You are Richter Von Tracht.

…

You knew what you were, but you didn’t think they were titles you could claim. How had you even gotten them? Could you earn them once more?...Well, yes. You could. Of course you could. Was a Von Tracht to lie down and die as soon as they struck the bottom of a canyon? Though from the bottom of it, admittedly, the walls were dauntingly high, especially compared to where you’d tumbled from.

Was this worth it? To be out from the control you were under, but also to have lost so much? You hadn’t thought about it, with how difficult it was enough to get your basic faculties in order again. At the very least, it was over- and your request had been fulfilled. Here to see you was your little shortcake, your sweet little Maddalyn- and no sooner had she wandered in than had you stumbled over and swept her up in your arms. She was so small, so slender, and such a comforting person to hold again. To never let go. As much as you might have wanted to squeeze her until she burst, you were ever so careful to be gentle with her.

Maddalyn gasped with surprise, but after a moment, slowly returned your embrace, reaching her arms up below your shoulders. She tightened her hold on you, and over several minutes, pressed her cheek into your chest, neither of you saying a word. You wanted to ask so many questions, to propose your marriage, to ask her if she liked her gifts…but all you wanted to think of ultimately was just the feeling of her against you.

“…I was expecting you do grab my butt, or pick me up, or press me against the wall…”Maddalyn eventually said quietly, “But…what’s happened to you? I’ve never seen you like this...”

“…I’ve…changed…” you choked out hoarsely, “Maybe…for the better…” Hopefully. You didn’t know how much you wanted to reveal, or if you should. Thus far everybody you had been around knew what it was, or what it was like. Now…

“Richter, what do you mean?...Are you…are you crying?”

You couldn’t help it. It was humiliating, unmanly, but you didn’t care, and you didn’t bother trying to stop the tears from flowing, or your face from wrenching itself into a twisted coil. Everything you’d lost, you being able to see Maddalyn again, the constant feeling of awful dread and uncertainty, it had lit up inside and was burning itself out, and you didn’t have the strength to hold it back anymore. Where was your strength? Where was your valor? Saying you could get it back was easy, but talk was talk..! It wasn’t just for you, but for your ancestors, your family, you comrades, for Maddalyn- if she was in danger once more, would you be able to go forth as you had before? Could you-

“Richter…” Maddalyn said, her grip on you falling lightly away, “You don’t have to stand up. Come here, let’s sit on the bed.” She walked you over, and pulled your arm down to signal you to sit first- not something you needed any more suggestion to do. She leaned over once you’d sat, traced her fingers over your face, your mouth, and then pushed herself forward and kissed you softly on your lips, only a short but slow touch before she brushed her nose against yours and sat beside you.

“I came here afraid, Richter,” Maddalyn said, her arm threaded in yours as you stared at your knees. “I was told you might be like this…that you might have been like this for days, by a few people who were here, helping look after you. When I asked if you’d be like that for long, they didn’t say…And now that I’ve seen you like…this, I’m even more afraid. You’ve been so strong for me, so resolute, always coming to my rescue at my lowest, that…you’re my champion, my fortress. I came to think that no matter how weak I was, how pathetic, how much I made mistakes that I couldn’t amend, in spite of your…many flaws, that I could always depend on you to stand tall and firm. But now…”

You didn’t like what Maddalyn was saying. You wanted to insist you were still that person- atop all else, there was now this creeping suspicion- that…you refused to try and suspect early. You said nothing. That fear was not something you needed attacking your mind with the other terrors everywhere but in front of your eyes.

“…But you’ve always been there for me when I was at my weakest, and my most afraid. I’m a coward, Richter. When I’m frightened, I want to run away, unless that I might lose something because I ran, that might be even scarier…Seeing you like this makes me want to run, but…you asked for me, you came and hugged me, so even with whatever’s happened to you…I won’t flee. Not when I need to be here for you, like you were for me when I needed you most.” Maddalyn tugged your shoulder, and you slumped over into her lap with no resistance. “Maybe back then, when we first met, I didn’t think I needed you. I just needed somebody. I…hope it’s not that way for you right now, but…”

Maddalyn took off her gloves- and on one of her fingers was that pretty engagement ring you sent her what felt like so long ago. It was a little loose, but she had shoved it far down…perhaps to ensure it stayed on. You watched it as she rested the hand on her thigh by your face, while she stroked your hair with her other. “…You mustn’t be feeling very much like talking.’ Maddalyn said to herself, “…That’s okay…I’ll just…” She paused. “It snowed on my birthday. Your present got there the day after. I…well, I appreciated it, but I like the ring the best. It made me so, so happy to get an engagement ring, even if…you don’t really need to get one, but…um.”

She paused again, twirling a lock of your hair around her finger. “…I don’t like winter. I don’t like it when it gets cold. A little chill is okay, but when the wind is hard, the air is so dry and cold it feels like your skin is coming off, and you can feel it sinking into your bones…sorry. I wasn’t just talking about the weather, you know. I can feel you shaking, and I can tell, you’re scared…and what’s helped me best when I’ve been scared is just…not being alone, and telling people about what frightens me most.” Maddalyn stopped for a moment. “…Sorry, I guess that probably isn’t helping…er, here.”

Afterwards was a few minutes of more quiet, Maddalyn at a loss for words, and you unable to summon yours. Then Maddalyn pushed you back up, and suddenly felt you up between your legs. “Er…” she hummed, and straddled you on your lap, and pressed herself into you- you sat up against the wall, as Maddalyn kissed your neck and ground against your crotch. “Come on,” she murmured after a few minutes of that; it felt odd that it didn’t distract you nearly as much as it normally would have. “…there. I think that’s good enough.” She pushed you back, and undid your trousers, “Just…lie back and let m-me…w-well…” Maddalyn was stuttering and hesitating, and her hands shook- you didn’t understand. She took the bedsheet and pulled it over your lap, and then reached under the cover.

-----

“…Does it…does it feel good, Richter?” Maddalyn asked meekly, looking away as her hand moved back and forth, beneath the bedsheet. Even though she was trying not to look at you or what she was doing, you could see that a flushed scarlet hue had spread over the whole of her face. “I um…I don’t really…know, y-you know…”

It didn’t. Not really. Maddalyn was doing her best, you supposed, but as she said, she had no clue what she was doing, which combined with her nervousness made it feel like…it wasn’t something you could put properly into words for how awkward it was. That you were still standing at attention down there was a mix of appreciation for her efforts…and that this was happening at all. The only thing she had taken off was her gloves, so...

“It’s…fine.” you said, leaning back against the wall and trying not to start drumming a melody with your fingers. At least it wasn’t the hand with the ring on it.

“Is it supposed to take this long?” Maddalyn quickened the pace of her clumsy strokes. “I j-just...you know, you don’t have to try and make me feel better, I’m doing this for you, not m-me…”

>Tell Maddalyn she’s doing her best, and that’s all you really care about. It’s the thought that counts. This…will take a while. Or she’ll get tired eventually.
>Tell her to try something else. You’re pretty sure if you let this keep going she’ll rip something by accident overdoing it.
>Say that she should stop. You appreciated it, but now wasn’t the time for this-not if this was going to be what it was like at least. She didn’t have to do anything but talk to you.
>Other?
Past Threads are collected here: https://pastebin.com/UagT0hnh
Twitter for announcements and various horseshit is @scheissfunker

>>3811971
>Say that she should stop. You appreciated it, but now wasn’t the time for this-not if this was going to be what it was like at least. She didn’t have to do anything but talk to you.
So this is the outcome of letter-based lechery

>>3811971
>>Say that she should stop. You appreciated it, but now wasn’t the time for this-not if this was going to be what it was like at least. She didn’t have to do anything but talk to you.

>>3811971
>Other?
Take charge Von Tracht.
You know what she likes and making her feel good will work to make you feek less useless. At least you'd be able to make her happy right?

>>3812135
Voting for this option.

>>3812135
The wording here sounds intentionally vague!

>>3812165
>The wording here sounds intentionally vague
I want to muster all the mental strength we have and molest the shit out of Maddie.
She deserves a good tongue lashing for her devotion and we need to build confidence.
Pleasing our lady is the best way to do it currently.

>>3811971
Neo-Richter has yet to loose his first wise crack since the operation. Let's at least try and get a smile out of the pair of them. Voting for this >>3812135

>>3811971
>>Other?
Tell her to spit on it a little

>>3811971
>>Say that she should stop. You appreciated it, but now wasn’t the time for this-not if this was going to be what it was like at least. She didn’t have to do anything but talk to you.

we lost all our combat skills, but dose that include command skill? if so will we ever be able to fight again?

>>3811971
>>3812135
Yeah, this seems like the best option. Don't just sit there and let her fumble, take a more active role in the heavy petting. Since words aren't coming to us, use your actions to help out and return the favor.

>>3812447
We have lost all our skill we use for manipulating weapons of war is how I saw it, along with a good portion of our book learnin’. I think we can still do a good job tank commanding though given we didn’t lose our tank school practical education, just the more facts and knowledge stuff.

>>3811982
>>3811985
>>3812364
I never asked for this.

>>3812135
>>3812140
>>3812261
>>3812513
"I want to muster all the mental strength we have and molest the shit out of Maddie."

>>3812274
Spit on me.

It's time to gather power then. Writing.

>>3812447
That depends on how you define "command skill." Let's say this is still a new experience for you. Whether or not you're able to fight again is up to how long you last when it turns out you need to.

You sat back, and said nothing. Though within, you thought…am I really this useless? Do I want to be? Of course not. Maybe you weren’t certain of your ability, or the future, or even of what you could do anymore, but the least you could do was make Maddalyn happy. That wasn’t happening if you were going to be like this.

>Roll up to 3 sets of 1d100 to psych up. Best of, beat 70.

Rolled 32 (1d100)

>>3812653

Rolled 21 (1d100)

>>3812653

Rolled 88 (1d100)

>>3812653
Oh Judge guide my dice!

>>3812676
Ahh. I had my laughinggirls.jpg ready.

File: Screenshot_20181210-10075(...).jpg (257 KB, 575x905)

257 KB JPG

>>3812676
Ayyyyy, just saved our marriage.
Bless up.

You took Maddalyn by her shoulders and turned about to push on top of her, the bedsheet wrapping around your waist.

“Richter? Wha-mmmfff…” You pushed your fiancée down and locked lips with Maddalyn like you should have from the start, and tugged on her lower lip as you parted, and did your best to banish the terrors in the dark with thoughts of what you were going to do to her. Words were failing you- but New Nauk wouldn’t convey this well enough, anyways.

Did Maddalyn have to wear a dress this long, you thought as you tugged up on it, prompting an “Ah!” from Maddalyn as you coiled your hand up around her waist from below and inverted her skirt- her stay up stockings squeezed her pale thighs, but they weren’t what you were going for. Below her dress bunched up at the waist, Maddalyn’s pale blue panties were in sight, with cute black frills on their edges.

Those were in the way as well.

“W-wait,” Maddalyn gasped as you tucked your fingers under her underwear to pull them aside, “I…” She took a breath, “I’ll…I’ll tell you what to do…okay? T-trust me, I uh, know what you should do…”

You looked into her frightened, lovely blue eye, and nodded, before you lifted her by her waist and dove in between her legs. Even a blind girl could apparently figure out shaving, you thought as you slipped her pesky undergarments to the side.

-----

It took a few minutes to get on track- corrections from Maddalyn in position and pace of certain actions, but eventually the H-higher…s and N-not so rough!s reduced in frequency, and when you pulled up to see why Maddalyn wasn’t talking, she was biting her sleeve, her face deep red as she panted heavily.

“Hhh…” she breathed, then looked back at you, “D-don’t stop…”

A few minutes more and you felt Maddalyn quiver, and her thighs tightened their grip around your head. She convulsed and made a muffled squeak into her sleeve, then lay still for a moment before she pushed your head away, gasping, her breath heavy and quick.

“I-I…” Maddalyn panted, her face still beet red and sweating, “…Thank you…that was …wait, don’t kiss me! She caught your face before you connected, “You numbskull!” She turned her head away with a cute little angry pout, “…I guess…I should do yours now, don’t I…” She touched your manhood, as it pressed through the bedsheet and did its best to tear its way through the thin cloth.

>No, you’re not finished with her yet, and she’s in a good position right now. While you had naught else on the mind- quickly now!
>Why do that when it was time to consummate? Though maybe you should take her clothes off first…
>Let her get up, then. An eye for an eye.
>Enough embarrassments for today. Maybe you should let cooler heads prevail.
>Other?

>>3812741
>>No, you’re not finished with her yet, and she’s in a good position right now. While you had naught else on the mind- quickly now!

>>3812741
>Let her get up, then. An eye for an eye.
And this time help her out to make you feel good like she just did for you instead of doing nothing you numbskull.

>>3812741
>Let her get up, then. An eye for an eye.
That's a mean pun.

>>3812741
>Even a blind girl could apparently figure out shaving
Unfortunately. Muffgang for life!
I guess no one is perfect, not even our...what did he call her? Little Shortcake? Yeah, that's the good stuff. Don't you guys love this emotional intimacy?
Anyway.
>No, you’re not finished with her yet, and she’s in a good position right now. While you had naught else on the mind- quickly now!
Get her in the EAR!

Does Maddy shave, or is it natural?! Richter IS an unreliable narrator right now.

>>3812796
Finally.
Someone willing to ask the real questions.
Again though, all possible options are inferior to what could have been
Muffgang! Bushgang!

>>3812893
Sorry this quest is smoothgang.

>>3812900
More like smoothbraingang

>>3812921
Well Richter is a smoothbrain now.

>>3812741
>Let her get up, then. An eye for an eye

>>3812741
>>Let her get up, then. An eye for an eye.

>>3812747
>>3812773
Take her with her clothes still on like some sort of animal.

>>3812759
>>3812770
>>3813311
>>3813356
Back to the scheduled programming.
Writing.

You thought about it- her panties were pushed aside, and your time down between your legs had admittedly led to thoughts about finally taking Maddalyn’s virginity right then and there- but she didn’t ask for that. You stood up…and inadvertently let the sheet fall off your waist as Maddalyn sat up.

“Well…” Maddalyn looked away as she was eye level with your groin and what was poking out of your trousers, like she hadn’t been the one to take it out there, “Sit down, then. And pick up that sheet.”

You would have liked to watch her do it, but you did as asked anyways. Once you sat down again, Maddalyn pulled the sheet back over you, then took firm hold of you again, contemplating, before she asked, “…You’ve touched yourself, haven’t you?...Help me with this, so I can…you know…”

“…Spit on your hand,” you advised. It was rather odd actually telling somebody this.

“How much?”

You shrugged, and Maddalyn spat enough saliva up to render her hand a dripping mess- well, you shouldn’t complain. Once she’d gotten her hand in the right place again, you held her wrist, and guided her- slow, intimate. She gazed into your eyes rather than looking away this time, and every time she lost her nerve you’d tell her softly to look at you again- because it helped.

Steadily, you had her go faster-then faster, and when Maddalyn got the idea to lean up and kiss you, you proceeded to ruin the sheets with a catch in your breath and a grunt, and Maddalyn didn’t stop her movements until you put your hand on her arm firmly, a few seconds after everything was spent and the twitching stopped.

Maddalyn parted herself from you, and took her hand from under the sheet- on her fingers and palm was as much a mess as the one you’d made out of sight in the covers. “Euugh,” Maddalyn grimaced, as she wiped her hand off on the bedsheet. It was promptly balled up and tossed into the corner for whatever poor soul had to handle laundry, while you put your own piece back where it belonged. “So er…” Maddalyn was still flushed, as she sat next you, “What now? I don’t…really know what I’m supposed to…”

“…Pillowtalk?” you suggested. You couldn’t quite explain it, but Maddalyn’s handwork had helped you clear your head somewhat. Maybe it helped you focus on more what was in the now- you already felt that familiar fear trying to claw its way back, but you could keep it at bay for at least a little longer.

“Well, I mean,” Maddalyn wrung her hands, “It’s not like we had sex. Not really.” You were both quiet for a moment longer. “I have a lot of questions, but…I don’t think it’s the right time for a lot of them. Except…why did you call me here? I’m glad to see you, but, I don’t think you called me here…well, just for this…Are you going to go back to where you went?” You nodded. “…Are you taking me with you?”

>Of course. So long as you don’t mind our child being conceived in another country, of course.
>I’m sorry. But no. I just wanted to see you, and certainly didn’t want to go back without at least a glimpse of you. I promise to write whenever I can.
>No. But we can stay here as long as you like. I’ll have to go back eventually, but I won’t do so without everything in order.
>Other?

>>3813507
>>Of course. So long as you don’t mind our child being conceived in another country, of course.

>>3813507
>No. But we can stay here as long as you like. I’ll have to go back eventually, but I won’t do so without everything in order.

>>3813507
>>No. But we can stay here as long as you like. I’ll have to go back eventually, but I won’t do so without everything in order.

>>3813507
>Of course. So long as you don’t mind our child being conceived in another country, of course.

>>3813507
>No. But we can stay here as long as you like. I’ll have to go back eventually, but I won’t do so without everything in order.
No need to get her kidnapped in yet another country.

>>3813507
>>No. But we can stay here as long as you like. I’ll have to go back eventually, but I won’t do so without everything in order.

>>3813651
Also now may be a good time to ask about supernatural shit while she's here.

>>3813512
>>3813581
Come with me and you'll see a world of ghosts and terrorism.

>>3813516
>>3813539
>>3813622
>>3813651
No, but I'm on extended vacation. Sort of. Maybe. Not really.

Writing.

You thought of the future, for a moment. About what you would be getting back into- about what you’d have to be dealing with- all without what you once had, and a cold snap traveled down your spine. You felt yourself slipping, from the glow of contentedness. “…No.” It was still no place for Maddalyn. No place for a frail little woman, and certainly not another place you wanted to risk her being abducted. “But…we can stay here as…as long as you like. I’ll…” you paused, “I’ll have to go back. Eventually. But…everything’ll be in order.”

“How long is as long as I like?” Maddalyn immediately asked.

“…” You didn’t have an answer on the spot.

“…Richter, I know you can’t stay here for long. I’d like to pull you away for…for at least as long as you’ve been kept from me, but…I know that’s not possible.” Maddalyn thought for a minute, and wrapped her arms around you, leaning close. “…A day. That’s all I can demand. A day and a night…then I can’t keep you any longer. I can’t keep you selfishly to myself, even if…it’s all I can think of to keep you safe. To ensure nobody…nothing takes you away.”

“What do you have to be afraid of?” Maddalyn pushing against you helped to keep the eyes off you…or so it felt like, with the paths of your mind flowing more free as she cuddled you, “There is exactly one woman whom I’d bury myself between the legs of…unless your reactions were an act…”

Maddalyn squeezed you, “No, they weren’t…unless my hand still feels sticky from an act on your part…I’m sorry. I’m talking about such gloomy things after…after you made me feel so good, so desired, in a way I’ve never felt in my life. It’s just that…one time in my life, everyone important to me, and who I was important to, there was naught but us, and I felt they were all mine…until they weren’t. So…” Maddalyn sighed, then looked back up. “…Was…was the door open that whole time?”

