a fuckin dwarf." Nortagh says with a dismissive wave. "All ah know is that they wur handed oot tay the Dwarf generals and badasses." He chuckles" How a wee lassie ended up way it is a mystery though."

"So you have no idea what this actually does? Beyond killing people?" Your voice is as sceptic as a monotone voice can be. Almost accusatory in nature, the whirlwind of the camp has continued around you now. As if some command or signal was received by the numerous Inquisition members, thankfully so. You don't want Nortagh to be punished or shunned for having insulted you.

"Well, 'cordin tae you it transforms somehow. There's nae enchantment tae Warsouls but ahv nae idea how thur made or even wit they're made ay. So, that's it. I telt ye wit it wis. That's aw a know."

> [GRATITUDE] Thank you.

> [FRUSTRATION] I expected a little more than that.

> [PRIDE] Well, I shall put it to good use.

> [CURIOSTY] So uh, know anything about dwarves?

> Write-In

>>2691821
> [FRUSTRATION] I expected a little more than that.
Do you know anyone that could tell me more

>>2691821
Seconding >>2691825

>>2691821
>> [GRATITUDE] Thank you.

>>2691821
> [FRUSTRATION] I expected a little more than that.
Can you make a working replica?

>>2691821
>> [CURIOSTY] So uh, know anything about dwarves?

File: Haryan.jpg (272 KB, 1920x815)

272 KB JPG

>>2693156
>>2692867
>>2692548
>>2692037
>>2691825

"I expected a little more than that, honestly." You tell him watching over his shoulder as begins repairing a halberd that's blade has almost split down the middle. "Can you make a working replica?"

He snorts, his ears flicking in what you assume to be irritation. "Nope. Not a fuckin dwarf." His hammer clangs between words. "Ye'v goat the best ah cin dae fur ye."

You make a noise of frustration and the saw turns to two dangerous looking black claws, the vibrating edges of the saw's teeth looking much more barbed and deadly than ever before. "Well, do you have any idea who'd actually know more than fucking nothing?"

He's barely registering your presence now, his hands a blur. "Headmistress. She's an Oracle, Haryan's intae history, Veron seems tae know everythin." With that you cannot get another word out of him, at least not without physical contact.

Now touching Nortagh is a proposal that you are loathe to even consider. The man smells absolutely foul, a mix of filth and booze mingling with his natural stench turning your stomach even at this distance. To make matters worse, you're ninety percent sure he'd swing that blacksmith hammer to your face the second you made contact.

It's starting. The rituals are being channeled. Minerva says in your mind. The first will finish in fifteen minutes. The majority in four hours. The final and deadliest in nine hours. You will be sent for around then I imagine.

Thanks Minerva You respond, looking over to the barrier. Nine hours huh?

> [PRIDE] Well, better head to the dorms and get beauty sleep.

> [DETERMINATION] Find somewhere to watch over the barrier. You can't risk something happening and not being around.

> [WORRY] Find the wizards and sleep nearby. Just in case.

> [CURIOSITY] Wonder who all resisted evacuation

> Write-In

>>2698761
> [WORRY] Find the wizards and sleep nearby. Just in case.

>>2698761
> [CURIOSITY] Wonder who all resisted evacuation

>>2698761
>[CURIOSITY] Wonder who all resisted evacuation

>>2698761
>> [DETERMINATION] Find somewhere to watch over the barrier. You can't risk something happening and not being around.

File: Kylie.jpg (137 KB, 805x993)

137 KB JPG

>>2700038
>>2699049
>>2699035
>>2699027

Without much to do; you spend the time walking the camp, familiarising yourself with your saw again to swing around the perimeter. Soaring through the air and arcing from swing to swing you leave the camp in order to check which of your fellow students are still here.

Honamurei, Maria, Freyja, Jur Dyn, Kel An, their infernal looking friend. As you head toward the so called safe zone that is being guarded by the Centaur teacher and a motley collection of extremely old Inquisition members, you pickout Tornin and Klaus socialising with a middle aged blonde woman and a cat lady. What you can only describe as a half lady half spider joins the group and you're ninety percent certain Stella is somewhere in amongst the group judging by the feathers.

Other than that? It seems most of the first, second and third years have been evacuated. Leaving the town as pretty much a war camp, protected by the inquisition's containment and whatever shopkeeper opted for barricading themselves in instead of fleeing.

At least you would think that, until you saw someone watching all the goings on from a block away; the thick black cloak and hood obscuring his body while he watches the comings and goings of the camp.

> [CURIOSITY] Huh, wonder who that is.

> [PRIDE] Might as well wave

> [WORRY] Cellahad and Jo should be here.

> [FRUSTRATION] Why didn't they leave? Give Stella a piece of your mind.

> Write-In

>>2706134
> [CURIOSITY] Huh, wonder who that is.

>>2706134
>> [CURIOSITY] Huh, wonder who that is.

>>2706134

> [CURIOSITY] Huh, wonder who that is.