>>3739270
Further ahead, the cold abates slightly, and you take a moment to look around. Jagged stone gravel has given way to dense pine needle matting, muffling your footsteps to a steady thump. The Gryrsulf pads along silently on 7 legs, its writhing mass of fleshy tentacles crudely imitating the shape of a wolf; it peers back at you with familiar blue eyes. Too human. The Seer walks, but doesn't truly touch the ground at all, her unnatural behavior increasing as you have journeyed together. As you pause to rest, she produces a sheet of dried meat from her pack, and begins to gnaw on it. The sight makes you realize you are hungry.

>Examine the Seer
>Examine the 'Ulf
>Examine your surroundings
>Press ahead

pick one and roll a 1d20 best of whatever is available when I check again.

Rolled 13 (1d20)

>>3739280
>>Examine your surroundings

>>3739284
>13>>Examine your surroundings
*success*

Metal plate grinds against itself as your head slowly scans left to right, your neck cracking loudly in the process. You spot them, lurking in the trees. Glowing eye, translucent skin, twisted, as much as anything else this far north. Patrons to a spirit, witch, or failed champion of another power. You point a crooked, claw like finger at them, drawing the attention of your companions.

"Twenty in all Thallos, their fate is woven tightly." Your Seer stares unblinking into the depths of the woods, her words a paper dry whisper. "Shall I?" the barest hint of hunger passes the mask of chitin lips.

To your left the 'Ulf's form shakes slightly, coils of grey intestine like tentacles threatening to come undone and spill out into violence.
---
Roll a 1d20, best of whatever's here when I get back
>Scare them off, its not worth your time.
>Let the seer deal with this nuisance.
>Let the 'Ulf have its fun.
>Unmake them.
>Write in.

Rolled 14 (1d20)

>>3739346
>Let the 'Ulf have its fun.

Rolled 12 (1d20)

>>3739349
>Let the 'Ulf have its fun

>>3739349
You croak out the command from damaged vocal cords "Go." and the 'Ulf takes off. It seems to be diminished from when you first met it. Smaller. You nod in approval as it crashed into the treeline, seemingly coming unknotted, tendrils of flesh spear out into the dark forest to meet with screams. An inhuman howl of pain sounds out, but the carnage continues unabated. 6 of the would be assassins flee from your spawn's wrath into the path. Your seer look at them, and then to you. "Now?" you consider it.

A lifeless body is flung from the woods, impaled on a broken pine branch near by.
---
1d20 and a choice.
>Yes now.
>You will handle it.

Rolled 19 (1d20)

>>3739439
>>Yes now.

>>3739463
>>3739463
>19. wew.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X5oBFE0yqJg

"I can show you...a taste of what once was..." The statement was made not to the oncoming enemy, but you. Without incantation, or show, the world is no more; gone is the mountain and pine forest, replaced by unfamiliar swamp, and blackness in place of sky. No you know this place, where the witches would have seen you unmade.

Specters of pale women grasp and claw at the men, their bodies loosing form and degrading into inky sludge. Your assailants howls of fury turn to terror, true terror as they struggle to escape the blackness that clings to their form, eroding flesh and bone; their only salvation the stagnant waters. There the devouring morass cannot touch them, nor can air reach their lungs. Thrashing bodies churn the swamp, as lungs gasp for air only to be filled with something rejected by reality, dissolving them further. "Herald...I cannot sustain this any longer." The Seer collapses, and as she does, the world rights itself. Everything where it should be, including the ground and trees. Those men thrashing beneath the water were now fused into the ground, sticking out of trees, dead. Slowly the terrain consumed their corpses, even as the 'Ulf emerged from the tree line, covered in gore.

"In it's own way the Seer is horrific." the 'Ulf inclined its head towards the unconscious woman. You grunt in agreement, hollow and metallic. Magicians, sorcerers and their like were always problematic. Burgeoning demigods were worse. You suspect this place holds some some value for Myssadrah, and her mortal vessel.

A light rain begins to fall, its of no consequence to your flesh, but the 'Ulf and Seer will not endure the cold for long.
---
>Camp in place
>Search ahead for refuge
>write in.

most votes wins.