…Oh. So it was.

-----

You and Maddalyn were having…post fooling around…morning tea? Downstairs. After making sure that your antics hadn’t roused anyone. Alas, Von Metzeler’s door was closed, and an ear to it told of him snoring. He had seemed a bit tired at breakfast- lucky you. Either that or he was maintaining a polite illusion. You still hadn’t left the house, but Maddalyn had asked for a day and a night, and when you were with Maddalyn…well, priorities lined up. When you thought about what you’d do going back to Ellowie, you got the same crawl in your skin as usual- and you hoped that would at least become…manageable.

The tea provided here was a different sort from across the sea- most likely imported from Sosaldt’s southern city states that made their wealth from unrestricted ports that brought in goods of all sorts. It was a deep, dark and soulful tea that you actually were provided honey with- not that Signy was here. Signy was well aware that Maddalyn didn’t like her…and perhaps, when Maddalyn found out about what had happened to you...she most certainly wouldn’t be happy about that. If she found out. You hadn’t told her that she had been kidnapped by Strossvald’s own intelligence office…Judge Above, to think about that without the feeling of your mind clouding. Yet, would she have to hear about this? Or about Signy’s part in it? How many secrets were you comfortable keeping from the woman you were to marry? Especially now that the ring you had given her sparkled dimly at you…

“…This place, Todesfelsen,” Maddalyn said, looking at her tea and stirring it about with a spoon. The window was unshaded and out the glass the city peered through, but Maddalyn couldn’t see through any windows. “The last time I was here, I had been taken here against my will. I was imprisoned here, had my eye cut out, watched you dying in my arms…there are so, so many horrid memories here, but…my guards were telling me that this place didn’t look like it had the character it once had. The Republic has taken over its identity.” Maddalyn took a long drink of her tea, now no longer steaming, “…Perhaps we could walk around. You can tell me about it…about what’s happened. What’s been happening to you…how whatever happened to you now….mm.”

“…Alright.” You thought that acceptable. “Will your guards be with us?”

“They will be an acceptable distance away.” Maddalyn said. “…They are trustworthy. They have worked at the manor and in the city for nearly a decade. Some would say it is not good to be more loyal to Von Blum than it is to the Archduke, but the Archduke himself understands he would act as we do were he in our place. It is common sense.”

“There certainly won’t be any objection from me…” you couldn’t help but be relieved, for once, that your safety wasn’t something you had to keep a close eye on. “…We’ll go out and eat when it’s…eleven thirty, then?”

“What time is it?” Maddalyn asked.

“…Eleven thirty two,” you muttered as you actually checked your watch. “Guzzle that down, then. Let’s mosey.”

-----

“This place,” you pointed to Maddalyn as you were walking about the city- a heavy Mittelsosalian military presence still patrolled the streets, but you faintly recognized a few kerchiefs and armbands among them with the colors of the former Death Heads- some lingering attachment to their former identity though they wore the brown of the Republic. “When we rolled in here to take the fort, we were going up this way, and our allies had taken an armory…only for it to be a trap. The explosion was so massive, it knocked down everything within a few blocks. You didn’t see how it was before…but that’s why this place is a park now, I’d suppose…”

“You’re much better than when I first saw you,” Maddalyn said cheerily, “I’m glad of that.”

“You have the magic touch.”

“Richter!” Maddalyn hissed, “Don’t talk about that out here…”

“Magic?”

“Not that, you know what you were talking about…” Maddalyn sulked.

The humor of your wisecrack faded. ”…I’m still afraid. The same way as I was back there,” you admitted, “but…I can…do this for you. This is easy enough.”

“Mm…” Maddalyn gave the ground a solemn glance. “…I’ve been trying to exercise more, so that I’m not so weak. It’s been hard giving it time between…another project.”

“Another…project?”

“I’m…researching something.”

“Something.”

“Yes.” Maddalyn was awfully reluctant to talk about whatever it was. “…It’s just a thing I’m curious about, not really…not really anything important.” She paused, as you walked hand in hand, “The scent I’m wearing…I don’t know if you noticed it, but it’s one of the ones you sent me…”

“Is it?” you asked, and you sniffed over the top of your fiancée’s head, “…Some sort of cinnamon?” You should have noticed it earlier, but...you were distracted, and it was a bit of a subtle smell anyways.

“Yes, it’s the one I liked best. Whenever apples are in some sort of treat, they’re usually with cinnamon, so…it was the one I liked best.”

“Are you saying you’re hungry for some sweets?” you teased Maddalyn as you ruffled her hair, and pulled back on it to see how her ponytail was developing, even if you lacked a band for it.

“Maybe.” The little redhead sniffed. Her skin had become pale again, but the winter cold still made her cheeks rosy, and little flakes of the sparsely falling snow were sticking in her hair and on her little coat and scarf, as her breaths each came out as a cloud of mist. “…Perhaps you wouldn’t see it as well, but even though this place has been made a park…I can see a night sky of little dots…little specks of presence, floating about, where many perished violently. At the very least, I suppose, this is now a place of peace.”

You and Maddalyn found a bench to sit on, by a lamp post whose construction was obviously new. In the mere two months or so it had been since you left Todesfelsen a smoking ruin, not all of it was rebuilt, of course- but so much had been hastily constructed shoddy shanties regardless, that had likely sprung right back up again, even though this place had been cleared of the rubble. In its place, though you would call it a part, it was truly more a drill ground with the majority of the people about. Even though there were lounging citizens and the like, most were uniformed Republic soldiers, being marched or run around, or taking breaks from the like.

It reminded you of days you’d forgotten. Some distant, untouchable memory that you felt more in your legs and arms than in your past. You felt that you should have known…but you didn’t. The drills the men were doing with their rifles…you should have known, but there was nothing. Where…

Maddalyn hugged you, and you felt calmer again. It would come back. Even if you had to learn it all over again. Maybe you’d have the fortune to relearn it all faster than it had taken in the first place.

Optimism was a pleasant drug. Yet you were reminded- there was much you had to ask Maddalyn, and much to tell her…and perhaps much to not tell her at all…

>Tell Maddalyn about your conditioning- and that it had been broken. Just that it was. No more. It was probably a good thing.
>Tell Maddalyn everything- how you were abducted, how your conditioning being broken and turned you to your current state, what it was, and who had done it…for better or worse.
>Maddalyn doesn’t need to know about this. It would only upset her, and you would get better. Hell, you felt better being around her, didn’t you? Clearly you weren’t permanently crippled.
>Other?

Also-

>Anything you want to ask Maddalyn or do with her before you ship back?

>>3813799
>>Tell Maddalyn everything- how you were abducted, how your conditioning being broken and turned you to your current state, what it was, and who had done it…for better or worse.

>>3813814
Also maybe ask her to consider staying here for a while after we go, perhaps with Lord Wossehn? Just in case the IO tries to do anything funny if she goes back.

>>3813799
>Tell Maddalyn everything, except about our abduction
No point in having her dislike Signy even more.

>>3813799
>Tell Maddalyn everything- how you were abducted, how your conditioning being broken and turned you to your current state, what it was, and who had done it…for better or worse.

>>3813799
>>Tell Maddalyn everything- how you were abducted, how your conditioning being broken and turned you to your current state, what it was, and who had done it…for better or worse.

>>3813799
>Tell Maddalyn everything- how you were abducted, how your conditioning being broken and turned you to your current state, what it was, and who had done it…for better or worse.
Try our best not to drop it on her like a ton of bricks.

>>3813799
>Tell Maddalyn everything- how you were abducted, how your conditioning being broken and turned you to your current state, what it was, and who had done it…for better or worse.

We are in this mess because of Signy, she can stay the hell away forever.

>>3813799
Forgot to add
>Anything you want to ask Maddalyn or do with her before you ship back?
Has Richter's presence changed at all?
Tell her about Yva and the weird wizard village she was in.
Any uses for ghost eating trees?

Maybe if we are so shit at combat now Richter can become a wizard.
Also it's okay if these get answered later, big update coming already I bet.

>>3813799
>>Tell Maddalyn everything- how you were abducted, how your conditioning being broken and turned you to your current state, what it was, and who had done it…for better or worse.

>>3813814
>>3813885
>>3814125
>>3814187
>>3814196
>>3814388
Complete tell all.

>>3813873
Perhaps some restraint.

>>3813819
Suggest an extended stay with local celebrities.

>>3814206
Questions about weird shit.

Don't want to do anything in particular though, huh. Not fulfilling any promises made by mail? No? Fair enough.

Writing.

>>3815097
...

I think everyone missed the 2nd vote. I know I did.

I'd vote to "Fulfill the letter promise" if you know what I mean if there is still time for it.

>>3815097
Normally I'd say yes but I'm not sure Richter is up to full combat potential as it were.

>>3815225
>I'm not sure Richter is up to full combat potential as it were
He literally gave up his entire ability to fight.

>>3815317
I meant more the fact that we had to roll to see if he could get a boner.

You thought to tell Maddalyn…everything. Not yet, though. It would be the last thing.

“Ellowie…” you started off, “It’s a place with a lot of strange spirit…stuff.”

Maddalyn nodded. “Mm. Even before the wars brought no shortage of death to the place, it’s been like that.”

“Has my…” you looked around to see if any of the sparse guests besides soldiers training their physical fitness were around, or if the latter were coming close, “…Presence changed?”

“Yes.” Maddalyn said without having to look at you, “I mean, it’s not like…you’re unrecognizable, but back then, when I thought about what was different…I can tell you still have that thing chewing on you, and it’s been twisted around by something else, too. Probably just how spiritually active it is.”

That was to be expected- but you were expecting another sort of change, based on a suspicion you had about the nature of your conditioning that had been broken. “Spiritually active might be an understatement. There are so many that it’s sort of…normal. Like they’re just animals that look very strange. There’s these huge serpentine things that trail across the sky-“

“Heavens Pilgrims,” Maddalyn said, “They rise from the ground, and wander around until they grow large enough from ambient Presence and whatever tiny things they absorb to rise higher and higher, until they journey to the peaks to disappear.”

“Why?” you asked reflexively.

“Nobody knows. They just do.”

“…There’s also another Soulbinder, for some reason.”

“You had best not be antagonizing them.” Your hesitation betrayed you to Maddalyn, who sharply added, “I knew you couldn’t resist. Judge Above, if somebody could put a leash on when you chose to be a stubborn fool.”

“They have done no direct harm to me,” you said defensively, “I am merely trying to keep them from manipulating a subordinate of mine. She calls herself Yva-”

“She?”

“Yes. Why, is it unusual for a Soulbinder to be a woman?” you asked. You were sure you’d seen one before, even.

“No, not really, just…hm.” Maddalyn motioned for you to continue. “I remember the Hermit said they weren’t supposed to come down from the mountains.”

“She also calls herself by a name, rather than an alias,” you said, “Unless Poltergeist is that creature’s actual name. I don’t know why she’s here, but a bit after she showed up, a village popped up out of nowhere. Like it had been there a while, and just came back into being. Does that sound like anything you’ve heard of?”

Maddalyn squinted at you, and shook her head. “That doesn’t sound like anything, but if you’re asking me…I’m sorry. Anything that would be a hint is just a fairy tale, and not really helpful to you.”

“Can I hear it?”

Maddalyn looked down. “Well, when I say fairy tales, they’re still things you shouldn’t spout off to everybody, alright? Especially not Soulbinders. You see, there’s stories about places that fall from time, into a place outside of existence called the Navel. It’s where Poltergeist says he’s sending you when you have those dreams, if you remember.”

“So some bellybutton lint fell out of this imaginary place and landed in Ellowie?” you asked.

“Yes. Like how you…sort of, leave and come back. Except this place would have been gone longer, of course…theoretically. All I have are what I’ve read, and so much of that is myth, metaphor, philosophy…”

“I suppose there’s not much I can do besides look the other way then?”

“That is always the better option with these things.” Maddalyn mumbled to herself.

“There are also these trees in Ellowie. They’re….they’re…” what were they again?”

“Kalamarz.” Maddalyn answered for you.

“I think. They’re black fir trees. I didn’t think you were much a botanist.”

“I’m not, but it’s used for a lot of things, even besides sorcery stuff. Ink made from its charcoal, its sap, are decent replacements for blood in scribing spells, but they don’t work for things that require a certain potency…like Stitches.”

“Is it hard to come by?” you asked, “I could send you some.”

Maddalyn shook her head. “No, no, it isn’t.” She put her hand on yours, “If you send me too many presents you’ll spoil me anyways.”

You weren’t sure how it was possible to spoil a young woman who was part of a family that ruled a territory richer and more powerful than some small countries, but you weren’t going to debate a joke, especially from somebody who told them as infrequently as Maddalyn.

Yet now it was almost time for the thing you truly needed to talk about.

“…Even after I leave here,” you told Maddalyn, “Would you like to stay here longer? Perhaps with Lord Wossehn, over in Wossehnalia? Somebody I could trust to keep a close eye on you, and probably safer than here in Todesfelsen…”

“Huh?” Maddalyn blinked at you, then looked over to a pair of her guards a few dozen paces away, in their deep blue Strossvald uniform greatcoats. “Why, it seems safe enough here, especially with my guards here. Do you think that Mittelsosalia has something against me? Why?”

“No, not in Mittelsosalia, but…from Strossvald.” You admitted. Why did it feel so hard to say such things before, but now, it flowed like water? The conditioning…what were its full effects? “About how you found me, why I’m here…you see, I was in Ellowie doing my normal duties, and Signy Vang…the Minister of the People of this nation, you may have heard.”

“I know of her.” Maddalyn said sharply, icily. Apparently a couple of months hadn’t helped her opinion mellow.

“I decided to surprise her and meet her to catch up…” Maddalyn’s hand tightened on yours. “Dearest, relax. I know what you taste like, I’d hope there’s no doubts in your mind. Her and I are just friends.”

“Hrrrgghhmm.” Maddalyn growled, but didn’t demand further justifications. You have her a reassuring peck before you explained more. A goofy little aside for what was to become a very heavy subject. Maybe a distraction you needed.

“She noticed something. While we were apart, I suppose, she learned of, or was told, of something I’d heard of before but discounted, didn’t want to believe. That I was under some sort of influence, some sort of mind control, I guess, and had been for a while. I didn’t know exactly what it was…and Signy wasn’t telling me anything. She even had me kidnapped, but eventually…we came to an understanding, and I allowed her to have a specialist…treat my conditioning. By breaking it. When I came to…ever since, I’ve felt afraid of…everything. Being. My second in command Von Metzeler had the same treatment done to him, and he’s here too- I don’t know how it’s affected him, but for my part…it’s like I’ve been being watched from everywhere, like I can’t do anything, like I can hardly even move when it’s at its worst...but it’s gotten better. Being around you, I can even forget it’s there.”

Maddalyn noticed your voice growing weaker as you went on, and seemed to interpret from what you were talking about, in spite of the confusion on her face, that it was a good time to put her arms around you again. It helped.

“When I broke free of it, I’ve felt that…I’ve forgotten so much. Things I should know, things I should know how to do…if you asked me how I fought, how I did things like when I came to this city, I wouldn’t be able to tell you, and that frightens me most of all. In every battle, I’ve been able to feel no fear…and now I can’t feel anything but it…thinking about what’s to come makes me feel like ice is spreading from within. But even if I’ve lost that…it also means that my conditioning is gone. Conditioning put there, I’m sure, by the Intelligence Office…who also orchestrated your kidnapping, my deployment to rescue you, who I’m operating under, and who has people I answer to back in Ellowie…people who could use that conditioning to force me to do actions against my will. So…that’s the long and short of it. I felt that this was something you had to know everything I knew about…”

“…I…” Maddalyn’s face was contorted in confusion, “It sounds like you’re speaking nonsense, but…I suppose we’ve experienced plenty that felt like nonsense…”

After your initial explanation, Maddalyn asked you a variety of small questions, for things to be specified, made observations before you could clear them yourself. In the end, she admitted she was still very confused, but that at the very least she understood a little…even if she didn’t like the implications.

“And you said that Signy woman did this?” Maddalyn asked, about your operation.

“She was the one who arranged it, yes…”

Maddalyn bit her lip, and looked away, pausing. “…If I were in her place I wouldn’t have done it. Especially if I knew it could hurt you like this, but…I was blind, Richter. Now because of this organization, I only have one eye, halfway back to where I once was. Because of them, you were hurt, you could have been killed. Because of them, you could have been enslaved to them…and the only person you belong to is me.” She put a hand on your cheek, “…So I’ll forgive her. Just this time.”

“Who?”

“That stupid northern slag. Because she did the right thing.” Maddalyn took her hand away. “…But we can’t do anything more. This has to be it. You can’t fight the Intelligence Office, you can just make peace with them. That’s what I think you should do. When you go back…just finish being useful, so they can leave us in peace.” Maddalyn was saying that hopefully, but you knew as well as she surely did, that the motivation to simply leave you in peace might have been lacking…but you could at least not be a threat, as Maddalyn implied. “…I know it probably feels wrong to just go back to the way things are…” Maddalyn said softly, “But I want you to be safe. I want this to not be our last day together. It’s just another thing you can’t control…not for now, at least. So…thank you for telling me, but…we’ll just do our best to keep safe. Alright?”

“…But you do see why I wanted you to stay here for a while, didn’t you?” you asked Maddalyn.

“It’ll be like with soulbinders and their nonsense,” Maddalyn said, “If I stay here, they’ll know that I know something is up. If I go right back and act as though everything is fine, then it at least won’t be obvious. You understand that, yes? That you didn’t tell me a single thing about this? That I’m very concerned about the odd changes that have happened…but that I know you’ll be alright?”

“If that is what you think is best.”

“It is.” Maddalyn stood, and tugged on your hand. “Come along, I’m hungry. I don’t know if you found any good places to eat here while you were shooting it up, but…”

“…Actually,” you recalled something, “…I do know a place.” Hopefully it hadn’t been blown apart, abandoned, or burned down.

-----

The day passed more quickly than you would have liked, as you walked Maddalyn all around the city you’d taken, to its cafes, to the great fort where she was once held prisoner (though you were barred from actually entering the thing). When you passed by the soldiers drilling again, you caught some of their speech- and observed that it sounded awfully familiar. Ellowian accents. Could it be..?

