File: 9781974700400.png (984 KB, 800x1200)

984 KB PNG

Last Thread: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/4215177/

Archive: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=Black+Clover
> Please vote if you feel like it.

Character Sheet:
https://pastebin.com/raw/pWGzGWtb

Thread theme:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XM52nMYbmks [Dream On]

You ponder silently; is it a riddle? You look at Cryz who is as confused as you. You think a second on the answer.

Could it be...? “Water,” you raise your voice to speak out loud. There a moment of silence as you continue to stare down the door hoping for some sort of feedback. Nothing, the massive stone gateway remains unmoving and the letters do not regain their light. You harrumph loudly; by all means it should be the answer. Once more, there’s a short, grating echoing coming from the woman-like statue gently glimmering with magic; another finger budges.

Cryz’s empty, glass eyes narrow at the statue before he turns to voice his own answer:

“’Kitchen knife’, now open,” he demands of the door. A third finger lifts, raises away and then falls on the sickle...

Cryz, with a visible agitation, runs his fingers against his green hair.

> Say something.
> Step away from the vault door and continue draining the statue.
> Step away from the vault door and attempt to drain the ceiling.
> Step away from the vault door and walk towards another tomb.
> [Write In]

>>4256379
>> Step away from the vault door and walk towards another tomb.
>Try to check each of the other tombs to see if they do something similar.

Guess that wasn't it. Maybe we should see if we can gather any hints by investigating before trying again.

>>4256443

+1

You take a few inelegant and clumsy steps away from the sand-gilded door. You can’t help but pout at it refusing to accept your answer. Cryz follows you lazily, his brief agitation is gone and now he simply looks lazy and uncaring. He folds his hands – pushing you closer – and tilts his head, eyeing the statue once again. He hems.

“I don’t think those fingers moving are a good thing,” he points towards the eldritch face of the towering statue.

You place your hand over your stomach to calm down the grumble. Damn it, this is so embarrassing. You walk back to the centre of the room and, as such, the magical echoing of the door turns to silence. You suggest to Cryz to investigate every one of the four tombs in the same way you did previously, to see if there is any difference...

The man’s lips curve into a short smile, “At this point? There is no rush, maybe those corpses were buried with something valuable like earrings or necklaces, or maybe one of them has a hammer we can break a piece of the statue?” You frown; according to Cryz using magic on the statue is unwelcome, but shattering a piece of it is? “I’ve robbed tens of dozens of ‘dungeons’ at this point, but this is the first one with honest-to-real riddles.” He admits.

You approach each of the doors your Sequin Magic clings to; you use your magic in an attempt to drain them, but cut the spell shortly before casting. Each time, the ancient letters on the magically carved, sedimentary surfaces illuminate with glowing and radiant – as well as blinding (your eyes begin to hurt) - colours. Each voice is different.

The riddle of the first door is:
It is a sharp blade that can easily kill, yet most are not afraid of it.

The riddle of the second door is:
The pickaxe and the bird, what connects them?

The riddle of the third door is:
It is born and dies to allow others to see.

The riddle of the forth door is:
What am I?

> Approach one of the doors and say something.
> Step away from the vault door and continue draining the statue.
> Step away from the vault door and attempt to drain the ceiling.
> Ask Cryz if he wants to give it a try; from the looks of it, not really. He prefers to let you do it and fail.
> [Write In]

>>4256883
>> Ask Cryz if he wants to give it a try; from the looks of it, not really. He prefers to let you do it and fail.

we have to cum in Cryz mouth for being too smug

>>4256883
>> Approach one of the doors and say something
>To the third door, Darkness?

Man, I feel like a brainlet. I'm coming up with basically nothing on these riddles.

>>4257487
Wait, scratch that, instead of Darkness, maybe it's something like a candle or torchlight? Their fires are started to ket others see, but inevitably they burn out and 'die'.

>> Approach one of the doors and say something
>To the third door, Firelight?

>>4256883
>The riddle of the first door is:
>It is a sharp blade that can easily kill, yet most are not afraid of it.
Razor

>The riddle of the second door is:
>The pickaxe and the bird, what connects them?
Most likely head but maybe an eye

>The riddle of the third door is:
>It is born and dies to allow others to see.
Flame

>The riddle of the forth door is:
>What am I?
Door? Riddle?

> Approach one of the doors and say something.

Third. Flame

>>4259885
+1

You give Cryz a cross glance and lift your hands towards one of the doors, “Do you maybe want to give it a try?”

The man looks back at you and lazily shrugs his shoulders, “No, I’m sure you have it all figured out.” He smiles.

You pout and harrumph. You let your thoughts flow loudly, “It could be a candle... a torch... or maybe....”

You nod towards Cryz with brief uncertainty before pulling him towards the third door. You sway your hand to trigger it with one more coating of shimmering sequins. Once again, the olden words glow and the riddle booms.

It is born and dies to allow others to see.

You let your exhale quietly linger before you decide on an answer. “Flame,” you say. You toss a worried glance at the statue, but to your relief the overflowing inside glow is not present this time; the forth finger does not budge.

You heart skips with a gasp as the candescent light of the ancient hieroglyphs engraving onto the limestone surface spreads, like cracks, through the entire door. The heavy limestone fractures and shatters, pieces of it trembling and then breaking into shimmering sand one by one until the entire barrier is gone. You glance inside.

A massive flux of magical power explodes from within the chamber and, as if some powerful, lead wind, smashes into you. It hangs in the air, and last for a few seconds, before hanging. Inside, there is a small hollow with no particular items of value aside from the standing white body itself. Encased beneath the ashen stone is another man, just like the bodies previously, the shape of his long-vanished grimoire is fossilized and hanging on his chest.

The outline of his face and clothing are clearly visible. He has a middle-aged face with a long hair and sharp, narrow eyes. He wore a pleated long shirt with a short silk – it’s easy to recognize even in this form - skirt. It is nothing compared to what aristocracy, or maybe even comparing to the clothes well-off commoners, are able to afford today, but the mummified tombs of the men previously did not have such clothes. His belt looks expensive.

His three-leaf clover symbol is glowing with vivid celestial energy – the magic inside is so powerful it sands your skin like sandpaper and pains your head. You begin to doubt yourself about approaching him or not. Cryz enters the hollow less unwillingly than you; from his hand he manifests a cloud of sequins to brighten the small chamber ever further. His hungry, glass eyes dart left and right inspecting the tomb until he quickly approaches the body.

“Was it against their religion to burry people with their possessions or something?” he complains loudly as he raises his hand to strike at the belt with visible frustration, “If I have to break your carcass to get that gold I will.”

As soon as Cryz grasps the belt, both shoulders of the “corpse” flare up. With a menacing explosion, his white-as-sand hands lift from his chest and curve to take defensive stance. Cryz quickly backtracks away from the living stone. You face can’t help but scrunch in disappointment and anger. You spread out your hand to prepare to fight.

The mummified ancient is burning with magic – at his previous life, you are certain he was at least a noble. Dimly from the fractures all over his body, and brightly from his eyes, he glows with aquamarine light. He looks at you...

His stone chin and jaw splinters but not enough to free his mouth. Even then, you are able to hear him speak in empty, hollow, ghostly voice. He speaks in an ancient language, one you had no idea existed. Nevertheless, every one of his words echoes plainly in your mind. Not gabled like an oatmeal, but like a poem. It does so magically.

“The riddle of my tomb has been solved... yet you are not the ‘Chosen of the Sands’, or his inheritor.”

As soon as the statue looks at Cryz, he quickly points at you. You glance at the mummy calmly yet awkwardly.

“I solved your riddle,” you confess confidently but carefully. You want to avoid fighting; you can’t really fight.

There is another loud crack as the thousands-year-old carcass takes a step forward, only to stop and look at you.

”You are wise, and so young. But I have been in wait here for the ‘Chosen of Sands’, and you are not him.

“It’s complicated,” you wobble your hands to try and find a place for them to rest to appear unthreatening and still be quick enough to lift. “It might be hard to hear, but your kingdom has been buried under the sand for thousands of years, at this point. It is only just recently a small part of the palace appeared from beneath it.”

He remains silent; you not sure if he is confused, shocked, unimpressed or ignorant of this fact. “Everyone’s dead.”

”Our King is venerated by the natural magic of our desert. If the kingdom is gone, he willed it to be so.”

You shake your head, “A powerful mage, a criminal, has entered your palace and is now in possession of ‘Mydias’ Crown’, and he was your king, was he not? He is a powerful Flesh Magic user; he turned the palace into innards.”

The statue’s voice continues to be one note, but it’s clear to understand that he is unhappy:

“Only the ‘Chosen of the Sands’ and his descendants are allowed to wear the crown without driving out the anger of the desert. It is only a matter of time until he is consumed for his folly and cursed by the mana of the barren lands; but what of the ‘Chosen of the Sands’, what of the King?”

You wince. You are not sure if you should tell him about the skeleton laying in the throne room beneath Fezar.

Cryz rolls his eyes and states so without guilt or care, “He’s dead; he was just skull and bones when we entered the throne room. The magus of theirs,” the green-haired man nods at you, “He tossed him away like a ragdoll.”

The magically mummified body remains motionless; he does not even acknowledge Cryz. He is looking at you.

You sigh and lower your shoulders in defeat, nodding. “What he is saying is truth. He wasn’t buried like you...”

The statue does not respond, at first. Like a massive and heavy beast, it begins to walk towards the massive feminine sculpture in the centre of the chamber – three of its fingers twitching over the ancient sickle weapon.

After a long pause, he states. The tomb of the ‘Chosen of the Sands’ is here, the all-powerful ‘Face Keeper’ that is suppose to protect him and us is here, but the ‘Riddle of the King’ has not been called for. He’s not here.

Cryz resists your attempt to follow the abiding man, as soon as the magic-infused corpse leaves his chamber Cryz begins to rummage through the stones and high walls in search of anything he can nick and steal. There’s nothing.

“It might not be my place to ask, but is there a reason you have been buried with your magic being sealed away?”

He turns around to glare towards the other doors:

“‘The Chosen of the Sands’ was powerful; the desert blessed him with powers even I can’t imagine the limits of. Blessed with Sand Magic, and guided by the flowing mana of the barren lands, he built a kingdom unlike any other – massive and prosperous. He allowed everyone, from every corner of the land, to come and live in here.

“Very interesting,” Cryz mutters out loud as he finally returns with you to centre, “So where was all your gold?”

The man-statue ignores him.

“In return, he asked all of the citizens to let some of their mana and magic to remain after death, while the rest of their soul continues into the afterlife; most, but not me and the other three: the friends and most supported of the ‘Chosen of the Sands’. In return, because of how powerful we and our magic were, he asked us to fall into endless sleep until the moment he, the kingdom and the desert, needed us the most. So that is why, in short.”

“Not really short,” Cryz says underneath his breath only to – thankfully - be ignored.

You sigh, you exasperate. “Fezar is not going to leave this palace now. He is trying to corrupt it completely.”

”I have been awakened, until the last ambers of my magic are gone, I will not be able to rest.

Cryz raises his finger, “I think he is ignoring me,” he states the obvious. “Tell him to tell us the answer to riddles, oh and also where the treasury is. Actually, forget about the riddles-”

You roll your eyes this time. You tilt you head towards Cryz to transfer his question, “Can you tell us?”

The neck of the sand mummy cracks mildly as he slowly shakes his head:

“It is not my place to awaken them, for I am not the ‘Chosen of the Sands’. I will not stop you, however, be wary that the ‘Face Keeper’ will. With every mistake you sibilate, one of her fingers begins to hunger for those who are not meant to be here. ‘Chosen of the Sands’ made many protectors, but she is the strongest. Every one of us decided on our own riddles days before our ‘Dwindling Ritual’ – so I might not even know the real answers.”

> Approach one of the doors and say something.
> Tell Cryz that you will ask the ‘statue’ about the treasure if he bothers to guess the riddles as well.
> Step away from the vault door and attempt to drain the ceiling. There is it no other way but up!
> Ask the sand mummy something you’d like to know.
> [Write In]

>>4260159
>> Approach one of the doors and say something.
second door head if that doesn't work then say eye

>>4260159
>> Ask the sand mummy something you’d like to know.
> Ask the mummy its name, if it would give it.
> Ask the mummy if it would help us to drive Fezar out of the palace.

