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>>4612320
>No time to waste, quicken your pace to the cliffside and jump!
>Carry on and try to feint the hound near the cliff edge, sending it falling into the river.
>Stop and call upon your power, what few words you know, and attempt to dispatch the hound with a spell.

Will update tomorrow, heading to bed for now.

>>4612322
Will post tomorrow, heading to bed for now.

>>4612322
>>No time to waste, quicken your pace to the cliffside and jump!
Bad doggy

>>4612320
>>4612322
When you know:
you just know

>>4612322
>No time to waste, quicken your pace to the cliffside and jump!

>>4612322
>>Stop and call upon your power, what few words you know, and attempt to dispatch the hound with a spell.

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Rolled 1 (1d2)

>>4612343
>>4612383
1
>>4612379
>>4612393
2

>>4612657
>>4612383
>>4612343
The growing sound of the hound's barks and growling provide all the motivation you need as you quicken your pace, sprinting and careening dangerously to avoid the low branches of the last few trees that separate you from the cliff edge. Even in the growing dark you’re beginning to recognize this section of woods, not seen since your early childhood, and with a quick hop over an old rotted out log and a final scraping crash between a close pair of thorny bushes you emerge at the cliff’s edge.

You come to a sudden halt as the stony edge, arms out and extended to maintain balance as you almost fall. An uncontrolled fall would likely mean death. For a moment you take in the surroundings, and try to mentally prepare yourself for the chill of the water. About twenty five meters below you the great river Ghrun flows, a wide and gentle section of the mighty river, and safe enough for diving in happier times… warmer times as well, the bite of winter wind across reminds you. The opposite shore is rocky but simple enough to climb up, and a vast swathe of dark forest lies beyond it. Final rays of light from the setting sun cast a fading orange tint across the sky. Behind you, the war hound is clearing the final stretch, undergrowth rustling and twigs snapping as it plows forward with predatory intent.

You gulp and make the leap, diving feet first and holding onto the brim of your hat with both hands, careful to maintain a grip on the pendant. Robes flutter wildly as you fall, less than ideal attire for diving, and shutting your eyes you brace for the impact and frightful cold.

I need three separate rolls of 1d6. The result is totaled, and lower is better. DC is 11, meets or lower beats.

Rolled 6 (1d6)

>>4612679

Rolled 3 (1d6)

>>4612679

Rolled 4 (1d6)

>>4612679

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>>4612688
>>4612731
>>4612749

>13. Failure by two.
-4 FP from shock and nearly drowning. (FP: 10/14)

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

You splash into the water feet first, piercing the surface like a dart before the billowing drag of your robes and cloak arrest your speed in the freezing chill of the river. The cold hits like a sledgehammer, flooding across your entire body at the moment of submersion, and reflexively you gasp for air. All you get is a mouth full of freezing water, causing you to cough and then instinctively inhale more in a vicious cycle that threatens to overwhelm you in moments. Eyes clenched shut in anticipation of the shock snap open in panic as you struggle to pull yourself to the surface, hands still gripping your hat and pendant. The current isn’t strong here, and fighting through shock induced delirium you manage to surface. Your lungs burn in pain, and you continue to sputter and cough while struggling toward the opposite bank.

Eventually you reach the shallows, shivering and completely soaked in the frigid waters. Half stumbling and half dragging yourself onto the stony shore, you collapse and fall in a slump. Propping yourself against one of the larger grey boulders, a howl prompts you to look back up at the cliff you dove from. The war hound has been joined by another of its kind, and soon another reaches the edge. Their handlers probably won’t be far behind.

The sun finishes setting, the final faint hues of day passing under the horizon, leaving you hunted and shivering in the dark. Your hat is a soaked mess, but you managed to hold onto both it and your mother’s pendant. Perhaps it’s time to make use of its power.

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

Frauke currently understands six words of power, the language of magic. She knows four verbs and two nouns. The most basic of magical spells consists of a verb, a noun, focused intent, and an appropriate quantity of mana. Intent is shaped through hand motions and additional syntactic support. Words are quite expansive in their coverage, and it isn’t uncommon for overlap to exist. The full rules are rather complex, so just pick what sounds most interesting for now.

Verbs: Move, Strengthen, Protect, and one more of…
>Control
>Destroy

Nouns: Magic, and one more of…
>Fire
>Earth
>Air

A few very basic examples: Move+Earth could be used to violently launch a rock at somebody, while Destroy+Magic is the most crude and sledgehammery of counterspells.

>>4612959
>>Control
>Earth

>>4612959
This isn't a vote, just asking for some clarification in the system. See, I would have thought that the combination of Destroy+Magic would have been an offensive spell that only works on magic users or items. So following that logic, then Destroy+Fire would not burn things, rather it would just extinguish fires, correct?

>>4612959
Control Air.
Time to fly and choke a bitch.
Blow that witch and her stupid dog away too.

>>4612999
That is correct, and more flexibly it could be used to freeze something. Destroy+Magic could destroy a magical construct as you suspected, though those are generally bound up with Spirit so it wouldn't be a complete destruction. Often there are multiple combinations that can achieve similar goals, though mana efficiency, casting time, and environmental conditions all play an important role in ideal word choice and combination.

>>4613017
A fun choice, though be warned that direct interference with an non-consenting intelligent being's body both increases the mana requirements of a spell and allows them to attempt to resist it - Unwanted interference with people is hard. There are ways to sort of get around that issue, it just takes a pinch of creativity. Flying just poses a skill and mana issue, but has no other notable complications. Just don't crash.

>>4612999
oh god it's ESO runes. positive/negative words are context dependent. "strengthen" + "fire" is a weapon enchant while "strengthen" + "health" is an armor enchant.

Move/strengthen/protect would seem to cover most of what I'd *try* to use Control for, so Destroy is probably better...? That said, who cares about the meta, my vote is:

>Control
>earth

>>4613017
eh, you've convinced me.

Change mine:>>4613054
to
>Control
>Air

>>4613045
I should clarify a bit about what constitutes direct interference. Every intelligent being has what is essentially a protective aura that clings tightly to their form, an idea tied up in a lot of high end metaphysical stuff that isn't really important right now. So while air in a persons throat and lungs, definitely isn't part of their body, it is protected and directly sucking it out of them would be quite difficult and power intensive. Same goes for clothes and armor. A polearm would only be protected immediately near the wielder's hands, while a very small knife could be totally enveloped. I'm sure people are already thinking of how to mess with this, which is intended.

>>4613054
I'm not familiar with ESO, but this system uses a basic skeleton of rules from runic/syntactic magic from GURPS but then taken to a truly autistic level to create setting flavor and keep magic interestingly constrained. While context dependent stuff does sound very interesting, enchanting a flaming sword works more like this: Create+Magic+Strengthen+Fire.
Now do that loads of times for weeks or months and you have a sword that can pseudo-generate mana and emit flame. You could also drop Strengthen and get a lame weaker version. Adding Earth could make the sword unusually strong and sharp.

>>4613017
>>4613074
>>4612967
Locking in Control. Air probably wins as well, but I'm going to be busy for a bit so I'll leave voting open.

>>4613094
Use control earth to break the cliff beneath the dogs to send them into the river with a good tumble of rocks

>>4612959
Destroy Earth

>>4612967
>>4613107
>>4613146
Finally finished with my readings for today, and it seems that Earth made a comeback while I was busy.

Control and Earth it is then. Plenty of other words to learn in the future.

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>>4613271
HP: 10/10
FP: 10/14
MP: 30/30
Pendant MP: 30/30
Casting is suffering -1 penalty due to your near hypothermia/shivering.

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

You set your soaked hat down among the grey stones and rise slowly to your feet, unsteady and shivering from the frightful cold but filled with new determination. The river and cliff will stop the hounds from immediate pursuit, but there are still others fleeing the mercenaries up there, and three fewer hounds might mean another person escapes. Extending your left arm out you hold up a pale slender thumb and compare it against the dark silhouettes of the war hounds, eyeballing the distance. Muttering as you run through the thaumaturgical formulae in your mind, you think over your options. The distance isn’t too great, perhaps forty meters, and the hounds don’t look to be leaving any time soon. Gestures and clear speech won’t be easy shaking as badly as you are, but even still you make a mischievous grin. It’s all very possible.

Clearing your mind, you shift posture into a familiar casting stance. Right foot forward, left foot back and turn slightly to brace, right arm extended up accusatorially toward the hounds while you grip the pendant in your left hand and raise it slightly behind your head. It’s a staff form and you're working barehanded currently, but it’s what you know and practice means everything. The pulse of mana fills you as you draw from the gem’s power reservoir, turquoise motes glowing as they gather faintly around the pendant and spin in little gusts of arcane wind.

>Strengthen+Move+Magic. Just blow them apart with a mana blast. 24 MP, one meter blast diameter. 4d6 burn (no incendiary effect). TN 12 to cast, 12 to hit.
>Move+Earth. Pull the top of the cliff face down into the water. No direct damage, but probably a lot of incidental injury. 37 MP. TN 13, 13 to hit.
>Control+Earth. Carefully widen and deepen a few of the cliff’s existing cracks, shifting a few areas just so and letting gravity unravel the rest. Potentially the same injury as above. 16 MP. TN 13, 8 to hit.
>Write-in. I’ll happily provide final mana costs and target numbers if you explain your spell idea very clearly.

Hold on any rolling until the choice is finalized.

>>4613366
>>Strengthen+Move+Magic. Just blow them apart with a mana blast. 24 MP, one meter blast diameter. 4d6 burn (no incendiary effect). TN 12 to cast, 12 to hit.

>>4613366
>>Move+Earth. Pull the top of the cliff face down into the water. No direct damage, but probably a lot of incidental injury. 37 MP. TN 13, 13 to hit.
It's roll under, right? So we'll go for the best odds.

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>>4613413
>>4613413
Yes, it is roll under. Move+Earth is the reliable brute force but high mana cost option of these three. Rolls other than damage will always be 3d6 vs. a TN, meets or lower beats.