>>3739533
>Search ahead for refuge

>>3739533
>>Search ahead for refuge

>>3739541

You gesture to the Seer's prone form, and on cue fleshy tentacles haul the Seer up onto the 'Ulf's back. "Father. She weighs nothing.... the shell is hollow." The nature of the Seer doesn't concern you, but the weather does, you ignore the 'Ulf and press into the march.

As the sky darkens and the air grows humid your body stiffens with arthritis, the simple act of walking proves difficult. Without the rush of combat or struggle, your body seems content to slow down, along with your mind. You drift in and out of thought through ever denser forest, your boots covered with pine needles and sticking red sap. Eventually threats of rain give way to action, and at some point it began to drizzle, then storm, which gave way to freezing sleet. The Seer's unconscious hands faintly move, weaving and knitting fabric that isn't there, faint muttering catches your ears "Refuge is near." You slowly twist your stiff neck towards a source of guttering light that was not there a moment ago. An old cabin, scarcely more than a shack. The cold would not kill you, but it would not be a bad thing to get out of it. You let out a wheezing, gagging cough. Your hide cloak fully soaked now. It would be wise to get inside. A nearby lightning strike reinforces that sentiment as you grimace.

The doorway was unbarred and unguarded, rotted, yet functional, a thick layer of dead moss grew on the roof. Going indoors was slightly better. A single room dominated by a hearth and boiling pot of broth. Without words you settle near the fire, warmth you can't feel easing unfelt pain, limbering stiff joints. Your mind drifted long enough that you napped. At some point the Seer came to, quiet gnawing drew your attention to her eating dried strips of flesh; she was eating human faces. The 'Ulf was still bloated with flesh from earlier in the day, finally slumbering. Over the hearth was a bubbling pot of broth, you knew you were hungry. "Eat Herald. You need your strength." Some part of you wished she would stop calling you herald. You bowed to none.
---
>Drink the broth as it is.
>Throw in some of your provisions and make a true meal.
>Decline the urge to eat the broth, and consume your trail rations.

>>3739632
>Throw in some of your provisions and make a true meal.

>>3739632
>>Decline the urge to eat the broth, and consume your trail rations.
Don't trust conveniently-placed delicious meals

>>3739738
>>3739753
I require rolls, High roll wins.

Rolled 15 (1d20)

>>3739762
Here's mine

Rolled 7 (1d20)

>>3739762
>>3739738

>>3739763
>15 no soup for you.
You look over at the small pot, and didn't recall the Seer carrying it with her. Left behind at this place. Inside it...the broth, It's smell is simple. Meat, salt, pine needle, bitter berries. At least that is what you can see floating in the mixture. "No." You don't trust free food from conjured shacks. This sort of bullshit got you into the position you are at in the first place. "No." you repeat yourself.

The Seer could only grin slightly as you made your way into a corner of the cabin, dragging salted, dried meat and stale bread out of a pocket from within your cloak. As much of the food fell to the floor as went down your gullet, but it satisfied the hunger. Tasteless, but then so is most everything to you anymore. Your armor could use care, but so could your mind. You are weary.
-----
>Care for your armor (1d20)
>Rest you eyes for a bit (no roll needed)

Rolled 1 (1d20)

>>3739820
>>Care for your armor (1d20)

>>3739820
>Rest you eyes for a bit (no roll needed)

>>3739820
>>Rest you eyes for a bit (no roll needed)

>>3739826
>1: rest can wait, its time to fuck up our armor.

With some effort you get up and settle down onto the floor, staring into the flames. Warmth unfelt makes its way into your bones, loosening weary joints. An experimental flex of your ruined hand yields motion, it is momentarily free of it's normal claw like rictus. You take off your helmet, and let the heat warm the ruined features of your face...Heat..all those years ago..the sorcerer who burned your features away. You still had friends to jest with how hideous you were. You become lost in a bitter reverie of a life long gone. You come out of it much later, recognizing your companions.

The 'ulf seems to be a healthy color now, for a seven legged, tentacle covered, wolf shaped abomination. The Moth Seer is seemingly as she always is, humming to herself, weaving imaginary fabric, and occasionally whispering about unknowable things under her breath. Her black eyes hold no real thoughtfulness, just deep pools of insanity laid over a maiden's face made of chitin. Her antenna occasionally sir in thought before she notices you, as does the 'ulf.