>>4260317
> Also ask if the mummy can tell us where the Grimoire Library is.

By the way, based on the description of the statue from the previous thread, the 'Face Keeper' has eight fingers. At this point we've made three mistakes, so we can get four more incorrect answers before we should probably stop.

>>4260159
> Ask the sand mummy something you’d like to know.
> Did they use razors to shave?
> If yes go to first door and say razor

>>4260159
>Could the mummy tell us a bit about the others sealed in the tombs? It may help give us a hint as to how to solve some of their riddles.

The awakened mummy lowers its eyes on your connected wrists. His “exhale” has a blue and shimmering tint to it. His body grinds and crumbles hollowly as he raises his chin to question, “You two are connected by flesh.”

“And magic, too,” you raise your linked hand suddenly, making Cryz grunt in annoyance. He couldn’t care less about the kingdom’s history. “Would it be possible for you to help us drive Fezar out of palace so we can leave?”

The foreign language clatters – it continues to ring plausibly in your mind. “It was my promise to the ‘Chosen of the Sands’ that I will protect the land, the kingdom and the palace for one last time. My answer is... yes.

You can’t help but smile before gently leaning towards him, “Is there a way you would like us to refer to you as?”

“You can call me Zitanhu,” he answers. That is an unusual name – one people in current age would mock.

“We weren’t originally planning to come to your tomb,” you confess. Your voice rises with a note of hope, “We were searching for the Grimoire Library. Fezar’s curse made our grimoires useless. Can you tell us where it is?”

Despite Zitanhu’s voice remaining ancient and emotionless you can still distinguish slight surprise. “Is it true that the palace has been build on top of the grounds creating the grimoires, but I am surprise you foreigners know about this.” There is a prolong pause before he comes to a decision, “Of course, I will show you the path.”

You slap your knees with glee and clench your fists, “Thank God, this is going to be so much easier now!”

“Are we going to open the other tombs or not?” Cryz ask in annoyance.

You sigh. You glance at the first door before turning back to Zitanhu, “Did you have razors at your time?”

He slowly raises his petrified hand to his stone chin. He rubs it into dust in emphasis. “We did.”

You nod him in gratitude before looking over the rest of the doors. You hum:

“Can you tell us more about the others sealed in this tomb?”

Cryz slaps his palm against his face and leans his elbow to his torso, “Don’t mind me, I’m just going to take a nap.”

“I could, but if you wish for me to be useful I don’t think it is wise to spend my magical breathe. Unfortunately, I was the first to go through the ‘Dwindling Ritual’. I cannot tell you who lies in each of the tombs. I can tell you, in short, who it was. I am the Royal Scribe, and my affinity was Calendar Magic. Tisatuhn was the Royal Vizier, he had the Mirage Magic. The last were the Royal Steward Zonrizir with Seism Magic and Royal Treasurer Silhibip with Gold Magic.” You wonder how much you can conclude regarding riddles with just magic and positions...

Cryz, on other hand, no longer appears laidback and lazy. He even has to remove his handkerchief as he, once again, starts embarrassingly and grossly salivating. His sudden change is surprising, but rather obvious. He allows you to drag him to the first door and waits patiently as you summon and apply a layer of sequin crystals on.

It is a sharp blade that can easily kill, yet most are not afraid of it.

It is a...

“Razor,” Cryz pushes himself in front of you before you can react. The door stands silent for a moment before a massive, radiant crack slowly spreads, divides and shatters it into hundreds of pieces. Soon after, those pieces collapse and pulverize themselves even further, turning into dust. You glare at Cryz with animosity and distaste; he dares to respond with a surprise, “What? It seems like those statues respond and listen to those who ‘woke them up’. It won’t be fair if you have a whole army following you, it’s going to get annoying and complicated...”

“For you,” you harrumph, “You just want the Royal Treasurer to tell you where the gold coffers are, it’s obvious.”

“It’s as if I wasn’t clear before,” he says sarcastically before going deeper inside the crypt hollow, “Yes, and any powerful Magic Tolls and other kind of artifacts as well. That’s the only reason I’m in this place in the first place.”

The two of you stop in front of another standing statue, a man wearing similar clothes to Zitanhu aside from his exposed torso. He has a cloak divided into two long stripes on both his back and his chest – they are now part of his body. He is bald. On the place of the eyebrows there is instead a very thick and big crack – lightning-shaped.

“Yes, and if you bothered to answer the riddles yourself I wouldn’t be complaining right now.” You pout.

“But it’s much easier if I wait for you to come up with the answers first, as you need those dead guys to help you save your friends and capture that criminal of yours. There is no reason not to do it this way,” he tells you bluntly.

You seethe but he ignores you now. Just like last time, Cryz approaches the statue and puts his hand over its chest. At first, it stands motionless but as soon as Cryz attempts to punch it, a booming and deafening voice, just as primeval and concave as Zitanhu’s, resonates from the body and through the vault. ‘One more day’, you hear.

“I don’t have a day,” Cryz complains as he raises his palm to land sequins directly on top of the grumbling man-tomb’s face. “Are you the Royal Treasurer Whats-His-Name? We need you to show us a way to the treasury and-”

In response, there is an earthquake-like explosion of magic that overwhelms and blinds you in purplish-blue light. You and Cryz step away only to find yourself in reed field surrounded by massive crocodiles with hungering eyes...

“This is not gold magic,” Cryz states the obvious. Immediately, one of the crocodiles slithers between his legs. The massive jaw with bloody and gore-infested teeth opens widely to bite into a massive chunk of him. This feels real.

Everything suddenly stops; a brilliant blue light lifts from inside the purple and overwhelms it like boiling steam. The reeds wither and break, the crocodiles slither away and soon after, the usual darkness of the tomb surrounds you once again. In the entrance of the hollow stands Zitanhu, he speaks in ancient language but this time, neither you nor Cryz – judging by his confused face – are able to understand him. The second man finally shudders, and from his cracks and eyes a gentle steam glowing with amethyst light begins to leak towards the tomb’s ceiling...

The second mummy answers in retort, and their enigmatic and secretive dialogue continues for several minutes.

The second ‘corpse’ finally approaches Cryz; a brilliant three-leaf clover shining so bright it illuminates his entire body. He reaches for Cryz but the Diamond Kingdom mercenary has had enough, and dodges away from his reach.

“Even the most ignorant of foreigners know who I am,” the man’s alien voice loudly booms in your head.

“I don’t have a clue who you are,” Cryz replies back as he begins manifesting sequins, “You can go back to sleep.”

Powerful, magical wind breaks from the man’s chest and begins to surround and whirl through the entire hollow.

Cryz glances at the gathering crypt-storm with unease, “If you didn’t want us to awaken you, you should’ve picked a more difficult riddle.” He turns to you with an innocently smug expression, “Right? Are you going to help us?”

“Help you, a thief and an invader?” his petrified body crackles as he straightens his back, “I deem you unworthy.”

Zitanhu enters the chamber and puts you and Cryz in awkward situation of standing between them. The man’s glowing purple stare Cryz down before they lift to face Zitanhu. The two continue to argue and/or discuss things.

> Wait patiently in order to allow Zitanhu to explain and settle things with the second man.
> Tell the mummy it was you who figured out the riddle, so Cryz can’t even have that.
> Explain to the mummy that you are not invaders and that there are worse things to be currently worry about.
> Tell the mummy that if he didn’t solve the riddle he’d be stuck here while the palace is being corrupted.
> Try to sneak away while the two ‘unliving’ are arguing. Try to solve another riddle and open another door.
> [Write In]

>>4260211
>Will tackle this next. Is everyone in agreement with this prompt?

>>4262174
>> Wait patiently in order to allow Zitanhu to explain and settle things with the second man.

>>4262174
>> Wait patiently in order to allow Zitanhu to explain and settle things with the second man.

I just want to add that I find this turn of events with the mummies really interesting, it's a super cool way for us to eventually turn the tables in what was looking like a pretty dire situation.

>>4262174
> Wait patiently in order to allow Zitanhu to explain and settle things with the second man.

About the riddle, the connection between a pickaxe and a bird? Seems like it would be a Woodpecker, a bird that uses its beak like a pickaxe.

>>4262174
>Will tackle this next. Is everyone in agreement with this prompt?
Yeep approach second door while old man argue

>>4263183
But it's birds in general not that one exact bird

>>4263693
>>4263183
Dude probably thinking like a venn, where the woodpecker is circle for birds connects to the circle for pickaxes.

You carry on awkwardly standing between the two royal members of Mydias’ court. While the voice of the newly awakened man is dented and his language is indistinct, it’s still rather obvious the man is discontent and annoyed. You are unsure if it is solely because of Cryz or there is more to it than that. Zitanhu’s responses are hollow yet calm, unlike the man, he doesn’t even look at you, trying not to embarrass you. You are happy he’s the one whose riddle you solved first. You look at Cryz, he looks displeased and uncomfortable. He attempts to pull you outside.

You resist and stand your ground. You awkwardly stumble forward dragging your feet in resistance. Thankfully, your little in-fighting did not break the attentive dialogue of the two petrified royals. Cryz looks irksomely at you.

You quietly jeer at your ‘companion’, “Do you want to anger him even more by sneaking away?”

“I honestly don’t care if he is angry or not,” Cryz yawns before pushing you, “He’s not the Treasurer.”

“No, but he’s obviously a powerful magician,” you resist, “Don’t you understand, they can help us against Fe-”

“I told you already, kid; I don’t care about that. Either the way to treasury or a way out – that’s all I want.”

Before you can respond, a sudden and heavy silence tarnishes the lingering resonance. The two of the men have finished their talk. You feel a sudden dizziness as another blast of magical force burdens your physicality; the bald entombed mummy steps forwards – towards Cryz and you. With every step, the hollow shifts and changes so fast and sudden you can’t even grasp the places his magic manifests. An outside garden, a zoo with dead animals, an oasis, a snow desert... He stops and then, only then, his mirage magic settles – you find yourself standing in the centre of an empty street, rows of carved tall sandstone structures and houses gilded with gold all around you...

Cryz harrumphs. “Yes, yes, this is all very impressive.”

“ ‘Sunasho’, the kingdom build solely by the hands of King Mydias,” the petrified man finally allows his voice to translate and resonate sharply inside your head. “Why should we believe you that it now stands in ruins?”

“Oh, I don’t know – what can happen to a kingdom in six thousand years?” he asks the man sarcastically.

Wrong answer; you feel the presence of the magic shift just barely. The three-leaf clover on the man’s petrified outline of the grimoire begins to glow before two massive, iron fences emerge beneath Cryz’s feet and trap him.

Cryz grunts; a real – tangible – blood leaves his stomach and trails down his mouth. “...Or maybe eight thousand.”

The salt stone figure remains standing stoic and menacing. “What happened to the ‘Chosen of the Sands’?”

“If those eyes of yours are working properly you can go and see for yourself.”

The mummy remains motionless before the street surrounding you four shatters like glass and powerful winds bring forth the realities of the damp and dark tomb. Freed from his iron chokehold, you see Cryz nearly collapse on his knees from the sudden relief. “I will, I shall follow you to the throne room to see if your story is true.”

“Great...” Cryz mutters to himself; it’s clear going back to the throne room was not part of his plan.

A magic that shapes the world as if an illusion; it is Mirage Magic. This must mean he’s the Vizier... he’s Tisatuhn.

Zitanhu and Tisatuhn leave the crypt of the royals and enter the chamber. They stand by the towering womanly stone-crystal statue, returning to their ancient mumble-talk: they probably have a lot to discuss. You approach the second tomb together with your reluctant companion. You summon a breeze of mercury sequins to fall on top of the heavy, stone door. Cryz stares down the glimmering hierography lazily, “Hopefully, the Treasurer is in here.”

You spread your palm and summon your magic. The blinding light of the emerging glow of the letters covers you...

The pickaxe and the bird, what connects them?

You knock your head down; the question is ponderful, and annoyingly so. You raise your voice to make a guess:

“Head?” You ask? You clear your throat when nothing happens. You do not bother turning your head when there is no reaction from the door – you can hear the quiet grind of another, long finger of the faceless statue. That makes it four... You avoid the disappointed and judgement glance of Cryz. Despite their motionless faces, you are more than likely aware of that Zitanhu and Tisatuhn are thinking. You raise your head to try again, “Then... ‘Eye’?”