>>4613413
fwiw that's more mana than we have. Might be about to find out about backblast/paradox haha

>>4613438
Unless players choose a different siphoning path, Frauke is drawing from the pendant's ruby, then her personal reservoir, then her FP, and finally HP. Move+Earth would deplete the ruby and eat into her personal power a bit.

This isn't enough to cause backlash to Frauke, but good prediction. Backlash ("manaburn") does exist, usually as a result of trying to channel ambient mana to make up for a lack of reserves or casting really, really huge spells that are beyond your ability. There are a few other fun circumstances that can cause it as well.

>>4613366
>Strengthen+Move+Magic. Just blow them apart with a mana blast. 24 MP, one meter blast diameter. 4d6 burn (no incendiary effect). TN 12 to cast, 12 to hit.

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>>4613369
>>4613763
Alright, blasting it is. I need three separate rolls of 2d6. The first die of each is for casting, the second is for hitting.

Rolled 1, 3 = 4 (2d6)

>>4613777

Rolled 6, 1 = 7 (2d6)

>>4613777

>>4613777
Under is the goal, right?

>>4613801
Equal to or under. Just need one more pair of rolls.

Rolled 6, 3 = 9 (2d6)

>>4613777

Rolled 3 (1d3)

>>4613783
>>4613796
>>4613810
13, 7. Minor casting failure but would have succeeded if Frauke wasn't shivering so badly. It will hit quite accurately though!
Checking for which effect is reduced: 1 is blast radius, 2 is damage, 3 is range.
Frauke overpaid for range by one bracket, which is generally best practice for uncertain evocations, and so a roll of 3 will essentially have no negative effect.

>>4613810
>>4613801
>>4613796
>>4613783
>>4613763
>>4613438
Could some kind anon roll the 4d6 for the damage?

Rolled 1, 4, 1, 1 = 7 (4d6)

>>4613816

>>4613818
>>4613783
>>4613796
>>4613810
>>4613763
>>4613369

HP: 10/10
FP: 10/14
MP: 30/30
Pendant MP: 6/30
Casting is suffering -1 penalty due to your near hypothermia and shaking.

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

Motes of mana swirl toward your extended hand from the pendant’s ruby, collecting into a floating trio of glowing thaumaturgic runes that buzz with arcane energy. A short spin of your wrist encases the runes in a glowing circle and lines of mana flash between each to form a central triangle, focusing and binding the destructive intent of your spell as you invoke the words of power.

”Vezarko s-sayr!”

The swirling mana condenses into a sphere between the floating runes, swelling to the size of a closed fist, and with a snap of your fingers you complete the evocation and launch the blast directly at the ground under the the trio of hounds atop the cliff. A blue-white flash engulfs the beasts, knocking them back and scorching their flesh. Snow turns to steam in the blast, obscuring the effect of the spell from view even as the brief flash fades. Cries of whining pain sound from atop the cliff, and as the small steam cloud clears you cannot see the hounds. Slowly you lower your shaking hand, looking at it uncertainly as you relax out of a casting stance.

Not quite the desired result, but it worked. Those hounds won’t be hunting anytime soon from the sounds they’re making. The pitiful noises make you wince a little, the intent wasn’t to leave them maimed but that’s still better than them running down others escaping the village. Casting finished, you’re still shivering and soaking wet on the stony river bank. The temperature will only continue to drop as night fully sets in, and the chill of the wind is already cutting right through your robes. In better news, your satchel seems to have remained sealed during your swim and its waterproofing looks to have held, so your grimoire is probably undamaged.

>Head deeper into the forest. There might be a hunter’s hut or other shelter nearby.
>Head down river. There’s a stone bridge that's part of the old imperial road system, and a better chance of getting help.
>Head up river. There used to be some boats kept along the shore, but that was years ago.
>Write-in.

>>4613844
>head deeper, worst case we have to find/make temporary shelter.

Btw, Bighat, do we anticipate our pendant "recharging" or is it a finite resource?

>>4613846
Gotta jerk off on it first. By morning it to be roight

>>4613844
>>Head down river. There’s a stone bridge that's part of the old imperial road system, and a better chance of getting help.

>>4613846
The pendant does recharge, though the rate at which it does so depends on the mana level of the area. You're currently in a normal mana area, so it passively recharges 2 MP per day. The same recharge rate applies to your personal MP reservoir. This can be significantly sped up through the use of Strengthen+Magic, using FP instead of MP to pay for the spell. Basically you trade fatigue for mana to speed up recharge. Its an exhausting process, and you need to rest and eat a lot while doing so or you'll very quickly incapacitate yourself.

You can also speed up the recharge rate by channeling ambient mana, but its a horribly unsafe process without proper preparation. Channeling risk/reward is dependent on the mana level of the area. It's less of an awful idea in high, very high, or nexus areas.

Mana levels are as follows: None, low, normal, high, very high, and nexus. Magic is harder to use in no mana areas and recharge of any kind is completely impossible there.

>>4613844
>>Head down river. There’s a stone bridge that's part of the old imperial road system, and a better chance of getting help.
If lost, head downriver, and you should find civilization eventually.

>>4613860
just clarifying, even FP-->MP conversion is impossible in no-mana areas? Not that it's super relevant right now. I'm just a sucker for systems.

>>4613844
>Head down river. There’s a stone bridge that's part of the old imperial road system, and a better chance of getting help.

>>4613844
>Head down river. There’s a stone bridge that's part of the old imperial road system, and a better chance of getting help.

>>4613878
You can't recharge with FP-->MP in the normal sense, but using something like Transform+Body+Control+Magic could work to fill a reservoir. You'd want to fuel it with FP and it would also be converting FP so the physical toll would be immense. Four word spells in a no mana zone would be very difficult to do reliably. This is more of a self-destructive sacrifice than useful though, and I'd generally recommend relying on FP to cast unless you need to refill reserves and are stuck in a no mana zone for a long time. Transferring mana between reservoirs would also work, but that's just moving captured mana around. No mana zones aren't a great place to be, but they're survivable.

Strengthen+Magic fueled by FP works in areas with mana because you're just temporarily enhancing existing mana siphoning ability. If there is no mana around then nothing happens, you'd just burn FP.

>>4613852
>>4613872
>>4613884
>>4613886
Locking in heading down river.

>>4613884
>>4613886
>>4613872
>>4613852

Grabbing your pointed hat from the ground, you wring it out as best you can and place it back snuggly on your head. It’s not a pleasant feeling, the chill of the still wet material making you think twice about the idea, but anything to stop heat loss helps. Turning, you head toward the shadowed edge of the forest, intending to follow the river downstream from within the concealment of the forest's edge. The grey stones of the riverbank are coated in a thin layer of frost, and reaching the trees without slipping is careful work in the dark but eventually you’re on your way.

As you trudge shivering through the snow covered forest, keeping the sound of the river within earshot, your thoughts return to the attack on the village. The screaming and spreading of flame. Armed men taking whatever they can, emboldened to inhuman cruelty by greed and decades of strife. It was inevitable that fighting would reach Brokhof eventually, villages are easy targets, but that knowledge hardly consoles you. Nearly sick with grief, the bite of the cold helps keep you from dwelling on your feelings too deeply. Danger has a way of focusing the mind.

>You returned to Brokhof to get away from the fighting and study the arcane arts in seclusion, helping your uncle out with odd jobs.
>You were planning to winter in Brokhof among familiar faces, and then head east in the spring to meet up with (somewhat ironically) mercenary acquaintances.

After about an hour of slowly hiking downriver you reach the old stone bridge and imperial road, a great arching thing with four pairs of stone foundations emerging from the water to hold it aloft in defiance of the passage of time. It has to be close to a millennia old, engravings worn smooth by wind and rain but still imposing. A few wagons are parked just off the road in a small clearing, a small camp having been made by travelers - Travelers currently fending off an attack by mercenaries! Members of the same band of mercenaries which just attacked Brokhof, judging from the black patterning of their waffenrocks. Opportunistic scouts, perhaps, or maybe the band is already back on the road. Armored figures on both sides clash with longswords and poleaxes, striking and wrestling in the dark and filling the night with the ring of steel on steel. It’s difficult to say who is winning, but it looks like the mercenaries may have bit off a little more than expected.

-2 FP from the hike in the cold.

>Intervene!
>Remain hidden and watch the battle unfold.
>Avoid the battle entirely and continue east until you reach a town.
>Write-in.

>>4614064
Words once said, now said again!
>blast em
Try and pick our targets this time.
More magic missile than Exusplosion.

>>4614064
Maybe shock and awe. If we convince them they're in over their heads, they might flee or panic. Flashbang maybe? Try to turn the ground on the attacker's side into mud?

>>4614064
>>Remain hidden and watch the battle unfold.

>>4614078
Point target attacks are much more mana efficient.

>>4614091
With the words Frauke currently know she can only increase brightness by ramping up destructive power with something like Strengthen and Magic, she'd need Light for a truly non-lethal blinding blast, and Water to turn the ground into Mud (and create or transform as well, unless you drew the water from the river. Control+Earth could open up holes in the ground to attempt to trap people.

>>4614078
>>4614091
>>4614119
So we have two for some kind of intervention, and one for remaining hidden. Going to leave voting open for another half hour or so, got some stuff to do.

>>4614125
> Point target attacks are much more mana efficient.
That’s awesome, glad to now this.
Now the only thing stopping us from 360 no scoping the world is our ability to 360.

>>4614125
Control earth to make the ground around the mercs full of ankle deep potholes

I figure it will be a lot harder for them to defend themselves if they're tripping all the time

>>4614078
>>4614091
>>4614211

HP: 10/10
FP: 8/14
MP: 30/30
Pendant MP: 6/30
Casting is suffering -1 penalty due to your near hypothermia and shaking.

