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>>4394197

You were met with some fanfare when you arrived, uncharacteristic of the notoriously stoic frontier folk. Once the convoy departed, they jumped at the opportunity to help you set up. They took your orders directly and without question, and remarked more than once that they were happy to see that "folks from the south still care." You made no effort to correct them though you believe you are among a handful that even acknowledge the existence of northern men.

Knowing this night may be the last in which you can sleep at a sensible time, you bury yourself in your new bed and drift into sleep almost instantly.

--

??? a.m., Small Hours

At some ungodly hour, you awaken to a knock at your door. Too exhausted to be furious and too relaxed to stand, you close your eyes and hope to be taken away again. No such luck, you think, as the knocking turns frantic. Then it stops abruptly, and you hear a high-pitched scream.

You curse your indolence and briefly consider its consequences — that manner of selfishness could cost lives — and stumble towards the front door without bothering to change out of your night clothes. You swing it open and dart your eyes around until you see a sturdy and hirsute man, out of sorts and drooling heavily on his shirt, gripping a woman tightly by her arm as she tries to pull away to no avail. The moonlight offers no further assessment — if either party is armed, you cannot tell. Your nerves run high, and you find it difficult to speak.

Act, you damn coward!, you think.

(Physical State: Lacking -5, Mental State: Appropriate +0, Emotional State: Fortified +10)

Above are your levels of readiness for physical, mental, and emotional feats. You will receive the stated bonus or malus above depending on the type of roll you choose. Don't just choose the one the numbers say you are most prepared for, as hidden modifiers, as well as the context of the situation, play a roll in determining DC.

>ACT, YOU COWARD! Grab something and throw it at him! (physical roll required)
>ACT, YOU COWARD! Grab your bonesaw. You'll risk damaging it, but you can't stand by and watch this happen. (physical roll required)
>Well, you have a muzzleloaded rifle you could use, but ammunition is limited and you're far from competent with weapons. (physical roll required; choose: fire to kill, fire to injure, or brandish)
>Yell for help! "A woman is being attacked, for the love of God!" (mental roll required)
>Calm down. He's drunk. You've dealt with this before. "Sir, please, let the woman go. I..." (emotional roll required)
>>"...will refuse service to you indefinitely if you do not stop at once."
>>"...will have the constable throw you away like the trash you are."
>>"...will speak to you. We will work through whatever is causing this rash behavior, I swear it."
>Write-in. These will always receive some sort of bonus unless the idea is unreasonable.

[2/2]

>>4394198
>>Calm down. He's drunk. You've dealt with this before. "Sir, please, let the woman go. I..." (emotional roll required)
>"promise you, should you not release this young lady I will make you incapable of pleasuring yourself or any other poor lady you set your hand to.

>>4394198
>Calm down. He's drunk. You've dealt with this before. "Sir, please, let the woman go. I..." (emotional roll required)
>>"...will refuse service to you indefinitely if you do not stop at once."
Reasonable request and reasonable threat, for an unreasonable man

>>4394198
>Calm down. He's drunk. You've dealt with this before. "Sir, please, let the woman go. I..." (emotional roll required)
>>"...will refuse service to you indefinitely if you do not stop at once."

Calling the vote in 10 minutes.

>>4394211
>Calm down. He's drunk. You've dealt with this before. "Sir, please, let the woman go. I will refuse service to you indefinitely if you do not stop at once."
I agree with >>4394211 and >>4394243, the carrot and stick approach seems appropriate. The man may appear out of his mind but if he brought the woman to you then he likely doesn't intend to harm her immediately and he must have some sort of respect for the medical profession. Perhaps he has something to say.

>>4394208
>>4394211
>>4394243
>>4394252

Vote locked.

I need 3 1d100+10s. Best of 3, higher rolls are better.

DC to beat is 65 (50+15).
+15 = Subject is unstable, violent.

>>4394270
Correction: we're doing degrees of success, not necessarily best of 3. Any roll above the threshold grants a technical success, and any additional successful rolls improve the result further.

Rolled 97 (1d100)

>>4394270
rollin'

Rolled 96 (1d100)

>>4394270
>>4394284
nice

Rolled 65 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

>>4394270

>>4394292
>>4394293
>>4394298

107, 106, 75. Excellent start. Writing.

>>439428
I wish more people would deal with rolls like that
>>4394292
>>4394293
>>4394298
Outstanding success!

>>4394197
The name of this quest made me expect Antarctica. North of nowhere, south of everywhere. Just an impression you might or might not be interested in.

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>>4394347
To be honest, someone else came up with the name because I struggled to think of one. I have some ideas regarding the meaning in the context of this world, though.

>>4394292
>>4394293
>>4394298
>>4394304

Overwhelming Success. Your assertiveness bolsters your confidence. +5 to Mental State.

(Physical State: Lacking -5, Mental State: Secure +5, Emotional State: Fortified +10)

>Calm down. He's drunk. You've dealt with this before. "Sir, please, let the woman go. I will refuse service to you indefinitely if you do not stop at once."

Taking a deep breath, you step outside. You've dealt with this many times before. It's just a man who's had a few too many, you remind yourself.

You take a moment to clear your throat then call out to the aggressor, "Sir, let the woman go. I will refuse service to you indefinitely if you do not stop at once."

To your surprise, the man immediately releases his grip on the woman then turns to face you. For about a minute, he looks you up and down slowly as if assessing your strength. Although your frame doesn't begin to match up to his broad shoulders and tall stature, his response seems calculated — he recognizes you as a threat.

The woman pants and attempts to regain her composure. She hasn't given to hysterics, but she does seem to be somewhat fazed by the situation.

"What has gotten into you, man?" you scold the lout. "Is this your wife?" His eyes widen at the word 'wife'. "Who are you to treat a woman this way?"

"Mmm," he responds, lowering his head and facing the floor like an apologetic dog.

"What have you been drinking?" you ask, your exasperation slowly turning to concern. "Does she need to speak for you?"

The woman balances herself against the wall of your practice. She closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, and composes herself. "I shouldn't have come at night. He gets—he gets frazzled sometimes at this late hour. It's not his fault. I swear he's never been so—" she pauses, looking sadly into the eyes of the man who must be her husband. "So put out. I think it's been a long day at work. I brought him here to see you. He gets like this at night sometimes. I'm sorry for being so—"

"No need to apologize. Sir, ma'am, come in." You cast your eyes down at the boozer and muster a polite smile. "If you can control yourself, you're welcome to take a seat inside and we'll figure out what's wrong with you."

--

Your house/practice is sturdier than most in this town. It is well-built and elevated some feet off the ground, high enough to need a five-step staircase. This moderately sized home signifies you as upper-class — or as close as you can get in a place like this. The residence is split into two large rooms.

In the front room is your practice. It is equipped with cabinets for various drugs and tools; an operating table; two comfortable leather chairs, ideal for therapy and polite company; and a fine hearth, as stipulated in the contract.

(1/2?)

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>>4394439

The back room, the "house," will only be occupied by you under normal circumstances. It contains your bed, a chamberpot, a sink (not connected to any sort of plumbing, likely to be used as a reservoir to clean yourself with), and a wooden barrel for water collection. There are also some miscellaneous shelves and drawers here, currently holding basic items such as clothes and canned food.

You can't ignore it any longer: there is a massive cage occupying a large corner of the practice. It is a steel cage, finely-crafted, large enough to squeeze two average-built human males into. The note on its door, which you read earlier in the day, reads: "Visit tomorrow. I live by the silver mine. Only door with a knocker. Joshua"

--

You and the man take up the two seats and continue eyeing each other cautiously. Interestingly, you don't smell liquor on his person, even indoors and within close proximity.

"When did this behavior begin, Mister..." you trail off, waiting for a response.

When the man responds only by blinking and narrowing his eyes, his wife speaks for him: "His name is Horace. I'm Elaine." She sniffs, then closes her eyes and takes another deep breath. "His wife."

Horace says nothing about his condition. His gaze tells you nothing. He only drools on his coat and changes his expression. So far, this is all the proof you have that Horace is mentally present.

>"Horace, speak to me or go." Be firm. He has already disrupted you and caused a scene.
>"Horace, come with me to the operating table. I am going to examine you."
>"Elaine, please give me all the information you can. I'm sorry, but your husband is being uncooperative."
>Write-in.

>>4394443
>search the cabinet for some sedative, give it to man, tell them to visit tomorrow during day
>relent only if the woman insists strongly on treatment right now

>>4394443
>"Elaine, please give me all the information you can. I'm sorry, but your husband is being uncooperative."
then
>"Horace, come with me to the operating table. I am going to examine you."

>>4394443
>Address questions to man but motion to women to answer them if man is not responding

so more or less this
>"Elaine, please give me all the information you can. I'm sorry, but your husband is being uncooperative."

>>4394443
>"Elaine, please give me all the information you can. I'm sorry, but your husband is being uncooperative."

>>4394456
>>4394487
>>4394502
>>4394504
>>4394516

Continued questioning wins.

I can incorporate >>4394504's write-in as well as the dominant choice and bringing Horace to the operating table when done. Any objections?

If not, I'll begin writing the update in ~10 minutes.

>>4394521
Writing now.

>>4394521
I object! Jk go on writing.

>>4394521
>I can incorporate >>4394504's write-in as well as the dominant choice and bringing Horace to the operating table when done. Any objections?
>If not, I'll begin writing the update in ~10 minutes.

Never ask questions like this, just do as you want.

>>4394557
I mean, it's nice to communicate what you're doing ("hi guys, I'm combining this with the write-in"), but I agree you shouldn't ask unless the write-in is controversial or would have serious consequences.

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>>4394456
>>4394487
>>4394502
>>4394504
>>4394516

You come up with a solution to your communication problem. +2 to Mental State.
(Physical State: Lacking -5, Mental State: Secure +7, Emotional State: Fortified +10)

Instead of shifting all focus to your lady guest, you decide to continue engaging the delirious man and opt to use his wife as a backup in case he refuses to respond.

You interlace your fingers and move forward in the chair. "Horace, what makes you 'frazzled?' What sets you off, and what does night have to do with it?" You ask.

Just like when you mentioned his wife, Horace's eyes widen at the mention of night. He parts his lips, grits his teeth impatiently, and shuffles in his chair. He turns to your front window and stares outside. Then, he walks closer and turns his head toward the sky. He watches it with the interest of a child at a candy store; his eyes are fit to bulge out of his skull.

You look to Elaine and raise your eyebrows. She swallows, and gazes back toward Horace. "Every night, he grows irritable. Starts to look out the window, snaps at me when I ask him why. He's done this for about a month. If I keep bothering him, he only grows angrier." She shakes her head. "But he's never hurt me before. Never. I ask him in the morning, and he always says sorry and he doesn't know why he acted that way. He's not a bad man, I swear."

"But this night he did hurt you, correct? Or almost did?" You follow up. You're a little incredulous of her testimony. Abused women often defend their abusers — you've seen this firsthand several times.

"I'm doing fine," Elaine says defensively. "He doesn't hurt me. He didn't. In eleven years, he never has. This started..." She stops to think for a moment. "A month ago, I think. And this is the first time he's laid a hand on me."

Horace mutters to himself, enthralled by the night sky.

"Horace? The doctor still wants to talk to you," Elaine says, approaching him slowly. She turns to you for approval and you shake your head.

You walk over to Horace. He turns to face you once you reach touching distance. "Come with me to the operating table. I'm going to examine you."

Horace squints and frowns, possibly indicating his disapproval, but he complies after another moment of sizing you up. You set him down on the table and adjust the headboard to better accommodate his frame.

(1/2)

>>4394638

You record the following observations on a piece of paper:

Infatuation with the night sky. Seems to recognize 'wife' and 'night'. Possibly respects authority, obeys my commands reluctantly. According to wife: regrets his behavior, not violent by nature. Tendency to bare teeth. Arms are abnormally hairy. Left forearm totally covered in matted black hair. Hair on the other is significantly thinner. Nails on left hand are significantly longer, curved outward. Tendency to clench and unclench his hands. Generally unpredictable, irrational behavior; may need restrained. Drools almost incessantly. Licks his lips — they appear dry, chapped, likely painful if stressed. Mouth and tongue are dry.

You're at a loss. In most circles, this sort of erratic behavior is viewed as a moral curse treatable only by isolation from polite society. You would be inclined to agree, but in most cases the "curse" is all-consuming. If the woman is to be believed, that is not the case — this is, allegedly, not in his nature.

>Conventional wisdom wins out. You will place him in the cage and have the law pick him up. You will recommend that he be sent south for an asylum. (physical roll required. You can involve his wife in restraining him)
>Mental health is not your specialty, but Horace doesn't have many options in this far-flung place. Get back to the word association you observed when you said "wife" and "night" and determine what other words might pacify him. (mental roll required)
>"Elaine, have you noticed that there isn't a hairless spot on your husband's left arm? And what are these nails all about, are they some sort of defect?" It could be nothing, but you've never seen it before.
>Write-in.

>>4394639
>Mental health is not your specialty, but Horace doesn't have many options in this far-flung place. Get back to the word association you observed when you said "wife" and "night" and determine what other words might pacify him. (mental roll required)

>>4394639
How close is it to full moon? We should consult locals then perform a ritual during which we use whatever it is that cures lycantrophy.