You stand in embarrassing silence before there is another click-like echoing. You can’t help but turn around to see a fifth finger of the monstrous femininity crack from its previous cessation, stand up in a straight line and then forebodingly fall on the long handle of the statue. With every mistake, the statue grows brighter and brighter...

You shove your fingers into your red hair to grab it. You take a very long breathe, thinking the puzzle through.

“You are just guessing at this point.”

“No, no I’m not,” you answer him with a hurt annoyance. Could you be over-thinking this? A bird like a pickaxe...?

“A bird that uses its beak like a pickaxe – the Woodpecker,” you point your finger towards the door.

Nothing good happens, the sandstone crypt-entrance continued to be guarded by ancient magic of obtuse riddles. Your ear perks painfully as you hear the sixth finger of the statue loudly crackle as it rises from its position, only to return soon after. The mummies take a quick look at you, then back at each other; they continue their discussion.

You sigh and turn towards the other unopened door, “I surrender. This riddle is ridiculous; without much sense.”

Cryz bites off a piece of his nail before spitting it off. His glassy eyes widen and then a massive smirk spreads across his face. “I think I’ve got it,” he whispers. Cryz grips your wrist to make it harder for you to step away.

“We still have one other tomb, Cryz,” you tell him, “At most we can only make a mistake one more time.”

“I’m not going to guess it wrong three times in a row,” he rolls his eyes. Ghh... You can’t argue that he’s wrong.

“You think you are so clever...” Cryz points his hand towards the ancient indescribable letters shimmering in gold-white glow. “What connects the pickaxe and the bird? In that sentence of yours, they are connected by ‘and’.”

You hands were raised to cover his mouth, but you are unable to do so. You just stand there in confusion... what?

Your eyes turn to the door as it begins to tremble. Fractures begin to grow from the engraved hieroglyph words; they split and then shatter the dense entrance into multiple chunks. The pieces soon crackle into brilliant sand...

“How did you guess that?”

Before entering the third tomb Cryz can’t help but grin; your heart skips a beat. “That’s the kind of ‘asshole riddle’ I would come up with if I had to.” He tells you as he takes another step further – with only his fangs shimmering with dawn-light in the dark. You bloat your cheeks in a pout. You summon a cloud of sequins to brighten the hollow; it allows you to see a third mummified body consumed by a layer of magical petrifaction sand. It is a middle-aged woman, she has long pants and her upper body and ‘naked’ and exposed. Beneath her chest she is holding the grimoire she used to have – now just an outline of it. She has a very long hair that covers her chest.

You side-glance at Cryz, who covering his mouth with his sleeve; indeed, the woman is his type. You quietly sigh.

The man rubs his hands and quickly and excitingly approaches the mummified body. He raises them and, unlike the men previously, he places it directly on her chest. Your ears and cheeks turn red from the sheer audacity...

Of course, it is not a surprise the ancient magical memory of this woman thinks the same way. There is a loud, resonant shatter as the woman’s entire body crackles with brilliant, golden radiance. Petrified hair hides one of her eyes, while another is glowing just like the rest of her cracks. With a single step, her rocklike body comes to life and grabs Cryz by his wrists – meaning, she tightly grips your hand as well. Quickly, she tosses and pushes you down onto the cold ground; your fall raises souless dust. Ignoring you, the petrified woman is hanging over Cryz.

> Attempt to push the stone-like ‘woman’ away from Cryz.
> Just lie down and allow Cryz to deal with his own problems.
> Shout to Zitanhu for some help; if she is hostile this will end badly.
> Try to calmly explain to the mummy the situation. Hopefully she'll understand you.
> Approach the last tomb blockaded by riddle-door. Try your best to answer correctly.
> [Write In]

>>4264150
> Try to calmly explain to the mummy the situation. Hopefully she'll understand you.

>>4264148
> Just lie down and allow Cryz to deal with his own problems.
> You are welcome to beat him up but please don't kill him as it might negative consequences for me

>>4264515
+1

I am also curious as to what is going to happen

>>4259885
>The riddle of the forth door is:
>What am I?
>Door? Riddle?
I think it's one of those.

>>4264703
In addition, it could also be whichever position the last person held, either the treasurer or the steward. Or maybe it's a trick question and asking us to describe ourselves. Whatever it is, we can only make one more wrong guess, if we make a second, then the statue will come to life and attack us.

>No update today, celebratimg friends's birthday. See you tomorrow.

>>4265757
no worries, have fun

>>4265757
Have fun Melk

You take a deep breath: Cryz solved this riddled and woke up this ‘person’ in callous manner, so you decide to leave it to him to deal with the rest. You squeeze your hand, gathering your magic; just in case. The heavy petrified corpse of the woman tightly holds down Cryz’s wrists, the man shows a useless struggle to escape.

“You are not Mydias,” her stone lips do not move but her ancient voice is high voice is just as souless. A burst of shining golden light brightens and reveals her tomb for a brief second before she leans even closer towards the man, practically shoving her face and chest against his. While her chest is naked, it is still carved from heavy stone.

Cryz does not look too happy with what he got; he begins battling for his breathe.

Thankfully, the woman decides to spare him. She lifts her chest innocently once she realises she is suffocating him.

“Why, of course you are not Mydias,” she concludes to herself without waiting for him to answer. ”The budget I wrote was suppose to last for 357 years, that would mean you are – at least – his grand-grand-grandson. But are you –really– his descendant? There’s not a single person in Sunasho with such an exotic green hair!”

She lets go of one of his hands to grab onto his short curls with her stone-like fingers. Cryz flinches, is he going to play along? “I’m neither,” Cryz states simply and honestly, “Are you the Royal Treasurer?”

“That’s usually the sort of thing he would do. What happened to my best buddy best pal Mydias?,” she – probably – joyfully gleams, but her emotionless voice and chewed, echoing translation makes it very hard to take her as anything but menacing.

Cryz narrows his glassy eyes at her, “Are you the treasurer or not?”

“You poor thing, what happened to your eyes?” she puts both of her stone palms to painfully squeeze his face, the man grunts. “That’s horrible,” she lets go of his face and allows his head to drop down. She quickly returns to the original question. ”Well ye-ah, of course I am the Royal Treasurer - Silhibip. She hollowly exhales before her eye gleams once again. She quickly turns to lift your connected wrists. ”How did you two end up like that?! You have to tell me, this is amazing! Is this a new thing kids in love do? That’s some dedication.”

“Are you for real?” Cryz grunts in annoyance. “I’m not a kid. No, this is what some idiot with Flesh Magic does!”

“You used Flesh Magic to connect you two together? That’s –so– romantic!”

Cryz rolls his eyes, “I had nothing better to do than body mutilate her and me. No, it’s work of an enemy mage.”

The mummy-woman pauses for a moment, “Hm, a criminal you say? I was thinking the reason you woke me up was because you had a hole in your budget or lacking funds, but dealing with a criminal makes more sense!”

Cryz clears his throat, “No, I was hoping you’d show me a way to treasury since you don’t need it anymore.”

Her shoulders flare up and crack as she raises them, “Why, there’s always need for funds in our kingdom!” Her yellow eyes fall on you as she ponders. “I would usually say ‘yes’ or ‘I don’t mind’ because the treasury vault is, of course, hidden behind ten times as many puzzles and riddles, but you kids solved the one to open my tomb, so I think it’s fair to worry! Before Cryz can say anything else, she stands up, let’s go of your hand and quickly – with her entire body crumbling and glowing with heavy yellow magic – rushes outside.

You can hear her hollowly – it’s a bit spooky – laugh, “Zitanhu! I haven’t seen you since the day you died!”

“An asshole – but nice body – like I expected,” Cryz mutters as he slowly stands up – you follow him.

Somebody is treating Cryz the way he was treating you. You can’t help but smile to yourself at this fact.
“They are going to be a huge help if we’ll have to fight Fezar, I’ll prefer if we could ‘free’ all of them but we can’t let that finger-faced statue lower all of her fingers, as Zitanhu warned. We need to get it correct on our first try.”

“And in all honesty and fairness that is your own fault, and I don’t really care. They fall apart with every step...”

You roll your eyes, “Seism Magic, Mirage Magic, and Calendar Magic – I can’t imagine just how insanely powerful those affinities must be, especially if they have even a part of their royal mana left. They –will– be useful, Cryz.”

“The thing I’m most interested about is the one who just left, and her Gold Magic,” he grins to himself, “I need to find a way to trick and convince her to turn stuff I can nick later into pure gold. Easier said than done, I’m afraid...”

“’What am I?’ is the last riddle, and it’s just as convoluted as this one. Do you know what the answer could be?”

Cryz blinks, as if you just awoke him from daydreaming about mountains of gold. He sighs and looks away, “I’m sure you can figure it out yourself.” You give him the ‘eye’; you pout. “This is such a long-winded way for that Mydias fellow to wake his followers up in case there is a problem, no wonder he died without doing any of that. Was he afraid somebody else was going to awaken those corpses? It’s not like they are that obedient anyway...”

You nod and shake your head in agreement.

“If it was ‘Who am I? I’d say it was the easiest question, but it’s not. I’m not speculating; you’ll just blame me later.”

> Approach the remaining door to answer the riddle.
> Approach one of the three members of Mydias’ court and ask them a question.
> Use Sequin Magic to drain the ceiling. There must be an easier way out than going all the way back.
> [Write In]

>>4268354
> Approach the remaining door to answer the riddle.
>> What am I?
>> You are needed.

I'm gonna take a shot in the dark based on what was said by Zitanhu earlier.

>In return, because of how powerful we and our magic were, he asked us to fall into endless sleep until the moment he, the kingdom and the desert, needed us the most. So that is why, in short.”

>>4268517
+1 big brain

You decide to leave the three living corpses to themselves for now. You approach the last door together with Cryz and, after clearing your throat, you summon back the voice using your Sequin Magic. The damaged letters of ancient language engraved onto the stone door start shining. The immemorial voice re-echoes the riddle in your mind; you stay silent. You look at Cryz who is just look back with annoyance. ‘Just get on with it’ – it’s as if he says.

What am I?

The answer could be anything, depending on how literally you want to take it. What kind of man this person was?

You feel the curious, judgemental and playful glances coming from the middle of the chamber. They are watching.

Each one of them has promised to assist Mydias when he would need them the most, Zitanhu told you so...

“’What are you?’ You are needed,” you face the door and say out loud. The moments pass and you flinch.

You hear a slow but deafening crunch from where the ‘Face Keeper’ stands. You look back to see the statue overflowing with strange radiance from inside; the mystical crystal-lucent body of the statue makes the eldritch lights brighten up the chamber. You turn back to the gateway to see it the letters dim and it remain unopened. You can’t help but curse; only your lips move to mutter your frustration. You hear Cryz chuckle lightly at you.

“This is not funny,” you tell him as your cheeks and ears redden in embarrassment.

“You were so convinced.” He laughs, visibly entertained.

You glance away towards the floor. You are certain that your answer made sense. You shake your head and take a deep breath: there is no reason to be unhappy, three out of four powerful magicians is still a good result. You decide against engaging with Cryz’s catfishing; instead, you feebly turn away and raise your chin. You are proud...

There is a sudden yet at the same time immensely powerful quaver beneath your feet. The wave of tremors forces the beautifully, sharply, and straight carved sandstone floor underneath to tremor. You see parts of the looming guardian statue shatter and pieces of it collapse and break once they reach the ground. The three living bodies take a step away from the unpredictable upheaval. It calms for just a second before another earthquake follows.

Pieces of the high ceiling explode and break off, dropping all around you. By a miracle – or because you have two pairs of eyes – you and Cryz avoid getting crushed by many of them. Another seismic wave flies beneath your feet shattering and splitting the ground – it reaches the centre of the chamber and –lifts– the pedestal and the statue into the air. The long legs of the magical sculpture shatter as she lifts and comes falling down; it breaks apart fully.

You turn to see the door following the same fate – a massive crack splitting and fracturing it into tiny smithereens.