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

You wouldn’t have stood a chance trying to defend Brokhof from an entire company of soldiers, but you can help these people and then maybe they can return the favor. The ruby pendant still holds some power, and even with the cold sapping your energy you can feel the pulse of mana deep within yourself, within the world, within all things.

The skirmish rages on in the clearing near the bridge, a poorly lit and messy battle as both sides fight among the wagons. A bearded giant of a man defending the camp raises his poleaxe high overhead and brings it crashing down on the salet of one of the panicking mercenaries he’s knocked to the ground. The mercenary begins to raise his arms defensively but hardly a scream leaves the his lips before the blow lands, caving in the steel of his blackened helm and crushing bone in a barely contained spray of gore. Elsewhere, a blue hooded defender is run through by a longsword… or perhaps not, as you realize he’s trapped the blade between his breastplate and arm and disarmed his attacker. The fights are more evenly matched among the rest, men frantically wrestling on the ground with daggers while other engage in a series of strikes and parries, constantly moving and working in pairs to support one another and probe for weakness.

>Control+Strengthen+Magic.
Launch a flurry of weak homing mana bolts and swarm a single target. 1d6 burn (no inc). 11 MP. 12 to cast, six hit rolls of 10. Can be dodged, but surprise is nullifying that.
>Control+Earth.
Oh look, somebody dropped a weapon. Dancing sword!. 14 MP. 2d6 Cut. 13 to cast, three hit rolls of 11. Can be parried, dodged, or blocked. May be sustained for half initial MP cost. Requires concentration.
>Strengthen+Control+Magic.
Project a few rings of mana and try to bind an attacker with tightening magic shackles. ST 15 binding. 14 MP. 12 to cast, three hit rolls of 11 but additional success merely increasing binding by +2 ST. Can be parried or dodged. May be sustained for half initial MP cost. Requires concentration. Very flashy!
>Control+Earth.
Fill the area under the attackers with many, many ankle deep potholes. 12 MP. 13 to cast, three rolls of 8 to hit. Creates a huge footing hazard regardless of hitting, roll is just for just checking for opening up directly beneath a foot.
>Write-in.

>>4614264
> Control+Strengthen+Magic.
Hit roll plus damage roll as needed.
Let’s assess the battle field by lightly probing everyone’s mana, to see who needs help and who are the weaker targets while we’re at it.

>>4614686
What exactly do you mean by probing everyone's mana? If you want to assess whether they're capable of using magic, Frauke would need to use Sense+Magic to know for sure, or to get close enough to touch them since she doesn't know Sense yet.

Although thinking about it, I suppose you could sort of "ping" people's mana with Strengthen+Magic like a magic radar, and see what sort of result you get. Not even close to as precise as what Sense would do, but it would work for a Yes/No type of test as long as you're willing to risk activating magical effects with Strengthen.

>>4614264
>Control+Strengthen+Magic.

What does FP stad for btw?

>>4614714
To expand on this a bit: mages are very uncommon. There are two other sub-systems of magic that are more common than word magic, but they're both derived from it and ultimately rely on it to exist. If word magic is the equivalent of a full sentence, the other systems are closer to slang with lots of contractions, or just outright shouting acronyms at people. They're cruder, and more mana efficient for unimaginative blasting spells or simple enhancements. Frauke is aware of them but hasn't dabbled in either yet, so her evocations are a bit unnecessarily complex in a technical sense.

>>4614736
Fatigue points. It takes a little getting used to compared to other systems that give "fatigue" as a negative condition, but having full FP is good. Its like full HP, you want to keep it topped off. Think of it like a physical energy reserve, the lower it is the worse off you are. It and HP can run into negatives, which is... very bad. Best to try and avoid it entirely, but I'm sure we'll deal with injury and extreme exhaustion/environmental strain eventually.

Heading to bed for now. Have a great night/morning/whatever your time zone is, anons.

>>4614264
>Control+Strengthen+Magic.

>>4614264
>Strengthen+Control+Magic

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>>4614686
>>4614736
>>4615004
I need three separate rolls of 7d6, and then one of 6d6.

Rolled 1, 6, 1, 1, 4, 2, 6 = 21 (7d6)

>>4615028

>>4615028
"

Rolled 3, 3, 4, 4, 4, 5, 5 = 28 (7d6)

>>4615052

Rolled 5, 5, 4, 1, 1, 5, 5 = 26 (7d6)

>>4615028

Rolled 1, 4, 4, 5, 6, 3 = 23 (6d6)

>>4615028

>>4615052
>>4615071
>>4615103
>>4615106

HP: 10/10
FP: 8/14
MP: 25/30
Pendant MP: 0/30
Casting is suffering -1 penalty due to your near hypothermia and shaking.

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

>8. Casting success.
>Miss (14), hit (9 - 4 burn), hit (6 - 4 burn), hit (9 - 5 burn), miss (11), miss (16).

Shifting posture into a casting stance, you pick out a few vulnerable targets among the attacking mercenaries. A few of them only have chest plates, leaving their backs largely unarmed. Motes of mana quickly swirl forth from the pendant and the palm of your outstretched hand, coalescing into six sets of equidistant glowing runes which hang in the air before you. Lines of mana shoot between the runes to form a hexagram, small blue spheres swelling into existence at each rune set.

”Vezarko thyraghisayr!”

With a snap of your fingers and utterance of power you launch the bolts into the fray, guiding each in curving arcs to seek the exposed backs of the attackers as they maneuver about in the battle. Unable to course correct in time with the tumult of the melee, a few bolts zip past their targets and strike the earth, leaving behind faint glimmering trails of blue light and making tiny flashes as they impact. Three strike true, detonating in a rapid burst between the shoulders of one of the poleaxe wielding attackers. He stumbles forward from the impact, crying out in pain and confusion, and his opponents waste no time in exploiting the opening. Even as he drops to his knees from the injury a strike from a polearm finds his neck, nearly beheading him.

“What the devil was that?” The huge red bearded defender bellows out incredibly loudly, voice muffled by the closed visor of his helmet but still clear over the din of combat. Similar cries of surprise are made by the attackers as they try to make sense of the situation.

“The Moon wills our victory!” The blue hooded defender cries in triumph, delivering a frightfully quick thrust to his opponents neck as the man makes the mistake of turning briefly to look toward where your mana bolts impacted. Gasping in pain, the attacker falls to the ground clutching at his neck with both hands in a vain attempt to halt the spraying arterial bleed. Red mingles with the white of fresh fallen snow, one more crimson patch of gore among many other around the wagons.

In just a few moments the battle turns decisively in the favor of the defenders, and the attacking mercenaries begin to flee back across the bridge to the west. Judging from how quickly they exploited the sudden advantage its likely the defenders would’ve won anyway. Having seen them in action you'd guess they’re probably members of another mercenary band. Not ideal.

>>4615207
“...Is that a child over there? You there, girl, come out from there! Did you do this?” The red bearded man shouts, pointing a giant gauntleted hand toward where you stand among the trees just across the old road.

Child? Gods dammit, you’re not that short.

>”Yes, and I’m not a child! I’m just short, you giant oaf!” Walk out to meet them.
>”What company are you with? Who’s your captain?” Stay in cover until you know more.
>”Those men just raided Brokhof, the villagers need help!” Run out and plead for aid.
>Write-in.

>>4615208
>>”What company are you with? Who’s your captain?” Stay in cover until you know more.

>>4615208
>”What company are you with? Who’s your captain?” Stay in cover until you know more.

>>4615212
>>4615362

“What company are you with? Who’s your captain?” You shout back, keeping within the deep shadows of the forest’s edge. It’s a cloudy night, and between the stars and waning moon it would be simple to disappear back into the woods.

“Huh? Hm. ‘Spose that’s fair.” The large man says, barely loud enough to be heard at such a distance, shrugging in his mismatched plate armor and glancing down to one of the larger crimson stains on the snow. A few of the other armored men trade quick glances with one another, one of them facepalming as the huge bearded man straightens his posture.

The bearded man lifts his helmet’s visor, though you still can’t quite distinguish much in the darkness, and he holds his poleaxe proudly overhead with one hand as he proclaims, “We’re with the Drakefang Company, under Commander Lussan!”

...Drakefangs? You’ve heard of them before, they won some big battle out east a year ago or so and the criers wouldn’t shut up about it for weeks. Supposedly they’re pleasant enough as long as they’re not hired to gut you, stick to their contracts and such like proper mercenaries, but these men don’t look the part. Their armor is a shabby looking patchwork of different styles, and what color of their waffenrocks you can make out in the dark definitely isn’t the red you’ve heard stories of.

“Come on over here, girl! We can talk around the fire, and my throat is getting sore from this shouting. That was some kind of witchery with those lights, wasn’t it?”

>Move out of the woods and greet them properly, you’re freezing and they have a fire.
>”Drakes? Really? I guess the criers do exaggerate everything.” Remain cautious and keep to the woods.
>Write-in.

>>4615540
>write in
Sense their intent manaliciously.

>>4615540
>>”Drakes? Really? I guess the criers do exaggerate everything.” Remain cautious and keep to the woods.

Really need that fire, but can't let our guard down.

>>4615588
>>4615789

“D-drakes? Really? I g-guess the criers do e-exaggerate everything!” You shout back, speech stuttering as you shiver in the cold night air. Crossing your arms and keeping them close to conserve heat, you move to a nearby tree and keep its trunk between you and the wind.

“HA! I knew it would look convincing!” The bearded man shouts triumphantly, turning back toward the wagons briefly to exchange a look with his blue hooded companion who gives an exaggerated shrug in response. The other ‘Drakes’ are setting about dealing with the wounded, treating their own as best they can and finishing off the wounded of the enemy with careful dagger thrusts. It’s deeply unsettling to watch, but common practice for dealing with those too wounded to treat. A small part of you feels glad seeing their fate, with what their company just did to Brokhof and your uncle.

”Worry not, mage, we’ve got fire in our veins as true as any other Drakefang! This southern junk,” he clangs a gauntleted fist against his breastplate, ”Is merely to disguise our presence on the road east! Come out from there and join us, we’ve got plenty of stew!”