"Father?" the creature regards you. Father. An odd sentiment. You think you feel something, or maybe its that you know you should feel something. Its missing to be sure. You know and can act on knowing though, that gives you something that you can hold on to. Close enough to still being real.The look of concern on the 'Ulf's monstrous face is awkward enough for you. Instead of conversation you set to the task and place your armor in a haphazard pile. It takes a while but with the armor re y light. Its both calming and concerning. You feel more than naked; like part of your body is missing.

>>3739868

The armor is somehow cold, its finish dull enough that it seems to suck the light from nearby. Scrutinizing each plate, nicked edges and shallow gouges are barely worth the attention. An angular helm would cover most of your face. Unthinkingly you run finger tips over your maw, no lips, sharpened, jagged teeth. Dry...The leather. It needs working...your gnarled hands attempt to rub life into the thick leather straps of your armor. Some had been replaced by chains a long time ago. After the feeling started to leave your body. When the whispers started. Probably when you should have died. The thoughts had been gone over so many times it was like a well chewed wad of blood root. There was no further value left with it, yet here you were again, looking at the past. Your mind keeps drifting. No pain. Looking down Something is wrong, and you know it; most of the leather on your armor has rotted, come undone as if it aged a lifetime. Your head slumps forward and the last thing you see before exhaustion takes you are gnarled, scarred hands belonging to a stranger. Your hands were once youthful and tan, and now clad in metal. These...these couldn't be your hands. In your dreams you see a void full of stars.
-----
>Stare at the void
>Focus on the stars

roll 1d20

Rolled 3 (1d20)

>>3739921
>Stare at the void

Rolled 12 (1d20)

>>3739921
>>Stare at the void

Rolled 10 (1d20)

>>3739921
>Stare into the Void
The Darkness calls to us. But when we stare into the abyss, the abyss shuts its eyes

Rolled 20 (1d20)

>>3739921
>>Stare into the Void
>Warlord Sidestory is back
Niiice

File: 3F255CD0-224B-4167-AC98-F(...).jpg (29 KB, 700x508)

29 KB JPG

>>3739988
>Tfw Thallos molests the darkness

>>3739988
>20.
https://youtu.be/kllqMOLE5JE
You stare into the void, ignoring the twinkling stars, reflections of others and their destiny. In the emptiness you find perfection, absolute austerity, there were things that would claim to dwell in the dark, but even they would not understand this...to be truly removed. To be free. From here you can see so much, from the outside, if there was a word to describe from within and without. Scurrying past your vision you spy something..."Tuarevath" the name comes to you unbidden. Its a name that isn't supposed to be...not yet.
----
>You have gained unshakable insight into this place, and know much. All can be laid bare before you.
----
You turn attention towards the lights, endless seas of stars; some large, some small, those that sit steady, and a few that burn so brightly it hurts to observe. You reach out and the stars move away in unison with your movements, just outside your claws. You know what they are; lives and destinies, part of "the wheel", fate. Near you are a few that seem so close you can almost make out details. focusing harder, they seem to be connected to one another. The 'Ulf, Seer, A young man you do not know, named Magnus, many, many others, gods and spirits, all jostling each other with ripples of interaction, waves on a sea. You cant touch the stars, but the unseen threads between them, yes, you can grab those. The smallest adjustments... The seer seems to be doing something similar, but weaving entirely new fabric, always, unraveling, remaking. Her technique is more elegant and subtle. The space around her star is hazy and obscured, it's connections ethereal and tenuous at best. You recognize your own work. The threads are wounded, ripped and forced together.

The 'Ulf's star seems to vibrate, unsteady, the potential to begin reshaping existence around itself slightly without much effort. Cords connect him to Myssadrah, and so many others, yet there is something bleeding away. Its star is fading. Ragged strands try to connect to the nothing around you, failing, your own interactions scar fate and leave a path of its own despite your best efforts to be free of it.

There are other things here too, shooting comets of potential, trailing with them potential destiny for any that they would hit. Blood red...Vall.