>>4394663

Come to think of it, there is a good bit of moonlight tonight. You don't study the phases of the moon, but there are some theories (mostly considered outdated by professionals, but often supported by laymen) relating human behavior to celestial bodies.

There is no condition known as lycanthropy. At least, not yet.

>>4394663
A what now?

>>4394639
>>4394639
>"Elaine, have you noticed that there isn't a hairless spot on your husband's left arm? And what are these nails all about, are they some sort of defect?" It could be nothing, but you've never seen it before.

We have a gun, right? Maybe we should make sure it's not too far away just in case.

>>4394687
>>4394689
I know I'm being an ass about this. Trying to be lel different and actively resisting any conventional, safe and sane options. Feel free to outvote me and move on.

>>4394700
What lol

>>4394639
>Mental health is not your specialty, but Horace doesn't have many options in this far-flung place. Get back to the word association you observed when you said "wife" and "night" and determine what other words might pacify him. (mental roll required)

Next update will be in about two hours, I think. Reply with any feedback/questions/concerns and I'll address them when I'm back.

>>4394639
>Mental health is not your specialty, but Horace doesn't have many options in this far-flung place. Get back to the word association you observed when you said "wife" and "night" and determine what other words might pacify him. (mental roll required)

>>4394639
>Mental health is not your specialty, but Horace doesn't have many options in this far-flung place. Get back to the word association you observed when you said "wife" and "night" and determine what other words might pacify him. (mental roll required)

>>4394648
>>4394663
>>4394699
>>4394744
>>4394752
>>4394770
Will be writing an update soon. I need 3 rolls, 1d100+7.

DC to beat is 55 (50+5).

+20 = He would rather be outside right now.
-10 = Learned that he responds to certain words.
-5 = Reminded yourself that you have a gun in case things go awry.

Rolled 78 + 7 (1d100 + 7)

>>4394944

Rolled 56 + 7 (1d100 + 7)

>>4394944

Rolled 100 + 7 (1d100 + 7)

>>4394944

>>4394946
>>4394970
>>4394980
Three successes again, nice. Writing.

Overwhelming Success. Your mind is clear, your attitude is professional. You are handling this situation very well. +1 to Mental State.

(Physical State: Lacking -5, Mental State: Secure +8, Emotional State: Fortified +10)

Feeling somewhat tense as you dwell on the man's strange demeanor and unnatural arm, you remind yourself that you have a musket in case anything untoward should happen. Although Horace is mostly cooperative at this point, he occasionally licks his lips and stares toward the exit and windows just the same.

"Horace, I want you to focus on me," you say assertively. He complies, as reluctantly as ever. He would rather be anywhere but here, you think. "Elaine, I need you to help me with this. I just need you to say some words to your husband that hold meaning to him."

"Really? So... do you think this will work?" Elaine responds. Her voice is pleasant and clear; she appears to be less fazed than earlier.

You scratch your head, then shrug. "I'm not certain. Say something about his profession, his family. Things only you, and he, would know."

Elaine goes through a list of topics with her husband. We spoke to your mother yesterday. She is no longer with fever. You work in the mines. We have a child together. His name is Thom. You provide for us. Most words show little results besides a brow furrowing or glance into your eyes or hers.

You sit back your chair, making notes as Elaine engages with the patient. Nearly an hour passes by, when she suddenly stumbles on a topic that holds meaning to him.

"You like to hunt, Horace. You don't have much free time, but when you get the chance—" she begins.

(1/2?)

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>>4395137

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rKON3U977Us&list=PLTHf0Ok7IXKx0ZncyYs0FeXIHouDPiSdw&index=25

Elaine steps back when Horace suddenly clenches his fists harder than before. He breathes deeply through his nose and grinds his teeth aggressively. For the first time, his absentmindedness fades and wrath takes its place. You have penned this beast of a man for far too long.

You slowly rise from your chair and inch toward the gun cabinet. Horace looks his wife up and down and licks his lips slowly, savoring every minute of the encounter. Elaine trembles and begins breathing faster as her husband gets closer. She is paralyzed in fear, totally unwilling to move a muscle.

You open the cabinet slowly and pull out your musket. He still doesn't notice. Your hands shake as you rise, causing you to drop it. Fucking idiot, you think as you scramble to pick it up. Once you do, you see Horace coming your way. You are on the verge of tears as you point the gun directly at his head. It's not loaded. You have only one gambit in mind.

"H-Horace. Gun." He continues walking. You gulp and find your words nearly caught in your throat. "Gun. It—it's a gun." He stops. It seems he understands what a gun does. "It'll k—" you state, then sharply inhale. "It'll kill you. I'll kill you."

Horace must recognize that you now hold some power in this situation. Although the fury remains, he remains standing in place. Then, his shoulders begin to shudder, and his muscles convulse involuntary. He groans in pain and drops to the floor, and his groans soon change to snarls, then to shouts of fear and agony. He drags his nails across your floor and writhes as the muscles in his left arm repetitively bulge and contract. You stabilize your breathing and stand over the patient.

"You almost hurt your wife," you say bluntly. Horace looks to be in intense pain, and his voice becomes more harsh and guttural the longer he writhes. "Wife. Elaine. I know you know what I'm saying."

You turn your attention to his left arm. As it continues to contort, it seems to be growing in size. New strands of hair envelop his wrists, and eventually his hand. The fury is gone from his expression; all that remains is pain. All that is apparent now is the physical pain, but there may be some emotional pain as well if his mind is returning.

>Load the gun and kill him. It's a mercy at this point, and he can't be allowed to roam this world. (emotional roll required)
>Sedate Horace and place him in the cage. His condition is unique, and he must be kept for study.
>You didn't come here to kill or imprison your first patient. Give him morphine and prepare to amputate the convulsing arm. (physical roll required)
>Send him to the street and pray. It's all you can think to do.
>Write-in.

That does it for today. I hope you enjoyed. Let me know if you have any questions or concerns. I will run some tomorrow, but beyond that I haven't planned out my schedule.

>>4395142
>You didn't come here to kill or imprison your first patient. Give him morphine and prepare to amputate the convulsing arm. (physical roll required)
We should probably shoot him before he turns, but that will bring alot of bad attention on us, especially if he turns back to normal after he's dead. Plus the trauma to his wife.
Might as well see if this works.

>>4395142
>You didn't come here to kill or imprison your first patient. Give him morphine and prepare to amputate the convulsing arm. (physical roll required)

>>4395142
>Sedate Horace and place him in the cage. His condition is unique, and he must be kept for study.
I mean, its arm will probably grow back later, but it would be traumatic for him and his wife.

>>4395142
>You didn't come here to kill or imprison your first patient. Give him morphine and prepare to amputate the convulsing arm.

>>4395142
>You didn't come here to kill or imprison your first patient. Give him morphine and prepare to amputate the convulsing arm.
>Demand a regular check up to analyse and regulate his condition if need be

>>4395142
>Load the gun and kill him. It's a mercy at this point, and he can't be allowed to roam this world. (emotional roll required)

>>4395142
>>Load the gun and kill him. It's a mercy at this point, and he can't be allowed to roam this world. (emotional roll required)

>>4395142
>You didn't come here to kill or imprison your first patient. Give him morphine and prepare to amputate the convulsing arm.

>>4395157
>>4395169
>>4395179
>>4395198
>>4395864
>>4395925
>>4396026
>>4396111
>Amputate
5
>Imprison for study
1
>Kill
2

I will write the update in about 2 hours from now. For now, I'll take 3 1d100-5s.

DC to beat is 70 (50+20).

+30 = Defending your own life has left you unsettled.
-5 = He's too weak to put up much of a fight.
-5 = (write-in) You occupy your mind with what you'll do to help him once the immediate trouble is over. If you resolve it, that is.

Rolled 15 - 5 (1d100 - 5)

>>4396284

Rolled 74 + 5 (1d100 + 5)

>>4396284
aaa

Rolled 32 - 5 (1d100 - 5)

>>4396284

Slight correction: morphine in shot form is what you will prescribe following surgeries. Before and during surgery, you will use liquid ether.

>>4396284
>Sedate Horace and place him in the cage. His condition is unique, and he must be kept for study.

>>4395157
>>4395169
>>4395179
>>4395198
>>4395864
>>4395925
>>4396026
>>4396111
Silver cage? Werewolf? Guys I dont think amputation is gonna work since this happened a month ago. All this might do is put him out of work. Maybe the SILVER cage might do something? He might be willing to comply if we can numb the pain so he can crawl his way inside the cage.

Writing now. Expect 2 or 3 updates today.

>>4396356
The cage is made of steel, but I appreciate that you're considering your options carefully.

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>>4396297
>>4396306
>>4396331


Failure. Despite your clear head and sensible approach, your nerves get the better of you. -6 to Mental State, -5 to Emotional State.

(Physical State: Lacking -5, Mental State: Appropriate +2, Emotional State: Secure +5)

Lifting Horace back onto the operating table takes tremendous effort. Elaine offers some support, but her nerves leave her weak and shaky. Eventually, you manage to prop him up against the operating table. Picking up his lower body as Elaine pulls from the other side of the table, you manage to get him on sideways. From there, you get him into a workable position through a series of small alterations. I'll need an assistant, you think, dabbing your sweaty brow with a cloth.

You undergo the usual preparation of cleaning your hands and tools, and preparing medicine. The medicine itself is somewhat unfamiliar, however: the new standard anesthetic known as "liquid ether," while intuitive in its application, remains largely unproven in the medical profession. This will be your first time performing amputation without laudanum, a drug which introduces a substantial risk of overdose to those unacquainted with opium. You are cautiously optimistic that the ether will keep you safe during the procedure without risking the patient's life.

"Elaine, I am going to need you to assist me for this," you say wearily as you look back at the woman.

Elaine's face is flushed, her eyes downcast. She moves wordlessly to the other side of the table, sniffs, and looks down at her husband.

"Okay," the woman answers simply. She stands stone-still, sniffing occasionally as you put on a pair of gloves. You assume she's holding back tears, or perhaps she's waiting for reality to set in before bawling.

You hand the ether-coated cloth to the wife and observe Horace quietly as his eyes dart around the room. He has grown quiet save for his loud breathing, perhaps tired from all the thrashing. The pain is still apparent by his gritted teeth. The arm, now totally morphed into... whatever it is, is no longer pulsing nor convulsing. The rest of his body remains the same. Horace grows more quiet, and eventually closes his eyes, as his wife holds the cloth over his mouth and nose as directed. You tell her to stop, then to hold the lower end of his arm. After applying the tourniquet and preparing your saw and pen knife, you begin to work.

(1/2)

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>>4396555

I made a mistake, you think. Why did I come here? Why? I'm going to die here. Not a day in and I've nearly died. You attempt to silence these thoughts, but they keep coming. The distractions get the better of you and your saw hitches halfway through the arm. You panic, though you are able to keep it silent, as you begin sawing in shorter and more rapid strokes to pass through the bone. Though she continues to hold the end of the arm as instructed, her other hand is now pressed against her mouth in shock. Don't think about it, you demand of yourself. She doesn't know what she's looking at. You're doing fine.

The arm comes off. You tie the arteries and gently cleanse the wound with a sponge and water from the back room, and take a deep sigh. You spent far too long cutting through, you laze-about. You could have done something wrong, anything. And you'll never know what it was.

Back home, 46% of amputations end in postoperative mortality. Since you did not succeed in your rolls, I would like one roll. If it passes the DC of 46, he will survive the night.

>>4396569
Congratulations. He survived the procedure, although that doesn't say much about what state he'll be in.

Will write the next update in an hour or so.

>>4396577
Can we put the arm back on?

>>4396785
You are not capable of performing a limb replantation (and as far as you're aware, it's never been done), and you have no wooden prosthetics here either. You could certainly have a craftsman make one later on if you like.

(Currently in the process of writing the next update, for anyone who's curious)

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No. I didn't do anything wrong. Not one thing. Just a slight hitch. I could have done better, but I did not kill him. +4 to Mental State. -2 to Physical State: now that the stress has subsided, you would like to return to bed.

(Physical State: Lacking -7, Mental State: Secure +6, Emotional State: Secure +5)

Horace lies on the table, his arm now dressed and fit to stay that way for the coming week. He looks peaceful. If his mind ever returns, he may even be thankful that you did this.

"Elaine," you say after a protracted silence. Elaine still stands in disbelief, now with both hands over her mouth, staring at the severed arm. "I don't know what happened to your husband. I can't pretend to know. I need to continue observing him daily to determine whether I—" you stop, and smile. "Whether *we* actually accomplished anything. You can rest assured that between the stub arm and morphine, he will be in no state to harm anyone until then."

She nods.

"He'll wake up some time soon. When he does, I'll give him a small dose of morphine to keep him relatively sedated. He'll be sleeping here tonight." Damn it. I need to get a cot for long-term care. I can't have patients sleeping on the operating table overnight, you consider. "We're going to try to keep the dosage small — more to pacify him than to kill the pain, all things considered. I suggest you run to the constable if he begins acting strange again when he's released," you advise her.