Disguises? Plausible, but also a simple lie to tell. You take a few more moments to think things over, watching the men carefully as they go about the grim work of cleaning up after the skirmish. Can you really trust these people? It’s difficult to get a solid sense of their intentions, the large one speaking like a friend even as the rest execute the wounded.

“Come on, girl! It’s too cold to be wandering alone in the woods. We owe you a debt for that witchery, whatever it was!”

>Cautiously join them, the warmth of fire and a good stew sounds heavenly right now.
>Question them further from the relative safety of the woods, then decide. (Write-in)
>Pull back and leave, you can’t trust men like that in your current state.

>>4615937
>Cautiously join them, the warmth of fire and a good stew sounds heavenly right now.

Frauke is in bad shape, I'm not sure she has the resources to survive a night alone in the woods. Time to gamble

>>4615937
>Cautiously join them, the warmth of fire and a good stew sounds heavenly right now.

>>4615937
>Cautiously join them, the warmth of fire and a good stew sounds heavenly right now.
No point in freezing to death

>>4615937
>Cautiously join them, the warmth of fire and a good stew sounds heavenly right now.
The enemy of our enemy is our friend, for now.

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>>4615967
>>4616076
>>4616197
>>4616204

Cautiously you step out from the shadows of the forest’s edge, eyeing the armored band of men with lingering suspicion as you approach across the snow covered old road. Arms crossed and held close to preserve heat, you feel a bit pathetic as you approach, defeated by the day's events. Normally your large dark hat and robes offset your small stature, but crumpled, cold, and still quite damp they’re having rather the opposite effect. The expressions on the men’s faces shift from curiosity to concern as you enter the illumination of their lanterns and small fire.
A few speak among themselves, some surprised by your appearance while others sound disappointed.

“Gods, look at her. She must’ve fallen in the Ghrun.”

“So witches look like that? Not really what I expected...”

The large red bearded one moves closest toward you, meeting you at the edge of the road and towering like a giant out of some bard’s story. You have to tilt your head up quite a bit to meet his gaze. He kneels to speak to you at a more comfortable level.

“I’m Gustav. What’s happened to you tonight, mage? What caused this?” He says, voice a low rumble. His face is a bit of a mess, a number of ugly scars tracking across it and a slightly crooked arched nose that looks to have seen a few too many brawls. Not at all a handsome image, the bushy red beard doing little to help with that, but his eyes seem to hold a real sympathy. They're brown and unremarkable, but kind.

“Brokhof was attacked.” You reply, pointing an accusatory finger toward the recently dispatched mercenaries, “It was their band.”

“Boars” Gustav growls, spitting on the snowy ground in disgust, “They’re barely above pond scum.”

“That’s being cruel to pond scum, Gustav!” One of the other ‘Drakes’ comments, and a few others grumble out similar responses and few low curses.

“What’s your name, mage? I’ve never met one of your kind before.” Gustav asks, extending a gauntleted hand.

“Frauke.” You answer, taking his hand and shaking it lightly. The metal is almost painfully cold to the touch, and you pull back after just a few moments.

“Come on then, get by the fire and warm up.” Gustav says, standing fully again and giving orders to some of his men to get you some stew and dry blankets from the wagons.

>>4616309

A few minutes later and you’re wrapped up under some old wool blankets, sitting on a log near the fire and enjoying a bowl of… something stew adjacent. It’s not great. Bits of rabbit, maybe, and something that might have passed for chopped carrot once. It’s warm though, and you’ve had worse, so you’re making short work of it. The blue hooded man sits down on the log near you with his own bowl of stew, armor clanking a bit as he does so, and he lowers his hood to reveal flowing dark hair of shoulder length and a long, handsome face. He has a more youthful look than most of the others, probably no older than twenty.

“I’m Arastro. I’m sorry about your village, losing a home is never easy. The Boars are fiends.”

“Brokhof was more of a second home, but… thanks. Is there any way you could?...” You don’t even need to finish the sentence, seeing he’s already shaking his head slightly in disappointment.

“We’re on special detachment or I’m sure Gustav would push for going after them. Your people will be in my prayers, though. I’m sure the Moon will watch over those that need it most on a night like this. Your grimoire wasn't ruined by the water, was it?”

>”It's fine, thankfully. You're familiar with the art?"
>”Aren’t you worried that the rest of the Boars are so close nearby?”
>Finish eating in silence, there isn’t much to speak about if they won’t help.
>Write-in.

Frauke has regained 3 FP from resting and eating a warm meal.

>>4616315
>>”Aren’t you worried that the rest of the Boars are so close nearby?”

>>4616315
>”It's fine, thankfully. You're familiar with the art?"

>>4616357
Seconding. He's wearing a hood, he probably knows a few acronyms.

>>4616357
+1

>>4616315
>”It's fine, thankfully. You're familiar with the art?"

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>>4616357
>>4616369
>>4616422
>>4616498

”It's fine, thankfully. You're familiar with the art?" You reply, perking up at the mention of your spellbook.

“Stray bits and pieces. I read too much as an initiate when the circators wanted me to write instead. Dabbled in some of the old imperial treatises during our scribing hours. Grond, Marcitus, Orellia. You probably know the kind.”

You do know the kind, huge dusty things that serve better as trebuchet shot than tomes of knowledge. The mere memory of reading under flickering candlelight in your mentor’s basement makes you scrunch up your face in slight disgust. Those books were nightmarishly boring.

“Awful, absolutely awful, my mentor forced me to read passages as punishment if I mouthed off at her. There’s nothing quite like Grond pontificating on the proper order of chalk strokes for thaumaturgical geometry to make you regret being born. Most of its filler, you know?”

“Dry as sawdust, but it beat out rereading the lunar and solar catechisms for the thousandth time. So it’s... all mostly wrong?” Arastro nearly deflates at the revelation, his face a mask of surprise and confusion. A few of the other Drakes are listening in, sitting down nearby after getting stew from the pot.

You shake your head, “Less wrong, and more not quite right. You were a monk?”

He reaches up to his neck and pulls on a small silver chain, fishing a crescent moon shaped medallion out from beneath his breastplate, “Almost, but I chose to serve the divine in a different way.”

You almost snort in laughter at the idea and fail to suppress a grin, holding a hand up to cover your mouth, “...As a mercenary? Not a templar?”

He raises his hands defensively and protests, “There’s good to be done in the field. Excesses of war to rein in, some real bastards to kill -like most of the Boars-, innocents to save.”

“Innocents? Ha! He means maidens!” Gustav bellows at his normal volume, stepping in and sitting his enormous bulk on the log with a tremendous thud and clang of armor plates, “I’d watch yourself around him, girl. You might need to turn him into a frog if he gets handsy.”

>“...Maidens aside, those are lofty ideals. Why not help Brokhof then?”
>”I’m more worried about the Boars showing back up than stray hands, but duly noted. So, where are you travelling to?”
>”A frog? Fun idea, and I could use some practice.”
>Write-in.

>>4616644
>”I’m more worried about the Boars showing back up than stray hands, but duly noted. So, where are you travelling to?

>>4616644
>>“...Maidens aside, those are lofty ideals. Why not help Brokhof then?”

>>4616644
>>”I’m more worried about the Boars showing back up than stray hands, but duly noted. So, where are you traveling to?”

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>>4616704
>>4616813

”I’m more worried about the Boars showing back up than stray hands, but duly noted. So, where are you travelling to?” You say, changing the subject to more important matters.

“Worried? About the Boars? No, they won’t be a problem, my tiny new friend.” Gustav guffaws, “If they try to cross the bridge they’ll bleed worse than they can afford.”

“Could you just call me Frauke?” You ask, sincerely hoping this ‘tiny’ thing doesn’t stick, it gets tiresome so quickly.

“Of course, tiny Frauke. We’re headed over the mountains all the way to Ostgarten, the old beauty of the eastern provinces. A little less lovely these days with the siege, but that's life.” The giant man answers, taking a massive bite from a full loaf of bread. Somehow it still looks correctly proportioned in his huge hands, a feat you couldn’t achieve even with magic.

You look up to him from your stew, brow furrowing in confusion, “In this weather? That’s a very dangerous crossing, I was actually wintering in Brokhof to wait it out.”

“There’s still a few weeks before the valleys are impassible, and we’ve made the run in less time before.” Arastro says, sounding utterly unconcerned with the idea, “The commander is expecting us, so there’s not much of a choice.”

“Yeah, we’d never do that to the commander, he’s counting on us.” One of the other Drakes says, more of the men quickly adding to a general rumble of agreement.

>”This commander you’re so loyal to, he wouldn’t want you to help Brokhof? You obviously hate the Boars, why not bloody them up a little?”
>Take your grimoire from its protective satchel and spend some time studying, it’ll take your mind off of the day's tragedies.
>”Kind and loyal to a fault. You live up to your reputation after all, it would seem. Is there a spare bedroll I could use?” Sleep beckons and they seem trustworthy enough. Reassess your plans in the morning.
>Talk about something else (write-in).

Apologies for the slowposting, was busier than expected today.

>>4617082
>>”This commander you’re so loyal to, he wouldn’t want you to help Brokhof? You obviously hate the Boars, why not bloody them up a little?”
Do we have anything to lose by asking?

>>4617082
>>”This commander you’re so loyal to, he wouldn’t want you to help Brokhof? You obviously hate the Boars, why not bloody them up a little?”

Never forget Brokhof

>>4617093
>>4617099

”This commander you’re so loyal to, he wouldn’t want you to help Brokhof? You obviously hate the Boars, why not bloody them up a little?” You ask, addressing the question to all of the Drakes present.

The men in the camp fall silent as the question hangs in the air, all eyes coming to rest on you. Gustav places a hand on your shoulder and speaks up for the rest, his voice low, “We’ve already been given our orders, and we can’t tackle an entire company alone.”