>>3740082

You can gain forbidden knowledge here. It comes with risks. (roll 1d20)

>See the truth behind your children.

>See the truth behind yourself.

>Repair and upgrade your armor

>Know of Tuarevath, and know of Magnus.

>Know of Vall, someone you would dare to call tormentor.

>See the fate of your mortal children.

Rolled 6 (1d20)

>>3740102
>See the truth behind your children.

Rolled 7 (1d20)

>>3740102
>Repair and upgrade your armor
These secrets belong to a man who died a quiet death long ago, and the rest we shall learn in due time.

Rolled 14 (1d20)

>>3740102
>>Repair and upgrade your armor

Rolled 1 (1d20)

>repair and upgrade your armour

Rolled 5, 1 = 6 (2d20)

>>3740102
>See the Truth of yourself
>Repair and upgrade armor

Rolled 3 (1d20)

T H E C H I L D R EN

>>3740115
https://youtu.be/BxFrkt-yCd8
6
You look, but the truth is murky. They are part of you, but that truth is more literal than you can fully understand. Its an uncomfortable knowledge that makes you doubt yourself.
>>3740116
>>3740124
7,14,1,1
The rotten leather of your armor has been replaced by cold chain, touched by the void. Too much perhaps. You feel a burden on your essence. Something has changed. Something has been lost. Something is coming with you....
>>3740136
5
More unwanted knowledge, instead of clarity, it brings frustration. You are a tool. Every action, every suffering, every struggle to escape the influence of tyrants and gods only plays you further into their hand. They don't control you directly, but they steer you with the wold around you, and it guides your hand just as surely. It fills you with the kind of rage not felt in several lifetimes over. "IT..IS...EVERYTHING!" Your astral form screams, and with that scream it draws the attention of those you sought.

1,1
The Storm and The Nightmare were closer than you could have ever imagined, and you are alone in a domain they would call home.

File: 1552421166075.jpg (147 KB, 709x1126)

147 KB JPG

>>3740178
3: They...are...peices. Of...you. Shattered. Grown beyond what they were, and still incomplete. A trifold of suffering awaits you all.

The nightmare is a piece of you. The intellect, the memories, the truth of what you lost. Its not something you want to see, and yet the landscape of this place shapes to its own idea of reality as surely as it takes form.

>>3740254
Ohhhh shiggidy.

My body is ready

Holyhell. Lets do this. I’m ready.

File: divine_retribution_by_rav(...).jpg (140 KB, 1024x727)

140 KB JPG

>>3740254
The nightmare remained as it was, unspeaking, an avatar of your own regret. The Storm, as it manifested into some shape of your distant, memory, of a legend told to you as a child, spoke freely.

"I am Fury, I am Pride, and you little void, are nothing, no father of mine!"

You know this thing had slain the child others would call "the dragon" and consumed its essence. Neither seem too happy to see their father.
----
>Check yourself something is wrong.
>Examine the Nightmare. It hasn't attacked yet. (roll a 1d20 to accept your own past.)
>Reaping blow (what?) 1d20
>Attack Other (how?) 1d20

Rolled 14 (1d20)

>>3740293
>Examine the Nightmare. It hasn't attacked yet.

Rolled 3 (1d20)

>>3740293
>Examine the Nightmare
The past is what makes us who we are. Through fire, anguish, loss and pain were we forged into this husk of cold iron. We lived the pain once, we can relive it

Rolled 15 (1d20)

>>3740293
>Examine the Nightmare. It hasn't attacked yet. (roll a 1d20 to accept your own past.)
>"Weak... Craven... No child of mine."

>>3740293
>>Check yourself something is wrong.

>>3740304
its flaming,wrecked body stands impassive. It will attempt to slay you, but it will WAIT. You were proud, mighty once, you lead men and carried honor. You had friends, and women. There were accomplishments and they were yours. Its enough for the nightmare spirit, you deserve a chance. It plants it's flaming sword into the ground, resting its claws on what passes for a pommel. Memories. It was...you wanted to forget. "I....am.." You try to say the word. It wont come, but it's angular head, so like your own helmet, inclines the barest amount. It knows.