She nods again, then looks you in the eyes. "Thank you... I don't know how to repay you. I can't."

"You don't have to. My contract means the local government provides for me," you respond, cleaning your space to keep yourself occupied as you talk.

"We won't have anything without his work. He didn't make much." She looks at the man on the table longingly. "I'm sorry. It's inappropriate of me to complain after you've done so much. It's just — I didn't think things would change so quickly. I wasn't prepared."

"Few people are. Do you need a drink, perhaps? I always keep whisky for patients and their families." And for me, but let's not be unprofessional.

"No. But thank you." She smiles. It's a dainty one, but it shows promise.

(1/2?)

>>4396824
--

Horace's eyes flutter briefly, then open fully. His pupils are smaller than before. He moves his eyes around slowly — the motion is slow and deliberate; you might even say it's human. He looks somewhat fearful, but it's tempered by extreme drowsiness.

Horace coughs, then looks to Elaine. Her face lights up, and she comes to his side. "Is it really you?" she asks cautiously.

"I saw it," the patient finally announces in a dry, throaty voice. You make note to get him a cup of water.

"You saw... what you tried to do to us?" Elaine asks.

"Gathering of creatures in the clearing." He states, looking at the severed arm without reacting to it. "The return to the killing grounds. The end of the farce."

This must be a side effect of the ether, you hypothesize. Elaine's confusion is apparent, so you step in. "Are you feeling well? I've taken your arm, good man." You hope to inject some levity into the situation.

"The end of the lie," he says solemnly.

You clear your throat. "Ah, well. It seems he's in better shape now, and he's speaking. I think he'll be normal tomorrow once the ether's cleared — I've never used it, you see."

"Oh. The ether..." Elaine doesn't sound too convinced, but she heads toward the door as you administer the morphine.

"Please take care of yourself, ma'am. I'll send him along in the morning." She looks out the window as you say this, perhaps trying to see what her husband saw.

"I'll try. Thank you, doctor." She opens the door.

>Let her leave.
>"Wait. You were a great help today. Since your husband is unfit to work and you have a child to provide for, perhaps you could be my assistant? We could split the benefits of my contract."
>"I'll have to meet the mayor at some point. I will ask if he can help you or your husband."
>Write-in.

What will you do tonight?
>Drink some whisky and have a smoke on the steps to calm your nerves. You've earned it.
>Just go to sleep.

(2/2)

>>4396826
>"Wait. You were a great help today. Since your husband is unfit to work and you have a child to provide for, perhaps you could be my assistant? We could split the benefits of my contract."
>Drink some whisky and have a smoke on the steps to calm your nerves. You've earned it.

>>4396826
>"Wait. You were a great help today. Since your husband is unfit to work and you have a child to provide for, perhaps you could be my assistant? We could split the benefits of my contract."
>Just go to sleep.

>>4396845
Support

Going to eat something, will call vote when I'm back and do one more update today.

I'm a pretty slow writer, so I'll try to make the updates worth the wait.

>>4396826
>"Wait. You were a great help today. Since your husband is unfit to work and you have a child to provide for, perhaps you could be my assistant? We could split the benefits of my contract."
>Drink some whisky and have a smoke on the steps to calm your nerves. You've earned it.

Would prefer shorter prose and more frequent choices

There's a storm going through my area, so expect a delay in the next update (my power may go out). I'll still try to get it out tonight if possible.

>>4396899
I've run quests under a few different names in the past, and this has been the easiest way for me to deliver updates fairly consistently. Still, I would like to do what you're suggesting more often. I'll try to when I can.

>>4396845
>>4396847
>>4396848
>>4396899
Writing with the offer and drinking/pipe smoking.

>>4396845
>>4396847
>>4396848
>>4396899

"Wait. You were a great help today." Elaine closes the door and looks back at you. "Since your husband is unfit to work and you have a child to provide for, perhaps you could be my assistant? We could split the benefits of my contract."

She smiles, this time a little wider than the last. "It's the least I could do to repay you. I'll be here tomorrow morning."

"It's not about repaying me," you reassure her. "I just want to help."

"Then I promise to do my best. Goodbye, doctor." She opens the door again, and heads out.

"The name is John Kay. Goodbye, Elaine," you say as she exits.

You fill a cup with water and return to the front room. Once Horace has been provided for, he is fast asleep on the table. It's far from an ideal resting place, but it'll have to do until you get a cot.

Although your body says sleep is in order, you veto the suggestion and opt instead to relax with a drink and a smoke. It's almost tradition for doctors to drink themselves to sleep, especially those on the frontlines of a health crisis. The whisky, which you happily swig straight from the bottle, is named "Forester Old Reserve." It's an abrasive, dark, unsweetened and unflavored rye brew that brings back adolescent memories. With just a few quick drinks, it warms your throat and soul. +5 to Emotional State.

You produce a pipe from a drawer in your room and put on your heaviest coat. You take your whisky and pipe to the steps in front of your house and set them down once outside. Alternating between short sips of whisky and puffs of tobacco, you reflect on the goings-on of the night under the majesty of the full moon. In the distance, you hear a cacophany of howling wolves.

I didn't die. I didn't have to take a life. I'm here, in my own home, living on my own terms. It's cold out here, but whisky is warm and succulent. The pipe treats me just right. +2 to Mental State.

--

You lie down in bed after spending some time with yourself. Though your head is mostly clear, you find yourself half-drunkenly pondering a topic. "Why did I come here?" you ask aloud as the ceiling swirls above. "It's my duty. I'm supposed to help those in need."

You ask the same question more than once, and come to several distinct conclusions. You came here to get away from a few memories. You came here because you can't say "no" to save your life.

You came here to escape the rat race. The pageantry and the deception of civil life sickens you. It's a show, an elaborate trick.

(1/2)

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>>4397099
--

Theme: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TzMHvvBqVuY

You are in a verdant countryside. The ground is totally flat, and stretches on endlessly. You step forward and blink. When you open your eyes, you see a large birdcage lying on the grass. You can feel the ground below rumbling slightly, although it's minor enough to ignore. You approach the birdcage, but soon find yourself distracted by the beauty of the deep blue sky above. Taking a seat by the cage, you marvel at the sky. The longer you stare at it, the more it appears to swirl like the ceiling after a night's drink.

--
+5 to Physical State. You aren't quite well-rested, but it'll do. You did sleep in later than usual.

(Physical State: Fair -2, Mental State: Secure +8, Emotional State: Fortified +10)

~9 a.m., Wednesday.

Some time in the morning, you see Horace out with another shot of morphine. He behaves the same as he did after the amputation last night, but you are hopeful that he will recover in time. Elaine arrives a little later. She seems somewhat drowsy, as you are, but surprisingly eager to help you.

You compile a list of things you could do some time soon. Since you have hired an assistant, you have someone who can inform visitors of your location or report missed visits.

>You'll need to visit the town authority eventually. Go to the town hall.
>You'd like to see these "herbalists" you heard about firsthand. The letter you received stated that this is all the medicine they have in Hachita besides the rare southern imports.
>The note on the cage said to talk to Joshua and provided instructions. Maybe you should go there first.
>Something else. (write-in)

>>4397100
>The note on the cage said to talk to Joshua and provided instructions. Maybe you should go there first.
Lets also make sure we are well stocked on whisky and tobacco.

>>4397100
>>The note on the cage said to talk to Joshua and provided instructions. Maybe you should go there first.

>>4397100
>The note on the cage said to talk to Joshua and provided instructions. Maybe you should go there first.
This first. We can check the herbalists next, as we'll inevitably be dealing with them if they're the prevalent source of local medicine. Perhaps if things are actually nice we could correct them on poultice formulation and whatnot to ease the burden on ourselves, though that's highly unlikely.

>>4397100
Seconding everything from >>4397168

great stuff so far, OP. anyone have any thoughts on the pic? I figured it was a representation of the dream, some symbolism with the sky, cage, and countryside. assuming the red dot is our position. maybe we can work towards or influence it?

also could be a reflection of our stats, maybe with the cage as emotional, countryside as physical, and sky as mental?

>>4397100
>You'll need to visit the town authority eventually. Go to the town hall.
>>4397295
I think it may be our alignment, the bird cage represent our need for the trappings of civilization, the deer represents our connection with nature, our wilder side, and the sky represents incoming change, or our idea of abstract philosophy and high minded ideals. The closer the red dot is to one or the other the more we're closer each concept.

>>4397295
The cage in the clinic held a note from a mysterious Joshua. Since the note was left precisely on the cage instead of a table or door, perhaps we can assume the cage is a gift from him, which implies he accurately foretold that you would make use of it. If the mysterious Joshua is in the business of hunting unusual beasts then perhaps the cage represents the faction he belongs to, which we can call the Hunter faction. It might be that the protagonist's dot moved ever so slightly toward the cage due to shifting his alignment toward the Hunter faction as the result of his actions that night. If this logic holds true then perhaps the animal in the diagram could represent the Beast faction, but then what is the Maelstrom? Can there be one more faction other than Hunters and Beasts?

>>4397100
>>The note on the cage said to talk to Joshua and provided instructions. Maybe you should go there first.

>>4397100
>The note on the cage said to talk to Joshua and provided instructions. Maybe you should go there first.

Push mowed someone's lawn today, pretty exhausted. Will write some time after a nap.

When I get back, we're going with these plans for the morning:

>First, you will assess your stock of whisky and tobacco.
>Then, you will look for this "Joshua" character.

Visiting the town hall/herbalists will remain as options in the afternoon, along with some new ones that only appear at this time. There is a sequence of events happening in the background that you may or may not intersect with.

>>4398255
>There is a sequence of events happening in the background that you may or may not intersect with.
Actually, let's also make sure we aren't low on ammo.

Also the previous description of us just relaxing with booze and tobacco was well done, I really liked it.

>>4398362
Sure, adding that to the list of things you'll do in the morning.

Any action that doesn't take too long, like inspecting your stores or cleaning, can be bundled with larger actions like visiting someone.

Thanks, was writing from experience there.

>>4397100
>Something else. (write-in)
>Shave the amputated arm and look for wounds!!!
I forgot about it!

Writing now. Should be a couple of updates today.

>>4398411
Life's creating a few distractions right now, but it's nothing serious (no curse, just a busy day). Still coming along. Might just be one update today, but it will cover several suggestions. I should be able to make up for that tomorrow.

Also forgot to say earlier, I love the theorizing. At least one of the theories is pretty close, but I won't say which.

>>4398599
We'll be here. Interesting stuff so far, looking forward to the update.

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>>4397105
>>4397146
>>4397168
>>4397295
>>4397502
>>4397611
>>4397685
>>4398252
>>4398385
>>4398686

Before moving on, you decide to take care of a few basic tasks. First, you check your whisky and tobacco stores and determine you have roughly 8 pints of whisky between five bottles of similar sizes. They're all the same brand, but a couple are sweetened with sugar. Folks in cold climates are known to drink, so obtaining more should be no trouble. However, your option of brands will be far more limited than it was back home. As for the tobacco, you think it should last a couple of months. You made a point to bring a decent amount, as it's not known to be grown this far north.

Then, you look into your ammo stores and spend some time loading the gun for future use. Elaine, previously engaged in reading the labels on several pill bottles, watches with some interest as you do this. "Just in case," you rationalize out loud.

Finally, you grab the severed arm from a cabinet where you stored it. You ponder your options for a moment, and ultimately decide to investigate it further — your observations last night did not include alterations to the state of the arm following the patient's convulsions. After having Elaine prepare a clean white cloth on the operating table, you work at the arm over the cloth with a shaving razor — this takes roughly half an hour, and you eventually switch to a combination of scissors and razor — and eventually clear it of all matted hair. The skin below is off-white, almost gray, and significantly rougher than your own. The fingers are set unnaturally close and angled. Through careful manipulation, you attempt to straighten the index finger to no avail. The nails are longer and thicker than when you first observed them, and they come to a finer point. Most intriguingly, you observe a large raised scar across the tricep that you could not see past the hair. You place it at a couple of weeks, maybe a month.

You show the scar to Elaine, who observes intently. "Do you remember your husband coming home with this?"

"He said he got it at work," she says, although she sounds just as perplexed. "I suppose I was tired when he told me and thought nothing of it — it was at night, just as he got home."

"That's unlikely. It reminds me of dog scratches I've treated in the past. Was he not in pain?" You carry the hair to a bin, but keep a couple of strands for future observation.

"Well, he certainly was. But he's no complainer. He told me he picked up some, what was it, 'protective powder' from the herbalists to keep the scratch safe." A scratch, a powder — suspects. And only the arm, which was scratched and rubbed with powder, changed form. Maybe it's related, maybe not.

(1/3?)

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>>4398715
--

11 a.m.
There is a slight chill and some rain today, but you hear that's nothing unusual. Still, despite open storefronts, you only spy one other person on your way to the house by the silver mine. A narrow two-story house, painted white, stands here. There are other houses in the area, but this is the only one with a knocker. You use it, and hear some shuffling on the other side. Eventually, a middle-aged man opens the door. He stands a few inches shorter than you and wears a loose-fitting vest. His features are rough and worn; this man has been taxed by life. He looks you deep in the eye from his side of the door.