“You were just laughing about how they’d bleed if they took the bridge, and suddenly you’re afraid?” You protest, turning about and looking up at him, “Where has your courage gone?”

Gustav shakes his head, expression hardening, “It isn’t fear, Frauke, it’s a fact of warfare. The bridge is defensible, but a raid would be suicidal and for little gain.”

“Little gain? There are people dying or… or worse, out there!” You nearly shout. This wasn’t supposed be a purely emotional plea, but it’s hard to control yourself in the face of such indifference. Uncle Tristan is dead, Brokhof is gone. It isn’t coming back, none of it, not from a raid like that.

Gustav’s grip on your shoulder tightens, “I don’t mean to be cruel, girl, but you’re offering no coin and we don’t have the men.”

“Couldn’t you just search the woods for anyone that escaped? I made it here, I helped you, there have to be more out there.” You look about the camp to each man, several turning away from your gaze in shame while still others meet it with stone cold expressions, “Arastro, how can you just leave people out there after what you were saying a few minutes ago?”

“...I’ll do it.” Arasto says quietly, pulling his hood up and standing.

“You’ll what?” Gustav growls, absolutely bristling as he stands to his full height, knocking his bowl of stew onto the half-melted snow around the perimeter of the fire, “We’ve had enough of your womanizing idiocy for a year already, after what you pulled in the port-”

“Think, Gus. Lussan would want to add a mage to the company if he were here,” Arastro snaps back at Gustav, which to your surprise actually silences the huge man, “and besides that she’s right. There are people dying. I can at least help one or two. We can save some of them.”

After several moments of tense silence Gustav’s expression softens, his posture relaxing a fraction, “...Only if she agrees, and I’m going with you. The rest of you, hold the camp.”

>”Fine. A year and a day. Swear your own oaths and I’ll swear mine. Save anyone you can.”
>”No, everyone goes or there’s no deal. We get everyone they have out of there.”
>”Woah, woah, hold on there, I haven’t agreed to anything. I am *not* going to have somebody I just met make deals for me.”
>Write-in.

>>4617245
>”Fine. A year and a day. Swear your own oaths and I’ll swear mine. Save anyone you can.”
Our future plans are already literally up in flames we might as well try and get some good done

>>4617245
>>”Fine. A year and a day. Swear your own oaths and I’ll swear mine. Save anyone you can.”

>>4617327
Seconded. I think a smaller group may have a better chance at saving people. Taking the whole troupe with us will result in a full scale battle. We may need stealth

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>>4617327
>>4617334

“Fine. A year and a day.” You agree, finding little other option to help Brokhof, “Swear your own oaths and I’ll swear mine. Save anyone you can.”

Arastro nods, drawing his slender longsword and holding it aloft in the night, “We’ll save anyone we can, I swear it in the Moonlight and on my blade.”

“Aye, you have my word as well then.” Gustav agrees.

“Then it’s done. I’ll remain in your commander’s service for a year and a day, as it was with the old pacts.”

“So it is then, Drake. Alright boys, if we’re not back by sunrise then carry on to Ostgarten. Keep posted at the bridge, and no one but watch leaves the camp.”

“Thank you, both of you.” You say, not entirely sure what you’ve gotten yourself into but glad to have found aid. Associating with mercenaries had mixed results in the past, and you’ve never truly been one yourself, but if this is worth it even if it only saves a few lives. Mages are very, very long lived. What’s a year and a day in the grander scheme of things?

“Don’t thank us yet, mage.” Gustav grumbles, armor rattling as he moves to retrieve his poleaxe from near the wagons. Arastro heads over as well, presumably to get equipment of his own. The fall of snow is beginning to pick up, white flakes dancing about in the chill winter wind.

>’Wait, I’m going with you. This is my fight or... Our fight, I guess.”
>”Hold for a moment, I’ll ensorcel your weapons and armor. You’ll stand a better chance.”
>Write-in.

>>4617501
>Wait, I’m going with you. This is my fight or... Our fight, I guess.

>>4617501
>>’Wait, I’m going with you. This is my fight or... Our fight, I guess.”

>>4617501
>’Wait, I’m going with you. This is my fight or... Our fight, I guess.”
We also know the area of Brokhof better than them, probably. You don't need to be a military genius to understand how invaluable that is.

>>4617501
>’Wait, I’m going with you. This is my fight or... Our fight, I guess.”

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>>4617553
>>4617565
>>4617590
>>4617616

“Wait, I’m going with you. This is my fight or… Our fight, I guess.” You say, setting your bowl aside and standing up from the log.

Gustav turns away from the wagon briefly, setting down a small ironbound chest on the ground before addressing your statement, “Hm. That it is, and your witchery could be useful.”

“You know the area well, Frauke?” Arastro asks, kneeling by the chest and unlatching it before moving out of the way to let Gustav rummage through its contents.

“Better than some, but mostly from summers when I was a girl.” You reply, walking over across the snow covered ground to see what it is they’re getting from the chest.

Arastro starts unstrapping pieces of his mismatched armor, doffing them into the back of the wagon in a pile, “Has the area changed much since then?”

You shake your head, “I haven’t noticed many changes, a few trees here and there.”

Gustav turns from the chest, hand grasping a sheathed dagger and extended toward you, “Good enough. Here, take this.”

You do as he says, taking the small dagger and looking at it quizzically, “...I’m not sure I can make much use of this.”

“For cutting bonds, not Boars.” Gustav clarifies, standing back to his full height and beginning the process of removing extraneous pieces of armor just as Arastro is. It looks awkward, a lot of fiddly little straps and knotted string, but they’ve obviously had plenty of practice.

“Oh. Of course.” You reply, waiting for them to finish. A little over a minute later and they’ve removed the bits of armor that clank together the worst, donning dark cloaks to conceal the breastplates they still wear.

“Alright, lead the way Frauke.” Gustav rumbles.

>Guide them through the forest toward Brokhof. There is probably still activity around what's left of the village.
>Take your best guess as to where Boar camp is and head there, using your knowledge of the local terrain. [TN 12]
>Write-in.

>>4617679
>Write-in.
Ask them. They're the experts on fighting bandits.

>>4617679
>Take your best guess as to where Boar camp is and head there, using your knowledge of the local terrain. [TN 12]

>>4617679
>Guide them through the forest toward Brokhof. There is probably still activity around what's left of the village.

>>4617939
>>4617755
>>4617691
Gah, a three way split. I'll give it a bit longer, if there isn't consensus I'll just roll it.

Rolled 2 (1d3)

>>4617691
1
>>4617755
2
>>4617939
3

>>4617755
>>4618030
Alright, I need three rolls of 1d6.

Rolled 3 (1d6)

>>4618033
Yay! I won!

Rolled 4 (1d6)

>>4618033

>>4618033

Rolled 6 (1d6)

>>4618033

>>4618092
>>4618184
>>4618248

>13. Slight failure.
-1 FP from the hike.

You lead the way onto the road, heading across the old stone bridge and back across the river Ghrun. You decide that river crossings are much better without cliff diving, but the slippery snow and ice covered stone presents its own hazards. The bridge is truly an impressive construction, stone piers having withstood centuries of floods and weathering without fail, stonework possibly wrought with old spells - There’s no time to examine it now though, as you’re busy working through the probable locations of the Boar camp in your mind.

There are two areas that seem likely to be able to support a camp for an entire company of mercenaries, a large meadow just north of the charcoal burners camp and another clearing to the west filled with ancient cairns - Neither are particularly pleasant places, the first being down wind from constant fires and the other being… just unsettling, those piled stones mark ancient graves. Pre-imperial, older than old. The meadow near the charcoal camp makes the most sense of the two, and so you do your best to lead the way there, keeping within the shadows of the forest and away from any roads or hunting trails you know of.

Arastro keeps to your left, one hand on the hilt of his longsword but leaving the blade sheathed as your party stalks through the snow covered woods. Gustav is almost unnervingly quiet, the giant man somehow making even less noise than you are - Maybe it’s practice, maybe it’s the difference in walking paces. He’s much taller than you, and it's quite reassuring that he’s on your side. As loud and boisterous as he was earlier this feels almost like a different person. More focused, more predatory.

After a couple of hours you arrive near the edge of the meadow, forest hikes in the dark aren’t quick, and it’s immediately apparent that you guessed wrong. Crouched behind a few bushes you scan the area, seeing nothing but undisturbed snow and a few game tracks. Gustav and Arastro quickly arrive at the same conclusion.

“This isn’t it. We’re losing time. Where was the other one?” Gustav asks, continuing to scan the area and the surrounding trees for threats, poleaxe kept at the ready.

“The cairns? I think I know the way from here.” You answer, trying to map out the way in your mind.

“Go on and lead then. Faster pace, they might have a palisade up by the time we get there if we keep crawling along.” Gustav urges, waving with one of his gloved hands to get you moving again.

“I’ve been going as fast as I can.” You protest but don’t delay, stepping over a rotted old log half sunk in the snow as you begin to head southwest.

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Rolled 2, 2, 5 = 9 (3d6)

>>4618527

After another hike through woods, weather growing worse the entire time, you arrive at the edge of what definitely is the camp. A lot of time was lost, but now that you’re here you settle in near the forest edge and observe the layout of the camp - it’s difficult to see too much, most of it is slightly uphill and the first rows of tents are obscuring the rest of it. Striped wall and wedge tents of a dizzying array of colors clutter the area, most probably stolen from merchants or other mercenaries. Among the tents the massive grave cairns rise like spikes, towering above the temporary structures. A few fires are being tended to near the perimeter, some still being used for cooking while most are simply to keep the watch warm through the night.

And there are a lot of men on watch.

“It’s the whole sodding company.” Gustav growls, trading concerned glances with Arastro, "I was hoping they'd split forces."

“We still have to try.” You plead, hoping the men aren’t about to back out after getting this close.”

“He never said we aren’t. Normal split, Gus?” Arastro asks, reaching up to the lowest branch of a nearby tree and grabbing on.

Gustav nods, “Get climbing. I’ll swing around the other side. Frauke, stay hidden.”