When the sun set and the lamps came on, the snow began to stick to the ground without melting, and after a light supper you had taken Maddalyn back to the place you were staying. There was even a portion of dinner where you had invited Maddalyn’s guards closer- they spoke of how Blumland looked in the winter, how the Winterbloom bushes gave splashes of color to the landscape…though the industrial sections made the snow sooty in places. You were well acquainted with sooty snow from Strosstadt, whose great factories were the industrial heartlands of the Archduchy. You also heard from them that the violence from your first visit had vanished utterly- and had been forgotten near as entirely. Where once there were gunfights in the forests and streets, there was now a hastily resume serene peace, as though the people wished to forget it all the sooner by pretending it never happened at all. Such was not the attitude of Von Blum’s patron military units, of course, those who lingered as well as the Panzer units that had journeyed south and made was against Valsten.

Fellow graduates of the academy who had been sent to the Blumlands, but captured and held by the militant imperialist insurgents called the Dawnseekers, had finally been placed back into proper service after being held for a time. They replenished well the losses taken in the war against Valsten, while still having enough left over to build a new Panzer company with reserves. Apparently rumors of your deeds had spread back to them- and their accounts of your time in the academy caused some surprise that you’d really done such things.

At this point, you were surprised you had been capable, too…

Von Metzeler had been staring into a teacup when you returned with Maddalyn, and he nodded to you, and gave Maddalyn a wordless greeting in a wave and a subtle bow. He looked as drawn and haunted as when you were with him earlier…but now, you thought he was worse off than you. When Maddalyn left…would you return to that? Or, since Von Metzeler was weathering the withdrawal better, would you be worse..?

Maddalyn’s suitcase had been left in this common room, before she’d gone upstairs this morning, so you took it with you as Maddalyn led you upstairs to your room, and closed the door behind her.

“…Thank you for taking me out today,” she said steadily, “I…had fun. It was nice being with you again, after so long…” She hesitated, “But now that we’re back here, and it’s late…I’ve gotten a few of your letters. But um…this first one…the one that said you’d, er, make me go blind by…you know.”

“…Oh. That.” You swallowed hard. “That was…”

“I think I…told you my feelings on that before,” Maddalyn rung her hands together, “but…well…I mean…it’s just…” Maddalyn sighed and closed her eyes, “It’s not that…you know. I’m just scared. If it’s what you want…I can’t deny you. Not with what you’ve done for me, not with what you’re going through…not if I say I love you and mean it. But…” Maddalyn wrapped her hands around herself, “…I…just need to know…”

>Was earlier not that? I’m sorry if I frightened you…though you didn’t seem very scared back then.
>Keep your hands off Maddalyn. If she was scared…then this wasn’t how you wanted it to happen.
>Take Maddalyn. When, if not now? If this would be your last night together for a while, then it had best be one to remember.
>Other?

>>3815804
>>Keep your hands off Maddalyn. If she was scared…then this wasn’t how you wanted it to happen.

>>3815804
>>Keep your hands off Maddalyn. If she was scared…then this wasn’t how you wanted it to happen.

This isn't how it should happen with Richter's mind unplugged in the middle of this barren shithole. She shouldn't give it out of obligation, too much of this is already obligation.

I'm also still pretty sure he can't get a boner.

>>3815804
>Keep your hands off Maddalyn. If she was scared…then this wasn’t how you wanted it to happen.

>>3815804
This, pretty much >>3815881. Maddy deserves a better time and a place for her first and we're not exactly "fully functional" right this moment.

>>3815804
>>Keep your hands off Maddalyn. If she was scared…then this wasn’t how you wanted it to happen.

>>3815881
>>3816117
Richter has no problem getting a boner since it's a passive action.
Doing anything with that boner, like taking initiative in the bedroom, is something else entirely but like with anything will get easier the more we try.
Not that we should at the moment. That letter was half a joke and it seems we all agree we don't want to pressure Maddalyn into anything anyway.

>>3815881
>Can't get it up
...Did you already forget about the handjob a few updates ago? That's some short term memory.

I agree with the first but though

>>3816360
I'm pretty sure she used magic which is cheating.
We will need to independently verify with different source material.

File: 1538784605629.jpg (215 KB, 960x958)

215 KB JPG

>>3816595

yfw the "Something" Maddy has been working on turns out to be Boner Magic

I won't be back for a bit still despite waking up late but-

>>3815881
>>3815887
>>3815826
>>3816117
>>3816293
>>3816360
If she's not a virgin her healing spells don't work, that's how it works, right?

Writing...later.

Also yes Richter's physical body is functioning as can be expected else I don't think the cleaners would have to deal with a bedsheet full of spooge.

You saw Maddalyn standing there, afraid and timid, and couldn’t even think of doing anything to her. It would have been wrong- it was the wrong place, the wrong time…and you were the wrong person right now. You would keep your hands off of her- at least, in concern to that.

“No, I…that letter was mostly a joke.” Was it? Well, now it was.

“How much of it was?”

Oh. “Just the part where I said I was going to take you like some sort of savage.”

Maddalyn loosened somewhat, and stood there, thinking. “…If you’re certain…”

“Of course I am.”

“Then…” Maddalyn turned around and went to her suitcase to open it, “I’m going to change into my pajamas. Could you…could you leave the room for a moment?”

“Why?” You hadn’t seen Maddalyn in the nude, but you had been up close and very intimate with the one part of her that you didn’t know whether she resembled her mother.
“Richter, leave!” Maddalyn thrust a finger to the door, and you fled rather than be an ass.

Upon going back out, you noticed in the common room that Maddalyn’s guards had come in. Such was their right, you supposed. It would be very difficult to maintain Maddalyn’s safety if they weren’t even allowed in the same building, after all, no matter what you were planning to do to their charge.

When Maddalyn let you back in, she was in familiar pink pajamas, had taken off her silver hairband, and took you by hand to the bed and sat you down again, sitting on your lap afterwards. “There’s something I’ve missed for a long time…” she muttered, pulling her hair behind her ears, “…You haven’t forgotten, have you..?”

Oh. That was meant to be a prompt. You closed your lips around the edge of Maddalyn’s ear as she settled herself into a steadier position atop you.

“I think,” Maddalyn whispered midway through her ear massage, “I’m learning to like your tongue a lot. So many better uses for it than making smart remarks.”

“Such filthy implications,” you said before you blew in her ear softly, then put that appendage she spoke so fondly of into the inside of her ear.

You didn’t stop until Maddalyn told you to- and when you checked your watch it turned out that she had kept you “working” for…half an hour? She defensively mumbled that time had just slipped by…and that you weren’t going anywhere anyways. Well, that was true enough, you supposed.

A few minutes later, the lights were off, you were down to your sleepwear, and Maddalyn was sharing your bed. It was only made to accommodate one person, but Maddalyn was a tiny little lady, and she didn’t take up much space.

“You’ve gotten much better from me being around, I think…” Maddalyn said from beside you, “I understand why. I feel…the same way when I’m close to you. To have somebody there, whether or not they can do anything, to just…share in being.” Maddalyn pushed further up and against you and rested her head on yours. “Your other friend there…Von Metzeler, was it? He went through the same thing you did. I wonder if…if he has someone like you do me.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Isn’t that sad? To be alone, to lack the warmth of another, to freeze in your own fear?” Maddalyn asked, and neither of you said anything for a moment. “…Hold me…” she said as she nuzzled up even closer to you, putting her hands around your and pushing her head into your breast. You wrapped your arms around her as well, and wondered as you fell asleep together, if she would really be alright with only one night together…

-----

Maddalyn was, as ever, a heavy sleeper, and was still far from consciousness when you woke up and let her go to get dressed, even though she squirmed as you wriggled out of her grip. The spare clothes that were piled on a table in the corner were your uniform, cleaned and pressed, your jacket, folded, as well as a few spare items. Mostly dark hued plain clothes- you expected a Republic uniform…but then, maybe you were wrong in your assuming of what Signy’s assumptions were- in spite of her not being subtle at all that she wouldn’t mind you returning to her services. You slipped on the plain clothes, and the Reich pilot’s jacket, before going down.

Maddalyn’s guards had been taking sleeping shifts, and while one of them snoozed in the corner, they had…morning tea ready. How refreshing it was to be with civilized folk again. Not much in the way of words was shared, as Von Metzeler came down the stairs shortly after you, and you both listened to the other guards talk about their thoughts of the city. A mix of expectations fulfilled, and those not.

A knock at the door, which you rose to answer, but one of the guards raised his hand and went instead. It was a gentleman in the uniform of what had to be an officer variant, judging by the difference of his cap, it having a stiff brim and peak rather than it being floppy like the new standard cap, as well as the patch on his sleeve.

“This is where uh…” the officer, a scuzzy looking man with a tattoo crawling up his neck, barely covered by his tunic’s collar, took a slip of paper from his pocket, “…Richter Von Tracht is, right? I’m here to ask him a question on headin’ back, since, figure that’s what he wants to do…maybe.”

You hadn’t told anybody you were planning to leave today- you were planning on doing that soon, actually, but if things were already arranged… “I’m here,” you stepped forth to the door. “Who are you?”

“Lieutenant Brecken,” the man said, before remembering an overly stiff salute, “Border Affairs and Management division, general offices. Can I come in? Got things that maybe ought to be kept off the street. Your folks can hear, ‘spose.”

“…Sure,” you left for the table. “…we have tea on.”

“…Nah, I’m fine.” Brecken came over to the table, but with the two guards, you, and Von Metzeler at it, all the places were taken around it. “Anyways. You wanted to start heading back today, yeah?”

“…Coincidentally, yes.”

“Yeah. Cyclops figured you’d want to ship out right away.”

“I thought that she would be the one bringing this message.”

“She’s busy or somethin’.” Brecken said dismissively, “Anyways, we can’t just fly a little plane over and drop you off anyways. Netilland’s got a stinkeye on us and that won’t do, ‘specially since Cyclops made a few colorful public statements about what they’re doin’ in Ellowie. Heard tell you had to pop up like you’re doin’ it on yous own anyways. There’s a couple ways, we got, actually.” He reached into his messenger bag and handed you a few papers. “One is, there’s a delivery going to special people in Ellowie. On the down low. Basically, along with a few essentials, they can smuggle you and your guy there too. It’s cause we can’t go right up to Netilland or the border anyways- Netilland’s made deals with the Lords of the North and the people on their borders to keep us out, see. Plus…well, we can’t move on ‘em ‘til it’s time. Anyways, you get smuggled…might have to deal with some bullshit on the way, but it builds character.”

“Not ideal.” You said, looking at the paper detailing the allotted smugglers and their wares, as well as equipment- well armed for smugglers, certainly, but such would be expected in the lands of the Northern Lords, you supposed, where Old Sosaldt still reigned rather than the Republic. “What’s the other option?”

“Well, see, we want somebody local to that area to…hold a contract, hire out some mercenaries. Not like we can hire them to go up there and count on it being stable, after all.”

“Uh huh. What mercenaries?” you asked.

“The Iron Hogs.”

The Iron Hogs…actually, you remembered them quite well. “…I see.”

“We’ve already bought a raid team, actually. Two tanks, crews. We want to get them situated up where you are, if you think that’ll help. They’re already bought and paid for- just need somebody to hold the contract. Unless you’ve got any, I dunno, trust issues. After all, they’re still mercs. They weren’t interested in charity, or the cause of freedom or whatever. If you go with them, you still gotta head the same way- but people aren’t likely to start shit with the Hogs without good cause, I’ll tell you what.”

“And those are my options?” you asked.

“Well, if you want the Republic’s help, sure. I guess you could just…walk back on your own. Or fly back with those guys, but…Cyclops was thinkin’ you might not want to go back that way for…reasons.”

>You supposed some time on the road with smugglers wasn’t a bad way of returning- and you’d be able to tie yourself closer with the NLF...
>Go with the Iron Hogs detachment. If they were intimidating, you…certainly didn’t think you could handle any fights right now. Or even the threat of one.
>You’ll figure something else out. Frankly, you’re keeping your affairs your own for this. (What do?)
>Go back to Strossvald. Safest, easiest…even if there would be…a lot of explaining to do. Maybe too much.
>Other?

Also-

>Absolute last call for anything you want to do here or with Maddy before you leave

>>3818921
I guess the most important fact is, do the Iron Hogs know who we are? Or just that we're working for Signy? If they know Richter then this is just a big fucking trap for the current Iron Hogs boss to tie up familial ends to Heller Von Tracht.

If they don't then
Go with the Iron Hogs detachment. If they were intimidating, you…certainly didn’t think you could handle any fights right now. Or even the threat of one.

If they do know then go with the smugglers. I am very against anything involving Richter and fighting, since he can't now.
Ever.
Which is great.

>>3818950
Ah shit.
>Absolute last call for anything you want to do here or with Maddy before you leave
A firm ass grabbing and an address where she can send us letters.
Maybe check in with Von Metzeler to make sure he's okay doing this. It's alright if he wants to go back to Strossvald.

>>3818921
>>Go with the Iron Hogs detachment. If they were intimidating, you…certainly didn’t think you could handle any fights right now. Or even the threat of one.

>>3818921
>Go with the Iron Hogs detachment. If they were intimidating, you…certainly didn’t think you could handle any fights right now. Or even the threat of one.

>Absolute last call for anything you want to do here or with Maddy before you leave
attack
Ask Wife about what she's been researching in regards to magic and see if there is any way to help.
Talk to wife about how things are going back at home, with her family and such.
Touch the shit out of Wife's ass, if she can sit us down and have us deep clean her ear with out tongue we should have a grab ass session just as long at least.
Ask if we can have her favor, a gift from her should do wonders to increase moral in future struggles.
Come up with some form of communication that might be faster than just sending normal letters.
Kiss the fuck out of her one last time.

>>3818921
>Go with the Iron Hogs detachment. If they were intimidating, you…certainly didn’t think you could handle any fights right now. Or even the threat of one.

Plus this >>3819294 anon's last call suggestions

ukyg babvmjgtcy

>>3819107
>>3819294
>>3819314
Hog squeezing, and etc.

>>3818957
Check on 2ic.

>>3818950
>I guess the most important fact is, do the Iron Hogs know who we are? Or just that we're working for Signy?
I think you can be basically certain that they know who you are.

Writing.

>>3819314
+1.

The sheets making up the contract details were looked over- though it was only a brief summary of capabilities, with references to other documents being made clear. If the amount of references and notes was any indication the actual contract terms were a doozy- but it had already been paid for, so no negotiation to be had there. Two tanks…m/28 1931 modification…whatever that was. One fuel transport, one ammunition transport, one mobile field workshop for sustained operations, costs for food and supply procurement to be added to contract…in short, all needed for a pair of tanks to operate reasonably independently, or so was assured. The team commander was one Lt. Karol Illger, with his second being Junior Lieutenant Frances Eakova, as well as the names of the crews and logistics component members- with their rates all included- noncombat personnel were paid a fair bit less.

There was some concern that, as you recollected what you knew of the Iron Hogs, that their mysterious leader, supposedly your relative but near certainly not, might see you as a threat to his reign. If that was the case, this might be a trap- but maybe you were being overly cautious. It wasn’t like you’d been any threat to the status quo beyond Todesfelsen last you were here.

“I’ll take this contract, then.” You decided. If the Iron Hogs could potentially move through Sosaldt without being forced to battle…the thought of fighting made you nervous, to say nothing of what you thought might happen if you were forced to make battle, especially at a small scale like being with a band of smugglers…no, for now, at least, you had to be safe.

“Great, just uh, sign here,” the officer called Brecken said, “Read over it all, ‘course, but really all there is to it is that they answer to you, because you’re holding their contract as far as bossing them around while Wossehn pays them. If you want the whole contract, I’ve got a copy. There’s certain things they won’t do and all.”

“I’ll have that then,” you said, and were promptly handed what felt like an entire book. “…Er, thanks. When do I go then?”

“As soon as you want. They’re waiting for you, basically.”

“…Sure, alright. I just want to send my wife off, first.” Technically Maddalyn wasn’t your wife yet- but it made you feel good to call her that.

“They’re waiting on the north end. You can borrow my bicycle, just don’t take it with you. It’s not actually mine.”

“Sure. Thanks.” You said, “…That’s all, I suppose.”

“Have a good trip, Kommandant.”

The officer saluted and walked off, leaving his bicycle propped by the door. One of the Von Blum guards took it inside, apparently not trusting the city folk- a fair assumption to make in this land, even with the new administration.

Von Metzeler hadn’t been as inquisitive as you remembered- the whole exchange, you found out as you went all the way back in, he had been staring at his tea, though when he noticed you looking at him, he blinked and leaned back in his chair. “I am alright.”

“Are you sure?” you asked, “If you want to go back to Strossvald, then I would understand.”

Von Metzeler paused, then his face crunched into an annoyed scowl. “You were worse off…but a night ago. Don’t you…patronize me…” There seemed to be more he wanted to explain, but he also seemed wary of saying it around the Von Blum guards- even though one could assume on a certain level that they were the Von Blum’s servants, and not that of the Archduchy, let alone the Intelligence Office.
“Alright. I see.” You accepted that as Von Metzeler declaring he would be coming back, “I’m going to wake up Maddalyn. I’ll be back.” …Was there room on that bicycle for two? You’d see.

You went upstairs, and to Maddalyn, whose hair was splayed all over her face, with the sheets curled up tight around her, in your absence stealing all of the covers to cocoon herself in. Adorable as that was, you couldn’t wake her up if she was wrapped in her protective shell. You undid all that, rolled her onto her front, then…well, you were going to aggravate her with this anyways, so…best to go for broke. You tugged her pajama pants down to the tops of her thighs, so that her bottom was bared, her panties looking to be riding up a bit.

…Ah. Sinking your hands into those soft, yet springy cheeks was like returning home after a long journey. Such bliss, such softness, such a complex butt that had a different luxurious quality corresponding to how softly or firmly you groped it…

“Mmrgh. Mm?”

There was something you thought about while parted from your fiancée, that you just now remembered to do now that you had the opportunity. You wound your hand back and gave Maddalyn’s rear a hard spank. Whap!

“Agchk!” Maddalyn choked as she turned herself about, “Wh-what!? What the…really?” Even though Maddalyn had turned herself around, you reached under her and continued feeling her up. “Hey! What’s wrong with you?”

“It would be wrong not to,” you said plainly.

“…” Maddalyn sighed, “I was thinking that you might not do that. I guess I’m relieved…but it’s also annoying! Stop!” Maddalyn shoved you away, before pulling her pants back up over her waist, a glowering smolder on her face mixing with the drowsiness still in her eyes. “Hmph!”

Then you pushed Maddalyn down on the bed and kissed her roughly on the lips. As grumpy as she might have wanted to act…she relented after a few seconds and returned your kiss gently, then fiercely, hooking her arms around your neck and pulling herself into you. She was picked up afterwards, held tight, before you lay down with her on top of you…so you could molest her butt again. It was a fair trade for being drooled on, as Maddalyn’s spit began to slip down your lips and chin almost immediately when you reversed positions. It was also more than a fair trade considering last night’s ear cleaning.