"You are the doctor?" he asks incredulously.

"Yes," you say.

"Where is your white coat? Gray hair?" His face is fixed in something of a scowl, although you are unsure whether he is displeased with you or just generally ornery.

"I don't have those. I don't work at a hospital," you explain.

"You'll have to do. Come in."

You follow the man indoors, but remain somewhat on edge. The unseemly clutter of his bottom floor does little to comfort you: books sit in a pile by his desk, topped by an unloaded single-action revolver; papers are scattered on the floor; and a series of small, decorative bird cages painted various colors line the floor by his dining table. You weave around them, but nearly trip. This place is a mess, and it makes you reconsider the wisdom of coming here. -2 to Mental State.

(Physical State: Fair -4, Mental State: Secure +6, Emotional State: Fortified +10)

"Come, sit at the other side of the table," he offers as he brings you a plate with two mugs. You oblige and take a mug to one side of table. It smells pungent.

"Herbal brew," he says as you glare into the mug. "Tea is uncommon up here. Just drink it."

Again with the herbs.

You take a few small sips. It's bitter, but you don't mind. You're just slightly put off by the smell.

>>4398716

Eventually, your host breaks the silence as the both of you drink from your mugs. "I'm Joshua. I work with metals. Hachita has more mines than this one, you know, but most don't have a whole town built around them." He cracks his knuckles. "I used to mine. Worked myself half to death. Now I make tools, and sometimes fish hooks."

"And cages," you say in an attempt to focus the man on the reason he brought you here.

Joshua frowns. "I'm cursed, doctor."

You are taken aback. "Pardon?" This sounds like an herbalist's area of expertise, not mine.

"Cursed to watch as my brothers, folks I grew up with, disappear from the world. And I tell them, every *fucking* day..." The smith's frown intensifies, and he begins biting his lip intensely. "Not to invite the trouble. Don't go outside at night. Don't stray far from town. Bless your house with sage, apply your powders. But they never listen."

Again, you try to refocus the conversation. "You wanted to talk about the cage?"

Joshua nods slowly. "Yes, the cage. I bet you've used it already. I provided it free of charge, you remember." He grins as though he just said something clever.

You shake your head.

>Tell Joshua about your experiences last night. He seems to be well-acquainted with the happenings in this town. If you can sort through the strangess, he might have some stories of his own. (mental roll, bonus if you suggest a way to appeal to him)
>"I can't use a cage in my line of work, it deprives patients of their freedom. I want you to come by later and pick it up." (emotional roll, bonus if you can think of way to avoid offending him)
>"Why would you give me, of all people, a cage?"
>Don't tell this loonie a damn thing. Politely excuse yourself and move on to another task (will provide a list of options)
>Write-in.

(3/3)

>>4398721
>Tell Joshua about your experiences last night. He seems to be well-acquainted with the happenings in this town. If you can sort through the strangess, he might have some stories of his own. (mental roll, bonus if you suggest a way to appeal to him)
He might seem a bit strange but he clearly know a lot more of what goes on up here than us. Ask him about when he mentioned a curse a see if there is a more literal meaning to it because something that is going on up here is not right.

>>4398721
>Tell Joshua about your experiences last night. He seems to be well-acquainted with the happenings in this town. If you can sort through the strangess, he might have some stories of his own. (mental roll, bonus if you suggest a way to appeal to him)

"Last night I had to take care of a patient who became aggressive and violent, almost feral. If this is the curse you are referring to and why you gave me the cage, then I believe it is within your best interest to tell me as much you can to rid this town of whatever blights it."

>>4398721
>>4398741
>>4398753
Seconding the further inquiry into the curse, the cage, and the patient. If he becomes hostile though we need to book it. Also curious about the tea, can we look at the leaves? This seems sketchy af

>>4398721
Let's not spill our guts to this guy eh? I would ask him more about the books and scattered papers but something tells me he will be killed off soon so we will be able to look ourselves eventually.
>"Why would you give me, of all people, a cage?"

>>4398741
>>4398753
>>4398762
>>4398943
Going with a mixture of everything: the dominant choice will be the main emphasis. We'll ask what he meant by "curse" as well, why he gave us the cage, and look into the mug. Since a couple of people seem suspicious, that will be reflected in the response as well.

I'll begin writing a couple of hours later, but for now I need 3 rolls of 1d100+6.

DC to beat is 60 (50+10).

+20 = Subject is paranoid, suspicious of everything.
-5 = Write-in mentioning "curses" and aggression.
-5 = Acting suspicious yourself. He appreciates that.

Rolled 44 + 6 (1d100 + 6)

>>4399812

Rolled 14 + 6 (1d100 + 6)

>>4399812

Rolled 87 + 6 (1d100 + 6)

>>4399812

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>>4399848
>>4399867
>>4399879

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WQZmOWK4iDs

Technical Success. +1 to Mental State.

Glancing down into the mug, you see a mixture of leaves that you are mostly unfamiliar with, likely a local grow. One looks somewhat familiar, perhaps a lingonberry leaf, which is used for various minor afflictions: sore throats, headaches, etcetera. Despite the bitterness of the brew, and the suspicion you cast on herbal remedies, you must admit that you feel more pleasant as you drink.

Several questions flood your mind, but you decide to start simple: "Why would you give me, of all people, a cage?"

Sitting forward in his chair intensely, the man answers, "You're familiar with its application. You come from the city, after all."

"I'm afraid I don't follow," you reply.

"Enough playing dumb, man!" Joshua exclaims, suddenly enough to make you jump. "You're an escapee from one of the largest cages around. You're a city man, so I gave you the cage — why —" Taken aback, he stumbles on his words. "Why would I trust wild folk to cage their own kind?"

"Is the cage some sort of metaphor, then? And what's this about a curse, is that a metaphor as well?" With a mixture of impatience and concern for your own safety, you glance toward the front door. "I don't mean to be awfully rude, sir, but I simply don't discuss much philosophy with people."

"For the love of — damn you." An irritated sigh escapes from the metalsmith's mouth, and he takes a sip of tea. "I knew talking to a dandy would be a proper bitch, but I didn't think it'd be this hard." He pauses, then speaks slowly as if explaining a difficult concept to a child: "The cage I gave you is an object. The one you came from is real too. Somehow, you're too thick — I'll calm down. You're too *nearsighted* to see the bars, I guess, but you slipped between them anyway."

Dumbfounded, you let him go on his rant and resolve to treat the conversation with more finesse in the future. "The curse, like I said, is being aware. Knowing everything's gone to absolute Styx. Knowing folks are going wild, going crazy from all the options. They're cursed too, but in the opposite way. All the untapped wilderness gets to their head, they start wanting to take a step too far, and they stop listening to people who read books like myself." Shamelessly, Joshua gestures toward the piles of books and notes in his house.

(1/2?)

>>4400047

Tactfully, you entertain his theory and contribute to it. "Well, I may actually understand what you mean. I can't tell you who this was, or what exactly happened," you begin, watching as Joshua nods along with interest. "Last night, I met a local who quickly turned violent. You said people are 'going wild' and 'crazy from all the options.' Is that..." you let the question hang, unfinished, knowing the man is all too eager to input his own view.

"Exactly. I've only heard secondhand accounts, but the herbalists have seen the victims of the craziness firsthand. Usually too beat up to speak, but sometimes manage to get out the name of their attacker before they go." A grave expression covers Joshua's face, and he lowers his voice. "And the sheriff won't take the evidence."

"Why not?" You ask.

"Always the names of folks who'd gone missing weeks ago. The sheriff doesn't think it's connected: 'couldn't possibly be them, the victims are just dazed from the attack and saying whatever comes to mind.' But it's happened three times now, always a name of someone who hasn't come back to town." Joshua pauses, then crosses his arms for a moment. "No one who's with me on this — and there aren't many who are 'sides the herbalists — can convince him to draw the connection. I even got the deputy on board, still nothing. I figured you would eventually see the craziness, like those asylum tenders in your cities do, and act where our 'law' won't."

Sharing a moment of silence with Joshua, you realize why he's been scowling for most of the conversation. Although you've done him a service by letting him speak his piece, you feel that you've opened the gates for a painful, unpleasant night for this man. -2 to Emotional State.

(Physical State: Fair -4, Mental State: Secure +7, Emotional State: Secure +8)

"Doctor, can I get your name?" He finally asks as you begin to excuse yourself.

"I'm John Kay. Pleasure to meet you, Joshua," you answer with a smile.

"I was a bit of a ratbag for a bit there. I'm just angry, is all, but I appreciate that you took the time to listen. All I ask is that you use that cage some time. You have the resources to prove what I and the herbalists can't. You don't have a master like the deputy does, neither."

That last sentence hangs with you as you leave his home. You don't have a master here, at least not yet. Perhaps you could exercise some of that freedom to do your job more effectively.

--

~1 p.m.

You can only do one large task for the afternoon, but you may add in a few smaller requests if you like.

>Visit the herbalists.
>Visit the town hall.
>Return home. Someone may have visited in that time.
>Write-in.

>>4400050
>>Visit the town hall.

>>4400050
Another edgy write-in, feel free to ignore

>Return home. Someone may have visited in that time.
and we find a note somewhere in/around our place which reads:
>There comes a time when the life we know falls short. We are trapped and look for answers, and we find hope burning in dark places. Only then do we take our first steps to freedom.

>>4400050
>Visit the town hall.

>>4400191
Cool stuff, but I'd like to oppose this for now, and see what is in the town before laying our own paths.

>>4400163
>>4400191
>>4400508
Writing now.

>>4400533
Whoa, my RAM configuration is all fucked up after I messed with it. Going to deal with that first.

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>>4400163
>>4400191
>>4400508

The sky begins to turn dark as the rain picks up. A storm is imminent, but the few townsfolk you see on the way to the town hall appear mostly unconcerned by the weather. Instead, they walk at a brisk pace to their destinations and pay little heed to you. You can't complain about going unnoticed — getting away from nosy socialites was one of the main draws of coming to this rural place.

The town hall is one of the two largest buildings in town, second only to the church. When you walk through the front door, you are impressed by its functionalist design philosophies. The people who built this place, and those who currently maintain it, assuredly have no interest in impressing newcomers with gaudy displays of wealth and status. In the main hall is a woman roughly 20 years your elder sitting behind a small desk, writing something on a piece of paper. Besides the desk, there is little else in the room of note besides a few landscape paintings hung on the wall. You don't recognize the style, so you assume they are local creations. The woman, plain-faced and near emotionless, glances at you over the top of her paper.

"You are the new arrival, John Kay?" She asks monotonously, her fountain pen prepared to resume some clerical task. "The sheriff told me to expect you."

"I am, yes," you say.

"The mayor is in, but Ewart — apologies, the *sheriff* — is not," she explains.

Looking behind the aging woman, you see two doors that are clearly labeled. One reads "Ewart Clay," the other "Theodore Brown." "Well, I can speak to the mayor for now. Where could I find the sheriff, if I might ask?"

The secretary taps the back of the pen on her chin, then scours through her notes. "Seems he's at your house with the deputy," she reports, reading something on the paper. "Two... cadavers, recovered at 11 a.m. 'For Autopsy,' it says."

"I suppose I should get there as soon as possible, then," you remark, turning toward the front door. Just as you do, a well-kept man with far more pleasant features than you have yet seen in this town, emerges from the door marked "Theodore Brown."

(1/2)

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>>4400691
They have them here too, you think, steeling yourself to speak to what you can only assume is a socialite. "Ah!" He exclaims, walking to you with his arm outstretched for a handshake. You oblige.

"Good to meet you, my friend. I'm the mayor. You can call me Ted." Ted releases his grip from you and stands with his arms at his side.

"I'm Dr. Kay. Call me John," you reply.

He nods in acknowledgment, then laughs heartily. "You know, I saw a man missing an arm this morning as I had my walk by the bridge. Seemed he was coming from your side of town. Looks like you've already gotten started."

Choose all that you would like to do or say:
>"I'm sorry, I hear the sheriff has work for me. We should talk some other time."
>"I would like to propose an amendment to our contract. Nothing significant, I just want [state a percentage] of the food and general living supplies to go to my new assistant." (mental roll required)
>"I have a concern about the sheriff. I hear he has been dismissing evidence." (mental roll required)
>Ask about his take on a person: Joshua, the herbalists, some other figure. (these can be people you have not met, but that you can reasonably assume exist, such as a mine boss and priest)
>Ask a question or bring up a topic. (Write-in)

File: Hachita_and_Whitebridge.png (606 KB, 949x511)

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In case anyone is curious, here is what Hachita and Whitebridge look like. Marked on the right is your home. Larger buildings are mostly storefronts and warehouses, smaller buildings are mostly houses. Silver mine and surrounding buildings are not pictured.

>>4400692
>Ask about his take on a person:
Joshua
>Nice talking with you, but I have to find the sheriff

>>4400692
>"I would like to propose an amendment to our contract. I would like an 30% increase to my wage so I can support one assistant."
>strike up conversation about recent happenings in town, what has the mayor had to deal with (ulterior motive: try to get invited into whatever passes as elite inner circle in these parts)

Next update should come a few hours from now, I'll run with both suggestions if there are no others by then.