The earthquake soon stops, with you and Cryz facing the empty hollow. There is a brief moment of silence as the hanging sand dust fills the air, blinding your vision. From the shadows of the cloud you watch a statue of a brawny man with disproportionally long arms approach you. His petrified hair is short, not unlike Cryz. His white saltified clothes are long and loose; it’s hard not to describe them as over-decorated pyjamas. His eyes and cracks glow with bright magenta-orange colour; it adds a strange hue to the lingering soot. Ultimately, he decides to speak up.

“What am I needed for? he asks briefly and conservatively. He looks at the three mummies standing near.

They shout-out something to him in alien language. The man looks down at you, and then back the statues before answering something back with just a word. He observes the damage he made. It’s hard to see if he’s apologetic.

“You don’t look like you belong here,” the man continues, observing you intensely. His empty eyes continue to glow. “ Who are you to the ‘Chosen of the Sands’?” He doesn’t let you answer. “And does it matter?
“Didn’t we need to answer your riddle correctly to ‘wake’ you up?” Cryz asks.

“The riddle is part of the ‘Dwindling Ritual’ for me and the rest, but I’ll be damned if I won’t assist Sunasho kingdom just because one got it wrong. The safety of my kingdom, and the debt I owe to the ‘Chosen of Sands’ is more important. Tell me what is happening, and what needs to be done to safe my kingdom. Make it brief.

You gather the four members of Mydias’ council around the destroyed statue. You don’t know much about the kingdom, but you tell them as much as you discern, with Cryz lazily adding some small details he’s aware of thanks to his archaeological companion. It’s hard to judge the four by their stoic, petrified faces. Finally, the Vizier speaks.

“What nonsense, the Grand Magic Zone is surrounding the kingdom? Mydias was the ‘Chosen of the Sands’, he was beloved – loved – by the mana of the desert. There is no way the desert would’ve abandoned our King!”

“I’m telling the truth,” you frown and clench your knees, “I don’t know what happened, but Sunasho is no more.”

You turn to Cryz for some kind of assurance. The man just shrugs, “They can ask Zeden later if they want to.”

“There are more intruders and thieves in the palace of the ‘Chosen of the Sands’?!”

“We are not intruders; we’re leaving your kingdom as soon as we capture the dark Flesh Magic user.”

“We are not intruders either,” Cryz turns to the Seism Magic user, “If you could open me a way out I’ll be gone.”

The Royal Treasurer Zitanhu turns towards the Vizier, telling him something in his ancient language.

“That is even more preposterous,” a hollow, golem-like scoff falls from the Vizier, “Are you really saying that Mydias died on his throne while the kingdom has been consumed by the sands? This is blasphemous.”

“Yeah, that’s exactly what we are saying,” Cryz speaks out bluntly, “You’re dandy now so go and see for yourself.”

“It’s true that your kingdom is now in ruins and only now a tiny piece of it has been uncovered, but that does not mean any of us want to see Fezar turn into his hellish amusement garden. From what I understand, you all consider Mydias a wonderful man, and all of you respect him. The least your king deserves is a proper burial.”

Tisatuhn the Royal Vizier harrumphs hollowly, he still does not believe a single one of your words, it seems.

The other three members of Mydias’ council look at each other to exchange a few ancient words; they nod.

Royal Treasurer Silhibip grabs you and Cryz callously yet safely by the neck and raises you above the ground.

“Why, when you put it like that – of course! It’s not –really– the situation we have been sitting and waiting here for, but if that criminal of yours is going to disrespect my buddy Mydias and my sweet-home I’m going to pour some liquid gold in his face – no questions asked! But, don’t get me wrong, how will the two of you assist us?”

“There is not a single person in the whole palace with a functioning grimoire. Yours’ disappeared when you ‘died’, Fezar escaped his prison without risking stealing his back and all six of us have functionless grimoires because of the curse Fezar put on us. If you can show us a way to the grimoire library – yes, we know you have one – then having a grimoire with a powerful spell is going to be extremely useful in a fight against Fezar. Or so I hope...”

Vizier’s hollow voice grumbles something ancient-worded in response. Royal Steward Zonrizier nods to him.

Zitanhu turns to you to explain, “Zonrizir and Tisatuhn are saying they are not wasting time on such worthless things. They are going straight away towards the throne room to deal with Fezar. I’ll go with your to the library if you wish to, and I believe Silhibip will accompany us. Zorizir and Tisatuhn are powerful, do not worry for them.

You still have no idea where Virginia and Laranel are, not to mention Cryz’s ‘companions.

> Try to convince Royal Vizier Tisatuhn and Royal Steward Zonrizir to come with you to the library. (How?)
> Forget about the library, the four of them will be much stronger together, even without a new grimoire.
> Decide against arguing. Follow Zitanhu to the grimoire library; hopefully, your plan will work out somehow.
> It is very likely the four of them have a limited amount of magic. Ask them to let you handle the way to the library, and then to the throne room, so they have enough mana to battle Fezar when it’s absolutely required.
> [Write In]

Achievement Unlocked: [The Four Sand Councillors]
I'm joking, there are no achievements in this quest.

>>4270111
> Decide against arguing. Follow Zitanhu to the grimoire library; hopefully, your plan will work out somehow.

>>4270111
>> Decide against arguing. Follow Zitanhu to the grimoire library; hopefully, your plan will work out somehow.

Sweet, everything worked out in the end.

> If you guys don't mind I'll be grateful if you tell me your opinions on this 'dungeon arc' so far, as well as maybe Cryz as a character.

>>4270460
I have enjoyed the dungeon arc and I think that Cryz is a greedy on-the-nose asshole, that does not mean i don't like him it just means that you potrayed what a mercenary is like

You nod to Zitanhu in a sign of accepting his proposal. You quickly realize you are unlikely to convince the remaining two undead mages to change their mind. The Royal Vizier Tisatuhn stands up; his eyes – fiercely blazing with purple-blue glow – dart upwards to the ceiling, to where your sequins continue clinging to. He steps over the shattered remains of the statue and halts in guttering silence. You glance away as the three-leaf clover decorating the faux stone frame of Stewart’s grimoire lights up and spreads magenta-red shine through the chamber. A much shorter tremor rocks the emptied tombs, the sandstone walls and, finally, the tall ceiling hanging above you...

You hear, and then watch, a spreading crack vaporise your sequins and break open the plafond’s secret passageway. With a drudge, a massive cloud of powdery sand pours from the fracture, forcing itself into your lungs. You really-simply can’t comprehend how a magical spell could continue to exist in limbo for so long. The sandstone continues to grate against Zonrizir’s - the Stewart’s – disturbing Seism Magic. With cacophony, a spinning staircase made entirely out of yellowish-blue sandstone breaks open the ceiling and falls before you.

Zonrizir say something with indescribable and intangible amusement. You pull reluctant Cryz by his elbow.

Something falls on your dress from the leaking exit. You quickly rub the damp water (?) off it.

The spiral staircase goes on for no less than half an hour – at least the combined radiance of the four walking corpses assist you with enough light not to break your legs. To your surprise, the stairway is anything but narrow – likely made by Mydias to his own pleasure. The stone-mummified councillors, though, find it much harder to ascend the steps manifested long ago by their king. You wonder if he thought it through; Cryz asks you it alright.

Because of this, the two of you reach the top of the staircase much faster than others. With a bit of a push, you manage to pull away the mosaic pieces leading to... a bedroom. To your grief it is no longer lovely, welcoming or calming; it has been corrupted by Fezar’s magic now. Fleshy gelatinous blobs raise, fall and roll over the skin-like carapace overlaying the floor. Baby-sized iris-less eyes form eerie – and blood-curlingly winking – paintings across the dark marrow walls of the bedroom. All the objects are wrapped in disgusting, pinkish slime leaking from the ceiling weaved in the same type of hued membrane – as if by some parasitical spider. This is going to be a pain...

You raise your hand to brighten the chamber in mercury light and allow your sequin crystal to cling to the traps.

The magical beads whirl into dozens of smaller pieces and cling to practically –everything– in the royal bedroom...

> Reminder that because of your current affinities you have combined -10 to your DR rolls.

> Please roll 1d100-10 – best of three.

Rolled 25 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

>>4271623

>>4271633
it didn't work :( I couldn't make it -

Rolled 4, 4 + 6 = 14 (2d6 + 6)

>>4271637
> Test. Maybe /qst/ doesn't allow this?

>>4271640
but somebody was able to do it in a previous thread

Rolled - 10 (1d00 - 10)

>>4271623
dice+1d00+-10
Dice doesn’t do subtraction but it can a negative numbers

Rolled 30 - 10 (1d100 - 10)

>>4271682
>>4271623
Whoops didn’t roll proper.

>>4271684
>I'll keep that in mind now.

Rolled 13 - 10 (1d100 - 10)

>>4271623

these are some of the worst rolls I have ever seen

File: 9d525dc41eb4a80449c69a315(...).jpg (51 KB, 564x602)

51 KB JPG

>>4272036
> Yeah, those are pretty bad even without the afflictions.

>>4271637
To do negatives, you need to format the roll as dice+#d#+-#

Rolled 95 - 10 (1d100 - 10)

>>4271623

One of the bigger, disgustingly glutinous, oversized bubbles tramples the fleshy terrain. Like a massive plague blemish it raises from beneath you, quickly surrounding you by its entrapping crust. The back of your head and body are now glued to the gelatinous manifestation, while Cryz is only sticking to it by his wrist. You briefly see him struggle before a raucous gurgle stings your ear skin. What soon follows is an immediate pain as the perfidious mucous begins chaotically sizzling and burning all the way through your clothes with unbearable heat.

Cryz expression quickly changes when you can no longer hide your pain; you scream. The mercenary tightly grabs your waving hand with both of his and attempts to pull you from your encapture. He struggles as you continue to feel the immense pain, before there is finally a pop. Your relief is brief. The whole blob explodes and covers you in rotten lava-hot refuse. Cryz ends up catching you into his hands before the impact of the burst sends you rolling.

You lost 1 health.
Health [2/5]

You can’t help but whimper and howl from the sweltering pain. The back of your dress has been completely destroyed by the fleshy ooze, with only a small part of the skirt remaining. Your skin is burning red and blistering, not only on your back but also your head... Groaning, you put your hand to your skull, quickly to discover that the bubble had left you a hairless chunk at least a quarter wide. You don’t have a time to worry about your hairstyle...

Wobbling, you struggle to raise your head and open your eyes. Your breathe turns cold; Cryz is lying now too far from you, he too is groaning from pain. This time, another blob twice his side is rolling towards him. You force a burst of sequins to leave your palm and rise into the air... but you soon realize it is going to be impossible to do anything, even something as insane as jump in its way, to protect Cryz. Still, your knees shudder as you stand up.

A sudden, demeaning outpour of ancient magic turns your body into a cold, shivering muddle. Aquamarine irradiance flows over the carapace floor like a magical mist, until the entire chamber is covered in it. It all happens in a second, but you are able to experience every moment of it. A strange sensation rings in your mind; you quickly realize your conscious and the flow of time are not synchronized. The world is turning much slower.

You hear a loud sound resembling a turn of a paper. The cold, blinding light soon evaporates; it reveals a bedroom, a resting chamber the way it was before Fezar’s ruined it with his Flesh Magic. Your pain makes it impossible to care about the interior or the king sized bed surrounding in crumbing silk. One of the mummies, likely the Royal Stewart Zonrizir, approaches the now-present entrance and shatters it open. Both he and the Royal Vizier Tisatuhn leave Mydias’ chamber without giving it their disrespect or you their attention. Your blurry vision returns to normal when the petrified woman – her eyes glowing yellow – approaches and lifts you up.

Her ancient voice hollows and echoes as she turns to face Zitanhu, who shakes his head with a loud grind.

“Why, you must be in such a pain right now, you poor little thing. And that beautiful – and expensive - white dress of yours, it is now ruined! Zitanhu is saying he can’t heal you because that is the spell he had in his grimoire, I knew the two of you would be hopeless. No, we can’t go like this! Come on, I’m going to do something here."

Cryz looks at the way Silhibip is embracing and caressing your injured body and winces.

...Why the hell is he jealous?

You sigh and nod, you have no strength to argue and it does look like the room is safe. Silhibip’s petrified ‘grimoire’ beats like a heart, the golden glow shimmers her sandstone body. The woman’s hands finally put you back to the ground before a torrent of magic escapes from her chest. The tangible smoke surrounds you like a cocoon; a strange liquid-metal-like magical matter slides over and covers your body. It is –incredibly– ticklish.