As you brushed your fingers lightly over the peak of Maddalyn’s round bottom and rested your palm atop it, Maddalyn finally wrest herself from you, a line of saliva connecting you and a dreamy look on her face. “Okay…that’s enough,” she said lightly, “Or else we’ll never leave here…get your hand off my butt unless you’re dragging me north.”

“Your guards would object to that, I think.” You pointed down, “They and Von Metzeler are downstairs. We’ve got more hot water going if you want to go downstairs and get tea.”

Maddalyn nodded. “I would like some…but could you bring it up here? I’d like to…well, just be with you, right now.”

“Alright.” You went down and got teacups and saucers for them- they were plain, but considering where you were it might have been something to have them. You remembered Maddalyn had a sweet tooth- and accommodated appropriately before going back up. “So since you’re going home,” you asked as you passed Maddalyn her tea, still sitting on the bed in her pink pajamas. “How have things been going there? How’s the family?”

Maddalyn’s look went dark, then downcast, and she put her tea down on the desk by the bed and held her hands together in her lap. “They’ve been…the usual. My half siblings don’t have anything to do with me, like usual. They were raised by relatives, anyways…since my father’s last wife died so long ago. My younger sister is…hateful. She tried to seize the package with my birthday presents in it…and…well it wasn’t pleasant.”

“How awful of her,” you scowled. “Why does she dislike you so much, anyways?”

Maddalyn paused, then swallowed hard. “Er…well…see…I…she’s jealous that the Hermit chose me. I think. I don’t know.” She didn’t know? Maddalyn quickly moved away from that. “My father is my father as usual. So…I don’t mind leaving home for a little.”

“You have your experiments to get back to, at least,” you tried to not make it such a morose subject. “What have you been working on? You can say it up here, we’re alone now. Is there any way I can help?”

“…” Maddalyn squeezed her hands together, and her mouth set. “…It’s, well…something…about…the effects of presence on bodies. I figure, since you keep running into Soulbinders, and ever since what happened to that Hilda woman, I should maybe find out more about what effects it has. And…I don’t think there’s anything you can do to help it, don’t worry about it. I have it all under control.”
She seemed so hesitant about it. Why? “Are you sure? Tell me more about it, maybe I can think of something.”

“I’d rather not talk about it.” Maddalyn said, quiet and oddly firm.

…Oh. “…I want to ask you for something as well,” you said, “Instead of leaving without a photo, or a silhouette, or anything at all- can I ask you for your favor?”

“A favor?”

“Your favor.”

Maddalyn blinked at you. “…Oh. But that’s archaic, I thought they stopped doing that since…I don’t know, since knights in armor stopped running about having tournaments.”

“I always dreamed of being a knight in armor as a boy,” you reminisced openly.

“…Very well.” Maddalyn said, and put a finger on her chin and thought. She seemed to think…and grow sadder. “…You’re supposed to make them yourself, but…I don’t know how to knit, or…anything, really.” Maddalyn’s face fell, but then she seemed to get an idea, and moved to her suitcase to pull out the scarf she had worn when she first appeared. “This…was my mother’s. She gave it to me a very long time ago…” She held out the light blue scarf for you. “…It’s very important to me. I trust…that you’ll bring it back safely.”

“Won’t your neck get cold?” you asked, “I will take it, though. My thanks.”

“I’ll be fine. And I want to protect your neck from anybody doing this…” Maddalyn sat on your lap again, and kissed you long and deep on the sensitive part of your neck, by the edge of your jaw. “Hmhm!” she tittered a light giggle, “See, that’s your weak spot, isn’t it? It wouldn’t do for it to be out where somebody could get it.”

“I’ll…er, keep it well guarded, then.” You wrapped Maddalyn’s scarf around your neck and tightened it. “Is it really all right, though?”

“Yes.”

“Alright.” You paused. “…Ah. I haven’t been able to get any letters from you, but…I believe I have a place you can send them to where I can get them.” You might have even been kept so out of contact on purpose, but no longer. “If you send them to…where’s a pencil and paper.” You found one, and wrote down the address for the Kamienisty mail office- where mail for normal troops came anyways. “Here. If you have this sent there, or have a servant deliver it, I’ll be able to get it. Don’t wait too long, will you?”

“Of course.” Maddalyn fell quiet again. “…I suppose…you’ll be leaving soon…I had my day and night, and I won’t demand any longer…”

“You can have a few minutes more to send me off.”

Maddalyn didn’t get dressed, but instead stood just outside the house as you led Von Metzeler outside and stood him by the bicycle, before lifting up Maddalyn in a hug, and kissing her on the lips one last time, bidding her farewell, and for her guards to keep a close watch on her. Maddalyn was trying not to cry, you knew, but you could see them welling up in her eyes as you put her down again.

“Next we meet,” you said to her, “I won’t be waiting long to see you in white.” Maddalyn nodded, and with a wave you got on your transportation, and bit Von Metzeler to board as well.

What a sight you and Von Metzeler must have been as you tried to share that bicycle, teetering on the cobblestone the whole way.
-----
It crept up on you like a shadow in night. The further you went, the further you got from Maddalyn…the less you trusted your ears. Your eyes. Your balance.
The bicycle careened into a little merchant wagon on the side of the road.

“Hey!” the merchant cried as his things flew all over the street, “Watch where you’re going, you pissant! Damn it all…”

Why? It was all uncertain again…you couldn’t even muster an apology before Von Metzeler helped you to your feet and you shuffled off again, merely walking the bicycle now. At least Von Metzeler was here, you said in your head, to try and steady yourself. He could be trusted. You could trust one another, even if the world was so frightening. How could you have thought to send him away? What would have even happened if you were on your own..?

The north end. All you had to do was walk north. Don’t mind the passersby. Don’t mind the soldiers. Even if they all had your eyes on you. Even if you were defenseless. Even…

You had pulled into your scarf to hide your face, but…it was inundated with the scent Maddalyn had been wearing. That gentle cinnamon smell took you back…and it was like she was by you. You could forget for a moment about the eyes upon you…the sounds you couldn’t hear but knew were there, the feeling of thinking you should know things, but not knowing. You found a little glowing candle in the oppressive, consuming darkness.

-----

You knew the one of the people standing by the tanks and trucks. That…made them easier to approach, even if your posture was still hunched and guarded, and your eyes darted from place to place.

“Wow, look at that scarf, what a queer.” One of the mercenaries said loudly. You couldn’t raise an objection.

“…Hey, I know you,” the man you recognized kept his hands in his pockets and turned to you. “You’re the Kommandant, Richter Von Tracht. Hell’s nephew. Man, you’re back here?” The long haired man with a knife edged nose held out a hand, “Remember me? Lieutenant Illger? The Phoenix?”

“The cockroach, you mean!” a rude sounding feminine voice shouted from in front of the tanks.

“Whatever.”

You didn’t take Illger’s hand, and instead thrust out the paper you’d signed, wordlessly.

“Huh?” Illger took the paper. “Oh. Huh. Out of all the people, you’re the contract holder?” He turned back to the crews, “Hey, which one of you called the contract holder a queer just now? Nobody, huh?” Illger blew a dismissive psshh, and tucked the paper into his jacket. “Alright then. So. I suppose you already know the deal then?”

The deal? Oh. “…Yes. You’re…going north, and taking…taking us to Ellowie. Where we’ll…employ you…”

“What in the hell?” the female voice’s owner went around the tank, “Is he retarded or something?” She was a scruffy looking woman with deep, auburn hair that splayed out behind her head from under a bandanna with a lightning bolt pattern running along its edge, with splotches of pale discoloration on her neck and half of her face.

“No, he’s not!” Illger yelled back, “…Why are you talking like that? Didn’t get your coffee?”

>No. You didn’t. Of course. Could he spare some? You’d appreciate it.
>Admit that you’re messed up, even if you can’t explain the extent. You’ll have to request some patience.
>It’s none of his business. Get in one of the trucks- the less you had to deal with anybody the better.
>Maybe you could think of something to pull yourself together and communicate better…(How, and what to say?)
>Other?

>>3821695
>Admit that you’re messed up, even if you can’t explain the extent. You’ll have to request some patience.

>>3821695
>>Admit that you’re messed up, even if you can’t explain the extent. You’ll have to request some patience.

>>3821695
COFFEE IS THE DEVILS SQUIRT JUICE AND WE SHALL NOT SUFFER IT.

>Admit that you’re messed up, even if you can’t explain the extent. You’ll have to request some patience.
Insinuate we're strung out on drugs, we've found a nice new expensive habit after all this winning we keep doing.

>>3821695
>Admit that you’re messed up, even if you can’t explain the extent. You’ll have to request some patience.
Holy crap, Richter's got it bad. Was he like this before the brainwashing, or is it a rebound effect?
I think we need to try and sleep without Blackflower for a while. Maybe Poltergeist will magically help us.
Or maybe he'll just mock us.

>>3821695
>>Maybe you could think of something to pull yourself together and communicate better…(How, and what to say?)
We might not remember how to fight, but we at least remember when we fought here, yeah? Even if we don't feel like the same person anymore, we can still remember how we spoke with Illger in the past, and what we were like when we were the Kommandant, marching across the plains with the Republic's armored forces at our back. All we have to do is rely on our memory and imitate the way we acted and spoke back then, even if it feels completely fake. Like imitating the persona of an action hero in a movie. We were living this role just a year ago, so even if it's now just a character we have to play, we already know all the lines.

>>3821695
>>Admit that you’re messed up, even if you can’t explain the extent. You’ll have to request some patience.
Could say we have shell shock or something.

>>3821695
>Admit that you’re messed up, even if you can’t explain the extent. You’ll have to request some patience.
We need to go back. I can't take seeing our boy like this!

It is a morning.

>>3821698
>>3821772
>>3821790
>>3821794
>>3822081
Do I look okay to you?

>>3821792
Getting a sense of deja vu.

Writing.

“I…err…” you looked to your flanks, trying to think… “I…I’m messed up. Please be patient, I…I’ve developed…a drug habit…to deal with some…things.”

“Great, the contract holder’s a strung out junkie retard,” one of the crews said, to a few half concerned guffaws.

Even Illger seemed concerned, now. “…Sure. Who’s the other guy with you?”

“I am…” Von Metzeler paused. “I am…Rondo Von Metzeler…”

“Oh good, they’re both retarded,” the auburn haired splotchy woman groaned. “Whatever, at least that one’s nice looking. Retarded boys can be cute too.”

“Go cherry hunting somewhere else, they already came here with a better bicycle than you, Eakova.” One of Illger’s crew said irritably.

That seemed like a rather nasty insult, but the subject merely made a rude hand gesture before shouting to Illger, “Just gonna say, I’m not takin’ orders from no sleeper weaning hisself off wakeleaf.”

“You’re taking orders from me, truck driver,” Illger was shooting names back now, losing patience. “More lip and I’ll make your ugly face symmetrical.”

“Fuck you, knife nosed cockroach.” Eakova snapped, but she laid off and went back to the front of her vehicle.

“Don’t mind her,” Illger told you, “People think I’m cursed-“

“You’re cursed.” One of the crew interjected.

“…So nobody goes on team raids with me except people wanting to move up. Eakova’s not normally a tank leader, see. So put up with her and I’ll try and keep people from messing with you. We all have our rough spots, right?”

“Eakova’s rough spot is between her legs.” The same mouthy crewman shot off.

“Shaddup.” Illger said back to them, “Anyhow, I’d offer a ride in my tank, but even these new turrets are pretty tight since the Nauklanders wanted to stuff a whole ‘nother person along with a gun bigger’n a peashooter, so you’ll have to keep in trucks, even if it’s a bit cramped. Actually, know what…Eakova!” the woman popped around the corner looking irritated. “You’re up front. I want to hash more out with the contract holder on the way.”

“Fuck off.” Besides that, Eakova didn’t actually reject the command, though.

You and Von Metzeler were packed off in a space in the back of the workshop truck; some passengers were expected, you guessed, from how a few boxes appeared to have been moved atop the backs of the tanks to make some tight space for you. Though if you were being honest…you’d have preferred to be in one of the tanks, instead.

-----

“So,” Illger said loudly over the sound of engine, churning wheels, rattling equipment and grinding ground as the trucks went underway, him sitting with you and Von Metzeler in the back of the workshop truck. “Anya went back with you, didn’t she? How’s she been?”

“…Fine?”

“Can’t hear you, speak up!” Illger said, and you were able to croak out your previous answer just a bit louder. “Fine, I get it, not feeling up for talking much. I’ll talk instead. See, I got in the Hogs after Anya…well, after Hell adopted her, or whatever, by a couple years. I thought she was an annoying little shit, honestly. But Hell liked her, Schweinmann likes her, Vinny likes her, I just think it was a shit move to ditch like most of the people did, you know?. Like, shit. Those were tough times and they didn’t need to get any tougher for lack of personnel, and much as anybody might talk shit Anya was good at what she did even then. Even if she always had to be a pain in the ass for some reason. Always was real bad about that when Hell was close.”

Judge Above. Could you even spar with Anya anymore? You didn’t think you could. What would she even think? You remembered being driven to compete with her, to surpass her, you remembered so clearly that being bested by a small slim woman was a special kind of motivation to become better, but now..?

Illger at this point was just rambling whether or not you were listening. So you vanished deeper in your own head, looking out the back of the truck to Todesfelsen, disappearing in dust. Had you felt like you did…before the academy? Before the treatment? No, you were certain of that. Had you felt like this when you were in your finest hour here? Of course not…could you summon that Richter back from your memories, though? Even if you couldn’t repeat your actions…those memories were still there. You did do them. So…you could at least act based off that, couldn’t you..?

…No…no, it felt too wrong. You couldn’t act like you used to, not with that damnable feeling, that inescapable sensation of being watched, of not being cognizant of your surroundings, of a voice feeding you advice, observations before you even thought of them. You weren’t alone, at least. Von Metzeler sat across from you, Illger beside, and he was at least not mocking your new…impotence.

That cinnamon smell was nice, you thought, huddling in your scarf. Who was it who made fun of it? How dare they? You’d have given them a piece of your mind…if you could have…Hell, Anya would be buttoned up from now on anyways, wouldn’t she? The guilty pleasure of having eye candy with your morning beatings would no longer be present. Unless…

“Hey. You stopped lookin’ so gloomy for a second. My story funny? ”Illger said to you,”...Yeah, I guess it is when you think about it, heh. Losing your fingers in a bet. Nothing bad’s happened to that hand since, you know.”

After a good two hours of driving, the convoy stopped at a small village- Illger prompted you to stretch your legs, even if you didn’t want to get out of the truck. “You’ll cut off circulation to your asscheeks. Get outta there and walk around.”

It took a few minutes, but, after seeing Von Metzeler do so of his own volition, you followed after…and took exploratory steps about the truck. The village was a dusty collection of old Imperial construction, with ruins of ill-kept frontier houses surrounding the actual lived in ones, though all were dusty and cracked old wood. You didn’t stray near- the mercenaries were security at the very least, in the looming darkness in the daylight. Though, you did overhear Illger talking with his second in command…

“Who cares if it’s longer northways? I’m not going in the East Funnel with a couple of retarded deadweights, and especially not with Illger the fucking Cockroach.”

“We’re supposed to get there within the week. Going north and around’ll near double how long it takes us to get there, counting the mess of having to get through Netillian customs, even if the northern lords don’t screw with us.”

“And they won’t screw with us if we try and go right into the border zone? You were in the job a couple weeks ago, the smuggling traffic going through there’s hot damn business, way more powder lying about than going north. There’s gonna be trouble. Better to be held up by paperwork and pissing about than getting shot at with a couple of ninnies who can’t take care of themselves.”

“There you go thinking like a truck driver and not a panzer commander.” Illger said scathingly.

“Fuck you. I know we’re transporting those two because they’re hot goods more’n because they have our paperwork, else the contract wouldn’t have specified their safety, and if they were as good as you say they were they wouldn’t be sitting in the back of a truck like pussies. You want me to lead, I’m going north, and I’m sure everybody agrees with me.”

…You were sure that you didn’t want to be coming back any later, but...could you stand being in a place where there might be a scuffle? Could you present a strong face? More important, could you convince these mercenaries that you were even up to the journey?

>It was useless. You were dead weight- don’t raise any objections. Go north.
>You were their contract holder- and they’d take the shorter way. (You’ll have to psych yourself up or think of some way to put on a brave face- that may or may not work)
>If they wouldn’t take you…you’d take yourself, even if they had to chase you all the way. It couldn’t be too hard to get to the “Eastern Funnel,” could it..?
>Other?

>>3822551
>>If they wouldn’t take you…you’d take yourself, even if they had to chase you all the way. It couldn’t be too hard to get to the “Eastern Funnel,” could it..?
Pretending to be old Richter won't work. All we can do is try and force their hand.

>>3822551
>>If they wouldn’t take you…you’d take yourself, even if they had to chase you all the way. It couldn’t be too hard to get to the “Eastern Funnel,” could it..?

>>3822551
>>If they wouldn’t take you…you’d take yourself, even if they had to chase you all the way. It couldn’t be too hard to get to the “Eastern Funnel,” could it..?

"I thought you were Iron Hogs and instead of Nash's Nasty Nad Lads?"

We will likely be insulted, maybe even hit but the job says get there in a week and if they can't do it then what was the point in hiring them?

Also the only way Richter is going to be worth any damn is if he gets exposed to this shit again or gets re-indoctrinated. Honestly not the end of the world at this point assuming we don't just get shot by the IO.

>>3822551
>If they wouldn’t take you…you’d take yourself, even if they had to chase you all the way. It couldn’t be too hard to get to the “Eastern Funnel,” could it..?

We are a tank commander, not a truck driver right?

>>3822551
>If they wouldn’t take you…you’d take yourself, even if they had to chase you all the way. It couldn’t be too hard to get to the “Eastern Funnel,” could it..?

>>3822551
>>If they wouldn’t take you…you’d take yourself, even if they had to chase you all the way. It couldn’t be too hard to get to the “Eastern Funnel,” could it..?

>>3822555
>>3822633
>>3822655
>>3822656
>>3822666
>>3822925
Go on a journey to the east. This is probably not a wise idea but at least you're putting one foot in front of the other. Right?

Welp. Writing.

Well…if they wouldn’t take you the fast way, maybe you’d take yourself- they’d come along, though they’d be chasing you the whole way. It couldn’t be too hard to get to the “Eastern Funnel,” could it? Though you would have to at least slip away on foot- they would have the speed advantage, so you’d need an edge somewhere- not like they’d know exactly where you were going, and if they stayed together, you’d likely see them before they saw you…right? It’d be best to drop a hint as to where you were going, but then, they might catch up too quickly and too early, so maybe it was best to keep them in the dark and figure it out more slowly?

You surprised yourself with how you could puzzle that much out, actually. Though when you thought about it…it was principles of hunting, was it not? Of traveling on the trail, of escaping detection- you recalled memories beyond that of fighting, and you found, finally, some familiarity. It was easy enough to think about evasion, but slipping away in the first place…

“Oi. One of the stutterers is peeping on us.”