For reference on your wages: you get paid $50 a week by the local government. This is a pitifully low salary for a doctor, especially a doctor in high demand, so negotiating for higher wages is entirely reasonable. Owning a pre-furnished house and practice in town which is exempt from taxes, and receiving occasional shipments of reserved stock from the general store sweetens the deal somewhat.

>>4401418
Support

>>4400833
>>4401418
>>4401706

I need a roll, 3 1d100+7s. DC to beat is 58 (50+8).

+20 = Although the request is reasonable, he didn't expect you to alter the agreement so soon.
-10 = Small talk to soften him up. (per the write-in)
-2 = Provided the reason for the pay raise (assistant)

In some cases, I will tell you what the degrees of success are if the protagonist could reasonably predict them.

Failure: The pay is non-negotiable, at least for now. Also, you'll cause some offense asking for more.
Technical Success: Less than you asked for, but a pay raise nonetheless.
Success: Exactly what you asked for.
Overwhelming Success: You get a pay raise and make an excellent first impression.

Rolled 70 + 7 (1d100 + 7)

>>4401736

Rolled 23 (1d100)

>>4401736

Rolled 18 + 7 (1d100 + 7)

>>4401736

>>4401757
>>4401759
>>4401770

No worries, still a significant increase from what you had. Writing now.

File: almighty.png (1.17 MB, 1003x430)

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>>4401757
>>4401759
>>4401770

Technical Success. +1 to Mental State.

(Physical State: Lacking -5 (stomach is growling), Mental State: Secure +9, Emotional State: Secure +8)

Instead of delving directly into the financials, you decide to ingratiate yourself with the man who may well hold the lion's share of local power through some old-fashioned small talk. "Yes, that was my doing — believe me, it's not as fun as it sounds."

The mayor chuckles and pats you on the shoulder. "That's the dry humor I was hoping for," he remarks. "I come from the city too, you know. Nothing like an educated man's humor. Gets me every time."

"Truthfully, I'm more interested in what your job entails. What sorts of things happen around here, and who should I get to know?" You ask, painting your voice with genuine interest.

Looking up thoughtfully as if his answers lie on the ceiling, Ted answers, "Let's see... we have the chief miner, the sheriff, the head huntsman and his lodge, the general store owner..." Suddenly dropping his smile, he mentions, "we have a priest as well. Church every Sonday, like any other place."

He clears his throat after a moment of rumination. "Ahem. Apologies. Anyhow, those are the people I associate with on the regular. If you want my advice, stick to the thinkers—" As if to illustrate his point, he places a finger on his forehead. "Stick to the mining chief and storeowner, and leave the hard-nosed other fellows to their work. Oh, and if you meet a miss named Valene, you've struck gold. That woman thinks higher than any one of us, I say." He winks.

You share some more small talk, and learn a little about the major figures in town. Most of the talk amounts to idle gossip, but learning the names should serve you well in the future. Chief miner, Noel. Sheriff, Ewart. Head of the hunters' lodge, Jon Loam. General store owner and canner, Haywood. 'High thinker,' Valene. Remember those names, you think.

Before parting gracefully, you find a lull to make your request. "So, about the contract," you begin.

"Ah! Yes, we really should discuss it. How do you feel about your arrangements so far?"

(1/2)

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>>4401937

"Most everything is going well, thank you." Might as well get to the tough part. "I would simply like to have, say, a thirty percent increase in funding to accommodate an assistant. Her name is Elaine, and I'll have a much easier time with her help."

"Elaine?" Ted replies with a knowing smile. "Ah, she's the sister of my friend I told you about, Valene. Val. Done."

There's no way it was that easy, you consider. These types always press for lower. "So, a thirty percent increase, then?"

"Ah, you're right. I'm afraid I wasn't thinking. I get a little excited when people mention Val. We'll do a 25% increase instead." Not too bad, but you feel that you just talked him down by mentioning the price.

You shouldn't have said anything, idiot, you think to yourself as you leave the house to see that the rainfall has intensified. A sudden crack of thunder sounds from somewhere in the west.

You proceed home.

--

~2 p.m.

When you arrive, you immediately notice a covered wagon parked in the front. Two individuals wearing heavy fur coats and gloves, both quite grizzled, tall, and otherwise physically impressive, wave at you from behind the wagon. It's more of a summoning wave than a polite one.

"My apologies, sirs." you say as you approach the two, who you assume to be the sum of the local law enforcement. "I just met with your secretary, and she told me you wanted to see me."

The older of the two, smaller by a couple inches, taps his foot impatiently and grips the side of the wagon. When you stop by it, you notice a putrid smell coming from within. The cadavers, you deduce.

The younger, larger man speaks up. "We're only here to deliver today's catch," he remarks cavalierly, although there is no humor in his voice. "The worst night in about a month. Man and a woman, but we also found several pieces of skin and assorted body parts just outside of town that could belong to as many as three, maybe four others."

>Suggest the bodies be examined closer to where they'll be buried. You don't want to contaminate anything in your practice. (mental roll required)
>Suggest that the bodies be examined here. You'll cover your face with a mask and go in. (physical roll required)
>Lift the bodies inside with their help. (physical roll required)
>Write-in: questions, make additional requests, etc.

(Tack on additional options that would be easy to accomplish in a short period of time if you want.)

(2/2)

>>4401941
>>Suggest the bodies be examined closer to where they'll be buried. You don't want to contaminate anything in your practice. (mental roll required)

>>4401941
>Suggest the bodies be examined closer to where they'll be buried. You don't want to contaminate anything in your practice. (mental roll required)
And we are gonna have a lunch before we start the autopsies.

>>4401956
>>4402058
Will be writing with this choice next (including the lunch), should be later tonight.

>>4401941
>>Suggest the bodies be examined closer to where they'll be buried. You don't want to contaminate anything in your practice. (mental roll required)

>>4401941
>>Suggest the bodies be examined closer to where they'll be buried. You don't want to contaminate anything in your practice. (mental roll required)

Since I'll be writing this a little later tonight (somewhat busy day), I'll take 3 1d100+9s now and get into the DC when I'm able.

>>4401956
>>4402058
>>4402210
>>4402272

Rolled 68 + 9 (1d100 + 9)

>>4402284

Rolled 54 + 9 (1d100 + 9)

>>4402284

All right, I have some time now. DC to beat is 75 (50+25).

-15 = Showed up late.
-10 = The two are already impatient.

>>4402387
Meant to show + by the DCs.

Rolled 31 + 9 (1d100 + 9)

>>4402284

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>>4402290
>>4402341
>>4402404
Technical Success. +1 to Mental State.

"I'll get to the bodies as soon as possible, gentlemen," you announce. "I just need a moment to eat, then I will attend to them."

The older individual makes a 'hrm' noise and leans against your wall. The younger says nothing, but looks to be hiding mild perturbance.

Deciding to lighten the mood before heading inside, you say graciously, "Ah, I apologize. I have not yet introduced myself. I am the doctor John Kay." You extend your hand for a handshake, and receive no response.

"I don't shake hands, but I'm Mr. Holden, deputy. This here's Mr. Clay, sheriff," says the younger of the two. The sheriff simply purses his lips and looks down at his feet.

Ungracefully, you clear your throat and put on a transparently fake smile, then head indoors. The manners in this town, by God, you think. At least they don't pretend much, I suppose.

To your astonishment, you find that your assistant has already prepared a meal from a combination of canned meat and vegetables (from your own supply) and an assortment of local berries that you do not recognize, seated on the top of a counter containing medical supplies. The assembly may not quite compare to a fresh dinner, but you recognize the effort that went into it all the same.

Elaine stands in a corner, hands interlaced in front of her stomach, a smile creeping onto her mouth. "I would have sent them to you, but I didn't think to ask you where you'd be going today. I hope this makes up for it. I want to help any way I can."

The rude encounter outside escapes your mind as you absorb the kind way this woman treats you. "I should have told you where I was going. My bad, I haven't even thought to train you in your own job. Thank you for the meal."

"I'm just glad I had time to make it," she admits. "I had to step out for a moment to assure Thom and Horace were doing well."

You pause while eating, swallow, and dab your chin and mouth with a cloth. "And were they?"

"Well—" she starts, then cuts herself off. "Horace will be all right. He's not making much sense still, but he's functioning. Thom is a smart boy, and he's taking care of himself all right."

"The ether may well be causing his behavior," you say unconvincingly, justifying Horace's behavior more to yourself than to Elaine. "He will be all right. Just have him visit me tomorrow, and the day after."

--

+5 to Physical State. Short of a nap and a jog, you feel that you've done all you can to keep yourself physically healthy for the time being.

(Physical State: Appropriate +0, Mental State: Fortified +10, Emotional State: Secure +8)

"Right," you say, descending the steps from your home until you reach eye level with the sheriff. "I'm ready, but I must request we take this to the burial site. I have nowhere to preserve rotting corpses."

Derisively, Sheriff Clay huffs, and rolls his eyes, but beckons for you to follow.

(1/3?)

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>>4402547

--

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gObL975Pw28

You soon arrive at the graveyard keeper's shack, a small building that is currently unoccupied. According to the deputy, the keeper usually wakes and comes here in the evening.

The deputy opens the front door halfway, and scans the room. "Yep, that's enough room for everything, I figure. Let me move his table and chair out of the way, and lay down some sheet."

It takes about half an hour, but the room is eventually cleared to place both bodies and all the limbs and viscera neatly across the floor. You can already tell this task will last you until the late evening, or perhaps until nightfall.

Eventually, the sheriff is on his way. He leaves you with Deputy to sort through the morbid gallery together.

"About time," Deputy Holden remarks as he looks out the shack's window and makes certain his boss is gone. "It's no secret, doctor, that I hate that man. Were this an elected position, I would take his spot and run him out of town."

Never have you heard someone express their disdain for a superior so flagrantly. His claim is made even more audacious by the high stakes involved — government officials are often fired for far less. You stop inspecting an arm to look up at the man.

"Are you sure you want to say that now, sir?" You ask, genuinely concerned for the deputy's job security.

"Absolutely. That man is a cretin and a snake, and I say he's a murderer, too." Holden clenches his fist, but still holds it at his side. "I tell you, that Joshua is truly onto something. Those herbalists too. Have you met them yet?"

"I have met Joshua," you admit, now paying no attention to the grisly display below. "Quite abrasive. But you're right, he is certainly onto something."

"He's got one of those brain curses," Holden states matter-of-factly. "Before you send him south-way for asylum, though, listen to the herbalists. They'll confirm. You know what I'm talking about, right?"

"That all the surviving victims, before their deaths, blamed missing persons?" You ask.

Holden's face lights up. "You know, then," he says, almost shouts. "Good on you for not running when you saw 'em. I know it was hard, believe me, but he really does have a brain in that wrinkly bald head of his."

(2/3)

>>4402548

The rest of the conversation is mostly unremarkable, as you must focus on your work. You make the following observations about the loose parts:

Spine, torn forcefully from (unrecovered?) body. Three fingers. One pinky, one ring, one bruised index (damaged in transport?). One whole severed leg in next-to-pristine condition considering, some grayish substance caked, under a bandage, into a small cut (cut presumed unrelated, pre-existing). Spleen, torn. Piece of large intestine, about 8 inches.

And the main event, the two bodies:

Male body: Body likely recovered less than 24 hours after death. Unidentifiable, mutilated face. Adolescent or childlike frame, presumed 12-16 years old. Tall for age. Scars across face, four equidistant. Massive, indicating use of some four-pronged implement or an abnormally large paw. Body mostly intact save for large chunk of torso.

Female body: Body likely recovered less than 24 hours after death. Unidentifiable, large chunk taken from head, missing significant portion of skull and brain matter. Adult frame, thin, mildly malnourished. No claw marks, ligatures, obvious signs of resistance.

>"Where did you recover all this? Are people leaving town and leaving themselves vulnerable to wildlife attacks?"
>"What wildlife could have left this mark?" Point at the marks on the face.
>"Look at the woman. Everything else gives some indication of a struggle, but not this."
>"Please take these notes. That's my official report, and I'll leave the policing to you. I believe my work here is done."
>Ask something else, propose a theory, make another observation (state where you'd like to look — you brought basic surgical equipment in case you want to open something up), or wrap something up to keep for later. (Write-in)

(3/3)

>>4402550
>Ask something else, propose a theory, make another observation
Examine that cut with the greyish stuff. What is it exactly? Take samples

>>4402550
>>"Where did you recover all this? Are people leaving town and leaving themselves vulnerable to wildlife attacks?"
>>"What wildlife could have left this mark?" Point at the marks on the face.

>>4402550
>"Where did you recover all this? Are people leaving town and leaving themselves vulnerable to wildlife attacks?"
>"What wildlife could have left this mark?" Point at the marks on the face.

>>4402550
>"Where did you recover all this? Are people leaving town and leaving themselves vulnerable to wildlife attacks?"
>"What wildlife could have left this mark?" Point at the marks on the face.

>>4402550
Upon parting ways, apologize to deputy for making them wait for you.