A lance of boiling, fluid energy slashes into the ground around you. Emotions and Ego, as sure as your own past, this is a fragment as well. As you reach for your throwing axes, they are missing! Missing from your own soul, in their place heavy chains wrap around you,snaking under iron plates and looping to your oversized falx.

>>3740351
Shishitshit

>>3740351
Thallos Ruinbringer
The Defiler, Avatar of Lament, Unwilling Herald
300/300HP
160 armor
10/10 wroth (max 10/10 wroth)
6/9 berserking (thallos starts with 6 berserking at every fight)
-heal 30hp per round in combat when no damage is taken
-Generate Berserking on significant damage given or taken
-Generate wroth on kill

>Heavy Falx- Great weapon (4A, 2D, 3DD no enchantments)
>Plate Cestus (Unarmed weapon. 4A 4D, 2DD)

First strike: Unexpectedly fast like a viper, but only on the OPENING attack. Make it count...
Unnatural: Thallos will never know home. Foreign land will lend strength, and those lands known will weaken him.
Iron Hide: Thick plate armor covering your body mitigates many normal blows, leaving you slower but also able to survive the first fatal strike of combat.
Butcher: Every kill is a brutal kill. Dismemberment and disembowelment are likely.In grappling all attacks are dirty fighting.
Abomination: Chance enemies will FLEE upon your first minor/ major kills.

>>3740455
Those stats....


M U H D I C K

>>3740455


>Berserker: Each point of berserking increase's thallos's speed and agility, with the first 3 bringing him up to an unpenalized speed, and each stack of 3 there after adding on 25% of his base speed. at 0% thallos moves at a 25% penalty.
Berserk Skills consume all available points.
>Reckless abandon- Charge at twice your current max speed, crushing those in your path and lending momentum to your swings. modifies a basic attack.
>Too angry to die- Convert each stack of 3 rage into 100 temporary health.
>Inhuman rampage- Berserker packin' man and a half! You become so enraged that you loose the human notions of using tools. Your fists become weapons beyond compare, momentarily able to tear men asunder bare handed.

>Wroth: Burns a set amount of points. Wroth is a contextual skill that can change as the story or situation does. Consumed at the end of combat.
Wroth skills
>Projected strike- Swing where your enemy will be, not where they are. Chance to maim them on the next turn, ranged attack within LOS. 3 wroth
>Frozen second- the world around you seems to slow to a crawl; enough time to dodge, enough time to murder...but only for a second. 5 wroth. can be used twice in one turn, outside combat, or on an enemy turn.
>Shatter- Projected attack that can explode a victim or badly damage their form. 7 wroth
>Carve fate- Finishing move for defeated enemies. Grants, valuable and unexpected rewards. 10 wroth.

>Basic Attacks
Attack: The basic, the gold standard; Violence. The medium in which you are the brush and the canvas. Thallos will tailor his attack to the situation at no penalty, lashing out at enemies as directed.

Leg breaker: Aim below the thighs with a vicious and sweeping 360 degree strike. Can permanently hobble or incapacitate an enemy(s). Likely to connect but leaves yourself exposed DURING the attack.

Neck crush: Horrifically strong one handed grip. Crush a windpipe and/or break a neck. FIRST TIME is a charm, after that most enemies wise up if they are strong enough to resist; sadly few are. Option to grab two opponents if not wielding a weapon.

Reaping strike: A telegraphed, wild two handed spin and that leads into an overhead, hyper extended one arm swing from the pommel. Can break lesser weapons. Deals 4x damage. has extreme range compared to normal attacks. Leaves you open AFTER the attack.

Throw: Thallos has surprisingly good aim. The falx can be thrown for increased damage, at increased difficulty. Other weapons and objects can be thrown in a pinch as well for a hit penalty. Does not count towards consuming "first strike".

>>3740455
>>3740481
Brutal. You should get a pastebin.

Your writing is deliciously horrific, QM! Where can I read more about the quest and catch up?