Illger turned around. “Oh. Hey,” he said to you, “We had a bit of a change in plans is all. Taking the longer way around instead of the fast way.”

Nothing you didn’t already know, but you thought to make a jab. “I thought…thought you were…were…”

“Buh uh thud yuh wuh wuh wuh,” Eakova cut you off with an impersonation of your speaking difficulties, “Buh wuh wubbuh!”

“Shut up.” Illger said to his crimson haired subordinate, “Did you want something?”

“I…” you shifted gears. “I need to…use the restroom…”

Illger and Eakova both stared. “Then just go.” Illger slowly turned his head, “You don’t need my permission.”

“I need…toilet paper…” you said, “The latrine…doesn’t have any…”

“Oh. Uh. Hold on. Hey, Mongrel!” he kicked his tank, “Get out your TP!” It was retrieved, and handed to you. “Just holler if you get in trouble for some reason, alright.”

“Mm.”

“Don’t fall in!” Eakova shouted at your back as you shuffled off; alone. Alone…having Von Metzeler with you would have been ideal, but…you couldn’t actually do this without isolation.
Was this really the smart thing to do, you wondered as you walked off. Well, no, but…you had to do this. Not only to get going quicker, but…you had to try and conquer this terror. Somehow. Testing it…may be the best treatment, you thought. The plan was at least helped by how trusting Illger was- to be fair, you doubted he nor anybody else could fathom why in the world you’d just walk off.

“Ex…excuse me…” you coughed at a townsperson, trying your best to get over the feeling that they were hiding a bullet with your name on it…somewhere. “Where is…what’s…what’s the closest place…like this…east?”

“The closest place like this east? Like a village?” the man squinted at you. “…I guess there’s Feuerstelle about three kilometers that way.”

“…Any others…”

“Others? Well…there’s Krabbe, east southeast, about four kilometers…Steuermannsgrab’s north east about six.”

“…Thanks…”

“Eh, no problem, stranger..? Just keep an eye out, this close to the edge of the Republic things’re still…you know, like they’ve been for a long time now.”

What did you have…the knife Anya insisted you keep, still among your things when you left, your father’s pocket watch (you knew how to use it as a makeshift daytime compass- a necessity), your blackflower, your wallet with Netillian marks in it, your identification papers, your clothes including the jacket on your back…and a canteen of water you’d been given. No food, though, beyond the rations you were provided as “breakfast.” You’d have to make do…but could you?

Well. The longer you were away, the longer you had let your comrades be. The longer they had to deal with whatever came by themselves. The longer that you had no idea what was happening in the place you’d left. Could you tolerate that? Could you truly suffer that longer, even if returning to it chilled you to your bones? No- no you couldn’t. Even if you had to keep insisting that to yourself with every other step to not run and hide…but then, what you were going to be doing was running and hiding anyways, right? Just…in a certain direction.

-----

Rolled 2 (1d4)


1-Nothing
2-Orphans
3-Rapscallions
4-A friendly crab
[/spoiler

You crept along the defilades and between shallow hills southeast, towards Krabbe- these lands felt familiar, at least, even if you didn’t remember walking across them so much. When you thought you put a good amount of distance between yourself and the town, you decided to find a place to take a short rest- and reorient your bearings. Though while you were looking up towards the sun and adjusting your pocket watch to find north again…

“Hey, you.” A scratchy young voice said.

You turned to look at its source. It was a scrawny, malnourished looking brown haired child, who couldn’t have been older than thirteen. She was dressed in a loose shawl with a hood and ratty clothes…and had a rusty piece of broken metal clutched in a messily bandaged hand. With her was another pair of similarly aged children, all surrounding you from a couple dozen paces away each- though they all had hoods, and were dirty enough that you couldn’t quite tell if they were boys or girls- just that one had a stick with nails in it and the other a battered piece of pipe that was as long as they were tall.

“Give us all your stuff,” the girl said, waving her sharp piece of metal at you, “Or…or we’ll make you give it up.”

>Whatever. What good was your wallet here, anyways? It was probably more money than they’d seen in their lives anyways.
>You couldn’t give up any of your stuff. You also didn’t want to make this a fight. You could barge through one of them, and they wouldn't be able to catch up to you.
>Prepare to use that knife of yours.
>Other?

>>3823191
>You couldn’t give up any of your stuff. You also didn’t want to make this a fight. You could barge through one of them, and they wouldn't be able to catch up to you.

This'll be hilarious

>>3823191
>You couldn’t give up any of your stuff. You also didn’t want to make this a fight. You could barge through one of them, and they wouldn't be able to catch up to you.

>>3823191
>You couldn’t give up any of your stuff. You also didn’t want to make this a fight. You could barge through one of them, and they wouldn't be able to catch up to you.
Richter might be a mental midget, but he should still be able to dust some murderous orphans. What a way to get your land-legs back!

>>3823191
>>You couldn’t give up any of your stuff. You also didn’t want to make this a fight. You could barge through one of them, and they wouldn't be able to catch up to you.

>>3823227
>>3823231
>>3823232
>>3823248
Are you smarter than a fifth grader? Maybe not, but you're faster than a fifth grader.
Writing.

No.

Which of these runts would hurt you the least if you ran into and past them, you thought, counting seconds passing before they’d lose patience. You didn’t want that knife in you, and you didn’t want any nails in you either…patience, fear, these were children, why were you afraid of children? No matter- you were going to run away anyways. Fear could push you faster…

The kid with the lead pipe seemed like he would hurt the least- you charged right for him- and he swung that thing right into your side.

A flash of pain, and a gasping grunt from your throat- had things always hurt like this? Yet you were already sprinting. These kids were so much shorter- likely hungry and tired, while you had been fighting fit physically on top of Anya pushing you to reach higher physical levels. You afforded a short thanks before the thudding of your heart in your ears made you think of nothing but running, running, running.

-----

A quick stop to reorient yourself, a peek over the hills to see any dust clouds from vehicles coming after you, and making damn certain to ensure no murderous adolescents were near while doing so, and your journey continued. Your side felt like it was going to split open- you opened your jacket and lifted your shirt to find an awful, long purple bruise in the shape of that pipe. Better that than having a knife stuck in you, you supposed, but damn did it hurt.

The pain was good, though. It was distracting. There wasn’t enough room in your head to focus on both the burning clench of the bruise as well as the shadows all around, above, below, inside…

A collection of buildings…that had to be Krabbe. What a strange name for a town. You’d been gone for a good while, now- you were probably being looked for. If you had enough time to stop, ask for directions, maybe procure some supplies…that’d be enough. Yet you were stopped at the perimeter of the town by a patrol.

“Who the hell’re you?” the two men demanded, plain in clothes. Their green jackets and roughly made emblems…that seemed to you like they were part of a gang, not a local militia. Great…

“I’m just…just passing through…” you choked out, “Heading…heading east…”

“East, huh,” the gangsters looked at each other, “Why?”

“Err...”

“Know what, we don’t care. Empty your pockets.”

“…But-“

One of them cleared their throat and gestured at you with his weapon, a hunting shotgun with at least half the barrel chopped off. What choice did you have?

“Damn, aren’t you loaded,” one said, flipping through your wallet.

“And Blackflower?” the other said, shaking around your small bag of the twists. “Weasel, if I didn’t know better, I’d say we gotta drug pusher here. No mark of bein’ authorized here, though.”

“An’ no pushers deal in Arbor Claws territory without givin’ a tithe. So. Either we can help you arrange this deal and get you proper licensing, or…you can. give us a good share and we’ll forget we saw anythin’.”

“…I…but I’m-“

“Either that or we kick the shit out of you and leave you in a ditch for being a pain in the ass. If that’s what you want, no big deal.”

>A tithe? Fine…let them bring you to…whatever bastard was going to extort you.
>Doesn’t all that money seem appealing? Surely they can accept that you’re an old friend if they get all that. (Alternatively, all your drugs)
>Beat the shit out of you? Say that you’d like to see them try.
>Other?

>>3823413
>Don't all those drugs seem appealing? Surely they can accept that you’re an old friend if they get all that.

>>3823413
>>Don't all those drugs seem appealing? Surely they can accept that you’re an old friend if they get all that.

>>3823413
>Don't all those drugs seem appealing? Surely they can accept that you’re an old friend if they get all that.
>Other?
Once in the town maybe find someone a little less eager to kick our ass and ask about the territory ahead. Especially the 'East Funnel'.

Guys, I don't think this adventure is turning out so great. Maybe we should go back...

>>3823413
>Don't all those drugs seem appealing? Surely they can accept that you’re an old friend if they get all that.

I don't think I can take much more of this. Get better soon, Richter.

>>3823423
>>3823439
>>3823456
>>3823506
Gee guys why are you here when you have all these free drugs.
All these free drugs having a certain usage that I am not responsible for whatsoever.

Writing.

>>3823507
You must find sources of strength and inspiration.

File: a1839430355_10.jpg (293 KB, 900x902)

293 KB JPG

[Insert Linkin Park lyrics]

“…Uh…” you pointed to the bag of blackflower, “You…you want that?”

The man holding it cocked an eyebrow. “How much of it?”

“…All…all of it…for…friends…right?”

The gangster smiled at you with a toothsome smirk. “Know what? Sure. All of a sudden I’m feeling awfully nice. Have a nice stay in Krabbe, my sleepwalking friend.” He sauntered off with his partner, not so quietly remarking, “What a fuckin’ garbage sack. Doesn’t know how much this goes for here…”

Well. You’d been hit with a pipe, and robbed. It could have been worse, but it all made you feel very hungry. At least you were being allowed in.

The namesake of the town became apparent when you ventured into its interior- in fenced off mounds there were crawling swarms of small living stones- not that you recalled them generally being good to eat, but they did eat practically anything. Along with those, plucks of free-ranging chickens wandered the town, strutting around the shoddy homes and buildings, pecking fruitlessly at the snow-dusted ground. A few temporary traders had set their stops up here, but it was clear that this was merely a stop on the trail. A collection of motorcycles decorated with green flags were watched over by four more gangsters just like the ones who shook you down, though unlike the others these ones thought you insignificant, innocent, or perhaps just not worth bothering.

One of the chickens’ former friends was your lunch; even though you had gorged yourself with Maddalyn the other day, you still felt ravenously hungry. A reassuring sign that your body at least was not feeling like growing weaker. It was a good thing you had the money you did- even if Netilland money was squinted at, given that East Valsten Union Marks were the usual standard, but the marks you had were taken anyways- though you were sure the prices were hiked on you for not being a local.
While you were picking apart the spicy sauce-slathered and charred chicken pieces, one of…what must have been the cookhouse’s staff came and sat across from you. She was a young, dirty blonde woman with messily thick-braided hair- you were extremely wary of prostitutes in Sosaldt, but…well, prostitutes around this country didn’t tend to dress or act subtly; it was a relief that this woman was just a worker, apparently bored and hitting you up for lack of other customers.

“’Lo there,” she said, with a noticeable if slight Ellowian accent, “What brings you here all by yourself? Or did you break off from your group?”

“…” No harm in being truthful. “Going…east. To Ellowie.”

“Ain’t no Ellowie anymore, friend.”

You’d know plenty who’d disagree with that statement. “Going anyways.”

“Alright then. Though not that many honest people are heading into that place, y’know. Not to besmirch your trade, ‘f that’s what you do. What are you? Can’t be just a traveler.”

“Am so…visiting friends…”

“Don’t mean to be rude, but are you…you know, do you have…” the woman gestured to her head, “Some sorta…condition?”

“Not anymore.”

She gave you a quizzical look. “Well, okay.”

“The Eastern Funnel…” you asked, since you had a captive audience that didn’t want to steal from you or attack you, “Where is that…what is it?”

“You’re gonna go down it if you’re heading east to Ellowie, unless you clamber through the mountains.” The blonde brushed one of her braids over her shoulder, “Way back it was a place where being hemmed in by the mountains meant all sorts made a good living there, so long as they didn’t bother the Ellowians. All that’s changed real fast, I hear from people comin’ that way. The new border between Twaryi and Netilland’s smack in the middle of that, and they’ve got a gap where there’s not much in the way of the security there used to be. So smugglers’n all that just flow right on in and out.”

That explained certain aspects of the Border Gap that you had grown familiar with- though your group wasn’t right on the border, they certainly felt the effects of what that woman described.

“How…how far away is it..?” you asked, in between gnawing flesh off the bones of the bird you were finishing off.

“Gosh, I dunno. Still a ways off if you’re walkin’. If you don’t hitch a ride at least on a cart your legs’ll fall off.”

“Do you have…a map?” you asked hopefully.

“Nope. But Gusseizenholz is about a day south, and that’s right in the middle of Sosaldt, so that should tell you how far you’ve got. Don’t worry, it’s impossible to not get into the Funnel so long as you follow the way the mountains go.”

“I…see…”

“If you wanna head east quickly, best talk to one of the caravans. They’re never shy about travelin’ in groups, not that I hear that helps much, but the money comin’ out of the gap’s apparently enough to be worth it. Can either buy your way on, considerin’ how much you got in that wallet…or you can say you’re a mercenary, and they’ll pay you. Not that you look like much, no ‘fence. Or you stick with one of the merc groups hanging on them going east, they’ll take just about anybody, I hear. Just like Sosaldt does in general.”

“Thank you…” you unsteadily got up from the table, having paid before getting the food. “I’ll just…be off then…”

“Take care. If you want to get anything for the trail, come right back, you hear?”

-----

A brief investigation (consisting of loitering by large groups and listening in, then awkwardly asking a passersby if they knew anything about them- or addressing whoever came by inquiring into your suspicious behavior) told you of your options. The caravan going directly to the very edge of the Border Gap was a couple of large, armored trucks absolutely stuffed with weapons and ammunition. They weren’t shy about what they were carrying- nor were they concerned with skeptical warnings you’d heard about being such a desirable target.

Another group was evidently a mob of bounty hunters. More than a few nasty characters had popped up near the Border Gap- and a few within it, as well. You itched at your throat, knowing that you yourself had a bounty on you- though it was relatively middling and was linked to your tanks more than your person. There were other groups, other caravans- but those were the two heading straight to where you were going.

…Though you looked back northwest, and searched the distance for any pursuers. You would have felt less isolated knowing that the tanks and trucks were chasing after you, and if you ever felt in danger, you could run right back, but…you saw naught. Had you given them too good a slip? Or had they decided to cut their losses and restrain Von Metzeler to go immediately north? Perhaps they split up?

The theory on them cutting you free as a lost cause had been a mistake to think of, though. The chills were within again- you trembled even when by an outdoor fire by the merchants and visitors. You had done this…partly maybe to prove yourself, but…were you being a fool? You had to depend on somebody anyways doing this, right? Now you were dependent on utter strangers…was this what you were doing, now? Or was it not for you at all, and for your friends? Having time to sit and ponder it all wasn’t helping.

>Sign on with the bounty hunters. You didn’t want to get into a fight…but you had to start getting into them at some point, right?
>Pay for a spot in the arms trade caravan. You needed to be going, and quickly- motorized transport would arrive in only a day or so, and you needed to be back and with your comrades that quickly or moreso.
>Head back. Or simply stay here, and wait to be found. You’d been lucky to get through this with just a bruise and your blackflower being taken. Could you risk anything more?
>Other?

>>3823586
>Pay for a spot in the arms trade caravan. You needed to be going, and quickly- motorized transport would arrive in only a day or so, and you needed to be back and with your comrades that quickly or moreso.

Both are not great options, but thankfully Richter probably doesn’t know about sunk cost fallacy, so let’s keep going forward with the option that seems least likely to result in us having to roll below 20 on a weapons skill check to not die.

>>3823586
>>Sign on with the bounty hunters. You didn’t want to get into a fight…but you had to start getting into them at some point, right?

>>3823586
>>Sign on with the bounty hunters. You didn’t want to get into a fight…but you had to start getting into them at some point, right?

>>3823510
We must find strength in HATE and ANGER.

>>3823586
>Pay for a spot in the arms trade caravan. You needed to be going, and quickly- motorized transport would arrive in only a day or so, and you needed to be back and with your comrades that quickly or moreso.

>>3823586
>Pay for a spot in the arms trade caravan. You needed to be going, and quickly- motorized transport would arrive in only a day or so, and you needed to be back and with your comrades that quickly or moreso.
>Buy Richter that pet crab companion he's always wanted, for psychological support

>>3823586
>Pay for a spot in the arms trade caravan. You needed to be going, and quickly- motorized transport would arrive in only a day or so, and you needed to be back and with your comrades that quickly or moreso.

Any fight at all and Richter is dead.

>Other?
What we really should have been doing this whole time leaving bread crumbs for the mercs to follow (if any are at all).

Maybe tell the nice lady that if she sees anymore Iron Hogs coming through that their lost chicken is heading east with the convoy.

>>3824027
Also slap that nice new bruise we have, the next time we start feeling flighty replace it with a worse sensation.

>>3824036
>'Venom' Painslut Von Tracht
Stop anon I'm not ready for this

>>3823586
>>Pay for a spot in the arms trade caravan. You needed to be going, and quickly- motorized transport would arrive in only a day or so, and you needed to be back and with your comrades that quickly or moreso.
Do we have enough money to buy a cheap handgun or something? Not that we remember how to shoot it halfway straight, but it might come in handy the next time we get accosted by a band of violent children.

>>3824047
If all that heals we could always take our belt and slap ourselves around. If it feels curiously good, don't worry that's just the Conditioning going away and revealing the real Richter inside.

Just going to say that updates will be late today due to a game session.

>>3824047
>>3824139
...Well, it was a part of his schedule to get beaten every other morning...

>>3824185
The only "morning beatings" he can handle now will be coming from Maddy's left wrist

Bros...
I cant believe Tanq died on us

>>3823586
>>Pay for a spot in the arms trade caravan. You needed to be going, and quickly- motorized transport would arrive in only a day or so, and you needed to be back and with your comrades that quickly or moreso.

>>3823598
>>3823615
Cowboy life

>>3823654
>>3823597
>>3823669
>>3824129
>>3825464
Ride with the guns. Also get a crab. And a gun. If you can.
Also breadcrumbs.

Even though I'm calling this I'm not gonna be updating til later tonight. I think I've got to let things sit and age a bit in my head for this next one.

Alright, here, and writing. Finally.
>>3826579
Don't take off your jacket Richter it's winter. And there's snow on the ground so it's officially cold.

Even if you had maybe been overcautious in preventing from being caught too early, it wasn’t too late to lay a trail to be followed with- though you’d think that if your description wasn’t enough as is, the Iron Hogs needed to teach their people to be more observant. Not many would be walking around in a leather pilot’s jacket with a light blue scarf. Regardless, you made several…stuttering and hesitant visits to locals telling about your “friends.” No, they weren’t loan sharks, no, you weren’t on drugs…though if those would drive away the chills then you honestly considered taking up a habit.