You hide away between some bushes near the tree Arastro is climbing, waiting until Gustav returns from his scouting. Arastro eventually climbs down, dropping the last bit and landing in a low crouch. He joins you near the bushes.

“They’re keeping the prisoners close to the larger tents, probably officer tents. I couldn’t see much, but it doesn’t look like they took many prisoners - mostly women. I think a few are spread out in the camp as well, but that might just be the camp followers.”

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

Rolling for Gustav’s scouting.

>>4618532
>9. Very wide margin of success.

You wait for what feels like an eternity, unable to see the camp from your hiding spot and growing more anxious by the minute. There’s a close call when a patrol passes nearby, entering the woods in search of gods only knows what and thankfully failing to notice you or the tracks left in the snow. As they pass by you overhear them complaining about not being given hounds for their patrol, something to do with strange injuries and the hunting master not wanting more hounds burned.

Eventually Gustav returns, carrying an unconscious man over one shoulder. He slumps him down among the bushes, and crouches alongside you.

“Making new friends?” Arastro jokes, moving over slightly to examine the man.

Gustav lets out a low chuckle, “Always. He’s about your size, get that gear on.”

“What’s the plan then? Disguises?” You ask, gulping a bit as you realize that the man isn’t unconscious - His neck was snapped.

Gustav grunts in the affirmative, using a finger to scratch out a rough map of the camp and his plan in the snow, “Their watch rotations are pigshit afwul. We wait an hour until they embarrass themselves again changing shifts, and Arastro takes you in from the east as a prisoner. Once you’re with the others you cause a distraction, and Arastro frees anybody tied up during the confusion. I’ll take care of anyone on watch in that section.”

“And the escape path?” Arastro asks, already stripping the dead Boar of his cloak and armor.

Gustav draws a few more lines in the snow, “Frauke leads the escape, we follow close behind and split off to make a real mess of things if the Boars manage to scrape together a hunting party.”

“And how exactly am I supposed to distract the entire camp?” You question, noticing the massive you sized hole in Gustav’s plan.

“Witchery. You’re the witch, you’ll figure it out.” Gustav answers, placing a hand on your shoulder and squeezing reassuringly, “Can you handle it?”

“Maybe.” You answer, rubbing your hands together and thinking over the possibilities.

What’s your distraction plan?

>You’ll topple one of the ancient cairns with a spell, preferably onto the officer tents. [Move+Earth]
>Burning coals still count as earth, and there are a lot of very dry tent interiors they could be tucked away into. [Control+Earth]
>They’re camped in an ancient graveyard, you can probably scare them into a frenzy with enough moving spell geometry and screaming about ghosts. [Strengthen+Control+Magic]
>Some other idea. (Write-in)
>This plan sounds terrible! Protest and offer an entirely different idea. (Write-in)

>>4618639
Hmm. Fire's a good distraction, but unpredictable. How likely are they to be familiar with magic?

>>4618639
>You’ll topple one of the ancient cairns with a spell, preferably onto the officer tents. [Move+Earth]

>>4618639
>>>You’ll topple one of the ancient cairns with a spell, preferably onto the officer tents. [Move+Earth]

>>4618639
>>You’ll topple one of the ancient cairns with a spell, preferably onto the officer tents. [Move+Earth]

>>4618909
>>4619041
>>4619043

You finally settle on a plan, grinning at the thought of getting revenge, “I can bring one of the cairns down on their tents if I get close enough.”

Gustav chuckles at the idea, “Now that’ll be something to tell the Commander about. How close?”

“As close as possible would be ideal, but....” You run through the formulae in your mind, closing your eyes for a couple of seconds as you focus your senses inward and feel the pulse of the mana within you, “Sixty paces. I could do it from further, but I’d be useless afterward.”

“Useless?” Arastro questions while removing the dead Boars’ boots.

“Unconscious.” You clarify, hoping it doesn’t come to that. Either of them could easily carry you but that’s hardly a recipe for a successful escape.

“Normal paces or your tiny ones?” Gustav inquires, stroking his beard idly.

You flash him a look, “Ha. Normal.”

Arastro laughs while struggling to remove the second boot, “Sixty paces? There are a lot of cairns, we’ll be close enough to a few.”

“I’ll need to be at the correct angle for the spell to work, it’s all pushing or pulling. I was thinking of dropping one on the officer tents.” You say, turning to avert your gaze as Arastro begins to remove the rest of the corpses’ clothes.

“We’ll have the blessing of the Moon watching over us, it won’t be an issue.” Arastro answers. The divine invocations of a failed monk currently stripping a corpse of clothes somehow doesn’t reassure you.

“Moon’s blessing for knocking a cairn over? Seems backward. I’d be furious.” Gustav says, though without much concern.

“Whatever spirits were bound to the stones faded long ago. It should be safe.” You answer, thinking back to your time exploring the area as a girl. There probably was something protecting them long, long ago but those spells are as lost to time as the memory of the people that built the cairns.

Arastro continues to speak, rustling among the bushes behind you as he changes, “Feels like justice to me. Setting up camp out there, doing what Boars do - That’s close enough to defiling graves for my thinking. If I was a spirit I wouldn’t mind my gravestone tipping over on them.”

“...Spirits don’t think about life quite the way you do, Arastro.” You say, sighing and continuing to avert your gaze.

“Quiet! Patrol.” Gustav hisses, hushing you both and crouching more deeply among the bushes.

The three of you fall silent, Arastro pausing in the donning of his disguise as you hear several armored men walking past. One of them stops, clanking armor coming to a halt, and then the rest shortly after.

“No time for smelling the roses, boy! Hurry up.”

“Oi, what's this then? Prints, and the size of em’!”

“Probably just Boris out for a piss, keep pace!”

“...Right. Yeah.”

>>4619290

The sound of the patrol eventually fades into the distance, marching boots replaced once again by the faint howl of winter wind between the trees. Arastro finishes donning his disguise, and after waiting for what feels like a second eternity Gustav gives the signal and heads off to circle around the camp. You put on your best prisoner face, which isn’t particularly good, and head toward the east side of the camp.

Walking out across the snowy field toward the first line of tents you’re both soon hailed by a few guards around a watchfire. Arastro gives you a few feigned pushes, and you pretend to struggle to try and sell the ruse.

“Oi, who goes there? Got a girl with ya?” One of the taller Boars questions, voice muffled by the visor of his helmet. Probably can’t see much, but it keeps the wind off his face.

Arastro matches their accent surprisingly well, shoving you along as he speaks, “Caught another one in the woods. Hey! Quit your squirming, bitch.”

“...Why’s she dressed odd?” Another guard asks idly, leaning on his spear for support.

“Who the fuck cares? Not interested in her clothes.” Arastro answers.

“Ha, right, right. Go on in, brother.” The tall one says, lifting his visor briefly to get a better look. You stare daggers at him, which only causes him to laugh more, “Careful with that one.”

Arastro chuckles and waves dismissively at the guard, and together you head deeper into the camp. Moving by cookfires and between tents, many of the Boars are either asleep or half drunk and fondling camp. A few are dicing by the fires, but more are boasting about old battles or their inevitable coming glory - Still drinking this late at night. Soon you reach the officers tents, diverting off quickly to the side as Arastro realizes his error, and then arriving at the prisoner holding area nearby. It’s a large black wall tent with a half built palisade boxing in the area to form a more controlled and defensible position - The work was abandoned early though, most of the wooden posts are still piled like logs near the tent. What was finished of the palisade blocks off most of the sightlines from the rest of the camp, which serves your purposes just fine.

A pair of guards are posted at the tent’s entrance flap, the more awake of the two greeting Arastro with a dull bored tone, “Cap’n already inspected this one?”

“Yeah, wanted to keep her for later.” Arastro bluffs, pointing toward the second guard, “Supposed to relieve you as well for a bit, Captain wanted to see you.”

“W-what? Why?” The man asks, eyes shooting open and suddenly paying attention.

“Do I look dumb enough to ask?” Arastro says with a half shrug, continuing to drag you along by the shoulder with his other hand.

The panicking guard quickly looks down, trying to straighten out bits of his armor to look more presentable, “Uh, right. Yeah. Well, you know the rules. Guard, don’t touch.”

>>4619302

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Get going or he’ll flay you.” Arastro says, and the man nearly sprints off toward the officers tents. Arastro pushes you toward the tent flap and takes up position by the other guard.

“Ha, poor bastard.” The first guard chuckles, crossing his mail covered arms.

“Lucky bastard.” Arastro corrects him, taking a step back and to the side while drawing his dagger.

“Hu-Ghhhhh” The man begins to exclaim, but the dagger is already in his throat - Blood sprays out into the night. Arastro rides the guard to the ground, one hand covering his mouth to muffle his dying cries of pain and alarm. In a few seconds it’s over, snow turning crimson around the body.

“The other one won’t be long. Can you cast from here?” Arastro asks, scanning the area and keeping on watch for any Boar that might come stumbling by.

You look up at the closest cairn, a towering mass of smoothed stones just on the other side of the officers tents, “I could, but it’ll pull the cairn toward us. Those stones at the top are going to bounce and roll like-”

“Like cannonballs,” He finishes for you, blanching as he realizes the issue, “Can you guide them away? I’ll get the villagers untied.”

>”...I can try to deflect them with the other stones. It won’t be pretty.” Use Control+Earth instead of Move+Earth. 32 MP. 14 to cast, 13 to hit. Several stones may threaten the tent. 10 to block them if they do, every point of success stopping one.
>”It's too dangerous, I need to pull it down from the other side.” Try to sneak to the other side and cast.
>Write-in.

The 10 to block can be enhanced to a 12 by spending one FP. This is known as a feverish defense, one of several non-magical uses for FP in combat situations.

>>4619307
>>”...I can try to deflect them with the other stones. It won’t be pretty.” Use Control+Earth instead of Move+Earth. 32 MP. 14 to cast, 13 to hit. Several stones may threaten the tent. 10 to block them if they do, every point of success stopping one.