>>3740530
I am the gas station snack of QMs. welcome!
http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2629825
http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2719724
http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2767976

>>3740530
Nongent is a hell of a writer. Its a privilege to have him use the settings I make to create something wholly unique

File: 034F840E-9E9D-403C-A5FB-3(...).png (75 KB, 194x260)

75 KB PNG

>Mfw

>>3740455

On Agility and berserking:
Thallos has a base agility of 30.
at 0 berserk, its -25% so: 22
each stack of 3 berserk cranks him up by 25% of the base 30.
in short, 7.5 rounded up to 8.
a fully cranked up thallos is at 46 agility.

Thallos using reckless abandon moves at 92 agility for a turn. Situationally useful. In short, he doesn't dodge much.
---------
Fight begins.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=adrpHGYzX3c
Storm Dragon: 1100/1100 HP
none too fast
Plenty angry.

Rolled 2 (1d2)

>>3740673
Despite being a place beyond the physical, this realm has rules crafted by it's denizens. Right now, you are grounded, and the storm dragon can fly. Thoughts rush through your head; grapple? break its wings?

rolling for the dragon's behavior:
1- it sits back and blasts your shit.
2- comes in to murder you up close and personal.

>>3740683
Up close and personal?

How thoughtful of it. Grab it it by its horns/ridges of its skull and hang on tight. Punch it in the face a few times to really drive home how bad that idea was

>>3740683
>Apply Cestus, give into HATE and evade those teeth

>>3740690
>>3740707
>>3740683
Let's add using Inhuman Rampage to these suggestions.

Rolled 17 (1d20)

>>3740707
FORGOT TO ROLL, AND NOW I'M ROILING WITH RAGE

>>3740707
>>3740690
>consensus is bare handed.

options:
Tank the damage and try to grab on
-Inhuman rampage:guaranteed grapple.
-reckless abandon: too fast to be hit. maybe.
-Frozen second: grab on.

>>3740732
IMHUMAN RAMPAGE

RIP AND TEAR RIP AND TEAR RIP AND TEAR RIP AND TEAR RIP AND TEAR RIP AND TEAR RIP AND TEAR RIP AND TEAR

>>3740732
I N H U M A N
R A M P A G E

Rolled 1 (1d20)

>>3740732
> Inhuman Rampage
RIP! TEAR! RIP! TEAR!

>>3740745
Such is Fate, FUCK that fickle bitch!

Rolled 55, 52, 26 = 133 (3d100)

>>3740737
semi minigame mode is active.

Roll me 8d100 please.

Rolled 80, 40, 10 = 130 (3d100)

>>3740764
rolling for a bite.

File: we-cant-expect-god-to-do-(...).png (191 KB, 500x856)

191 KB PNG

Rolled 37, 36, 76, 87, 45, 60, 84, 74 = 499 (8d100)

>>3740764

Rolled 9, 16, 21, 24, 12, 82, 66, 98 = 328 (8d100)

>>3740764
B I G M O N E Y

Rolled 65, 25, 99, 35, 28, 55, 52, 38 = 397 (8d100)

>>3740764
HATRED, MALICE, ANGUISH

>>3740795
>>3740796
>>3740805
engage murderfuck.
All hits land due to unique situation of being a voluntary chew toy.
base damage
65, 36=101 + 99,87=186 + 45, 82=127 + 84, 98=182
vs 50 armor on each attack.
Inhuman rampage multiplier negates armor.
596 damage done. 504/1100 HP left.

dragon chews on thallos
130-160x3=dragon cant gnaw the armor.
elemental modifier of getting blasted point blank by breath weapon= 100 hp lost.

thallos 200/300 health left
----
consider your follow up attacks wisely.
----

From on high your monstrous child shrieks with victory. You calmly put away your falx and accept fate, opening your arms in a wide embrace. The keening screech increases in volume as The dragon streaks into you like a boulder; high speed violence whips your stunned form side to side like a wolf in for the kill as you surge back into the sky. Unnatural energies of it's arcane breath wash over your armor and boil the skin beneath. It intends to drop you to the ground below.