After a brief moment, your pain is no longer as noticeable. You find it hard to move. With each movement, you feel as if you were wearing a very tight combination of rubber and well-fit armour. It also feels very chilly, but because of your burning wounds, the sensation is not unwelcoming. You finally open your eyes to see that your entire skin is covered in a rigid but pint-sized layer of... gold. You are like this from toes, to neck to even your face.

You have gained a benefaction: [Skin of the Keledon]

A coating of true gold covers your skin. It weights your body and makes it harder for you to move, adding -5 to your DR rolls, but it adds +1HP to your current HEALTH regardless of the max’. Silhibip is capable of repairing it.

You turn to look at Cryz; he is seething.

> Thank Silhibip for her magical spell. Patiently wait until they are ready to leave the bedroom.
> Be grateful to Silhibip but ask her to remove your golden skin. You can’t allow yourself to be slowed down.
> Ask Silhibip if she can apply the golden skin to Cryz as well. [This will raise his HP but also DR of you both].
> [Write In]

>>4272775
> Sadly, your roll was 4th.

>>4273810
>> Ask Silhibip if she can apply the golden skin to Cryz as well. [This will raise his HP but also DR of you both].

>>4274058
> Might be confusing, I meant DR penalty.

>>4274320
I understood

>>4273810
>> Thank Silhibip for her magical spell. Patiently wait until they are ready to leave the bedroom.

actually now that I think about it I am going to change my vote

>>4273810
>> Thank Silhibip for her magical spell. Patiently wait until they are ready to leave the bedroom.

> I need to do some adjustments and preparations so this next update will take two days.

>>4275308
That's okay, take all the time you need.

> Current Health:
Health [2/5] [1/1]

> Current Afflictions:
[Mydias’ Plageskin]
Cursed sand magic clings and withers your body. All of your DR rolls are lowered by -5.

[Mild Hunger]
You are really hungry. All of your DR rolls are lowered by -5.

[Skin of the Keledon]
A coating of true gold covers your skin. It weights your body and makes it harder for you to move, adding -5 to your DR rolls, but it adds +1HP to your current HEALTH regardless of the max’.

Forcing your skin to get used to the golden coating with a shrug, you wince and turn around before you manage to properly nod to Silhibip in appreciation. The feminine stone body raises her hands to assist you with standing up.

Your eyes trail your now-glittering arms; the layer of gold end just past yours and Cryz’s joined wrists.

“I wouldn’t mind having a gold skin myself,” Cryz says with a pleading voice. He pauses, “How long does it last?”

Silhibip’s head turns with a grind towards Cryz. He voice is hollow, yet relaxed, “Why, it’ll disappear once I fulfilled my promise to my best buddy, best pal Mydias.”[/]

“You can always go with us,” Cryz offers her opportunistically as he begins to perversely scratch your wrist’s skin.

“Why, that would be very interesting, I’m sure, but my soul is –sadly– connected to Sunasho.”

Cryz displeased look is quick to change to one of laidback and somewhat smug nature, “Treasury is which way?”

Silhibip takes a few haunting and loud steps to approach Cryz – and you – closer. She is not tall, far from it, but the overcast layer of her petrified nature as well as the lingering, golden glow makes her look that way. Her stone-cold face fails to convey any sort of emotions, but that that does not stop her from trying. She grips his shoulder.

“Why, even after hearing there are much more riddles and traps there, you still want to give it a try?

Cryz glances away semi-awkwardly, his gaze briefly focusing on her naked chest, “I’m not leaving empty-handed.”

Zitanhu’s even-calmer voice calls to you from the entrance to King’s bedchamber. You soon realize that the hanging aquamarine shimmer, dim but ever-present, have been growing weaker. The specifics of his Calendar Magic are not something you have time to think or talk about, but it’s certainly powerful. You have heard rumours that the current Magic Emperor possesses affinity for Time Magic, and Zitanhu’s, indeed, appears rather similar.

“You can go to the treasury if you want, Silhibip” – he says without turning – “But I am going to the library as per my promise. According to those two it’s been thousands of years; I wish to seed the state it is in...”

You and Cryz look at each other briefly before you raise your connected wrists. You groan; he groans as well.

Silhibip just has both of her saltified hands leaning to her chin, watching you in amusement, even entertainment.

“Proposing to go to the library to get a grimoire was –your– idea.”

“’Proposing to go to the library was your idea’,” the man repeats mockingly, “Yes, I know, kid. But that was only because I thought a grimoire was going to assist us with finding the treasury and escaping. Now, we have a clear way to the coffers. If you want to this criminal of yours, it’s –not– my business. Let’s just let them handle it...”

You painfully squeeze his wrist and you clench your free hand, “Do you really want to escape us being like this?”

He wavers. You congratulate yourself on making a good point. “I’m sure the Diamond Kingdom has a way to...”

“You don’t know that,” you cut him short, “Even if there’s somebody in your Kingdom with powerful healing magic, or even somebody with Flesh Magic, it is not guaranteed they’ll be able to rectify this. The only –real– way to fix this is to defeat Fezar, or even perhaps, force him to separate us. Imagine the rest of our lives like this...”

The mercenary loudly harrumphs. His crystal eyes stare down as he runs his fingers through his green hair.

“Cryz, once this is all over, and Fezar is dealt with, I don’t...” – you hesitate, you don’t really want to lie to him, you have always been a lackluster liar – “I can’t promise for my fellow Magic Knights, but I won’t mind about anything you’ll do in this palace after that. You can break into any treasury, and steal any gold you wish to.”

He grunts, turns away in clear embarrassment, and sweeps his hand at the air, “Just because I am a mercenary it doesn’t mean your ‘fellow Knights’ will not try and arrest me. And you won’t mind me getting all the artifacts?”

You hesitate, but you nod. All you really care about is Virginia’s and Lanarel’s safety, and returning back home.

You see Cryz roll his eyes before pulling your wrist towards him, “I’m not gullible, but I am going to be optimistic.”

You place your free hand below your chest, sighing with relief. He is a woman-chaser, there is no doubt about that, and it will be impossible for him to do that with a girl your age hanging – literally – to his arm. Perhaps it was this horror that swayed his mind; it would be amusing if that was the case. Cryz nods to Silhibip and points his finger towards the door, as if telling her that you are going to follow Zitanhu. She gives Cryz a rather harsh head-pat; the man spits, but allows the woman to do so. Killing no more time, the three of you rush to leave the room.

As soon as Zitanhu steps out of the bed chamber, his magic relents and cedes. There’s is a strange blurry concealment coils in front of your eyes before the room returns the Fezar’s corrupted self. The corridors that you traverse follow the same revolting pattern, with nauseating and eldritch bowels of flesh covering every sandstone and object, even more than you remember. Rotten membrane tissues resembling that of a barely-rotten brain, burst and dead skin hanging from the ceiling like poorly-butchered animal hides, massive arteries flinching and slithering like tentacles with their suction cups leaking unnaturally vile creep, and floor covered in infected scabs.

You can’t imagine travelling and dealing with all of this yourself, but Silhibip’s Gold Magic and Zitanhu’s Calendar Magic are able to easily disperse and protect against anything that tries to harm you. With every spell they cast, they are using up their magic, but there’s no way you and Cryz will be able to lead through and deal with it yourselves. While their faces are petrified, it’s rather clear both Silhibip and Zitanhu are displeased to what their kingdom has turned into, their frustration with Fezar’s folly growing. Finally, Zitanhu reaches a closed arch gate.

As soon as he puts his hand on the squelchy layer of flesh that coats the door like some eldritch crust, the three leaf clover glow over his chest and releases a burst of aquamarine light, ‘transforming’ the door to how it used to look. With a heavy, echoing sigh – as if preparing himself – he pushes the door to open an entrance inside...

It is as you expected, the library has been completely destroyed by Fezar’s influence. The intricate book shelves has been shattered by dozens of massive skin-less, disfigured hands with each fingers twisted and twitching, resembling the branches of some kind of flesh-trees. You notice that all of them grow from the organic web-like secretions spreading from the walls. Trypophobic clusters are formed on each of those tree-hands, longish human-like tongues hanging from them like foliage. Some of those intestines are so long they are able to reach the floor.

Like this, it is hard to imagine what this grimoire library used to look like before Fezar, before the Grand Magic Zone consumed this kingdom but, even now, it is incredibly tall. You see no staircases; there is only a single empty floor with a sandstone pedestal in the very centre. An ornamental and intricate pattern has been carved into the floor perhaps by Mydias himself, with thousands of open books each painstakingly filled with runic writing. The now-destroyed circular walls have been heavily destroyed by Fezar’s influence, many books lying, covered in pus.

Zitanhu contemplates. Before the fossilised man can use his magic to repair the library, he stops and clenches his hand. While the tongues do bring an eerie cacophony, you hear a much louder and ‘familiar’ noise in the centre of the room. It is a clang of plated armour, and a sizzle of fire. From the darkness, a white-ash flame brightens the area to reveal Virginia’s towering body; she is holding a sabre-like weapon glimmering with – truly – angelic light.

“Wait, don’t!” you shout before practically on top of Silhibip’s hand to stop from her casting an offensive spell. You shake your head, but you find it impossible to forcefully lower her arm. Thankfully, the Royal Treasurer does not ignore you, she patiently awaits an explanation. You clear your throat, “T-they are allies, they won’t harm us.”

You gently slide off Silhibip’s arm to solemnly fall on the ground, the tongues twist at the echoing sound. You raise your hand to wave it towards your companion as you begin to quickly approach the centre, “Wardress, it’s me!”

She hesitates, tapping the edge of her sword against the sandstone surface. Finally she sheathes the blade and begins quickly closing the distance, a glimmer of motherly relief visible in her grey-blue eyes. “Cynthia? You have no idea how relieved I am to finally see you – I was responsible for your safety!” she mumbles before hugging you.

The golden layer of your face loudly scraps against her armour, leaving an unfixable scratch. She does not mind it.

You eyes trail her raised arm put behind her neck, it is connected to a smug-looking woman you briefly had to battle previously. Her chaotic blue hair is tied like a moustache above her lips, and her light-pink eyes twirl madly.

“I was losing hope-trust-faith-devotion you kept track of what I said, Cryz, but you actually did!” Cryz’s companion screams into Virginia’s ear before sliding off her back. She looks like a kid compared to how tall Virginia is. She smirks, “Heh, well of course I was worried-upset for nothing; clearly. You always listen to me when you want to.”

“Yes, everything is going according to your genius plan, Zeden,” Cryz says sarcastically, “If only you could predict a sort of criminal and three Magic Knights entering this dungeon instead of annoying my brains off about its past.”

Zeden shakes her head with incredibly intense motion, “Oh Cryz, do I really have to explain the difference to you between a historian-archaeologist-researcher and a spy?” She suddenly pauses, her ‘moustache’ comedically straightening and standing up. She rushes forwards but finds herself unable to charge much further because of Virginia’s strength. She slowly raises her hand, forcing Zeden to hang around like a piece of ragged clothes.

“Cryz, who are they?” Zeden does not allow this to stop her, she continues to struggle. “Those two... they are alive!” You can hear the woman gulp down, “I can’t believe you found living beings here after the catastrophe!”

[i]“The ‘catastrophe’?”[/i] Zitanhu finally approaches the four of you. Zeden reacts to his ancient language before his coherent translation resonates in your mind. Virginia grinds her boot against the floor; clearly, she’s very hesitant.

Zeden reaches her hands to grab Zitanhu with her nails, she scratches his stone skin with a frantic perverseness. She lets her tongue hang like the rest of them surrounding you, “You can talk, that is actually amazing,” She slaps the salt-like stone used for his petrifaction. “Of course you died before the whole ‘Grand Magic Zone’ thing.”

Cryz rolls his eyes away in boredom. Virginia suddenly grabs him by his neck and lifts him, too, using her one hand.

“Did you do anything bad to my fellow Knight, you scum?” she demands of the man, staring daggers at him.

Cryz gasps for air before clenching Virginia’s plated armour with his fingers, “Why are you Knights so damn crazy?”