We should have a chat with sheriff when we have time. We got acquainted with the Joshua/herbalists/deputy faction, now I'd like to hear sheriff's take on the recent happenings.

Is there some kind of place which serves decent cooked meals or this community is just too small to support that? Eating canned food long-term just won't do.

Also, any native contact? Any indians around?

>>4402758
>>4402790
+1

>>4402758
>>4402790
>>4403043
+1

I'll be running with all the suggestions and write-ins above and replying to everyone when I post — I tend to be busy in the mornings, so probably early afternoon CST.

I really do appreciate that people are coming up with their own questions and theories. I will make sure to confer bonuses and open up more opportunities whenever I see these.

>>4403043
Since I have some time, I'll answer your questions using the knowledge your character possesses:
The Hachitan diet is very high in protein, as it consists mostly of meat from medium to large game. This supply, which is often served fresh on the day of the hunt but otherwise cured or salted, is complemented by local berries and herbs and canned meat and vegetables from the far south. There is a small, mostly self-sustaining community of hunters, fishers, and even growers (when the weather permits) just south of Whitebridge that trades their excess supply. There are no restaurants here, but you have yet to see how open the local hunter's lodge is.
TL;DR: Hunters are almost guaranteed to have fresh food, and the general store will always* have some local food, but mostly canned, cured, and salted foods.

There are many native tribes here, but none remaining in Whitebridge's immediate vicinity. You know nothing about them.

>>4403129
Let's task Elaine with securing a steady supply of fresh meat from the lodge and making meals for you. Or us, if she doesn't already have some kind of arrangement with the hunter's lodge. I assume we can afford all of this without issues.

>>4403149
You can definitely manage this, so I'll make a note of it. It'll cost about 5% of your weekly pay (taking your pay raise into account) to consistently stock fresh meat each week. This would leave you with ~$59, minus whatever you decide to pay your assistant (we'll get into that later).

>>4403129
Can we try to seduce Elaine?

>>4403191
She's married, middle-aged, likely more ugly than beautiful. If we want to go this route let's at least set our sights on something more suitable

>>4403225
It’s a frontier shithole. Slim pickings out here.

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>>4403191
>>4403225
You can certainly try, but there's no guarantee she'll be interested (she's known you for all of a day, and she's been married to him for 11 years). Consider the consequences, but do as you will.

>>4402758
>>4402790
>>4402887
>>4402938
>>4403092
>>4403109

Recalling that the leg had some oddity involving a powder stuffed into an old cut, you return to it and raise the bandage once more. You produce a scalpel and carefully scrape a sample of the substance. As you hold the powder against the natural light shining through the window, you notice the glint of several tiny flecks of metal. You wrap the sample in a cloth for future examination.

Holden approaches your side. "Yep, I've seen that sort of thing before. Some sort of concoction that the herbalists have been touting, say it'll 'protect' your cuts from the elements."

"Maybe the powder is involved. Maybe it really does have healing, or 'protective,' properties. I don't know," you admit. "The leg is in perfect shape besides the pre-existing cut. The cut is clean, there are no attempts at further mutilation, no signs that it was damaged when severed. I think it was deliberately removed."

"What I'm hearing is that some sort of intelligence was involved. At least could have been." The deputy posits. He sounds incensed, but it doesn't seem to be directed at you.

"It's possible," you claim, still uncertain. "Well, what I'm interested in, that may support that theory—" you kneel by the bodies, and point at the claw mark on the male's face. "—is this. The cuts are truly huge, probably produced by a hand the size of his face. What wildlife could have left this mark?"

"No clue," he confesses after a moment of thought. "I suppose a bear could, but... well, they're much farther west. This body was recovered only a mile away from town. We only go out of our way about a mile, at most, when we're looking for bodies in the morning."

Mulling around some theories that go nowhere, you just sit and stare at the marks for a moment. "That raises another question. Where are you finding these people, exactly?"

"Never far from town, but still too far. If that makes any sense." It makes some, but you allow him to explain. "Not one hunter has been found dead, probably because they know what they're doing. But no one besides a hunter, or a trader to the town just south, should be going that far out. And it's always westward."

(1/2)

>>4403341

What draws people to the west? You ask yourself. None of it makes any sense. These hardy folk should know better than to take leisure trips at night, especially considering the circumstances.

Left with more questions than answers, you eventually pack up your tools, along with the new sample, and begin to head head home.

"Oh, and I'm very sorry for keeping you waiting," you say earnestly to Deputy Holden. He just waves dismissively and says "'s'fine."

On the way back, you find yourself making a mental note of everything you witnessed. +3 to Mental State. Still, you feel distressed by the gory images left in your brain. -3 to Emotional State.

The deputy stays put to brief the graveyard keeper later on.

--
~6 p.m.

When you open your front door, you see that Elaine is seated on one of your leather chairs, staring down at a ring on her left hand. It's a fine silver band. You assume it to be her wedding ring.

"I tidied everything I could," she says solemnly without making any effort to look at you. Must be thinking about her husband, you think.

"Ah, very good," you respond, taking a seat on the chair beside her and relaxing. +2 to Physical State.

(Physical State: Appropriate +2, Mental State: Fortified +13, Emotional State: Secure +5)

"My family is going through some trouble," she states after a period of silent lounging. "My sister, Val, I haven't checked up on her in a while. And my husband, in the state he's in..." She stops abruptly and rubs her temples. "Nevermind. Anyhow, my sister. The last time I spoke to her, just two weeks ago, she just seemed so strange. I think something may be wrong, doctor."

Concerned, you quickly ask, "how do you mean?"

"She's just... I don't know how to describe it. Jittery, always focused on doing something around the house as long as it meant avoiding conversation. Didn't seem interested in me like she used to be. I spoke to her about getting a husband, she's 26 and still putting in so little effort to marry. She's — I don't know."

(2/3, split the posts too early)

>>4403343

Choose something from each category:

Valene:
>"I will speak to her."
>"She's a grown woman now. If she's somehow sick, she'll come see me herself."

Fresh Meat:
Would you like to spend 5% of your weekly salary on fresh meat from the lodge? You will receive a more substantial bonus to Physical Status for eating game meat. Otherwise, you will rely on canned food from the general store.
>Yes.
>No.

Elaine's Payment:
>Food and basic living supplies, enough for her family.
>10% of your weekly salary.
>15% of your weekly salary.
>20% of your weekly salary.
>Some other percentage (write-in).

Evening Tasks:
>Relax here with some whisky and tobacco, speak to your assistant. (add anything you would like to say to her. Otherwise, I will come up with some random topics)
>Go back out and visit the herbalists.
>Go out and visit somewhere you've seen or heard about in passing (the silver mine, the church, the hunter's lodge, the general store...)

(3/3)

>>4403345
>"I will speak to her."
Plot hook ahoy.

>Yes.
Awoo.

>15% of your weekly salary.
We don't want to breed resentment, and we have free room and board, so we should have the wiggle room.

>Go back out and visit the herbalists.
Since they seem to know a lot about what goes on up here.

>>4403345
>>4403350
Seconding all of this. Let's spend at least a few minutes relaxing though, maybe just enough for a glass of whiskey and a little smalltalk, if possible? Otherwise going to the herbalists is fine.

>>4403345
>"I will speak to her."
If she's still there.

>Fresh Meat
>No.
At least, not until the obvious 'hunters never get killed' hook gets resolved.

>Elaine's Payment
Sure, let's go with 15%, but without hard numbers this sounds vague. What's one (silver?) dollar worth here?

>Evening Tasks
I'd visit hunters' lodge. They may have either seen the missing people in the wild and know how to avoid them. Or they may have tried to help and Deputy brought us the results. Or worse.

>>4403345
>"I will speak to her."
>Yes.
>15% of your weekly salary
>Go to sheriff, apologize for letting him wait, bring a whisky and tobacco along. Okay if deputy or secretary or whoever joins us but ultimately we want a private chat with sheriff about his take on what's happening in town.

>>4403499
$1 in Hachita is roughly equivalent to the current buying power of $21 USD. That means that, in modern, real-world terms, you make about ~$65,000 a year. Not bad, especially considering the low cost of living, but very low for your profession.

After the pay raise you negotiated, your weekly pay is $62.5.

This will probably be the only update for the day, just so everyone knows.

>>4403345
>"I will speak to her."
>Yes.
>10% of your weekly salary.
>Relax here with some whisky and tobacco, speak to your assistant. (add anything you would like to say to her. Otherwise, I will come up with some random topics)
Seduce, offer more money if she’s willing

>>4403519
So we make $1,312 per week, and we'd be paying Elaine $197 per week, or ~$10,000 a year, at 15%.

>>4403520
Voting against seduce. Let's not go around sleeping with married women.

Voting against seducing Elaine.

>>4403520
Also voting against seducing Elaine. Out of all the shit going on in this quest, getting with a married woman is at the absolute bottom of my list for anything I'd want to pursue.

Expect an update later today that brings us to, or close to, the last decision of Day 1. As much as I'd like to update more than 1-3 times in a session, I'm a slow writer and I simply don't have that kind of time on my hands at the moment.

Writing now, will ping all the voters when I'm done.

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>>4403350
>>4403490
>>4403499
>>4403505
>>4403520

Although the request was sprung on you quite abruptly, you reason that the task shouldn't take overly long. Plus, you need to justify your salary, and this task may just be fit for a man of your skills. "I will speak to her," you promise. Elaine smiles, her eyes still downcast.

"Thank you. I couldn't ask for more," she says. "Perhaps you should go tomorrow. It's starting to get late."

"There are a few other things I've been considering since earlier today. I can already tell I'll be running myself ragged, so I want to provide myself with adequate protein. I need you to start purchasing fresh meat from the hunters daily, enough for the both of us. I'll start setting aside a portion of my salary as soon as I receive my first payment." Crossing your legs, you think back to your contract and try to remember when the payment should be. "I believe it's to be delivered here every Friday."

Elaine nods in agreement, now looking at you intently. "Very well."

"And, of course, the matter of your payment. How does 9 dollars a week sound to you?" Her eyebrows shoot up, and she sits in awed silence for a moment.

"I-I would be honored, sir," she stammers with genuine appreciation in her voice. "I've never been paid for anything before. You've done so much for me and my family. I swear I'll tell everyone I know about your generosity."

--
~7 p.m.

Before leaving to wrap up the day's errands, you send Elaine off for the night to enjoy a moment of peace by the hearth with your oldest, truest friends, Forester Old Reserve and Hayes Tobacco Co. The whisky complements the heat of the flame well, and you make a note to think only of pleasant memories, such as rambunctious nights with the very same brand of whisky, and the very same brand of tobacco, shared with the childhood friends you were forced to abandon when you moved to the big city to study medicine. +5 to Emotional State.

When the pipe is introduced, your thoughts turn blank. This is not a matter of any concern — the moment of reflection ran its course, and now you must be clear and wholesome. For the rest of the hour, all that fills your head, and all that leaves it, is smoke. +2 to Mental State.

(1/2)

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>>4405185

--
~7:15 p.m.

The time is beginning to catch up with you. It's already dark out, and you have done a lot of moving today. -2 to Physical State, mitigated by recent bonuses.

(Physical State: Appropriate +0, Mental State: Excellent +15, Emotional State: Fortified +10)

After some searching, you find a small shack in the northern part of town. The sign at the front reads: "Marianne, Gabriel — Tinctures, Herbs."

Theme: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Fp4LZhWap8M&list=PLTHf0Ok7IXKx0ZncyYs0FeXIHouDPiSdw&index=23

Opening the front door — a pitiful makeshift thing — you see a small, thin yet shapely woman sitting on the dirt floor with a mortar and pestle. The shelves on the walls, present on each side of the building, are lined with various bottles, potted plants, and bundles of sage. The smell is pleasant, the shelves neatly arranged, and the atmosphere almost pastoral. There are barely-visible traces of incense in the air, being burned by the woman. The exterior doesn't do it justice, you think.

The woman continues looking down at her work. "We will be closed soon, but I have a minute," she declares. She looks up to see you standing at the door. "Oh! I did not know it was you. I believe we have not yet met, but my cousin Gabe helped you move in yesterday." Her tone changes. Her voice is smooth, her speech articulate and precise. This is not the conduct you expected of a woman you assumed to be an eccentric quack.

"Hello," you say, approaching slowly. "I'm Dr. John Kay."

"Marianne," she replies simply, still remaining mostly focused on her work. "I'm glad you arrived, truly. I have seen so much death the last few months. One of my neighbors —" Marianne's voice hitches. She stops her work, looks directly down into her lap, then places a hand over her eyes. She ultimately fails to finish the thought. "Well. Do you like it here?"

Do you like it here?
>"I love it here. Being miles away from the ponces down south is a dream come true."
>"I would if not for the troubles."
>"Truthfully, I don't. I fear for my life, and now I fear for others'. I feel... that I have made a mistake coming here."
>Write-in.

Ask some questions:
>"I heard you have some sort of theory regarding the patients. Joshua and Deputy Holden seem to want me on their side, so I'd like to hear more about it."
>Engage in debate about the efficacy of... whatever it is she does here. Herbs certainly can have positive effects on people, but they're no cure.
>Try to keep an open mind. Learn more about her work, and say nothing backhanded.
>Ask about her take on a person. (state name or the person's profession)
>Write-in.