The general store, you hoped, would have a gun you could buy for cheap. Not anything but a last resort- you wouldn’t be able to use it anyways, you knew. Though what you didn’t expect was, after you spoke uneasily with the store owner, who was bald, clean shaven save for a thick mustache, about your need, having pointed shuddering at a derringer that saw better days last century, he made an inquisitive look at you, guessed your name far too well to have actually been a guess, then laid a wooden box on the desk.

“A weird person came by just last night. Said you’d be coming around and to give this to you. Paid good money to make sure, too, though the guy was spooky lookin’ enough that only an idiot would’ve stolen this.”

Huh? You stared dimly at the box. “What…what is it…?”

“A gun. You wanted one anyways, didn’t you?” the shopkeeper opened the box and waved his fingers towards the inside. “Not a bad one, if you ask me. He dropped a holster by, too. Good leather.”

You just blinked at the box.

“Well, take it, or I’ll buy it off you if you don’t want it.”

“No…er…mine.” You took the box and the holster and sling once it was put on the counter. “…Thanks…”

You went outside and gave the gun a closer look. It was one you recognized, but…couldn’t remember the name of it. You knew it was something Strossvald used- and you remembered Signy sticking one of these in your face. Holding it in hand didn’t call any memories, and its weight felt alien. The…the magazine went in the hole, but…there was something else, wasn’t there? No, you knew to pull the slide back to cock it, but for a moment there it felt like you were at a loss of what to do. That bode poorly. Hopefully you wouldn’t have to use this…oh…there was a letter in the box? A folded piece of paper, handwritten in ink.

Richter,
I’m sorry that I’m not going to see you off, but I figured that since you called for your girlfriend, that you didn’t want me around. I don’t know if you’ll ever want to see me again, but getting that horrible thing off of you was worth it despite that, I think. I hope that you’ll get better quickly, or I’ll never forgive myself.

As much as I would have liked to keep you safe and sound for as long as you needed, you wanted to go back right away. Since you’re better now, though, if you want to go back, I have no right to stop you. At the very least, I think, you didn’t have anything to be afraid of when you thought you’d lose yourself.

I thought I wouldn’t be able to give any farewells, but a strange person who I don’t remember, but said that they knew me, came and told me he could get this to you. I don’t know if you’ll want it, but I’m sending you my gun, too. It’s one of the last things from my former life I took with me. I was never very good with it, but I don’t really need it anymore anyways. Be careful with it- it’s been modified to fire quickly. I thought it would be cool back when I got it, and asked our gunsmith to modify it. Maybe you’ll get more use out of it than I ever did.

Please stay safe.

…You folded the letter again and put it in your pocket.

Once the gun and holster were around your waist with a strap over your shoulder under your jacket, you thought to give yourself a healthy slap on your bruise. Pain was a distraction- and a distraction was what you felt like you were constantly needing. Thwap! “Agghh!” That hurt a lot more than you thought it would…but indeed, for those moments and the time after when the pain was fading, the pressure inside and out melted in favor of the dulling burn. Focusing on the hurting wasn’t really like being able to focus...but it was at least an escape.

Something else you also did was get a Living Stone from the big pen full of them. You didn’t know why- it made you feel better, maybe. It scuttled about in the small basket for a bit before falling dormant, the thing being about the size of a newborn kitten though far denser. They ate nearly anything- nearly as low maintenance as an actual pet rock. Maybe you could eat it in an emergency.

Then…actual progress. The chances of actually managing to be more than dead weight with the bounty hunters was just about zero, and you weren’t interested in becoming a human shield or a distraction or whatever purpose they had for the spare meat. No, you had money, and money talked- particularly, it was a convincing way of letting these arms dealers cart you along for their trip to the Border Gap. You hoped.

-----

“Hey, guy,” the boss of the arms dealers said, having approached you from the two others with him, “Saw you bein’ all shy earlier. Now that you’ve worked up the nerve to come over, how about an introduction? You’re a curious character, at least.” The man was a young one, with a face fresher than most in Sosaldt, with light shaggy hair and wearing a white, wide brimmed frontiersman’s hat, as well as a denim black vest over a white long sleeved shirt. “I’m Morgen, an’ I’m an en-tre-pre-neur. Me and my associates here are in the business of buying big and sellin’ bigger…though, are you a trader yourself? Figure you might be, if you wanted to talk, is all.”

“…N-no. I’m…” you paused, “…I heard you were going…to Ellowie. Or close…I want to buy passage…” you opened your wallet, “I can pay…a lot…”

Morgen raised his eyebrows and looked in the wallet. “…Well, I wasn’t thinkin’ of bein a cabbie, but…well, don’ mind if I do…” He reached into your wallet and took out…all of the bills. “That’s a deal, ain’t it? Food and drink the whole way. With that much, you must know somebody there, huh? Unless you’d rather not?”

You gave Morgen a dejected half-lidded look.

“…Fine, jus’ for you,” he put a few (smaller) bills in. “Three marks off. That’s a sweet deal, isn’t it? Call it funds. That good? You get some re-im-burse-ment once we’re there and we sell our goods, yeah? And I’ll let you in on our get rich quick scheme on the way…unless?”

“…No…as long as I get there…” you sighed heavily- monetary loss should have been more distracting.

“Great. Then, I’ve told you my name,” he prodded you in the chest with a slim finger in a heavy glove, “What’s yours?”

“…Richter…” you saw no point in assuming an alias, especially when nobody was giving last names.

“Well, good to meet ye, Richter, these are mah associates, Brun, Yeshamov, and Gaetsi. Gaetsi’s off buyin’ some extra stuff, we’ll be off when he gets back.” He pointed to each, dressed similarly to him but differing wildly in body shape- respectively, they were fat and short, and the latter…positively runty, for a man. “We pooled our cash, and we’re gonna take this lode we’ve got in these two trucks all the way out. No taxes, no protection, just the pure profit o’ the free market. Exciting, ain’t it?”

“…”

“That’s fine, that’s fine,” Morgen still smiled broadly, “Not everybody sees the genius right away. Come over and get comfortable, Gaetsi likes to…” his beaming turned into a scowl, “…Get his pri-or-ih-ties mixed up, especially with the ladies.”

“Hey, Morgen, this guy’s a sleepwalker,” Yeshamov said, with what sounded like a slight Twaryian lilt, his eyes heavy and sunken but with a broad mouth that looked to smile easily. “I got stuff that’ll pick him right up.” The diminutive man walked to the truck and searched through the cabin, before coming back with a fingernail sized tab of bright white-green stuff in a wax paper wrapper, that he had partially undone. “This look familiar, sleepwalker? It’s not great stuff, but it’s not poison and it’ll wake ye up again. Not like you have to worry about getting addicted right now anyways, huh? Heh heh. No need to thank me or pay me or whatever, call it a favor.”

>It could work…couldn’t it? Anything to stop the fear…the uncertainty. The paralysis of being.
>You’ll have to turn him down. You don’t like owing favors.
>Ask if he has something else…if you’re going to have drugs pushed on you.
>Other?

>>3827212
Goodbye and good riddance Signy.

Is it Wakeleaf?
>Ask if he has something else…if you’re going to have drugs pushed on you.
Something worth 3 marks, no favors.
>Other?
On the road, dry practice with the pistol. Even just knowing which way to point is progress.

>>3827209
Is Poltergeist looking out for us, or is this some other weird shit?

>>3827212
>You’ll have to turn him down. You don’t like owing favors.
We won't be better off by becoming a fucking addict.

>>3827219
>Is it Wakeleaf?
Richter isn't sure from looking at it itself, but considering the lingo it's a safe assumption.

>>3827212
>>Ask if he has something else…if you’re going to have drugs pushed on you.
More blackleaf?

>>3827212
>Ask if he has something else…if you’re going to have drugs pushed on you.

>>3827212
>You’ll have to turn him down. You don’t like owing favors.
Say no to drugs, kids.

>>3827212
>>It could work…couldn’t it? Anything to stop the fear…the uncertainty. The paralysis of being.
It would be useful to at least know if our condition can be temporarily treated. Plus it's rude to say no when people offer you drugs.

>>3827212
>>Ask if he has something else…if you’re going to have drugs pushed on you.
Get me that Meth

>>3827212
>>You’ll have to turn him down. You don’t like owing favors.
Great, now we're retarded AND we owe Poltergeist money. Thanks Signy.

I did nothing all day.

>>3827219
>>3827287
>>3827401
>>3827827
Ask if he has something else with varying specificity. Fallback on worth

>>3827808
Gib

>>3827864
>>3827233
>>3827498
No thank you.

Alright then. Writing.

Nothing harder than alcohol had passed your lips- you were the wrong sex to be significantly affected by blackflower, after all. Yet…it wasn’t something you’d ever considered before, but…you were already sick of this feeling of feebleness. When you remembered what it was like to be merely without it, let alone finding strength within. It was awful enough that any escape was sweet relief- and that wrapped substance, oh so little of it, whispered a promise too sweet to simply reject, no matter how your principles objected. Those were drowned out by the silent cries beyond hearing, hidden in this darkness in broad daylight.

“…Do you….do you have something worth…” you slowly pulled out the rest of your money, “I don’t…don’t want to owe…”

“Huh?” Yeshamov frowned, “Don’t owe nothing. You ever get a gift?”

“…Is it…wakeleaf?” you weren’t certain, but you guessed.

“Yep. A little ringing clock for someone sleepwalkin’.”

“…Do you have…blackflower?” you asked. From what you remembered of wakeleaf…maybe you shouldn’t be trying it.

Yeshamov’s frown turned lower. “Now why would I have somethin’ like that? Why would you want somethin’ like that? You had plenty a’ money t’ buy a woman.”

“…Er…rituals…” you hadn’t considered that other purpose of that drug. “…P…Pervitin…?” you went down the list of the familiar.

“What?” Yeshamov’s expression turned even more confused, and he shook his head, waving a hand up and down. “No, no, you don’t need more’n one addition, no need to hide in, you’re bad at it like all sleepwalkers are. People take wakeleaf ‘cause it’s…well, not cheap, but it ain’t too bad. It only hurts you if you take too much at once, y’know? Hard to sleep on it, ‘course. You oughta know the habit’s hardly a bank breaker if you casually carry money like you do. I ain’t no scammer. Three marks, four o’ these, eight hits or so, depending on how hard you go. That’s fair, ain’t it?”

You weren’t sure what you wanted. Something else? Sure, but…what else was there? Anything else wasn’t an answer. “…I suppose…it’s fair…” you relented, and took the wax papered thing from the little fellow. Four for eight hits…just under half, then perhaps, you thought as you broke off the amount, coming off in chalky chunks like wafer candy. That crumbled, messy about half was stared at, then tipped into your mouth, where it dissolved on your tongue. There was a slightly sweet, peppermint flavor…then a dullness of taste, before a slow, spreading cold, like you had kept a piece of ice on your tongue. Was this normal?

“Attaboy,” Yeshamov’s smile finally returned. “Now you’ll be less useless if you need to do anything. Happy trails for sure. You’ll at least hold a conversation, eh?”

You made an uncomfortable grunt, and the fat man named Brun cleared his throat. “Ah, don’t hold it on your tongue too long, or it’ll hit your head too hard. Take it from a man who needs a jolt every so often. Let it sit in the gut and it’ll be gentler and longer.”

The advice was taken, and you swallowed, hard, taking a swig from your canteen, freshly filled at the pump…hopefully a clean one. It looked clean enough… The chill faded, and you rubbed your head. “…Will it…is it…”

“Yeesh, let it stay in your mouth all the time and you lose your sense of patience, huh? Just wait a bit. Even Wakeleaf doesn’t kick you in the jaw like a donkey whose butt you jammed your hand in. Ah, there’s Gaetsi.” Brun waved a big, hairy hand to a man approaching whose wiry black hair, sallow eyes and speckled face had been freshly rinsed, though not shaved from the short hairs on his chin. He was thin as a stick, and held a canvas bag at his side with bottles in it.

“Uhhh,” the scrawny man coughed and spluttered, pointed, “Who’s that guy?”

“His name’s Richter. A traveler. We’re takin’ him with us.” Morgen said.

“That uh…that a good idea?” Gaetsi leered at you doubtfully.

“He paid his way, in good Netilland marks. You think we should leave him at the side of the road like bandits?” Morgen sounded hurt, “Now we might be engagin’ in some right crooked profiteering, but we ain’t stealin’, hear?”

“Then just give him it back…ah whatever.” Gaetsi extended a hand to you. “I’m Gaetsi. Pleased, sort of, to meet you.” You stared at his hand, then him, and slowly gripped it in yours. “Weird guy.” Gatesi muttered.

“What’d you get?” Yeshamov asked, sauntering over and peeking in the bag.

“Some brews from the waterin’ hole.” Gaetsi pulled the bag away defensively, “A few personal items. ‘s my money. Figured we oughta have some stuff to celebrate with, jus’ in case.”

“No celebrating on the road, though,” Morgen warned, “Now, Richter, you come along with me and Yesh. Our truck’s got good room in it. The longer we stay the more we’re burnin’ daylight for the road, so let’s get a’ movin!”

-----

Morgen was quite fond of talking to himself, you found out as you occupied the cramped, tiny back cabin of the truck as the convoy started off- seeming to have been designed for storage but converted to be able to (with significant contortion) be able to lie down in. A pair of iron cuffs were set into the wall of one side- when you asked about those Morgen said they were there when he bought the truck.

“Wasn’t too long ago, see. Got it from a real nasty character. Not gonna lie t’ you, probably put people there against their will. Dirty business, an’ not the dirty I like. Now, I came from the Southern Cities, so I know a thing or two ‘bout…”

Morgen talked on, but you were feeling the Wakeleaf kicking in. It felt like…being steadily dipped in ice water, for how it made your senses tingle. Your eyes widened, your ears cleared…and as the high crept in, so too…did the fear fade. There was a sensation as though you could see, feel, taste more, and that level of perception was, admittedly…refreshing. Either that or the clouds forming in your head were blocking out what should have been there. It was curious, then uplifting, then joyous, as though you were in the cool breeze of a hilltop in a hot summer day.

“What’s so funny?” Morgen asked, as you started laughing to yourself.

“Oh, nothing.”

“Like night and day,” Yeshamov observed aloud, turning back to you with a vicious smirk, his eyes off what could only be loosely classified as a dirt road- though the shock absorbers on the truck were bad enough that you could have been on stones for all you knew. Not that you really minded that much anymore.

“So I’ve said a bit ‘bout myself,” Morgen said, in a massive understatement. “How ‘bout you, Richter? Feel like talkin’ more?”

“If I must.”

“Heh. So, you got a girlfriend?” the “entrepreneur” asked casually.

An easy question. “I have a fiancée, even.”

“Lucky dog.” Morgen was either inordinately impressed or quite a flatterer. “Hard to get hitched in Sosaldt til recently, y’know? Even in the Southern Cities. Money comes and goes too quick, but I tell ya, the money off this won’t be so easy to just throw away, an’ I’ll be…”

You let Morgen’s talk fade into the background, and looked out the windows to the frost-leafed plains, the scrappy trees familiar, if not for any battles, but for the days spent not even thinking about it. Every so often, Morgen would ask something to the whole vehicle- though usually Yeshamov answered something that you could vaguely agree or disagree with. Maybe you’d have been a bit more enthusiastic about listening to his story if the price of passage hadn’t been so exorbitant.

Eventually, you told the other people in the truck that you were going to take out your gun and mess about with it- so they wouldn’t be alarmed. Naturally, with no bullets in. This was acquiesced to- of a sort, because it just got Morgen talking about guns and his taste in them. Six-shooters, five-shooters, the fabled seven and eight shooters…you felt some nostalgia for your old sidearm, even if compared to Signy’s automatic it was an archaic weapon. That thing and you had shared some history…but then, hadn’t this “new” automatic, as well?

Not that this was any more familiar in your hands than the other would have been. Every practice aim you made just felt wrong, like your muscles remembered differently than your head, but you couldn’t summon how they had moved differently. You looked down the sights and dry fired the trigger, yet you knew it was all off…oh, well. Practice would make perfect again. Wakeleaf was helping you be rather more positive. It also may have been making you even worse at messing about with your gun, as even though you felt you could see and hear better, it felt as though your reactions and how your body moved were slower than you wanted. It wasn’t enough for you to not swallow the other half of your first take when you felt the first half wearing off…and the terrors clawing back in. No, anything to keep them away, now- when it had felt like you’d broken off those chafing bindings before.

…Six hits left. What were you going to do when you ran out..?

-----
When the convoy stopped at the edge of the “Funnel,” as it was growing dark and Morgen declared that it was time to stop for the day rather than drive at night, you had gone through half of the supply you’d gotten, much to Yeshamov’s surprise; as well as Brun’s.

“Slow down, Judge above,” the fat man said with worry, “Ye can’t go day t’ day feelin’ high. Save it.”

“Hrrrmm.” You grunted a non-response. What did he know? You deserved a break from what you had to suffer through. It was like taking medicine for a cold, as far as you were concerned. When the other option was to just cower and stutter like an impotent wretch, you’d prefer being high, thank you. None of that was shared, though.

“We’ll sleep in tomorrow,” Morgen said as everybody was outside of the trucks, with a few toughs providing security in the merchant clutch you’d all parked by in this last town before the Funnel proper. “Keep us all well rested. It’s a risky run, but I know we can do it. We’re wild cards- who’s gonna stop us?”

“I’d rather we keep goin’ at night,” Gaetsi muttered, stuffing individual crackers into his mouth between sentences, and deliberately finishing them and swallowing before moving to the next. “No bandits’ll be looking to stop trucks in the dark. Mmff. Mrrff. Sure there’s eyes here, too, makin’ money off sayin’ what comes down the road. Protection rackets, too. Maybe make a few friends while we’re here.”

“Rackets’ll cut into the profits,” Morgen scowled, “We ain’t doin’ this to make a tidy little and sustainable profit, we’re doin’ this to get rich in one. No makin’ friends, not this far. ‘Cause they’ll want a piece of the pie bigger’n any of the rest of us. Jus’ sleep tight.”

The Wakeleaf made that easier said than done- and combined with the ambient noise of the place, and the discomfort of finding the best place to cram yourself in the trucks, getting to sleep was as impossible as closing your eyes firmly shut for more than a few minutes, but in time, you received some assistance.

COME BACK.

Perhaps time apart made the heart grow fonder when you welcomed the call of an eldritch horror trapped under a mountain. Its eerie, booming voice of many people was a familiar sort of alien, now, considering what you’d seen these past few months. A sort of knowing of this brand of unknowing. You didn’t resist, not that you would have known how- and submitted to the call of the beyond.