Virginia harrumphs, her eyes fall on you. You sigh and shake your head. Somewhat satisfied, she rudely lets go of him, a cloud of dust rising from his fall. Cryz stands up with annoyance, but no complain. He looks at the pedestal.

“And the golden skin?” the Wardress frowns judgementally; it does sound like something Cryz would get you into.

“It’s just magical protection one of them put on me, don’t worry,” you smile briefly before your expression turns to normal. “Were you here hoping to get a grimoire for your new magic as well?”

Virginia nods, but then dejectedly and rather angrily hangs her head towards her connected wrists, “Yes, our new magic is more-or-less useless, and it’s been a huge pain to get here before we found this blade.” She explains, “It’s a combination of my Angel Fire Magic and her Fossil Magic: Relic Magic. Without a grimoire, the only thing it can do is turn Magic Tools into Magic Relics, it’s complicated but in short, it makes the Magic Tools much stronger...”

You nudge your head, “Is that saber a Magic Tool you found then?”

She nods, “We breached into the armoury and... have you seen Lanarel? She should be coming here as well.”

“Probably not,” Zeden shoves herself into your dialogue, “Unlike Cryz, Avrill is not planning to come here like that.”

Angrily, Virginia grabs onto and cruelly squeezes Zeden’s hand. The woman squeaks but without much acknowledgment of the pain soon returns to her dialogue with Zitanhu and Silhibip. What is she telling them?

“Previously, several hours by now, Fezar made some kind of fleshy eye for us to see ‘Avrill’ and Lanarel travelling together through a room. They very co-operating and passing through the traps without injuries and hassle...”

The Wardress put her hand to her chest, sighing in relief. She says with a serious tone of voice, “Fezar has been playing with us for too long; it’s time we find Lanarel and end this. If you want to try this whole ‘new grimoire’, I suggest you do it now, and with haste. Fezar’s Flesh Magic has been slowly growing over the last few hours here.”

You nod to Virginia, and then with clear intent to Cryz. You approach the pedestal and release your magic into it.

The lines separating the mosaic surface begin to shimmer with yellowish-green dazzle. The stone veneer hums.

After a brief second, pulling away the darkness with a brilliant radiance, a single tome uplifts itself from the shelves high above you. Surrounded by white-ash light the grimoire slowly lowers itself to the pedestal. It is a medium-sized book with papyrus-pages and an incandescent, pear-like cover. There are several “leaking” streaks going from the top of the grimoire and to the centre of it, as if made out of sequins. The leaf has three clovers...

>What is the first spell in your grimoire?

> [Supplementary Form] Nacre Rejuvenation
With an open grimoire, you summon a gathering of pure-white pearl shaped sequins. Once the magical sequins surround the friendly target of your choice, they enchant their body and filter their magic. Their mana becomes so refined that the next spell – regardless of how powerful – does not drain them and does not expends their mana.
>The spell costs 1d10+10 for you and the target of your spell must roll 1d20. The spell lasts for 1 turn.

> [Creation Form] Bespangling Dragonfly
With an open grimoire, you manifest a hand-sized living dragonfly made out of iridescent white glass. If the enemy target is unable to avoid the dragonfly from attaching itself to their grimoire, it lands and clings to it, interfering with the magical flow and restraining the target from using any kind of grimoire spells for one turn, at which point it will vanish into magical dust. The dragonfly will continue to attempt to attach itself to enemy grimoire if it misses and until it is destroyed. (1HP), however, you can decide to change the target of your attack.
>This spell costs 40 mana. DR25. 1HP.

> [Offensive Form] Glitter Bomb
Using your grimoire, you manifest a piñata-like orb constructed out of heated sequin crystals. The globe is extremely light and can be tossed to a great distance. If the enemy target is unable to avoid the attack (pass the DR roll) the ‘Glitter Bomb’ explodes, burning them for -1HP damage. The sequins cling to the target and require magical means to be removed. If another ‘Glitter Bomb’ hits the same target and they are still covered in sequins, the next consecutive damage is -2HP. The third time a ‘Glitter Bomb’ hits the same target, the damage is -3HP; the next damage from then on will continue to be -3HP to from all your ‘Glitter Bombs’ to this target.
>This spell costs 1d10+20 mana. DR40.

> [Curse Form] Ornamental Impalement
Using your grimoire, you create a circle of sharp light-aquamarine sequins that surround the enemy of your choice. If the enemy is unable to avoid the attack, the sharp sequins impale themselves into their body. The sequins then magically siphon and demolish a 1d10% (rolled by the target) of their current mana before shattering and releasing their drained magical energy into the natural mana.
> This spell costs 1d40+10 mana. DR60. 1D10% of current mana is drained from the enemy.

>Sorry, the stupid 4chan maintenance decided to go five minutes before I had to go to work.

>>4277691
>With an open grimoire, you summon a gathering of pure-white pearl shaped sequins. Once the magical sequins surround the friendly target of your choice, they enchant their body and filter their magic. Their mana becomes so refined that the next spell – regardless of how powerful – does not drain them and does not expends their mana.

this will be useful for us to help them not run out of mana too early

>>4277691

>[Supplementary Form] Nacre Rejuvenation

Awesome, we've finally managed to regroup and got a new grimoire! This is a beast of an update, Melk, good work.

Glitter Bomb is very tempting, but I figure the others would probably have more potent offensive spells anyways. Besides which, it feels appropriate that Cynthia would continue to have support type spells.

>>4273810
>You turn to look at Cryz; he is seething.
XD
His live is suffering

>>4277691
> [Supplementary Form] Nacre Rejuvenation
Do we have time to swing by armory?

You open up your palm to allow the grimoire to softly, even a bit harmoniously, fall on it. Still shimmering with unnatural warmness, you magic dances at its presence, forming a connection. You never expected to do be able to go through this ceremony a second time. Your eyes widen in a worry as you put your hand on your pouch. You sigh with relief: your previous grimoire is still safely stored inside. It did not disappear, but it is still magicless.

Cryz waits impatiently as you stand there, completely mesmerized by its glow. It’s good to have a bond.

Eventually annoyed, Cryz grabs the grimoire from your hand and forces it to open, his white magic leaking inside.

“H-hey,” you reach for the grimoire but he dodges, and spins out of the way of your attempt to get back hold of it.

The glittering papyrus pages turn by themselves as he raises the book out of your reach, glaring from time to time.

“You know it’s my grimoire as well, right?” he questions you half-mockingly, “Don’t get any wrong ideas here.”

You stare him down and sigh exasperatingly. You step away from him and lower your hand, leaving it to him.

“I really hope all this trouble was worth this spell,” he acknowledges you giving in – the bastard – before lowering the grimoire to his eye level. Curiously, you nudge towards him close, enough to bump and push his shoulder, to investigate the only spell-imbued page. You watch Cryz’s lips move as he reads the spell before his brows furrow.

“Is this supposed to be a supplementary form spell?” he asks rhetorically, as he does not even turn to you.

“Let me see,” you push your shoulders closer to read the incantation silently, without loudly murmuring a sound.

“Why couldn’t it be an offensive spell, or better yet, some crazy spatial invocation?” it’s Cryz’s time to pout now.

“I think it’s going to be useful,” you assure Cryz, as well as yourself. You nudge your head towards the mummies.

He follows your eyes and sighs, “I am not sure how strong they are going to be without real spells, or grimoires.”

You try to smile, taking the grimoire from his hands and closing it with a strange, longing echoing. “Just the magic they still have left from their last lives is enough to manipulate time and manifest waves of gold. It’ll be useful.”

“I don’t like magical spells that require somebody else to be effective,” Cryz admits with a frustrated murmur.

The both of you turn back to your companions; you find Zeden hiding behind the plated figure of Virginia, as the two corpse-statues are overflowing with forceful magic and cavernously angry, ancient language. The Wardress is shielding her Diamond Kingdom’s ‘companion’, with a white, blazing sword forming a fire barrier between them.

“What did you do again, Zeden?” Cryz asks her with sarcasm.

The girl turns to Cryz with a brief worry, “I just told them the history of their kingdom, this wasn’t in the plan.”

“Who are you trying to fool, woman?” Zitanhu’s hollow voice rings the walls and the outsides of your mind.

Even Silhibip connects both of her salt-like hands to grind them like a punch. “You want us to believe that the mana of the desert abandoned the ‘Chosen of the Sands’ after so many years and destroys Sunasho with everyone in it without Mydias being able to do anything? If you wanted to come up with a lie, you can do much better.”

Zeden scowls visibly insulted, “I did my research-study-analysis-assay-verification and that is what the history tells us!” She continues, clinging to Virginia as if she was a human shield. “Mydias’ story used to be a cautionary tale about two thousand years ago, but in time people forgot about it outright. The fact-actuality-reality is that King Mydias build a kingdom using the magical properties of his crown that allowed him to create an artificial Magic Zone. But with every use, the mana surrounding his kingdom-realm-dominion became more and more chaotic. He was able to use his Sand Magic much less when he had you, advisors, assisting him, but by the time you all died-croaked-perished-got-mummified, he had to use his magic and the effects of the crown more and more. With time, the exhaust-waste-remains of his Sand Magic grew and grew and, one day, the magical fabric was torn, giving birth to a Grand Magic Zone we now call the ‘Kisehva Desert’ that consumed the kingdom. Those kids two thousand years ago were taught not to abuse the natural mana by this story. What I know is praiseworthy, heh.”

Zitanhu’s petrified carcass shudders, “ Mydias was loved by the sands. He and his kingdom would never be abandoned by its magic and mana. I don’t know what jealous and envied ‘historian’ stained our memory, but you better not repeat their lies to those who were here from the beginning, to those who saw Sunasho starting from a pebble.”

“Yes-yes-yes,” Silhibip shakes her head in agreement, her voice ringing even louder, “Mydias was one with the sands, he was loved by the mana of the desert and he always paid respects to the jewel in his crown.”

“I really don’t know what is going on,” Virginia admits to you and them coldly, “But – I really hate hearing your voices in my head, its creepy - from what I just heard, but how else would you explain a Grand Magic Zone here?”

“It is more likely that somebody else attempted to use his crown and failed, or with his death, the kingdom was no longer adored by the desert sands and its mana. Those are better answers than what she just said...”

The four – mostly three – of them continue to bicker. It is you who first realizes that a branch-like, skinless hand has been aware of the presence beneath it, and dozen snake-like tongues now slowly creeping on top of them.

You raise your hand, only to have your shoulder painfully squeezed by Cryz. You hastily look around, every single one of those appendages are now writhing and twitching as if under an influence of Fezar’s ghastly presence.

There are no bones; there are no cracks. An organic, squelching noise is heard before one of the hands hastily begins to dangle above you, with its tongues slurping and attempting to grab onto and bind you like flesh chains.

> Attempt to dodge out of the way and hope that the rest can handle their battles.
> Use your newly acquired grimoire to cast a magic spell. [Specify on who and how.]
> Ask Cryz to warn the others of the fleshy hands while you yourself use Sequin Magic to drain the hand above.
> Warn the others about the dangling hand above your companions while trusting Cryz to drain the hand above.
> [Write In]

>>4279389
>> Warn the others about the dangling hand above your companions while trusting Cryz to drain the hand above.

>>4279389
> Warn the others about the dangling hand above your companions while trusting Cryz to drain the hand above.

>>4279389
>> Warn the others about the dangling hand above your companions while trusting Cryz to drain the hand above.

You fill your lungs with air before turning to face the arguing living and unliving. You don’t have much time, but you have no choice but to turn your back to the flimsily creeping and repulsively drooling tentacle-like tongues. You wager that if you leave trying to warn the group to Cryz, most of them are just going to ignore his warnings.

“W-watch out!” you shout, your voice cracking from forcing it to be as loud as possible, “The hands are moving!”

Virginia is the first to take heed of your warning; her gauntlet clenches the hilt of her sword as she muscularly shoves her palm to thrust Silhibip out of the way before side-stepping from the javelin-like plunging force of the long tongues. All while still having Zeden sitting on top of her shoulders! Leaving behind an eye-blinding trail of white fire, Virginia swings her sword and cuts several of the tongues with a single attack, quickly cauterizing them.