>>4619307
>>”...I can try to deflect them with the other stones. It won’t be pretty.” Use Control+Earth instead of Move+Earth. 32 MP. 14 to cast, 13 to hit. Several stones may threaten the tent. 10 to block them if they do, every point of success stopping one.

>>4619488
>>4619515
I need three rolls of 2d6.

Rolled 1, 3 = 4 (2d6)

>>4619579

Rolled 6, 3 = 9 (2d6)

>>4619579

Rolled 4, 1 = 5 (2d6)

>>4619579

Rolled 2, 6, 5 = 13 (3d6)

>>4619584
>>4619640
>>4619669
>11. Successful casting.
>7. Successful hit.

Rolling for how many giant stones threaten the prisoner tent. 12 or less for any to threaten it, every three points is another stone.

>>4619677
Wait, so now we want to roll over 12 instead of under?

>>4619684
Now, we failed, I think.

>>4619691
>>4619684
Sorry, could have made it a bit more clear and got delayed from writing by a long phone call. You don't need to roll anything, I was just announcing and openly rolling to see how many, if any, stones from the cairn were a threat. With a 13 none of them are going to hit, so there's no need for any defense to be made by Frauke. This is basically the best possible scenario. Frauke cast, hit, and didn't end up needing to defend.
Everything is always roll equal to or under, even for environmental stuff and enemies/allies.

>>4619684
>>4619691

”...I can try to deflect them with the other stones. It won’t be pretty.” You answer, adjusting your hat and taking a few steps from the tent. Arastro heads inside the tent, and you can faintly hear him conversing with the villagers and explaining that he’s here to rescue them.

Rubbing your hands together to get some warmth back in them you assess the situation. A different spell will be needed, a simple pull would amount to suicide by bouncing rocks and even a more controlled toppling of the cairn poses a serious threat. With that many stones of that great a mass it won’t be possible to consciously guide everything, and even with channeling there wouldn’t be enough mana. A healthy dose of finesse and luck are going to be needed.

You assume your normal casting stance, feet shifting to better control your balance as you extend your hands. With no need to call upon the pendant you’re able to work with both hands, tracing faint lines in the air and focusing your mind on half a dozen of the massive stones of the cairn. Power collects at your fingertips in swirling blue motes, coalescing into a pair of faintly glowing runes which merge, multiply, and separate into six identical sets. Each is captured within its own glowing circle, every one corresponding to one of the massive stones to be shifted.

"Muraerdthyr!"

The words of power send the runes into a frenzy, circles expanding and contracting rapidly, darting about the air as your project invisible lines of mana toward the cairn. Unseen chains of control bind the stones to your conscious mind, for a few seconds at least, and with a tremendous effort you pry one of them from the cairn. The others push apart as you make room for a central stone to slide free, reducing the friction and pressure so the massive rock can grind free and begin to tumble. Stone grinds on stone creating a tremendous racket as the cairn begins to collapse, more of the smooth boulders quickly falling after the first is shifted out of position.

You strain to maintain the spell for just a few seconds, holding a few of the stones in the air to help deflect the rest of the falling mass. Falling stones strike those you hold aloft, shattering off great chunks and sending whizzing bits of rock flying through the air like shrapnel. Your luck holds, the vast bulk of the falling earth bouncing and skipping to either side of the prisoner tent - One stone about the size of a man’s torso crashes through the half constructed palisade, turning the posts to splinters as it passes through with a tremendous crash. A lucky break.

The officer tents have disappeared under the great heap of rubble, an enormous cloud of dust mingling with the falling snow and obscuring a clear view of the aftermath. Men around the camp have begun to yell and shout in alarm, and a few pained cries sound out from those unfortunate to be merely horribly maimed by the rocks rather than killed outright.

>>4619983

HP: 10/10
FP: 4/14
MP: 0/30
Pendant MP: 0/30

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

The drain of mana is immense, sapping into the strength of your body and causing you to stagger half a step before recovering. You’ve run lower before, all the way to unconsciousness, but only for exercise under controlled conditions - Your mentor’s warning lectures about managing mana flow and expenditure sound within your mind, but you push the memories aside. The spell worked about as well as it could have, and that’s good enough for now. Much more and you won't be able to walk properly.

Turning back to the tent you find that Arastro has freed most of the villagers… There are only seven of them. Battered and bloodied as they are, it's a wonder they’re able to stand let alone walk, but they manage anyways. There are six women and a boy.

“Frauke? Is that you?” One of the women asks, brushing a lock of her mousy hair away from her eyes as she peers at your behind Arastro.

“We’ll talk later, Karla. Is this everyone?” You ask, looking over the group. Hopefully more than this escaped into the woods, it’s so few. Karla nods meekly.

“We need to move, the confusion won’t last forever.” Arastro says, “Keep behind me and stay together, we’re cutting our way to the perimeter.”

You follow behind him as he stalks out into the billowing dust and snow, leading the way toward the perimeter of the camp where Gustav is probably already handling the stragglers of the last watch shift.

A voice calls out from somewhere ahead of you among the swirling dust, “Oi, where are you taking those prisoners?”

“Tent’s wrecked.” Arastro lies, moving forward quickly toward the voice and disappearing briefly from view in the thick grey-white cloud. A cry of pain followed by a thud signals the Boar’s death, but the ring of steel on steel soon fills the air and the cloud clears enough to reveal Arastro fighting a trio of other Boars. Or perhaps a duo, as another Boar reels backward from a lightning quick thrust, grabbing at the bloodied mail protecting his armpit. Arastro parries a blow from another, retreating back toward the group with a step as the blows of the two Boars rain down.

>Let Arastro handle the Boars and conserve your last dregs of strength.
>Blast em’! Manabolt spray, weak and unguided. Move+Magic. 4 MP. 14 to cast, 14 to hit. 1d6 burn (no inc), every point of success means another manabolt hits. There are six bolts total.
>Strengthen Arastro’s longsword briefly with an armor piercing edge. Strengthen+Earth. 3 MP. 14 to cast, 14 to hit.
>Write-in.

Frauke is nearly in pointblank range and mana costs are accordingly significantly lower, but she’ll also be burning FP to power any spells - And she doesn't have much left. Frauke could choose to channel mana or use HP to power spells, please note if you'd like to do so in your response.

>>4619999
>>Strengthen Arastro’s longsword briefly with an armor piercing edge. Strengthen+Earth. 3 MP. 14 to cast, 14 to hit.

>>4619999
>>Strengthen Arastro’s longsword briefly with an armor piercing edge. Strengthen+Earth. 3 MP. 14 to cast, 14 to hit.

>>4619999
>Strengthen Arastro’s longsword briefly with an armor piercing edge. Strengthen+Earth. 3 MP. 14 to cast, 14 to hit.

>>4619999
>>>Let Arastro handle the Boars and conserve your last dregs of strength.

>>4620097
>>4620367
>>4620494
Sharpening the sword it is then. I need three rolls of 2d6.

Rolled 6, 4 = 10 (2d6)

>>4620710

Rolled 4, 5 = 9 (2d6)

>>4620710

Rolled 3, 1 = 4 (2d6)

>>4620710

>>4620711
>>4620720
>>4620728

>13. Successful casting.
>10. Successful hit.

HP: 10/10
FP: 1/14
MP: 0/30
Pendant MP: 0/30

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

Arastro is quite the swordsman, deftly parrying the Boars’ blows but unable to properly respond against both opponents. He’s retreating back a half step at time, counterattacks unable to find purchase on the Boars' plate harness, the point of his longsword skittering off with glancing blows. Pressed like this by two opponents Arastro is struggling to land the precise gap strikes needed to get around such heavy protection, the pair of mercenaries obviously competent fighters in their own right.

You reach within yourself and call up much of what remains of your power, feeling your limbs leaden as fatigue begins to overwhelm you. Runes of power flicker into life before your outstretched hand, motes of mana swirling about your form as you prepare to extend unseen power toward Arastro’s blade.

“Vezaerd!”

The grey hues of the blade’s surface ripple and distort, darkening as the steel is infused with strength few smiths could ever hope to match and honed to an edge of almost impossible sharpness. Blade meets blade once again, but this time the cheap iron of the Boar’s messer is cut cleanly through with a brief howl of shearing metal. The blow doesn’t carry enough force to penetrate his armor, merely scoring a long gouge across his breastplate, but the shock of losing his weapon put him on the retreat. The other Boar presses the attack, the finer quality of his own longsword holding up under Arastro’s rapid blows as he regains the advantage - It doesn’t last for long as without the aid of his ally the Boar is clearly outmatched. A flicking cut from Arastro sword strikes the Boar’s supporting hand, biting through his mail mitten and throwing the Boar’s own blow off target. A quick half-sworded thrust ends the mercenary as Arastro steps in closer, the strengthened tip of his longsword punching through munitions plate like it was canvas and penetrating to lethal depth.

The partially disarmed Boar steps back a few more paces, looks to his broken sword and fallen allies momentarily, and turns about and flees.

“Moon be praised.” Arastro says, looking at his blade in awe for a moment before getting his wits about him again. He turns back toward you and the huddled terrified group of villagers, waving for you to keep moving.

“Yeah, the Moon, sure.” You manage to say, swaying under the intense fatigue of the spell. Karla, even beaten as she is, moves to help support you.

>>4620960

In the chaos caused by the collapse of the cairn it isn’t difficult to make it to the edge of the camp, several groups of Boars running right past without realizing what your escaping party even is - Adrenaline and confusion will do that to a man, tunnel vision and fear distracting them even from something so obvious. Several do notice, but thankfully no more than a couple at a time - Arastro makes easy work of them, surprised as they are to turn a corner around a tent and suddenly come face to face with escaping prisoners. Hesitation is death.

After a few such encounters you reach the camps edge, watchfires abandoned as the shift change was interrupted by the cairn’s collapse. Gustav stands near one of the flames, leaning on his poleaxe and surrounded by half a dozen mangled bodies - The stragglers from the previous watch shift.