-----

The swirling sky of fog above. Yet, a firm ground under your back. Thank goodness. Did the fear extend to this place?...No. It didn’t. Unless Wakeleaf somehow affected your presence, which you were stretched by to this unknown place, this was yet another place…where you could be free again.

“Well, well,” the familiar voice that sounded like it was being spoken through wooden wind chimes addressed you from out of your sight. “You aren’t supposed to be here. Have you gotten lost, little boy?” You sat up and turned about. There was Poltergeist; having ventured outside his hut in this strange land to come see you, apparently.

“For once I know exactly where I am.” Was your response. “How are you, in your…however often you’re here, vacation?”

“…Have we met? It is a mystery for a stranger to speak so familiarly.”

“Very funny.” It could only be mockery.

Poltergeist put his hands up and shook his hooded and masked visage side to side, and sighed lightly, put upon. “Ah, you’ll have to pardon me. Where we are, any meeting could be the first, or last, you see? Heh heh heh heh.”

“…I am Richter Von Tracht. You are Poltergeist.”

“Yes, I am. I am also ever so glad you reminded me, I almost forgot.”

“…Hrrrmmph.” You grumbled, as you got to your feet, and gave your strange surroundings another look- the black, claylike ground, the streams flowing to and fro, spiraling about in a maelstrom somehow calm and cool as a frozen lake. “I was concerned for a moment, but you are toying with me yet again.”

“I will cease when you stop being so amusing to agitate,” Poltergeist lifted a finger and shoved it into your nose- he was a hulking form that towered over you, so this nearly shoved you off balance. “I’m afraid that how I’ve been is of no concern to you. How have you been, though? I’ve already spoken with myself at length about myself, you see, and I simply am dying for another subject of conversation.”

You set your mouth, and decided to share the…largest change. “I had some sort of mental conditioning. It’s gone now. I don’t know how, or why, but…it’s gone.”

“Oh? Oh?” Poltergeist leaned forward, into your face, and for a moment, you thought you could see beyond the broken lens of his mask. “Truly? Ahh, finally. You’ll have to pardon me for speaking as though I have been waiting for events to come as though I am omniscient, but some things are left hanging for far too long. Tell me, Richter, how does it feel to be a new man? Or perhaps, the old man before?”

>Everything is frightening, and I feel helpless. I want to go back to before. I don’t like this new man.
>I’ve been told I’m free now. I suppose I am, but I don’t quite know what I’m going to do with this freedom. Or if it’ll be a fair trade for what’s been lost, even if what I’ve gained is so much.
>I’m not a new man, or an older variant of me. It’s easier to see in a place without time, I suppose, that who I am now feels just the same as ever, when I have no distractions.
>Other?

Also-

>Anything you want to chatter about?
Though you know how this guy likes actually answering certain questions.

>>3829507
>Everything is frightening, and I feel helpless. I’ve been told I’m free now. I suppose I am, but I don’t quite know what I’m going to do with this freedom. Or if it’ll be a fair trade for what’s been lost, even if what I’ve gained is supposedly so much.

>>3829507
>Everything is frightening, and I feel helpless. I want to gain new strength on my own.

>>3829507
>Also thank Poltergeist for the gun

>>3829549
He got it to us?

>>3829553
Who else?

>>3829606
Some random spook?

>>3829615
Who knew exactly which store we'll attend beforehand?

>>3829617
I mean, if you really think it was him sure.

>>3829507
>>Everything is frightening, and I feel helpless. I want to go back to before. I don’t like this new man.

>Anything you want to chatter about?
Talk about the ghost eating trees
Talk about the strange things in Ellowie
Ask him about mountain blood tongue
See if we could get our abilities back without the control

>>3829507
This >>3829535 is good, as is >>3829627's other questions. Maddy mentioned our presence had been "twisted around by something else", see if he can tell us whether or not it's just the background radiation from Ellowie leaking into us or if we've been tampered with by something else without our noticing. Also ask him if he knows any good uses for a living stone while we're at it.

>>3829624
I say thank him anyway.

>>3829507
>>3829535's write in and >>3829627's questions. Also ask if he knows Yva or whatever allegiances she may potentially have.

>>3829507
>Everything is frightening, and I feel helpless. I’ve been told I’m free now. I suppose I am, but I don’t quite know what I’m going to do with this freedom. Or if it’ll be a fair trade for what’s been lost, even if what I’ve gained is supposedly so much.

>Anything you want to chatter about?
Talk about the ghost eating trees
Talk about the strange things in Ellowie
Ask him about mountain blood tongue

>>3829507
>Everything is frightening, and I feel helpless. I want to go back to before. I don’t like this new man.

This was a mistake.
>Other?
We don't have a weapon to try out our combat abilities but see if we can remember any historical knowledge in this place.
I want to see if Richter's capacities are truly gone or if they are blocked/damaged.
Especially whether we were "imbued" with our knowledge or we learned it before and it was stolen from us.

Also ask about Mountain Blood Tongue and whether or not what happened to us had magical influences.

>>3829507
>>Everything is frightening, and I feel helpless. I want to go back to before. I don’t like this new man.

>>3829794
Supporting this.

>>3829627
>>3829794
>>3829827
>>3829860
Maybe being a mess isn't that great.

>>3829535
>>3829547
>>3829644
>>3829759
>>3829790
But I suppose it could be worse.

>>3829549
Thanks for the gun

>>3829627
Trees, ghosts, and bloody tongue. Your timing with your fiancee could have been really off.
Yeah okay don't think of that brand of joke right before dinner.

>>3829644
Give me a soul exam, also I have a crab what do I do with it.

>>3829759
Do you know this woman.

>>3829794
Try and test your capabilities- how much of it was you in the first place? Or was it yours and stolen?
Mountain gibberish.

I will eat then write.

“…Everything is frightening,” you admitted, “And I feel helpless.” You were tempted to follow that with, and I want to go back to before, but your tongue was stilled from quite saying that. It was a hand that beckoned, yes, but the hand belonged to a figure you knew you couldn’t trust. “I’ve been told that I’m free now. I suppose I am, after a fashion, but I don’t know what I’m going to do with this new freedom, or if it’ll be a fair trade for what I’ve lost, since I can’t see if what I’ve gained is proportional.”

Poltergeist chuckled a reedy, hollow laugh at your heartfelt confession. “Heh heh heh. Yes, being weaned is hardly the most pleasant for some, but is your hunger so much that you’re tempted to go directly back to the teat?”

“I don’t think so.” You decided, “I think that I want to gain new strength on my own.”

“Quite a declaration for one whose knees quaked before erring for the braggadocious.” Poltergeist demurred, “The outdoors are nice, but come to my “vacation home,” I have more accommodations there, after all.”
You followed Poltergeist heavy steps, but kept up your questioning. “You seem to have some idea of what’s happened to me. Tell me…can I regain what I’ve lost without what I shed? My skill, my knowledge, without the control over my mind?”

“I must appear an endless depository for knowledge on solutions to the world’s problems.” Poltergeist chose to mock you rather than answer, “I would question which you value more that your thirst is so great. So addicted to your strengths that such a short period without them and it gnaws so at your belly. Whether or not I know the full details of your conditions and ordeals, I would ask what exactly you thought you were sacrificing, if you thought you could get it all back so simple and easy.”

“I did not know what I would be sacrificing!” you protested.

“Heh heh. Then I should hope you do not blame anybody else that you are a fool.” The soulbinder looked back at you over his shoulder, like some sort of hulking owl monster. “Oh, do not look so put upon. This must hardly be the first time you’ve been called a bad name.”

“I do not think that I should be mocked for wanting it back,” you said sorely, “Especially when…I do not know how much of it was actually mine own talents, and how much was…just bestowed upon me, that wasn’t part of me at all!”

“…Heh.” Poltergeist pushed his way through the door of odd, black material, and you followed. “Can you not figure that out on your own? When would your mind control or whatever you choose to call it have started? Surely you know. Logically, if you were as you used to be, before that, then its gifts would not have included what was lost.” Poltergeist led you to a familiar tea table. “Do you like it? It is a new acquisition. Relatively. Heh heh.” He settled down on one side. “I prepared in advance, of course,” he pointed to a teapot and wooden cups. Not ceramic? “Perhaps I shall break my own rules, as you look so pitiful. When you put together a puzzle, can you not determine the shape of a piece that goes in a place by what the gap looks like? Pull upon those threads, and though you may not suddenly find the piece, you will see far better how to create a replacement. As to the trouble of your fright, perhaps find motivations that lingered beyond, to rise above them?”

Somehow it didn’t feel like it should be so simple, but you noted something. “You have rules?” you asked, “You don’t seem to follow them very closely, else I would not have a gun with my body right now. Thank you for that, by the by.”

“Hm? What gun?” Poltergeist seemed to be playing coy at first, but he stopped to think, for a moment. “…Heh heh. So I did. Naughty me. Though perhaps you should be sending your thanks to another person.”

“…”

“Why not? Do you feel wronged by them?”

You dodged the question. “You can sense Presence. I saw my fiancée the other day.”

“And how did you feel around her?” Poltergeist asked. “Your recent feebleness and such.”

“Better. But, she said my presence had been twisted by something. I want to know more about that, since, at least, my Presence is what is actually here, is it not? I have been in Ellowie, and it has been quite haunted…”

Poltergeist leaned forward, making a show of inspecting what he could likely see at a glance. “Well, you’ve made a mess of my weave, for certain. An ember has been taking bites out of you, and…oh, my. Somebody who isn’t me was poking about, too. What a naughty woman.”

“How did you know they were a woman?” you asked, “I wanted to ask about them, actually. Her name is Yva. Have you heard of her? What are her allegiances?”

“I know it is a woman because women and men have differing presence, as one must incubate life and the birth of another soul…or so the philosophers say, but the differences are clear. Did you not know? As for whom I know…that would be best to ask when you are guaranteed to be in a time and place that my memory would be more fresh, would it not be?”

“Helpful as always,” you grumbled, “So you haven’t heard of them, then.”

“Have you tried asking her about herself?" Poltergeist posited, "She should not be troubling you, in any case, no matter her allegiance, unless you are purposely inviting trouble to yourself. In which case, the Oblitares would come knocking in Ellowie.”

“She is making trouble by fraternizing with my comrade Von Metzeler,” you recalled gruffly.

“…Ah, so she chooses to show her face openly?” Poltergeist laughed, “Heh heh.” He pointed to you, “Are you jealous? Is she cute? A soulbinder is so much more potent, potentially, in their arts, than your little redhead, after all. Though if her identity is so open, she is not me, or dear old Gyalzhahar, at least.”

“Who?”

“A grumpy troglodyte who eats slop from the hands of whatever master he chooses,” Poltergeist said dismissively, “Of the west, of course, not that such is always redeeming. As for this Yva, if you truly feel threatened by her, then why not take advantage of this vulnerability? You could never hope to defeat a Soulbinder in a contest of strength, not if they have any intelligence as they should, and do not enter a conflict with uneven odds. Yet she has clearly left the way to her soft and vulnerable heart wide open. Why not nurture the bond she has with your man, if she is so inclined? That would be a much more feasible way of getting at her.”

“I would rather her not turn Von Metzeler into a thrall.”

“Ah, you know about that, hm? I should hope that is not her intention. That’s a no-no even among Oblitares, you see. For now. Heh heh. Imagine the damage one could do if a head of government was made a thrall…alas, that is not the case…for now.” Poltergeist said this like he was telling a child a scary bedtime story, though the implication did not amuse you.

“I would like some of that tea, if you may,” you said, watching the steam flow from the teapot gradually lessen. “…A sudden thought, do you happen to know any uses for Living Stones? I recently bought one…because…I don’t know. It was an impulse.”

“You can frighten women with them.”

“Hilarious.”

Poltergeist didn’t bother picking up the teapot, instead choosing to make it float by use of sparking, scarcely visible threads- presumably to show off, and arranged both of your cups and brewing situations. “I am, aren’t I?”

“If I were not the subject of every joke,” you grumbled, and inspected the tea you’d been given. Black as night- sugar cube at the bottom. “How on earth do you get sugar cubes here?”

“That is the thing that sticks out the most?” Poltergeist feigned shock.

You sighed, and sagged your shoulders. “I wish to try something while I am here. I’m not intoxicated with Wakeleaf here, and the fear is not present here…quiz me on history. One of the things I have lost is a significant amount of that knowledge, but…it isn’t like with me forgetting how to fight. Instead of feeling wrong, I just don’t know, so it’s a different sort of feeling…”

“Very well.” Poltergeist acquiesced surprisingly easily. “When did the Emrean War begin?”

“Are we counting the conflict between the protectorate’s occupation army and the local government against militant revolutionary movements, or after they agreed to combine forces and form the Emrean nation to declare independence officially from the Reich?”

“And you are concerned with having forgot a significant amount.”

“Everybody knows about that, though.”

Poltergeist stared for a moment. “Very well then. How about…the year of Strossvald’s independence from the Reich?”

You opened your mouth…then close it again. “…See, I should know that, should I not?”

“I will help.” Poltergeist straightened and put his hands on the table. “When was your family ennobled by the first Archduke?”

“The year of eighteen seventy two.” You rattled off easily.

“Subtract one.” Poltergeist waved his finger as you blinked in realization. “Heh. Heh. Do you see? Empty spaces with which a piece may be crafted, if you have lost it.”

“I suppose.” Though your question posed to yourself had been answered- it seemed that this “forgetting” was extended to your presence; though as Poltergeist had pointed out…to call what you lost truly “lost” may have been…a heartening overstatement, maybe. One could only hope, but he also said it wouldn’t be simple and easy…perhaps he merely meant that you wouldn’t have to relearn everything from scratch. Unless your ability to fight was different enough that you would have to do that. What choice, though, but to learn once more?

“You said you were in Ellowie?” Poltergeist played with his tea by setting his cup to steadily spin of its own volition…his, rather. “How has it been, then? To your liking?”

“Recently, a village appeared out of nowhere,” you said, taking a sip, carefully. “That was interesting. Maddalyn said that it got pulled back like my presence gets pulled here.”

“How mysterious. As fascinating as that topic is though, that is unfortunately, something I cannot even toy with you about being better off not knowing about. At least, quite yet.”

Sincerity? From Poltergeist? “Fine. You can talk about the trees, at least, yes? The Kalamarz?”

“Interesting flora,” Poltergeist pointed to the ceiling, the walls, of his cabin. “Not far removed from this, you know. There are quite a few creatures and plants more sensitive to presence. Living Stones, for example. Blackflower plants. These traits aren’t of any consequence to most, of course, but in Ellowie, a naturally spiritual place? Yes, the Kalamarz feed well. You have been keeping a close eye on Emma, have you not?”

“I…lost track of her after I had my conditioning removed, but I’ve been doing my best.”

“Be a good fellow and find her again soon,” Poltergeist said in mock chastising, “your dear fiancée won’t be happy if you cannot even handle dead children.”

Were you fading yet? In case you were… “I have one last question.” You tried to be as serious as possible in spite of whom was across the table. “When I was under conditioning, apparently, I could be commanded by use of a language called the Tongue of Mountain’s Blood. You don’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”

“Hmm. Go on and slurp down your tea.” Poltergeist rubbed his gloved hands together. “I don’t know a word of it, but I know of it, in that it’s one of the many secrets the lovely folk of the mountains like to keep to themselves. For you to be ordered around with it, it’d take people who know the language, and there certainly can’t be many of them around. I’d suppose it was chosen for that reason- because nobody knows it. Except some of the mountain folk who take up important duties with the Mountain Lords. The acolytes of some Soulbinders, for example. Alas, it should say something when I can genuinely say that I wish I knew more about it.”

“I was thinking,” you had steadily been putting this together since your mind had been freer, “Could my conditioning have had…sorcerous elements?”

Poltergeist paused, then laughed. “Heh. Heh heh. No. I would have been able to tell you that much. Not everything in this world is magic, you know, but-“

You fell away.

…

…

…Bugger.

-----

Cold. Chilling cold. Dark, enemies all around…you were awake, and in…in the truck. Moving along. Morning.

“Rise and shine, Richter,” Morgen said brightly from up front, “You were late risin’, so we just set off after jammin’ you back there. Don’t got coffee or nothin’, but it’s fine. Nothin’ t’ do but drive anyhoo.”

It was awfully misty outside, but that didn’t help how tense you were. The Wakeleaf…the wakeleaf could help you, you thought as you scrambled to take out the baggie with the packaged doses in them…then stopped…Should you? You had the feeling you were going to be in danger, considering where you were, the lack of armed guards, that this was Sosaldt and you were heading towards the Border Zone…but could you learn to doubt this fear? Was it something that was false? Could you stand it either way?

>Take your Wakeleaf. It would last a while, and it’d help you wake up…of course.
>Don’t take any more drugs. What if this became a habit?
>Try something else to try and banish this feeling…hopefully, for more than a moment. (What?)
>Other?

>>3830838
>>Try something else to try and banish this feeling…hopefully, for more than a moment. (What?)
Thinking about Maddalyn seems to be what Richter responds best to, so just daydream about being with her until we forget about The Fear. Save the wakeleaf for if we encounter some tangible danger we need to respond to.

>>3830838
>Poltergeist said in mock chastising, “your dear fiancée won’t be happy if you cannot even handle dead children.”

The irony is rich here indeed. Future Poltergeist talking to us the whole time here? He did replace those cups...

Hold off on that good stuff. If we really need it in danger, we can take it.
>>Try something else to try and banish this feeling…hopefully, for more than a moment. (What?)

Focus on the gun, maybe we can't use it well but if we remember how the parts all work together it could help. Check ammo, see if it's clean, inspect the inner workings.
Also trying to work around remembering historical facts might help. Bounce off Richter's personal history or how the Von Trachts impacted things.

>>3830838
>Try something else to try and banish this feeling…hopefully, for more than a moment.
Handling guns is said to instill confidence.
Btw our shooting skill was based on our hunting hobby, so it definitely wasn't a product of the brainwashing. Which means we should recover it.

>>3830874
>>3830902
Supporting doing some target practice. Even learning from the very beginning it shouldn't take that long to regain a basic level of competency.

>>3830838
>>3830874
This seems good

File: Absolutely directly assho(...).png (670 KB, 800x482)

670 KB PNG

>no Hummel fun this dream
There's always next time, I guess
>>3830838
>Try something else to try and banish this feeling…hopefully, for more than a moment.
Play with gat

>>3830902
+1.

My sleep schedule has become absolutely fucked.

>>3830867
Muh shorty

>>3830874
>>3830902
>>3830987
>>3831107
>>3832143
>>3832303
Why fondle females when you could molest a gun
No comment on whose gun it is, or maybe was.

Writing.

You rolled the tempting drug between your fingers…it called…but you remembered Poltergeist’s words-about being weaned off of a metaphorical mother’s breast. Wouldn’t a drug habit, if it became that, be just another smothering caregiver turned overlord? No…you had to save it for when you really needed it. Doubtless that time would come…but now? No. You had paid your way for a reason.