After such a near-theatrical display, Zitanhu and Silhibip are quick to join the battle. Zitanhu’s petrified shape of the grimoire floods with powerful turquoise magic, the tongues he touches literally disappear into the ancient calendar days where they do not exist. Silhibip has created a huge and sharp wave of gold, now protecting them.

Cryz spend 32 mana.
Mana: [133/165]

Cryz swings his arm forwards as if he was tossing a ball; he opens his squeezed hand to release a whirling barrage of brilliant sequins, sending them immediately towards the convulsing tentacle-tongues. His sequins burst, but the dozen of skin-less tongues, to your and Cryz’s surprise, are agile. Some of the glistering shards manage to attach themselves to the coating of the charging tongues, but not enough for Cryz to drawn out the magic. In a blink of a moment the tongues land on and wrap themselves around the body of the Diamond Kingdom’s mercenary. While slippery at first glance, it soon becomes clear that they are anything but. Sharp spines agonizingly spring out of the tongues’ fleshy surface and impale through Cryz’s skin and tissues, catching and raising him like a ‘Venus Flytrap’.

It doesn’t take long for a rupture of his fresh blood to begin leaking onto the floor. Cryz screams with obvious pain... You reach for Cryz to try and pull him back, but the tongues relentlessly slither snake-like towards you.

> Attempt to drain the writhing tentacles using your basic Sequin Magic: to save yourself and to free Cryz.
> Attempt to dodge out of the way of the incoming attacking; hope your companions notice and help you.
> [Write In]

> Sorry for the delay, busy day at work.

>>4282284
>> Attempt to drain the writhing tentacles using your basic Sequin Magic: to save yourself and to free Cryz.

>>4282284
>> Attempt to drain the writhing tentacles using your basic Sequin Magic: to save yourself and to free Cryz.

>>4282284
>> Attempt to drain the writhing tentacles using your basic Sequin Magic: to save yourself and to free Cryz.
Gotta save our boi's punk ass!

> Okay, please roll:

>1d40+10 [best of three]
>1d40 [best of three]

Rolled 3 + 10 (1d40 + 10)

>>4282718

Rolled 8 (1d40)

>>4282718

Rolled 37 + 10 (1d40 + 10)

>>4282718

Rolled 5 (1d40)

>>4282718
Hope it’s good!

Rolled 34 (1d40)

>>4282718

Rolled 39 + 10 (1d40 + 10)

>>4282718

You continue to ineffectually pull Cryz towards yourself; in struggle, you bite your lips so harsh your blood begins to dripple. It’s no use, the spiny prickles are too sturdy and are in too deep now, and they are not going to release him until he is death. Cryz’s face furrows as he attempts to break free: it’s futile. His skin quickly turns white, you hastily realize he have been hiding the worst of his injuries, making it appear like it was a trifle manner. Fighting the pain, you clench of the tongues with your bare hands as you concentrate. You gather as much of your mana as you can, a blast of magic creating a cloud of spiralling sequins, as if a strong wind raising a milky-white blossoms.

You spend 13 mana.
Mana: [120/165]

The mercury-ashen crystals quickly encroach and cling to the twisting fleshy tongue impaling the Diamond Kingdom’s mercenary, their razor-sharp spines unable to cut through them. Your eyes burst with white magic as you clench your hand into a tight fist and slowly pull it towards yourself. You hear a short, creepy sizzle as Fezar’s burling and cricketing, crimson-black magic is consumed by your parasitic (but in a good way) crystals until the long, gluttonous intestines begin to disintegrate into the natural mana. You force the magic back into yourself.

You have restored 34 mana.
Mana [154/165]

Finally released, Cryz’s bleeding body falls on top of the cold-stone floor. You wonder if he’s going to make it; you miss your healing magic. Your sequins shatter seconds before the twisting tongues begin to pop and explode into quickly dissipating chunks. The twitching, feeble remains of those tongues are cut short by the bottomless, frightening holes of the skinless hand-like palms, barraging you with chunks of dead flesh. They are spiky, but not perilous and not hard to avoid. You grab onto Cryz and pull him away from the raining pieces. You’re exasperated.

But soon, instead of fleshy remains of the tongues, oily black liquid begins to fall on your shoulders after. You raise your head in a justifiable worry: the tongue holes are now filled greasy ooze-looking bubbles, gurgling as if about to burst. It’s unlike you are going to be able to summon your sequins to drain them in time, but you are not even sure what to expect; something vile and dangerous, no doubt. You shake your head and raise your hands...

A torrent of shiny flecks – as if sun butterflies – flicker above your head, flooding like a powerful gust of wind towards the hand to cover the emerging froths. You look at Cryz, still wobbling on his legs, with his bleeding left hand raised towards the skinless fingers. He is supporting his free hand by holding its wrist by his clutching right hand – the one connected to yours. This forces you to awkwardly lean on him. His glassy eyes are bright white.

Cryz spend 38 mana.
Mana: [116/165]

Still fighting the pain and the bleeding, as well as the encroaching unconsciousness, Cryz opens his palm and forcefully saps as much of the magic from within the organic macabre bubbles as he is able to. His sequins are quickly overfilled with white magical energy, something he does not waste much time pulling back into himself.

Cryz have restored 36 mana.
Mana: [152/165]

Cryz collapses on one of his knees; you offer your shoulder and body as support. He is breathing quite heavily. You raise your hand to watch the arm become chaotic, tossing itself left and right with its dozen holes now empty and useless... It’s not your first time fighting gigantic hands; you have a lil’ feeling it is going to attempt to smash you.

It is one of Fezar’s tangible creations, you are not sure you’ll be able to drain it, even with Cryz’s assistance...

> Attempt to dodge out of the way of the attack.
> Plea to Cryz to assist you with the hand – if you two can drain it completely, it just might be possible to do.
> Use Nacre Rejuvenation on Zitanhu. Hopefully, he’ll be free to send the entire room back in time.
> [Write In]

> Thanks for playing so far!

>>4284686
>> Attempt to dodge out of the way of the attack.

>>4284686
>> Use Nacre Rejuvenation on Zitanhu. Hopefully, he’ll be free to send the entire room back in time.
Thanks for QMing

>>4285076
> Trained myself to writing an update like a habit. I was considering answering the QM question in the /qtg/ but I don't really have time to participate in others' quests (I do in two) so I'm not sure if my 'quest' in unique in any way.

>>4285317
Hmm, well 'uniqueness' is a bit hard to define. Here's what I personally feel are your quests best qualities:

1. Your characters have strong, well defined, and interesting personalities and quirks without being one note. Just to give a few examples: Alice is at first glance a stuck up, haughty noble, but she turns out to be insecure about her status as the weakest knight in the squad and posessss a single-minded, almost suicidal tenacity to try and prove herself. Wardress Virginia was introduced as something of a hardass, but she is secretly interested in finding love and has a protective and motherly, if overbearing, aura towards the other knights in the squad. Cryz is an unrepentant asshat and mercenary who seems to only ever think about gold and wenches, but he has also shown himself to be more clever than he lets on.

2. You are good at keeping story arcs varied and switching them up to keep things interesting. For example, during the Blue Rose challenge arc, you spiced things up by having Cynthia get roped into Tugella's mission, Virginia's date night, rescuing Alice from the labyrinth, etc. And with this current arc you turned what was originally going to be a dungeon crawl where Cynthia was backed by powerful allies into a fight for survival in a fleshy hellscape while forced to work together with a troublesome foe. You also do a good job of using each arc to give specific sidecharacters spotlight and a chance to develop.

3. I think that Cynthia is a strong protagonist who has had a cleary defined character arc and good development so far. She gathered the strength to admit that she did not want to live her entire life under the weight of her parents' legacy. Instead she found a way to pursue the life of adventure that she had always dreamed of while still protecting the dream her parents had built for themselves. And now a new arc in her story has begun as she is seeking to learn about her mother's past.

> Oh wow, anon. That's a lot of feedback to look over, thank you a lot! I'll consider mentioning those things in the /qtg/ thread, hopefully.

> I'll wait a little bit but if not, I'll roll for the prompt.

>>4284686
>> Use Nacre Rejuvenation on Zitanhu. Hopefully, he’ll be free to send the entire room back in time.

changing vote

Fearfully, your irises shrink at the descending pulp of flesh. You instinctively clench your eyes, having to force yourself to open them and stare up the fleshy manifestation. Your blood boils with adrenaline and your breathing turns harsher as the oncoming shadow consumes you. You make an attempt to dodge out of the way but Cryz is unable to follow you, your connected wrists painfully and clumsily stop you back mid-way. You have to think fast.

You pull your hand towards the grimoire; a brilliant radiance of your magic instantly forms a connection with your arcane tome. The lustrous light flares across the gradient of the lurid cover, the three-leaf clover turning pure-white before the grimoire unfolds. The grimoire hovers upwards, its ancient empty pages glittering with life.

You take a deep breath to calm yourself. “Sequin Magic: Nacre Rejuvenation.” You shout out loud, letting out a swirl of indiscernible mana from out of your body. The flux quickly turns mid-air - as if rain freezing into hail - into brilliant pure-white pearls. Counting seconds, you shout something indescribable towards Zitanhu and the rest in an attempt to catch their attention at the same time you sent ahead the barrage of sequin magic.

The pearl-shaped gemstones quickly surround and clutch the mummified corpse of the royal magician. You see him react in confusion, his arms grinding at he turns around to face you. The three-leaf on his chest burns up with aquamarine light. Your vision blurs. You can’t help but cry as the massive skinless hand – with its long and twitching fingers – collapses on top of you. You feel the crushing weight on your bones and lungs, breaking and chocking you.

Possibly saving you from immediate death – just a second later – a projection of light-blue aura engulfs the entire library. The ooze-leaking hand full of bottomless-looking honeycomb holes and the disturbingly twisting fingers shatters into intangibility and is replaced by a soothing orange glow of what the ancient library used to be like. You grunt and crawl towards Cryz to check on his wounds: they are harsh but passable, and he looks alive. With a shake of your head you struggle to stand up; your other four companions look far more at ease and undamaged.

“Cynthia,” Virginia approaches you in a stoic manner, her grey-blue eyes watching you with a visible concern.

“I am... I am alright,” you reassure her. You quickly glance over your golden skin – it appears undamaged.

You watch Silhibip loudly – her entire body has been petrified after all – approach Cryz and squat before him.

“I don’t really want you to die, boy,” Silhibip hollows with what can only be a zestful mockery. “Why, I’m interested to see how you plan to get into –my– treasury, if you have the smarts. Her hollow, cold, stone-like voice attempts to chuckle. “My golden skin looks much better on a men’s body anyway. Now, stay still.

Cryz does not really respond, the pain silences his likely sarcastic remarks. Silhibip summons a cloud of gold dust.

“It is surprising how powerful and useful the first spell in your grimoire is,” Zitanhu comments, approaching the rest of you in the centre of the pedestal. With a grind, his head raises to glance over the towering library, the end of it – the ceiling – is near impossible to see. Each of the sandstone shelves are decorated with a unique white-wood platform, as well as gilded with intricately golden fretworks. Each of the shelves is filled with books.

“It would take a lot of my magic to convert the entirety of such a massive chamber with my Calendar Magic.”

Virginia slams the blunt end of her sword on top of her shoulder to immediately extinguish it from its white fire.

“Calendar Magic?” she wonders out loud. Virginia’s spruce tree-like hair looks even wilder and spikier than usual.

Zitanhu’s head slowly turns to nod at her.

“But it is not permanent. We have a while, but it is best we do not much time unless we want to fight again.”

“Sounds like an entirely useless or crazy affinity. I guess you are the later.” Virginia does not wait for a response and it is impossible to really say what expression Zitanhu was ‘trying’ to make. She turns to look at Cryz instead.

“Do we have time to swing by armoury?” you weakly ask Virginia. You are awkwardly taken aback when Virginia stare at you, “I-if we are going to fight Fezar we are going to need all the help in form of Magic Tools as we can.”

“That’s not possible,” Virginia tells you, her sharp breathe as if intending to cut you mid-sentence, “This sword is the only thing I was able to take out of it before the entire chamber got besieged by some disgusting flesh-thing.”

Zitanhu stands silent and unmoving for a couple of minutes, only his shadow dancing across the room against the light of the restored candles. As if after a brief contemplation, he grindingly turns around to face you and Virginia.