As it opens it's massive maw, you let loose a howl dredged from the depths of your hatred. Your senses are overwhelmed with the stench of blood, warm copper rushing to coat your tongue, and heat...so much heat, and pain, and fury, and hate. There was nowhere to escape your vicious embrace. Still smoking, you punch a mailed fist into the eye of the beast, and rip out a handful of jelly along with a massive optical nerve. Your own deranged shouting and laughter drowns out the shrieks of the beast as hunks of lip, teeth, and bone are freely ripped from it's visage. Blood runs freely here, seeping out of your armor, and from it's savaged face. Somewhere you register the act as something of true self loathing, but its a very dim awareness. Mostly you just want to murder, but the wild side to side thrashing of the beast threatens to throw you off.

Beat my roll to stay on.

Rolled 58 (1d100)

>>3740882

Rolled 28 (1d100)

>>3740885
RODEO BITCHES

Rolled 4 + 5 (1d100 + 5)

>>3740885

>>3740898
Y'all got options.

Could burn your wroth and do a frozen second. get another roll.

could just go for a reaping strike with the falx.

if falx, roll 4d100 for hit, and then 3d100 for damage

Rolled 32 (1d100)

>>3740906
Fuck all that. Let’s get truly BRÜTAL. Take the newly chain wrapped Falx and stab it into the dragon while it has us in its mouth. Anchor us to it.

Rolled 98, 90, 81, 97 = 366 (4d100)

>>3740906
Falx reaping strike bois

>>3740913
>Those rolls
Mein negro

File: 68278765d6dd0d8cb6692498f(...).jpg (62 KB, 432x619)

62 KB JPG

Rolled 18, 68, 59 = 145 (3d100)

>>3740913
>>3740906
Forgive me my son

>>3740918
145x4=580-80 armor=4 HP left for the dragon.

you take another 100 damage of close range breath weapon

100 health left for thallos
-----

Another blast of searing energy hits you head on, washing over your armor, boiling flesh and searing nerves, adding to scars.

As you are flung from the dragon's maw you act.In your mind's eye the moment is glacially slow as you unshackle the flax and neatly whip in in a reaping executioner's arc; the dragon's one good eye catches the act, but its too late to move, you watch as it's face registers in horror the inevitable. As the blade sinks into thick armored neck, metallic scales spark, flesh tears, blood spurts and bone shatters under its onslaught. Finally nerves are shorn, and the beast's body falls limp, hurdling towards the ground. You grit your teeth bracing for the impact. It never comes.

Without influence, the reality it crafted dissipates, leaving you once more floating amongst the void, and stars of fate. The nightmare inclines it's angular head towards you, drifting closer. Fuck. Hauling yourself up, your feet find purchase on unseen ground. As it approaches you, there is no attempt to raise it's sword at you. Behind you the Storm Dragon's breaths run ragged and stop. "Now or never, murderer..." A familiar female voice whispers to you from nowhere.
----
>Carve fate on the Storm Dragon
>Let the Nightmare Approach.
>Kill the shit out of the Nightmare.

>>3740971
CARVE FATE CARVE FATE CARVE FATE


GIB REWARD PLS

>>3740976
You look at your approaching nightmare, and then the wrecked form of desire and personality made manifest. Too long, you've lived too long. Without a sigh, you reach into the fabric of the Storm Dragon's own fate, and shred it, an unconscious will within your hands taking the tatters and dragging them to where they belong.

the 'Ulf. no. Its truth, the flesh. Joined with the mind, and the drive. Myssadrah, taking her due. You, growing in emptiness, changing...The almost alien shape of your past *stares* into you. Its your history, and its gone, but...it doesn't have to be, does it? No, you will never be the thallos that you were. Those are gone.

The Nightmare urges you towards what you know you can do, but you hate it, hate the idea of the constant reminder. Don't want to remember.
----
>Accept your past, send it to where it belongs.
>Destroy your past. It belongs nowhere.

>>3741012
Accept it. Our past created us and it shall in turn shape our future.

My dude I am loving this.