You may also inquire about her selection and/or purchase something.

>>4405188
Damn you OP you make it sound like a bottle of hard liquor and a tobacco are solution to all of life's problems. Makes me wanna get drunk..

>"Well. Do you like it here?"
Dodge the question.

>"I heard you have some sort of theory regarding the patients. Joshua and Deputy Holden seem to want me on their side, so I'd like to hear more about it."
but only based on assumption this is not a hard lock-in to this faction

>Try to keep an open mind. Learn more about her work, and say nothing backhanded.
Let's ask about some of the herbs she has, sure some have pretty interesting smell! Also ...why is she sitting on a ground? Surely tables and chairs aren't that hard to come by in these parts?

>>4405188
Been a busy day for me too OP. Good stuff, and appreciate the longer updates.

>>4405249
Seconding all of this. Let's keep the tone conversational, and try not to sound too invasive.

>>4405249
Cool with this.

>>4405249
Support

>>4405249
+1

>>4405249
>>4405482
>>4405610
>>4405918
>>4405978

Will be writing with this set of decisions in a few hours. Today, I'll be shooting to end Day 1 with however many updates that takes.

>>4405249
As long as you know how to moderate, they certainly help.

>>4405249
>>4405482
>>4405610
>>4405918
>>4405978

Thinking on the question for a moment, you find that you don't have an easy answer. Altogether, you just want to remain on task. "I'll have to get back to you on that," you reply. Before the moment has any opportunity to turn awkward, you point at a collection of shrub herbs in a jar, gray-branched with wide leaves and brownish flowers, and ask, "what are these called?"

Your expert deflection has saved you from a potential Emotional State malus.

Without looking up fully, as if she has taken account of your position in the room, Marriane states, "'Grand' soapberry."

You have a polite conversation about the plants, berries, and flowers on display. In the process, you learn about a few local herbs that you were previously unfamiliar with.

At this "practice," soapberry is most often used to brew a liquid that washes cuts. It can also be used to stave off symptoms of some respiratory issues. "Quaggy rumex" is used for stomach and bladder problems, but they most often use it to lessen the negative effects of hangovers. "Angelique root" is used to create stimulant beverages and poultices that reduce pain. The conversation turns a little shallow, and you say your "hmm"s and "ah"s as it draws out.

Before turning the conversation to the more macabre topics you have in mind, you playfully ask, "and you do all this sitting on the floor?" I really don't get it, you think.

"When I am not here, mixing curatives and arranging my workspace, I am picking plants or sleeping. When I am at church, I stand." The young woman turns from her work, and looks you deeply in the eyes. With conviction in her voice, she explains, "my uncle, Gabriel's father, taught us all life emerges from the land, resides upon it for the time it is allowed, and eventually returns to it. I live in the carcass of a tree, and despoil and imprison plant life for a living. I have no choice but to disrespect the earth in this way, but I can at least avoid any unnecessary affronts. A chair is not essential to my living, neither is a bed."

Truthfully, you expected to hear that she simply has some odd preferences regarding comfort, or perhaps a rare medical condition. Instead, you received an explanation strikes you as bizarre, pseudo-spiritualistic rambling. You already know you'll be racking your brain about this later. -3 to Mental State.

(1/2)

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>>4406327

Without any comment on Marianne's questionable philosophy, you opt to press on to the most important topic currently on your mind. "I heard you have some sort of theory regarding the patients. Joshua and Deputy Holden seem to want me on their side, so I'd like to hear more about it." You speak clinically and precisely to avoid giving off the impression that you feel strongly one way or another.

The herbalist sets her tools to the side and stands. Her bottom lip is sucked in, usually an indication that someone is thinking deeply or carefully considering their choice of words. "A theory," she repeats. "It would be a theory indeed, had I not heard the proof with my own ears, from people I have known my whole life."

You consider asking a follow-up question, but decide to allow Marianne to press on instead. "They gave names. Three people, one my next-door neighbor and... friend." Tears begin to well in her eyes as she says this. Reflexively, you adopt a more sympathetic expression. "Oliver Reed, Beatrice Reed, and Finn Walsh. All newcomers to town. Oliver and Finn were hands recently hired by the owner of the general store. Beatrice was Oliver's wife. They all went missing."

Marianne sucks in some air through her nose, then turns away to face a wall.

"The victims, who were each recovered shortly after they went missing, in the early morning..." She pauses, and gently rubs her forehead. "They were all in so much pain. But they named names. Finn spoke of 'monsters.' I... all I know is, there is a pattern. And the sheriff has no reason to ignore it."

--
8:30 p.m.

Eventually, you leave the woman to her thoughts. Although the information is extremely important, you feel that you are opening wounds by bringing up these touchy subjects. -3 to Emotional State.

I swear there was something else I was going to ask her. Maybe it just wasn't important. -1 to Mental State.

(Physical State: Fair -2 (tiredness is slowly taking hold), Mental State: Fortified +11, Emotional State: Secure +7)

>Return home. It's too late to be out, and the thunder is sounding once more.
>She mentioned her "next-door" neighbor twice. Investigate the closest residence. (??? roll required)
>The bodies are usually recovered just west of town, in the early morning. Something draws people that way, presumably at night. Investigate. (??? roll required)
>Write-in. Follow another lead, pester someone at night, etc.

>>4406332
>The bodies are usually recovered just west of town, in the early morning. Something draws people that way, presumably at night. Investigate. (??? roll required)
Time-sensitive, unlike the neighbor.

>Return home. It's too late to be out, and the thunder is sounding once more.

>>4406332
>The bodies are usually recovered just west of town, in the early morning. Something draws people that way, presumably at night. Investigate. (??? roll required)

>>4406404
>>4406487
>>4406573

I need 3 rolls of 1d100 (hidden bonus/malus will be applied after rolls). DC to beat is 69 (50+19).

+15 = Low visibility.
+10 = Another group of storm clouds is rolling in. The thunder will make it difficult to hear.
-6 = You have kept your composure well today.

Rolled 17 (1d100)

>>4406582

Rolled 8 (1d100)

>>4406582

>>4406584
bro I am sorry

>>4406584
>>4406586
>>4406610

The roll was for Mental State. Bonus of +11 applied to all rolls (for all the good that does, considering how far off the first two were).

Congratulations on the close save. Writing soon, will reply to everyone when finished.

>>4406614
What was the +11 bonus for?

>>4406618
The roll was revealed to be for Mental State, which is currently at +11. I didn't reveal that the roll would receive this bonus because the protagonist could not reasonably predict ahead of time whether the situation would require a mental, emotional, or physical response.

>>4406610
I just realized that you're the same guy who saved the first patient. You have a knack for this rolling thing.

(update still underway)

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>>4406584
>>4406586
>>4406610

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6M4IRbGJxqA

Technical Success.

A few drops of rain hit your shoulder as you move westward, and only minutes later you find that the storm has intensified past the point where any reasonable human being would press through it. The chilling winds, roaring thunder, and oppressive precipitation unsettle you greatly, but you find it necessary to press forward. Only when you properly reach the western outskirts of town do you question your actions.

Have you lost all sense, man? You ask yourself, though you ultimately shrug off the concern and make no effort to answer. Without further thought, you continue walking until the buildings are gone from sight. You cast your eyes forward and slightly down, just enough that your attention is split evenly between the ground and the sights ahead. A sudden heaviness overcomes you.

This is a good spot to rest. I need to be ready for the hunt tomorrow. You drop onto your back, splashing a mass of mud and dirty water across your trousers and vest. Before have a chance to close your eyes, you recognize the sound of water being splashed underfoot. You raise your head and catch a glimpse of a humanlike figure in the east.

Pulling yourself up and fixing eyes on the figure, you quickly clench your fists and shift your legs to allow for greater stability should you have to defend yourself. "Who are you?!" You shout.

"Gabe!" The figure yells in response. The figure soon comes into view. A skinny man with bulgy ears, only a couple years your younger, stops at a reasonable distance. You recognize him as one of the folks who helped you move in, apparently the cousin of the female herbalist you met earlier.

The man starts to come closer. "Gabe," you repeat, glancing left and right frenetically. Fear sets in. -10 to Mental State. "Gabe, what... why the fuck are we out here?"

Gabe's eyes widen, his pupils dilated to an almost inhuman degree. "What... I don't know. I don't know why. I thought I was supposed to get some rest before the hunt."

(1/2)

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>>4406699

You are about to respond, when you spot a figure coming from the mountains to the north out of the corner of your eye. In this darkness, you are unable to place any features for certain, but you believe it to be vaguely humanoid.

"Run," is all you manage to say to the other man before taking off in a dead sprint toward town. There is no time to think.

--
~10 p.m.

Huffing in exhaustion and shaking in terror, you struggle with your doorknob for a solid minute before finally opening it and rushing inside. Thousands of overlapping thoughts fill your mind. Did the other man make it? What was that thing? Did I almost die? Why compelled me to go west? I'm just imagining things. I'm just imagining things. -5 to Mental State. -10 to Physical State. -2 to Emotional State.

(Physical State: Abysmal -12, Mental State: Fair -4, Emotional State: Secure +7)

Heedless of the fact that you are utterly soaked and coated from head to toe in mud, you press your back to the door and slide down to a sitting position.

One thought prevails over all. Why did I come here?

Why?
>Agreeability. I just do what I'm told. By my peers, by society.
>Sense of duty. I am a uniquely-abled individual. People need my help.
>For the reason all other men do: to escape the cruel lie of civilized life and return to the wild, where man was destined to roam.
>Write-in.

What do you do?
>Just sleep. Maybe your mind was playing tricks on you.
>Drink to forget. Smoke to clear the mind. (emotional roll required to prevent overdrinking)
>Grab the gun, load it. Stay by the front door all night. (physical roll required to stay awake)
>Write-in.

>>4406699

Missed some slight typos with this one, woops.

>>4406702
Fuck, shit just got real.

>I felt trapped.
>Drink ourselves to sleep.

>>4406728
Supporting this.
Also, OP, this is great so far.

>>4406752
Thanks!

I'll leave this vote open for maybe an hour or two, and probably hopefully write the last update of the night.

>>4406728
>>4406752
Locking this in 10 minutes and moving forward if there are no new votes.

>>4406728
>>4406752
I need 3 1d100-7s (dice+1d100+-7 in the field). DC to beat is 60 (50+10).

+20 = Still on edge. You'll feel tempted to drink more.
-5 = Drinking to sleep, not to forget (per the write-in).
-5 = Have remained emotionally stable for most the day.

Last roll of the day for the last update.

Rolled 24 - 7 (1d100 - 7)

>>4406925

Oh fuck, Emotional State actually gets a bonus instead of a malus. It's actually a +7.

Rolled 63 + 7 (1d100 + 7)

>>4406925

>>4406943
Agreed, can't think of a stronger character in those movies.

>>4406943
>>4406948
>>4406976
Writing now, will reply to you three again when done.

My last post may have been a little unclear. This is the last update of the day, not the last update of the thread. We'll probably go until we're close to the last page of the board.

By the way, I won't be posting tomorrow, but I will be running again on Monday.

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>>4406943
>>4406948
>>4406976

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nZ_LJZTvRJE

Technical Success. For the first time in your life, you will use the drink as a tool rather than a source of light-hearted entertainment. -3 to Mental State.

I felt trapped back there. No matter which way I looked, all I ever saw was more and more city. More brick, more cobblestone. It was suffocating. I felt like the buildings could fall on me at any time, and I'd be buried under a mountain of rubber with people I despised. It was Styx. I had to get away.

This is perhaps the first time you have been honest with yourself since coming here. It's cathartic. +3 to Emotional State.

Your shoes are encased in several layers of muck. You kick them off, and throw off your shirt and vest as well, leaving on only your pants. The room swirls rapidly as you start to stand, and you quickly slip on the puddle below and fall onto your back. The second attempt to stand, using the wall as assistance, is more successful. Like a geriatric drunkard, you shamble to the liquor supply as your head sways from side to side.

The bottle slides from your palm as you grab it, and nearly drops to the ground, but you manage to catch it by the neck with your left hand. "Fucking cunt," you exclaim, then kick the wall as hard as you can manage. You take a deep breath and nearly choke as you inhale. If not for your relative emotional stability, you would be bawling right now.
As you take a deep swig from the bottle, you see the drink for what it really is. There is no one to impress here with your refined palate. It's rough. I'm sure I'll enjoy it next time, when the mood is right. But right now, this just tastes like a mixture of wood and fire.

--
~11 p.m.

The drink always gets its man. Your pessimism passes as time elapses, and you eventually give no heed to the taste or the feeling. Sitting upright on the edge of your bed, bottle in hand, you start to slink back. You close your eyes, then fall the rest of the way and hit your head on the wall. You grumble and suffer the discomfort for a moment, but soon decide this position is not viable. After capping the bottle and setting it label-down on the ground, you assume a proper sleeping position and fade away.