“The armoury is not where the majority of magical artifacts collected by the ‘Chosen of the Sands’ and others during his reign from the corners of the desert, as well as from the remains of the battles, are. They are located in ‘The Display’, inside the Hall of Learning. It is in a very different direction from the Throne Room of Mydias.”

“Can you lead us there?” Virginia asks.

“If you deem it necessary.”

> Let Virginia to decide the next course of action. Use this time to catch your breathing.
> You are not sure if the Magic Tools are going to be worth it, it’s best to go straight to the throne room.
> Look at Virginia with certainty. If you can bump into Lanarel and find some Magic Tools it’ll be worth it.
> [Write In]

> Please roll 1d10+10 for the cost of the spell.

Rolled 7 + 10 (1d10 + 10)

>>4286496
>Let Virginia to decide the next course of action. Use this time to catch your breathing.

Rolled 1 + 10 (1d10 + 10)

>>4286496
>> Let Virginia to decide the next course of action. Use this time to catch your breathing.

sequin magic is so powerful

>>4286524
> This spell is really OP, especially for people with big magic and strong spells. Maybe I made it too OP, oh well!

>>4286538
We'll probably end up losing access to it and get our Linen magic back once we're separated from Cryz.

You spend 12 mana.
Mana: [141/165]

You have gained a benefaction: [Skin of the Keledon] [2]
A coating of true gold covers Cryz’s skin. It weights his body and makes it harder for him to move, adding -5 to yours DR rolls, but it adds +1HP to Cryz’s current HEALTH regardless of the max’. Silhibip is capable of repairing it.

> Talk with Silhibip. Ask her more about what sort of person King Mydias was and they were more than friends.
> Talk with Zitanhu. Ask him if he’s willing to share anything interesting with you, be it knowledge or history.
> Talk with Cryz. Ask him about his life outside of dungeon crawling, try to pry into what sort of person he is.
> Talk with Virginia. Ask her about what sort of tribulations she went against and what Zeden shared with her.
> Talk with Zeden. Try to get to know the eccentric mercenary a little better, ask about her relationship with Cryz.

> Sorry I did not have time to write a whole update today, but please select a prompt for the tomorrow’s update.

>>4288170
>[Write In] as well, of course.

>>4288170
>> Talk with Zitanhu. Ask him if he’s willing to share anything interesting with you, be it knowledge or history.

>>4288170
> Talk with Zitanhu. Ask him if he’s willing to share anything interesting with you, be it knowledge or history.
> Talk with Zeden. Try to get to know the eccentric mercenary a little better, ask about her relationship with Cryz.

After a brief moment Silhibip concludes the plaiting of her gold magic. Now, the glistering auriferous metal is covering as much of Cryz as you – making the two of you symbiotically similar. With his previously bleeding wounds now goldenly cauterized, your companion is no longer in threat of death, although it is clear to see that beneath the gilded veneer he is not in best of shapes. He should be careful. You grunt. You should be careful, too.

Wasting no time, the four of you leave the ancient library in the pristine, beautifully ornamented entrance of the past. As soon as you lock the door, the greenish-blue aura fades away to have Fezar’s gruesomely gory magic return to existence; you can’t see it, but you can hear it: the cacophony of crawling tongues and keeling secretion.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to sell myself.” Cryz asks with weak sarcasm. Was he planning to sell you like this?!

You catch your breath before turning to Virginia. “It’s only right if you decide the course of action from this point.”

The towering woman – she is at least two meters tall – places the sharp point of her sword against the ground as she investigates the corrupted hallway. Grunting with displeasure, Cryz and Zeden exchange confused glances...

Zeden, still clinging to Virginia behind like a bay leaf, presses her finger into Virginia’s cheek with a yawning scowl.

“Hey,” she says, “If there’re Magical Tools here we should-must-obliged-need to go there to see what they are.”

Virginia hastily attempts to grab Zeden’s finger but the mercenary is faster, “We don’t have any time to waste.”

“The -plan- was to research and bring back as much of the historic and powerful artifacts as we’d be able to find.”

“I don’t plan to allow any of those Tools to fall into the Diamond Kingdom’s hands.”

“Who cares-regards-concerns about the Diamond Kingdom?” Zeden slaps the plated shoulders of the Wardress, “Those things are thousands of years old – four thousand to be semi-precise – I want them for myself, Wardress.”

“I am not allowing you to get something even potentially dangerous either. You work for the Diamond Kingdom.” She pauses and looks over at Cryz, “Besides, your friend here likely plans to sell them to your Shining Generals.”

Cryz’s glass eyes narrow at your superior before he raises his shoulders in a shrug, “That’s true, I’ll sell them.”

Zeden turns to Cryz to pout at him – he was ruining her attempt to convince Virginia otherwise. Still holding her pout, she leans closer to have her amethyst eyes stare down Virginia. “This might be the chance to use our magic.”

Zitanhu, previously silent and patient, turns with an audible and unpleasant grind, “So, what is it going to be?”

Virginia grumbles with displeasure; she doesn’t want to play the mercenaries’ game but, at the same time, those Magic Tools are going to be valuable and useful. With a ricocheting tact she hits her sword against her armour.

Virginia quickly glances over you and sighs, “We are going to this ‘Display’ of yours, mummy. Lead us there.”

He nods and takes a step forwards, his three-leaf clover emblazing with aquamarine light to shield him from the twitching cruor realities surrounding the pathway. You and Cryz are put at the very end, as the most fragile ones.

After several minutes of walking you – and because of this, Cryz as well – approach Zitanhu. You lean your head.

“You were the Royal Scribe were you not, Zitanhu? Do you know what kind of Magic Tools we can expect inside?”

“Of course,” the undead man turns and answers you solemnly. “It was me and the ‘Chosen of the Sands’ who organized ‘The Display’, after all – you memory does not entirely wither even after the ‘Dwindling Ritual’”

The two of you share an awkward minute of silence.

“So?” Cryz inclines and asks ill-tempered, “Is there no follow-up?”

The glowing cyan-blue eyes of the statue stare him down quietly. “It would take me a long time to list them.”

“Do you have anything that is going to be useful against Fezar?” you ask, trying not to let Cryz speak too much.

Zitanhu nods – the crumbling sand dust slides off his neck and falters, “Let’s see... I remember there was the ‘Sandshine Emerald’, if you keep it protected from any light for ten years, once removed, the person it will shine on will be able to treat any sand-like surface as if it was water for an hour. That can be very useful, beneath all this flesh your criminal created, there will still be sand. Then there were the four runic tablets from the Heart Kingdom; they are flat stone-like tablets decorated with runes engraved using a powerful dust-like dye. Each have a different array, but they require magic to be recharged and you risk the dye disappearing if don’t wait at least an hour before uses. Then there’s the ‘Canopic Elixir’, it allows potent and strong mages to remove all illnesses.”

Cryz’s droll, slowly rolling down his lips, is even more present and clear because of his golden skin. He wants them.

“And there are many others, but like I said, it would take me a long time to list them all.”

You scrub your neck – those, indeed, sound useful.

Zitanhu turns to Virginia; she finishes slicing off a pair of massive lung-like organs covered with sharp teeth.

“I am curious – a bit – myself about their combined ‘Relic Magic’, and how it will influence those tools.”

“I can only imagine!” Zeden chimes in, “It drains a lot, to be honest, but making a panacea-like elixir even stronger – that would literally-exactly-accurately-precisely-verbatim be a miracle potion. Or what about those tablets...?”

Virginia scoffs but remains stoic. Using you your Nacre Rejuvenation together with Virginia’s and Zeden’s Relic magic, won’t you be able to turn every single Magic Tool in ‘The Display’ into an even more powerful version?

Will you have enough mana? Is that dangerous? You don’t know what is going to happen after you defeat Fezar, Virginia and Lanarel are powerful but it might not be possible for them to keep an eye and deal with both the dark magician as well as the Diamond Kingdom’s mercenaries. What if they escape with all those dangerous Relics...?

You shake your head to wake up from your stupor. You glance at Zeden, you wish to ask her a few questions as well. However, as soon as you approach her, both Virginia and Zitanhu stop. Silhibip uses her Gold Magic to elevate a bio-blob of flesh covering an ancient door, and open a way inside. With the help of your Sequin Magic, and Virginia’s glowing sword, you illuminate the strange chamber. It is a big octagon room carved out of reddish-black sandstone with several extensive foggy, opaque crystal-glass shelves unevenly spread out across the walls.

Those glassy panels look like mirrors as well as windows at the same time. Despite the glow of your Sequin Magic, it is still too dim to see what is supposed to be behind those glassy panels. You decide to stay a few steps behind.

“Why, I remember now, it’s Mydias’ creepy place,” Silhibip’s emotionless stone voice is visibly impressed.

“‘The Lifeless Zoo’,” Zitanhu adds a bit more content to his fellow council member as he leads you through the chamber to a raised column with a clean white stone surface. The column is made out of several piece-layers which, after a brief pause, Zitanhu begins to twist and turn – both his body and the column grind with old age.

Virginia living asks the mummy cautiously, “What are you doing?”

Zitanhu acknowledges her question with a brief nod, “Me and the ‘Chosen of the Sands’ worked very hard creating this museum, and after today it might be lost evermore. I think it’s fair I display it for the last time.”

“This is so exciting-arousing-thrilling-dramatic-suspenseful,” Zeden says as she drops off Virginia’s shoulders.

“It’s none of those things,” Silhibip arrogantly folds her hands, “It’s just remains of all the ancient creatures, beasts and other animals those two found and collected during those last few decades.”

Zedens’ excited voice rises even higher. Her eyes sparkle. “Like fossils?! I knew-calculated-figured there was something like this,” Then, almost immediately, her face scowls and her purple eyes lose their glow. “Oh...”

“Yeah, you don’t have your magic anymore,” Virginia allows herself to mock.

She bites her lips in painful acknowledgment, “Losing my magic and getting attached to you was not in my plan.”

With a final abrasive noise the column – isn’t solving your own riddle a bit of a cheating – is set in place. With that, tactful clean cracks begin to splinter and decorate the column with previously-hidden hieroglyphs made out of unknown glowing yellowish-orange gem. It is the same material as the one the opaque display glass is made of.

The glassy panels soon attain the same rich heat and light – they are no longer obscure and foggy but clear, but...

What’s behind every single one of those windows makes you quickly retreat back to Virginia and Zitanhu. In frenzy and madness – or chaotically intentionally – you detect fossilized corpses of devilish, ancient creatures – most of them no longer alive. None of them are the same; they are all different, and now alive. While most of their bodies are just their horrifying skeletons, you can notice blemished hearts and leach-like blood vessels.

“Your criminal is ruining-destroying-harming my beautiful collection of fossils.”

“I was wondering why I couldn’t notice Fezar’s disgusting presence; it was all behind those panels.”

A booming shattering makes half of your body jump up, some of those ‘creatures’ are trying to escape.

The exit out of this room is covered by the same fleshy layer as the entrance, and some panels are close to it.

> Rush towards the exit and attempt to use your Sequin Magic to drain Fezar’s flesh to open up a way outside.
> Stay back and use Sequin Magic to drain the first creature to attack Virginia.
> Use Sequin Magic: Nacre Rejuvenation on Zitanhu – his magic should be powerful enough to protect you.
> Use Sequin Magic: Nacre Rejuvenation on Silhibip – her gold might stop the creatures from escaping, and you need her to be ready to heal your golden skin if one of those creatures decides to attack you instead.
> [Write In]

>>4289837
>> Use Sequin Magic: Nacre Rejuvenation on Silhibip – her gold might stop the creatures from escaping, and you need her to be ready to heal your golden skin if one of those creatures decides to attack you instead.

I have forgotten what magic Zitanhu has

>>4289837
>> Use Sequin Magic: Nacre Rejuvenation on Silhibip – her gold might stop the creatures from escaping, and you need her to be ready to heal your golden skin if one of those creatures decides to attack you instead.

>>4289858
Calendar Magic. He can manipulate time and stuff.

>>4289837
>> Use Sequin Magic: Nacre Rejuvenation on Silhibip – her gold might stop the creatures from escaping, and you need her to be ready to heal your golden skin if one of those creatures decides to attack you instead.

> New thread!
>>4291796
>>4291796
>>4291796