Instead, you took out your gun…Signy’s gun, perhaps, since you hadn’t really spent enough time with it to proper call it yours, even if training had gone over the weapon itself. Not that you could remember much about it besides that to field strip it you’d need a tool. How to actually strip it was another matter entirely, that you only found fog when you grasped for the knowledge.

Even ignorance couldn’t keep you from examining the gun- and checking what you had to use for it. Two stout magazines that, you remembered, carried eight rounds each of 9.3 millimeter ammunition. While you didn’t trust yourself enough to keep one loaded in the gun, you pushed the ammunition out of one magazine and felt the spring mechanism push the next bullet into place. You pulled on the gun’s slide, felt it work, felt it lock…played with it to figure out how it worked again. It was like a puzzle, it was play…and it distracted perilously little from the feeling of being watched. It became harder to concentrate, but frustration was not a mercy granted to you.

Please, you thought as your hands tremble, Please, at least let me remember how to defend my life.

You had to shoot. To practice. To at least know where you were at, and make some effort to improve. With only sixteen shots, you wouldn’t get much practice, but it would at least be advancement from the nothing you felt. Maybe when you stopped at whatever settlement you were planning to- apparently, when you uncertainly asked, the one you were heading to was one that it was no secret that it was one of the few left not turned into a warzone for competitors, ruled by a gang, or abandoned and hidden in by bandits. It was also, apparently, a haven for Ellowian insurgents, whom these people you traveled with planned to sell their heavy loads of weaponry and ammunition to- at a premium, naturally. Did they have any more 9.3 you could buy, you wondered. You recalled that 9.3 millimeter was a cartridge that was mostly only used by Strossvald, so there might not be much chance of that…

Looking outside wasn’t much comfort this morning, as you ravenously demolished a dark rye bread roll that was passed back to you as breakfast.

“Glad that Gaetsi’s up front for this,” Yeshamov scowled, “This damn fog. Hell to drive in, especially in this sort of territory. If we run into something we’ll be screwed.”

“Well, we certainly will be with that attitude,” Morgen leaned on the window, and made a dismissive gesture, before looking out the side himself. “Awfully dry, these parts. Not quite a desert, at least. Two sets of mountains drinkin’ up all the clouds…”

“Except these ones down low, apparently,” Yeshamov said. “The funny shit comin’ out the mountains. Say it’s haunted.”

“Tales of curses and ghosts will not help morale!” Morgen was particularly stressed by that theory for whatever reason.

“Yeah, yeah, nothin’ but cheer an’ high spirits in this neck o’ the woods…” Yeshamov grumbled.

They bickered with each other and seemed to forget you even existed, as you intermittently toyed with your weapon, and aimed it shakily at the other wall, trying to keep your arm steady, racking your brain on how you were a crack shot at all…

-----

The lingering pressure from your senses drove you to huddle to yourself and treat the back cabin as a hiding hole, but from how the vehicle turned and rattled it was sure that you were in uneven ground, and on a rocky road.

“Why’re they stoppin’…” Yeshamov grumbled as he hit the brakes slowly, “This ain’t good country to be stopping. Hey, Richter, Morgen. Come out. Don’t like being cooped up in a truck for…whatever the hell this’ll turn out to be.”

It was discomforting stepping out of the truck, but you did so- maybe the stale air was penetrating even your severe anxiety, despite knowing that a thousand more eyes could see you outside.

“What’s the hold up, Gaetsi?” Yeshamov began to storm towards the front truck, and Gaetsi came out.

“Somethin’s in the road, I’ll need help clearing it. Just you’ll be enough.”

“Don’t have time for this…” the short man said roughly, but he went along, leaving you and Morgen by yourselves behind the lead truck.

“Ominous weather, hm, Richter?” Morgen tried to make light conversation.

“…” you considered whether to respond or not, when…

“The hell? Hey!” Yeshamov’s voice called out, “Who’s th-“ Pang! Pang-Pang!

No, no, no no no no, no, no! Your mind entered a blind panic as you heard gunfire- you fell to your knees, scrambled sideways, then forwards, and into a rocky ditch at the side of the road, huddling behind a trio of stacked boulders. Panic like you’d never felt before- you could hardly breathe, your breath was quick, but each one seemed to bring no air…You…you were fine…breathe…you were hidden. In cover. Safe, right?

“Richter? Where you gone?” Morgen called. Then… “…What’s goin’ on, Gaetsi? Who’re these people? Where’s Yesh and Brun?” Pang! “Ugh!”

“Sorry, Morgen. Splitting it three ways is better for me than splitting it four.” You heard Gaetsi say.

“You said there was another, didn’t ya?” a different voice asked, “Should we shoot him too?”

“Damn you…Gaetsi, you no-good rat…”

“You’ll bleed out slower if you save your strength, Morgen. Especially with how much energy you expend doing it.” Gaetsi said, voice thick with condescension. “The last man…he was some useless addict. He won’t be any trouble. Come on. Let’s get this gear moving.”

Damn. Damn, damn, damn! It was all you could do to keep yourself silent…

“Ughhh…” You heard Morgen cough and splutter, and groan. “Dirty…dirty snakes…”

You…you had your gun, that you had now put the magazine into, as if you could do anything with it. It was something, at least. You were out of sight- this trench kept along the road, it was foggy, and the land went up and down severely all around, with stones littered all about of varying sizes. You could slip away…escape…but…was that what…what the old you would do..?

>Rouse yourself. Stand up. Even one man could take on three if he got the first shot…and even a worthless shot could hit something from right next to them, if you crawled up to the edge…right?
>Run away. This isn’t the place for valor. It was all you could do to survive.
>Hide until the bandits leave with their prize. Even if Morgen had extorted you, you couldn’t just leave him there to die, could you? You had to do something…
>Other?

>>3833740
>Hide until the bandits leave with their prize. Even if Morgen had extorted you, you couldn’t just leave him there to die, could you? You had to do something…

As much as it'd serve us right to see Richter just get shot and killed because of this whole misadventure back into Sosaldt, even he would realize trying to shoot them would be pointless.

>Other?
Move a little further away until they leave, no sense trusting what they are saying out loud.

>>3833740
>Rouse yourself. Stand up. Even one man could take on three if he got the first shot…and even a worthless shot could hit something from right next to them, if you crawled up to the edge…right?

>>3833740
>>Hide until the bandits leave with their prize. Even if Morgen had extorted you, you couldn’t just leave him there to die, could you? You had to do something…

>>3833740
>Hide until the bandits leave with their prize. Even if Morgen had extorted you, you couldn’t just leave him there to die, could you? You had to do something…

Richter will never get better if you keep voting not to try, anons.

>>3834124
Now's the time to bow out, and not try.

>>3833740
->Hide until the bandits leave with their prize. Even if Morgen had extorted you, you couldn’t just leave him there to die, could you? You had to do something…

>>3833878
>>3833995
>>3834116
>>3834341
Hide off in a ditch.

>>3833911
Make ready for battle.

Update coming...right now.

A pause- a careful ear- though you felt like you heard inaudible encroaching whispers, far louder and definitely existent were the sounds of the brigands speaking, walking about. You kept your gun holstered and kept the little slung wickerwork case with your crab in it close to your side, and carefully crept further away, crouched low to the ground. Just in case they doubted their judgment, and came looking. Much as you would have loved to flee, you couldn’t turn tail and run away. You had to stay- and wait. Perhaps, when the highwaymen made off with their prize, you could help who was left. Morgen wasn’t dead yet- and as much as he had extorted you of a lot of money, you couldn’t just leave him there to die…

Yet as you hid in the stones and fog, and waited for the trucks to start up and drive into the distance, you couldn’t help but feel disgusted. Was this what you were, now? Yet it wasn’t nearly enough to put you to your feet and move into the open again. It was cold, but your shivering wasn’t from the weather, and the despair you found yourself sinking into was born of merely thinking, of what you could have done before. Isolated in lawless country, with naught but an injured man and what you had on your person- a canteen of water, no food- the more you thought about it, the more the temptation came for tears to brew in your eyes for the misery of it all- but you did rise again.

Morgen lay in the rocky dirt road, groaning and holding his breast, until you came close and he stilled his tongue to look over. “…Oh. Hullo there, Richter. Not…not the best luck we had, eh? Not only shot, but ran my leg over with the truck on their way out. Ha…ugghh. Can you help me sit up?” You said nothing, and bent down to push him up. “Ah. Thanks. Got a smoke?”

You shook your head.

Morgen sighed, and took off his hat to put it beside him. “Pity.”

“You…You’ve been shot, and…and robbed…but you’re…not upset..?” you struggled to get out.

“Huh? Oh, I’m burnin’ up about it, no doubt, but, not much point in that right now, I figure.” Morgen kept a hand clenched on his wound, his breaths heavy. “I’d ask you t’ check on Yeshamov and see if you can find Brun, but…eh, I’d rather not see their bodies, y’know. Rather be uncertain ‘bout it, even though I already know. Not like we were closest of mates, but they put their trust in my scheme.”

“…I…we’re…” you tried to sputter out, but Morgen talked over you, after giving you a look up and down.

“Still here, so you weren’t with them. Must have good instincts. Should’a followed you, but, was too curious for my own good. Guess you’re thinkin’, what now? What master plan does ol’ Morgen got to get outta this pickle? Well…” Morgen forced a grin, “I don’t got one. You’re lookin’ pretty fit to keep trekkin’, and this road goes on further down the funnel, after all. Meanwhile, I’ve got a hole in my chest, and I can’t walk. Leave me somewhere that’s not too rough and I’ll probably die in a day or so. No sense in me slowin’ us both down so we both bite the dust.”

“…Shouldn’t…shouldn’t give up…so quickly…” you muttered. “…Town or…or village can’t be too…too far.”

“Nah, but we weren’t intendin’ on stoppin’ til we hit Spout Market right off the border,” Morgen said, “Say you carry me to a place and it’s full of unseemly folks. Not like you’re in any shape to fight, from how you stagger ‘bout, how you hold a gun. You’re best off on your lonesome, ‘less you got secrets hidin’ in your sleeve.”

>You had to admit, he was right. There was nothing for it but to move on by yourself. You couldn’t mind after the both of you in these wild lands…
>Neither of you had to go anywhere. If you stayed long enough, the Hogs would find you…wouldn’t they?
>Maybe you couldn’t fight…but leaving a man behind was cowardly. You didn’t lack for physical strength- you could bear this burden, at least.
>Other?

>>3834583
>>You had to admit, he was right. There was nothing for it but to move on by yourself. You couldn’t mind after the both of you in these wild lands…
Ask him if he wants to be put out of his misery though.

>>3834583
>Maybe you couldn’t fight…but leaving a man behind was cowardly. You didn’t lack for physical strength- you could bear this burden, at least.
Cowards, the lot of you. Richter will stay a snotpile forever if you have your way.

>>3834583
>Maybe you couldn’t fight…but leaving a man behind was cowardly. You didn’t lack for physical strength- you could bear this burden, at least.
The old Richter wouldn't have left somebody to die like this. He'll be a burder but if we're lucky we can save his life and take our first big step back towards making back some of that valour we lost.

>>3834583
>Maybe you couldn’t fight…but leaving a man behind was cowardly. You didn’t lack for physical strength- you could bear this burden, at least.

>>3834583
>Maybe you couldn’t fight…but leaving a man behind was cowardly. You didn’t lack for physical strength- you could bear this burden, at least.

Find Yesh and Brun’s Bodies, maybe they had useful things on them. If their clothes aren’t soiled with blood and guts maybe we can use them to make the worlds worst makeshift litter to drag Morgen on.

>>3834804
Seconding. Take any guns, money, or drugs from their bodies like a good scavenger. Also we should take a hit of wakeleaf when we approach the next village so we can handle the situation halfway competently and hopefully not get taken advantage of or killed.

We should have asked Polt how to break a Wakeleaf addiction while we were at it.

Bright and early as usual.
Bleh.

>>3834590
Do you want to die quicker

>>3834615
>>3834623
>>3834756
>>3834804
>>3835072
You can do this, can't you?

Writing.

>>3835230
I don't think you have to ask a wizard how to do that.

This wasn’t something you had anticipated to be a survival situation- and while Morgen was right in that having to haul around a wounded man who couldn’t walk would reduce your chances of survival. Though, even with the fog suggesting that, just beyond it, your imagined fears had form…your name was Von Tracht, was it not? Even if you couldn’t fight…to leave a man behind was cowardice, and your father did not raise a coward. Your bloodline had ignoble mentions, but it was not a line of cravens- and it certainly would not become one because of you. This burden, you could bear.

“Let’s…” you coughed, but then chose to act rather than fruitlessly speak. You helped Morgen out of his jacket, which seemed to confuse him at first, but he didn’t object when you cut away strips of his shirt underneath to make dressings, if not particularly clean ones. You’d have tried to wash things, but you didn’t have enough water nor a sustainable source nearby.

“Right kindly of you,” Morgen said, “S’pose you’re gonna ignore my advice, then. Ow!” His punctuation came as you tightly wrapped strips of cloth over and around his bared torso to try and help clot up the wound. If it was in his lung like it sounded there’d be trouble, but you didn’t know how to treat that sort of wound, besides recalling that it was best to get to a proper doctor as soon as possible. Being shot there yourself, albeit by a bigger gun, you knew the experience was far from pleasant. Morgen was weathering it very well, considering.

“I’ll be…right back…” you said to Morgen after he at least had his gunshot wound bound up- it might have been too much to ask for in this barren country for a sturdy stick to make a splint for his leg with, though maybe a piece of scrap metal wouldn’t be too much to ask for, or perhaps if you found an abandoned settlement, you could find something there…perhaps even enough to make a simple litter to drag him with. Before you went on down that road, though, you had to find what you could…and pick as much as you could from the dead.

Rolled 3 (1d5)

Yeshamov had been dumped off the side of the road ahead- and he was absolutely dead when you found him. One hole right in the center of his chest- he was probably dead from that alone, but his murderer hadn’t been taking any chances and put two in his head as well. His shoes had been taken, and when you went through his pockets, so had any money or arms he had been carrying. He was left with his water canteen, at least- a small mercy, though if he had any drugs on him, he was carrying them in places you didn’t want to look.

Poor Brun had been deposited on the opposite side of the road not much further up- a bullet in one ear and out the other. Probably killed without even realizing it. At least, having not been shot through the heart, his clothes were salvageable. However, besides that, he had been similarly looted of valuables. The only prize you had were semi-useable rag material made from only slightly dirty clothes; even if it didn’t make you feel good to leave a man in his underclothes, dead, by the side of the road. Not that you had a shovel to bury anybody in a reasonable amount of time- you’d have to devote that time to the living.

Morgen was still sitting in place, as was what he was limited to doing now, but he at least wasn’t surprised you came back. With some more dressing applied to his wounds and his jacket buttoned again, he seemed to be mostly stopped up- if absolutely still unhealthy. Maybe he’d last more than a day, and you could find some help; if only some would fortuitously arrive for you.
Attempts to have him limp along with his arm over you proved inefficient- every stagger, Morgen cried out or grunted in pain, and finally requested that you stop and take a break. You couldn’t- it had only been about five minutes. So you lifted him over your shoulders and bore him along that way- you certainly had had plenty of practice carrying people…Signy, in particular…and Morgen was only somewhat heavier, especially being able to carry him on your shoulders rather than on your back. With a swig of water and a hit of wakeleaf turning your tongue to ice, you went on, not on the road itself, but following close enough that you could use it as a guide, while maybe avoiding an experience like the last...


1-Nobody
2-Cute Orphans
3-Friendly Neighbors
4-Interesting Wildlife
5-Not something awful


I'll be back in a bit, going out to eat.

As your journey went on, your senses and confidence charged, though your actions and feeling perhaps dulled (perhaps it would have been good to give some to Morgen, but…), your passenger on your shoulders decided to distract himself by telling stories.

“Not the first time this sort of thing has happened,” he murmured.

“Getting shot?” you asked.

“Nah, actually. This is new. Urrghhh. Sorry. I mean getting’ robbed blind.”

“I see.” You kept your eyes front.

“Maybe one can call me not so excellent at en-tre-pre-neurin’, considerin’, but this is only the second big deal I’ve tried. The little deals, they’re no trouble, they keep you goin’, but they got no rush, see? And for the big rush, you need the big risks.”

With Morgen’s mouth running a mile a minute, it was only his haggard breath and need to stop to catch his breath that told you that he indeed was seriously wounded. You wondered if speech was just a way he dealt with the pain. He had a way of reminding himself of other stories in the midst of others, and would interrupt the old, get mixed up, then head off on a new track altogether. It was a strange white noise to work under, for a good forty minutes.

…Shapes. Real ones.

“Shh,” you hissed at Morgen, “People.” Your companion got the message, and you ducked down in the trench by the road and held still. This area was less rocky- you’d have to hope nobody would think to look for you- that your silhouette wasn’t seen, and that nobody had heard Morgen talking. Thankfully, being wounded had turned his volume down some.

…Maybe not enough, as you heard the light step of feet on the ground, crunching stones and brushing of dry, frosted grass. You held your breath, felt your heartbeat in your throat…they weren’t close yet, but they would be soon. What would you do? They weren’t saying anything…

“Hey, who’s out there?” your thought was corrected by a hoarse voice calling out, “Show yourselves! Share your wealth a little, else we’ll coax it outta you!”

You noted your surroundings. The trench next to the right side of the dirt road- low, scrubby brush off the right side of said defilade, a rise beyond that, then the fog obscured most of it. Over the left side of the path, more shallow hills, but going up there would probably put you in sight. Fleeing seemed to not be an option- not with Morgen’s weight upon you interfering with your ability to step lightly. A peek over the edge- three shapes, none of them particularly large, all seeming to be in heavy ponchos.

>Surrender. What more could be taken from you at this point?...after you bury a few things in the loose, dusty dirt. (Such as?)
>Lay an ambush. They knew you were about- but they didn’t know where. Unlike them, who had given away their position.
>Leave Morgen behind here and try to draw the bandits away from here.
>Work with Morgan to dispatch these bandits- he could linger there and smooth talk- while you either set up an ambush from close by or waited in case he got in trouble.
>Keep low, hide, and hope for the best.
>Other?

>>3836376
>Work with Morgan to dispatch these bandits- he could linger there and smooth talk- while you either set up an ambush from close by or waited in case he got in trouble.

Leave Morgen with all our vaguely valuable supplies and take the gun to set up an ambush. Ideally Morgen will be able to talk something out, but if that fails this ambush puts us in our best spot. If we can nail a guy in our first salvo, maybe Morgen can pick up his weapon in the confusion and make it a 2v2. It’s not the plan that has the best chance for us surviving, but I think it’s the best one we have if we want Richter to start recovering.

>>3836376
>>Keep low, hide, and hope for the best.