>>3741012
>>Accept your past, send it to where it belongs

>>3741019
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GCkneZYbJHY
You frown, letting go...is not easy to do. The burning,twisted mass of memories and dreams steps foward, offering you it's "hand". For a moment you tense, ready to strike it down, then relent. "No." you grumble. "Not...anymore." For so long you've known yourself in this ruined form that your own memory cant construct a better voice in a realm where anything is possible. You realize you literally can't imagine being anything other than you are. Taking the creature's hand, release washes through you, and with it is deep, soul aching hurt. The hurt of loss, at first for everyone you've ever known, but then for yourself. Singularly selfish and entirely deserved....can't you just have one thing? Peace? Even as the world around you fades, the answer burns in your mind, amidst the grief. No.
----
Wet streams run from under your iron mask, falling down scarred,smooth skin. Nothing like the melted wax skin you recall, this is the flesh of someone who would be described without details. So much has changed, you struggle for the recollection of it all, yet as you gain your bearing, a naked tan skinned man of familiar appearance grabs your shoulders while the Seer looks on. Those blue eyes, sharp teeth. Its the Ulf, but its you.

"I'd call you father, but brother might be more accurate Thallos. But...Thank you." Your past grips you in a hug you don't want. "off. Get off." you rasp.

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>>3741052
>Mfw

I am CursedQm and I approve these manly tears

>>3741052
There is a giant, and some living armor to track down. So this thread isint quite over. But for now, it is. Im passin out.

>>3741052
Holy fucking shit man, I remember this.....

Oh god it is as good as I remember. And I don't even know what the fuck is going on, its that good.

>>3739270
Has this an archive yet?

>>3741052
Epilogue

Thallos RuinBringer, The Defiler, Avatar of Lament:
.....its been several years now since your "Other" came to be. His presence steadily replaced yours as his fate went on to glow near incandescent. You had journeyed together for a while, even slain the wayward spawn, the last of your fragments. From there, you went your own ways.

It was another lifetime, probably more. Out there, in the far north. It took some time to clear your head, but eventually you knew who you are, Thallos. He was too. Maybe still is. Doesn't matter. You know what you are and what you were meant to do. Occasionally you kept company, often you did not. Time for a man who doesn't die passes in strange ways, but The occasional chuckle of Myssadrah ensured you were never alone. A piece always in play. Each heavy footstep rattles the chains of your armor, and cracks fresh ice under foot. Behind you is slaughter, and ahead is too.

Thallos the man:
The reconstructed life of the mortal thallos went on to become a leader, hero, raise a family,and eventually die as all mortal men do. Though he never spoke of it, from on far he saw the defiler, watching, both pained and happy, living vicariously through it all, granting some respite from his own existence. There was no heroic last stand, in truth, he carved out a semblance of peace and enjoyed it till the end.

The Witches:
A small tribe of little consequence, paying heed to a long lost power, and tainted by the blood of a roving warrior many lifetimes ago. A great sorcerer would rise from their ranks. Her great and unknown irony would be that of relation to a being who's existence was anathema to the craft and fated to cross paths with a mighty warrior of great stature.

Myssadrah:
Apotheosis. Finally free of the void, returned to the wheel of fate, Mysadrah sacrificed much to simply exist once more, however minor this existence was. Greater powers would notice the return of something so ancient and banished once before, but for such an entity, even a brief respite against tides of fate is a victory in itself. The strangest of magic touching the land and its people would be whispered about for generations to come.

>>3742372
>Epilogue
Fuck, I wish this quest didn't end so soon, thanks for running it all the same.

>>3742372
So it is done, never to return?

Shit man, it was a good run. Thanks.
What quest was this an acompanyment too?

>>3742434
Im sorry anon. I will tell other stories, and Thallos might swing around again as a character in the main warlord story. I usually cycle on and off with Cursed as far as threads go. I strongly suggest checking out

>>3740128

>>3742537
Warlord is a setting, the current main character is Magnus. See the links below. I am more of a collaberative GM, and CursedQM has been cool enough to allow me into his sandbox and play.

Thallos:

http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2629825
http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2719724
http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2767976

Magnus and the main quest, all 20ish threads.

http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive.html?searchall=Magnus


-------------------------------------

and if you feel like reading more...esoteric material, crab quest. a spin off, of a spin off.

http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2752391
http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2816506

Or Xenomorph setting

http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2685885/

and again, every one of these is just a companion to a work Cursed has done.

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>its back
>its over
>I missed it
Hell of a ride. Thanks for running, I do hope this isn't the last we see of this downright dangerous motherfucker