--
Your vision is hazy, and your depth perception poor, but you determine that you are standing in a verdant countryside where many distinct types of grass and weeds overlap. The ground is flat, although the variation in textures gives off the illusion that some areas are higher or lower elevation than others. You look up to the blue sky. It looks lower than usual. When you look down, you find a human-sized bird cage missing a few rungs. Vines wrap around and claim ownership of the rungs that remain.

(1/2)

>>4407069

--
+10 to Physical State. God only knows how long you slept in.

(Physical State: Fair -2, Mental State: Lacking -7, Emotional State: Fortified +10)

~??? a.m. (P.M.?), Thursday.

You awaken to the sound of a loud rapping at your front door. The rapping stops for a few minutes, then resumes at the same pace as before.

>Put on some clean clothes and answer the door. (mental roll required)
>Put on some new clothes, and creep out the window in your room. You need some alone time. A walk sounds appropriate.
>Don't acknowledge the knocking. Start writing a letter addressing (sheriff, mayor, or someone else with authority) demanding that someone look into... whatever it is you saw last night.
>Write-in.

>>4407069
I meant to say mountain of rubble, not rubber. Make sure you get enough sleep, folks, you'll start talking nonsense if you don't.

>>4407072
>Put on some clean clothes and answer the door. (mental roll required)
Let's be functional today.

>>4407072
>>Put on some clean clothes and answer the door. (mental roll required)

>Put on some clean clothes and answer the door. (mental roll required)

>>4407128
>>4407169
>>4407349
Can't update today, but I can certainly take 3 1d100-7 rolls. DC to beat is 55 (50+5).

+10 = Delirious, a little sick to your stomach, and experiencing some brain fog.
-5 = Too delirious to think deeply about what happened last night.

Rolled 93 (1d100)

>>4407421
secretly hoping we fail the roll

Rolled 46 (1d100)

>>4407421

Rolled 12 (1d100)

>>4407421

>>4407452
You had one job.

Should be two updates today, will start writing in a couple of hours or so.

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>>4407452
>>4407460
>>4407486
>>4407518

Technical Success. You get along, but not without difficulty. +1 to Mental State.

Assuming that you have already wasted minutes of your visitor's time, you make no effort to clean your messes from the day before and throw on an outfit, including a thick beige coat and pleated undershirt that you meant to save for a cold midwinter day.

You trudge toward the door and stand in front of it, motionless, as you draw mental pictures of what sort of man or woman stands at the other side. It could be Elaine, the sheriff, Horace, or someone you haven't met yet. Eventually you dismiss this thought exercise as a pointless distraction and grab the knob. With bated breath and shuttered eyes, you slowly pull the door open.

The familiar voice of a woman hits your ears. "Doctor? Are you all right?"

Opening your eyes, you are first assaulted by the brightness of the morning (afternoon?) sun. Then, you see Elaine. Her face is painted with a concerned expression. Down the stairs, she is joined by her husband.

Elaine continues speaking as you prop yourself against the doorframe and dizzily look between her and her husband. "A gentleman, the herbalist, told me he wanted to talk to you. I felt it was appropriate as your..." She pauses, and looks away from you. "...assistant," she finally says with some uncertainty, "to try to get your attention on his behalf." He lived. Maybe I saved him from his trance. Maybe we saved each other, you think. +5 to Mental State.

(Physical State: Fair -2, Mental State: Appropriate +0, Emotional State: Fortified +10)


"What time is it?" You ask, eager to get that matter out of the way.

"It's about noon," she replies meekly. "I've been back and forth between the house today trying to get your attention, but I didn't want to disturb you." She suddenly stops this line of thought. "Your pupils... you look as if you've seen Styx itself."

You make a nasty hacking noise as you try to clear your throat well enough to talk. "I feel as if I have. But we'll get into that later. Please, bring your husband in so I can check on him. I'll try to answer the door on time in the future."

"I still have the job, then?" Elaine asks sanguinely.

The question catches you off guard. "What — yes. Yes, you do."

--
~12 p.m.

Elaine says nothing of the mess you made last night, and wordlessly begins setting to the dirty floor with a rag. You devise the theory that her work ethic is the result of some sort of northern virtue, or she just wants to distract herself from something else. Whatever the case, it's a welcome improvement from the poor help you've received in the past.

(1/2)

>>4409351

"So, how are we feeling today?" You ask the gruff man as he seats himself. You prepare a shot of morphine for his good arm.

Horace grumbles, and shifts around restlessly in his chair. "I still feel the arm you stole from me."

Taken aback, you stop in place and look at him with disbelief. "You arm was infected with something I've never seen before, my good man. It was causing you pain, and turning you violent. I may have saved your life."

He narrows his eyes. "I wasn't complaining. Don't give me a shot today. I want to be reminded of my failure until I die."

The ether can't possibly still be in effect. His mind is in disrepair, somehow, you admit to yourself.

Will you give Horace his daily shot?
>Yes.
>No.

Will you be honest with your assistant?
>Tell her it was a rough night. You felt homesick, and had a few too many. (mental roll required to pull off the bluff)
>Tell her some truth, but omit one or all of the following details that you think she will not believe or should not know about: the "call of the west," the creature, or Gabe's involvement. (roll may or may not be required, depending on what you omit)
>Tell her everything. Omit nothing. (emotional roll required to maintain composure)

What will be your first task of the day?
>"I'll be visiting Gabe first. If anyone shows up, come notify me."
>"I'll start my day off by visiting your sister."
>"Come with me. We're going to go talk to your sister together."
>Write-in.

(2/2)

>>4409353
>Yes
>Tell her everything. Omit nothing. (emotional roll required to maintain composure)
>"I'll be visiting Gabe first. If anyone shows up, come notify me."

>>4409353
>No
But try to nonverbally confirm with Elaine it's okay not to give him the shot.

>Tell her some truth, but omit the creature (roll may or may not be required, depending on what you omit)
Also let's make sure we are alone and she will keep her mouth shut before telling her anything.
When we were talking with Mari, did we notice a ring on her hand or some other indication she is taken? If not, I vote for eventually spilling our beans to her.

>"I'll be visiting Gabe first. If anyone shows up, come notify me."
Also want to talk to her sister but in the evening ideally.

>>4409353
>Will you give Horace his daily shot?
Ensure that he's giving informed consent. Don't give him the shot. He may change his tune by tomorrow.

>Will you be honest with your assistant?
Tell her as much as we comfortably can. Don't let her pressure is into getting into details that will make us overly emotional-- keep it clinical.

>What will be your first task of the day?
>"I'll be visiting Gabe first. If anyone shows up, come notify me."
Seconding that I'd like to visit the sister in the evening if possible, but lets see how this goes first.

>>4409389
>>4409405
>>4409437

Writing with...

>No (+checking in with Elaine)
>Telling the truth, omitting the creature and anything stressful (the more supernatural the elements mentioned, the higher roll involved to keep control of your emotions — you will not need a roll due to these choices)
>Gabe first, sister to be provided as a late afternoon/evening option.

Writing the next update now.

>>4409405
You didn't even think to check, or if you saw then you don't remember it now. All you noticed about her hands is that they were dirty, rough, and calloused, like most in this town.

>>4409389
>>4409405
>>4409437


Patients often decline medication out of suspicion of its effects or to demonstrate masculine virtue. Those who insist on avoiding it usually cave once their symptoms intensify. This particular case is unusual, as the "gentleman" has declined medication despite the continuation of his symptoms. You find it hard to press the issue, as restraining the man to force treatment may cause more harm than simply allowing him to endure the pain on his own terms.

Nevertheless, you turn to Elaine for input. You look at her quizzically, and receive a similar expression and a subtle shrug in return. Well, that's one vote against and two "abstains," I suppose, you think.

--

Once Horace has been dismissed, you have a brief conversation with your assistant regarding his condition. She makes no effort to hide her pessimism, and you make no effort to rationalize or excuse the strangeness of the situation.

"I've already begun the grieving process," Elaine readily confesses, still working at a stain in the floor. "I feel so guilty, but I have to be ready. I don't think I'll ever know him as the man he used to be again."

"Sometimes that's all you can do. I can still work on him, maybe, if I find some topic of conversation that breaks him out of his — I suppose you could call it a trance," you say. She nods half-heartedly. "Since we're talking about our problems, maybe I should tell you why I was so... unpunctual. And why I've made such a mess."

"Is it the drink?" Elaine asks without a moment's hesitation, as though she has already cracked the case. "My father was a victim. Please, if it's the drink, let me know. I'll talk you out of it if I need to."

"No, I'm quite moderate about that. Well, I suppose I wasn't last night, but you'll understand when I tell you."

Your version of last night's events is mostly truthful, but you omit the parts that might make you sound utterly mad — those about... unnatural things that you can't rationally explain. Instead, you tell her that you investigated a lead regarding the recent deaths that saw you and Gabriel crossing paths. In this version of the story, you spotted some unidentified "predator animal," and sprinted off with the herbalist.

Elaine shakes her head, her mouth slightly open in shock. "I'm so sorry. I don't blame you at all for trying to drink such an awful memory away. I hope talking to the herbalist later on helps calm your nerves." Good, she doesn't doubt me, you think. +2 to Emotional State.

(Physical State: Fair -2, Mental State: Appropriate +0, Emotional State: Fortified +12)

(1/3)

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>>4409762
"Speaking of," you say, eager to change the subject. "I'm going to go see him. Where did he say I should find him?"

"He said he'll be at the saloon for most of the day," she explains, pursing her lips disapprovingly. "I hope he's not taking things too hard." Seems he had the same idea that I did last night, you think to yourself.

--
~1 p.m.

As you swing open the front doors of the saloon, you first notice that the establishment is mostly dead at this time. The only patrons here are Gabe (sitting at the bar), a portly bald man behind the bar, and some old woman occupying a corner table with a book in hand. This being a mining town, you assume the bulk of the patrons must arrive at the end of their shift.

You take a seat next to Gabe, who looks ragged and pitiful, and watch as he stares down into an empty pint glass. The bartender comes by and picks up the glass, then gives you a questioning look that says "are you going to buy anything?" You shake your head, and he moves along.

The herbalist gives you an intense side-eye. "Tell me none of that was real," he demands in a hushed tone. "Tell me I'm not suicidal. I know I'm not."

"It was real. On the bright side, I don't think you're suicidal. I know I'm not," you answer.

"Really?" Gabe says at a normal volume, his voice noticeably more upbeat. "If you're not, then I must not be either. God, I don't know why I went out there, then. I don't think I'll ever be able to do my job again, knowing there are..." He brings his head low to the bar and gestures for you to come closer. When you do, he mutters, "...that there are spirits, out there." He shifts his eyes around, as if he might have just upset one.

As a rational man, with a nevertheless healthy fear of God, you know that "spirits" are a sort of paganism invented by weak and superstitious minds. However, you simply can't bring yourself to fault the man on his claim — you can't point out one passage in the Scripture, or in any book you've read, that explains what you saw last night. Considering the circumstances, just about any theory is bound to sound ignorant.

(2/3)

>>4409764
"I've been thinking all day," Gabe eventually states, his voice still low. Looks to you more like he's been doing something rhymes with "thinking" instead, but you don't call him out. "that there is something I can do. Or that we can do. But I need you to back me up."

"What is it?" You ask.

"The Hachitan governor and his entourage showed up today from the only fort in the colony. Place down south called Fort Valor. I was thinking... we talk to him and the mayor when they're in the same place. They won't like the intrusion one bit, but I know for damn sure the deputy, and that jester who calls himself a sheriff, don't have the manpower nor guns to look into this."

>Agree to the plan. You can't live the rest of your life in fear. (emotional roll required)
>Talk him out of this scheme. Nobody will believe either of you, and you might get a reputation as a crackpot less than a week into your stay here. (mental roll required)
>"You know what? This is our problem. We're going west ourselves and figuring out what happened. We already know what's in store, so we shouldn't be taken by surprise." (physical roll required to exert this sort of confidence and masculine energy)
>"You go if you think you're able. They know you, and I just can't stick my neck out like that yet."

(3/3)

>>4409765
by "they know you" at the end I mean the mayor and the court of public opinion know the herbalist, not that he knows the governor or the entourage (don't want to give off that impression and have it affect the vote)

>Talk him out of this scheme. Nobody will believe either of you, and you might get a reputation as a crackpot less than a week into your stay here. (mental roll required)
Whatever happened yesterday it wasn't real. Just our minds playing tricks on us. We still at denial stage

>>4409802
Down with this.

>>4409765
>Talk him out of this scheme. Nobody will believe either of you, and you might get a reputation as a crackpot less than a week into your stay here. (mental roll required)
As much as I want to bring the authorities into this I think that we'll most likely come off as crazy or drunkards to the most powerful men in the region. It's best to wait until we get proper evidence of what's going on until then.

>>4409802
>>4409849
>>4410240

I will be writing an update later today (possibly in the evening). For now, I can take 3 1d100s. DC to beat is 50 (50+5).

+15 = The drink is lowering his inhibitions.
-5 = Attempt at rationalization. (write-in)
-5 = Brought up the need for evidence. (write-in)

>>4410447
DC to beat is 55*

Rolled 81 (1d100)

>>4410447