“Any problems getting past the pigs, monk?” Gustav asks, tone almost casual as you approach.

“I had to slay a hundred of them at once, and a few ogres.” Arastro jokingly boasts, allowing the rest of the group to pass him so he can take up position as the rearguard.

Gustav guffaws and leans off his poleaxe, readying it in both hands, “Ha! Come on, we need to move. How’d the little Drake handle herself?”

“Exceptionally. She truly has the gift.”

“Expert on witches now, eh monk? What do you say, Frauke?” Gustav asks, trudging toward the forest’s edge through the worsening snowfall. It’s not a quick pace but it’s all that you and the beleaguered villagers could hope to manage - Darkness, confusion, and the growing storm shrouds your escape but it would only take a single Boar noticing to send everything spiraling out of control.

“I… the…” You struggle to form a sentence, fatigue and cold finally getting to you even with the support of Karla.

“Woah there little Drake, keep those eyes open. We need you to point the way back.” Gustav calls out, moving back to support you far more ably than the almost equally fatigued Karla ever could. The huge man’s strength is reassuring in the cold, something unquestionably solid to lean upon.

“Spells worked. Go that way.” You say, pointing vaguely in the correct direction.

Even with Gustav’s support you don’t last long in the chill, passing out a few minutes later after a struggle to keep moving and give directions. Before the world darkens completely you feel yourself lifted into the air by a strong pair of arms, Gustav saying something you can’t quite understand…

The scolding words of your mentor fill your thoughts, an old memory.

"Mind your own power little one, lest it unmake you."

>>4620966

Which attribute would you like to improve?
>+1 FP
>+2 MP

And what rare knowledge was imparted upon Frauke by her mentor?
>Hidden Lore (Magic): Frauke knows more of the deeper magic of the world than other mages, useful for unraveling the meaning of ancient spells and incantations.
>Hidden Lore (Monsters): Frauke has rare academic knowledge of magic creatures and unnatural horrors that stalk ancient ruins, including Dragons - the former servants of the divine.
>Hidden Lore (Spirits): Under careful guidance Frauke has communed with ancient and lesser spirits of the world, and need only learn the words of power to do so once more... under the right conditions, of course.

>>4620968
>>+2 MP
>Hidden Lore (Magic): Frauke knows more of the deeper magic of the world than other mages, useful for unraveling the meaning of ancient spells and incantations.

>>4620968
>+2 MP
>Hidden Lore (Magic): Frauke knows more of the deeper magic of the world than other mages, useful for unraveling the meaning of ancient spells and incantations.
Classic mage built

question to QM: what's the social status of magic users in this world? Feared, respected, outcasts, persecuted by zealots? Bit of everything?

File: Holy Orders.jpg (507 KB, 1364x1732)

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>>4620995
Proper "full" mages are rare enough that it has more to do with individual reputation and local stories/beliefs, but as a very loose standard they're respected and people act with caution around them. A lot of mages live essentially as hermits devoted to study and caught up in their own strange dealings, rather separate from day to day life of whatever land they reside in.
There are plenty of scholars that dabble in magical theory so texts about the field continue to be reprinted, and curious merchants/nobles/statesmen will have some concept of the more famous mages of antiquity and possibly a few modern ones.
Outside of other full mages the most knowledgeable human groups will by far be the holy Orders and martial Contraction Traditions which have very, very long institutional memories or carefully preserved oral records. This knowledge typically isn't shared with outsiders, but Frauke has been taught to be wary of them. Witch hunts aren't really a thing outside of occasional angry mobs of villagers, but a group of veteran Templars intent on violence isn't something you want to be on the wrong side of.

Other races such as elves and dwarves are quite reclusive, and Frauke knows little of them other than that her mentor Åse has had dealing with them and they aren't just stories. What their opinions of mages are she couldn't even begin to properly guess, and Åse didn't speak of her past very often.

>>4621117
Good to know man, thanks!

>>4620968
>>Hidden Lore (Spirits): Under careful guidance Frauke has communed with ancient and lesser spirits of the world, and need only learn the words of power to do so once more... under the right conditions, of course.

>>4620968
>Hidden Lore (Spirits): Under careful guidance Frauke has communed with ancient and lesser spirits of the world, and need only learn the words of power to do so once more... under the right conditions, of course.

>>4620988
>>4620992
+MP and Magic lore.

>>4621247
>>4621277
Spirit lore.

Going to give the vote awhile longer since I'm going to be busy for most of the night.

>>4620968
>+2 MP
>Hidden Lore (Magic): Frauke knows more of the deeper magic of the world than other mages, useful for unraveling the meaning of ancient spells and incantations.

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>>4620988
>>4620992
>>4621391

Eight years ago, during Frauke’s early training…

”Mmm… The tea is almost perfect, Frauke. You’re learning quickly.”

“Almost?”

”There is much still to be learned, things you’ve grown enough to begin to comprehend.”

“About tea? It’s just hot leaf juice, that’s what you-”

”Yours was at first, yes. And no, about other things. Sit, join me.”

“...May I?”

“Yes dear, you may pour your own. This isn’t a normal lesson, there’s no reason to be so tense. Relax a little and listen.”

“A story then?”

“Indeed, an ancient tale passed to me from my own mentor. But first, tell me what you have learned of leylines.”

“...Well, they’re streams of arcane energy, sort of, uhm, underground mana rivers? Where they meet a nexus forms, and since the lines don’t move really big old cities like Lupa were built on them to use the power.”

“You’ve been reading Marcitus.”

“A little.”

“Tell me something you know about the lines, not what Marcitus wrote.”

“...I can feel them under the earth. Pulsing, sort of, like a heartbeat but also not. They… vibrate? When I focus I can feel both.”

“Good. And what else?”

“They’re... solid, almost like stone. Unmoving but still flowing. It’s always the same when I sense them.”

“Mmm, excellent. The tea, I mean. And a fair explanation, if somewhat imprecise.”

“...T-thank you? Wow, you’ve never praised my answers bef-”

“Don’t ruin the moment, Frauke. I give praise when it’s deserved.”

“Right. Sorry, sorry.”

“There’s no need to apologize either, just make sure to listen now, I’m about to begin...”

“There was once a time when there were more swans than geese, when dragons still bore riders, and the leylines laid differently…”

Hidden Lore (Magic): Frauke is capable of reading and utilizing adaptive thaumaturgical geometry, an esoteric skill even among mages and vital for understanding ancient spells.

>>4621635

>+2 MP Capacity
>+2 MP (Passive siphon)
>+2 Pendant MP (Passive siphon)

HP: 10/10
FP: 5/14
MP: 2/32
Pendant MP: 2/30

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

Your eyes flutter open groggily as a steady bumping rhythm slowly awakens you, revealing the blurred interior of a covered wagon. Leaning up you push aside the layers of faded wool blankets that cozily wrap around you, rubbing at your eyes and then yawning as you stretch your arms. The interior is cramped and only dimly illuminated by morning rays as the linen flaps on both ends are mostly shut, and it’s filled with ironbound chests and barrels of supplies lashed together with slender rope to allow for rather precarious looking stacking. Searching about without moving from the blankets, you spot your waterproofed leather grimoire satchel and large dark pointed hat sitting atop one of the barrels. You lean over and grab both, pulling them to your lap and looking them over. The hat is a little crumpled but otherwise fine, and the red strings keeping the satchel shut are still tightly knotted and secure. A sigh of relief escapes you, but the situation is beginning to fully set in. You passed out on the way back to camp, leaving Gustav and Arastro to lead the villagers to safety. They must have carried you the entire way back. The idea sends a pang of guilt through you, and even after a night's rest you can feel the ache of fatigue, but everything must have worked out if you’re in one of the wagons…

>Open the front flap to look about and speak with the teamster. What happened?
>Open your grimoire and go about your morning studies, trusting things are fine.
>Rummage around for some food in the supplies, you’re starving.
>Write-in.

>>4621641
>Open the front flap to look about and speak with the teamster. What happened?

>>4621641
>Open the front flap to look about and speak with the teamster. What happened?

>>4621641
>Open the front flap to look about and speak with the teamster. What happened?

>>4621641
>>Rummage around for some food in the supplies, you’re starving.

>>4621727
>>4621751
>>4621829

Reaching the front flap is a bit awkward as you’re forced to slide several heavy chests a few inches to make room, but you open a gap large enough to barely scooch through and part the flap with one hand. The bright morning light causes you to blink a few times and briefly avert your gaze, but it doesn’t take long to get a sense of things. Flurries of snow drift through the air, and it’s a bright if still rather chilly day. One of the other wagons is just ahead bumping along the stones of the old imperial road, and to either side armored men, the other Drakes, march along on foot with polearms resting idly on their shoulders - There must not be many riding in the other wagons, it wasn’t that large of a group to begin with.

You don’t recognize the teamster steering the wagon, he’s a scrawny dark haired man boasting a truly enormous mustache and a deep diagonal scar that runs from his jaw to his throat - It’s a wonder anybody could survive a wound like that, but the worst of it is masked by his mail standard which he wears over a faded blue brigandine cuirass. He looks back toward you, briefly taking his eyes off the pair of draft horses pulling the wagon.

“Finally awake, eh?” He says, voice coarse and rough.

“What happened? Is everyone alright?” You ask, not seeing any of the villages walking among the Drakes on the road ahead of you. The wagons must’ve been on the move for awhile, the rough shapes of forested hills in the distance looking only vaguely familiar.

“Gustav’s shoulder is gonna be sore for a while, big guy had to haul you back to camp.” He answers.

“...Yeah, I guessed as much. Need to thank him for that. Where are the villagers at?”

“Other wagons,” He answers, pointing ahead and motioning vaguely to the rear with his left hand, “Real pain to move all the cargo around, but we got em’ to fit. Gonna drop em’ off when we load up for the mountain crossing.”

“At the next town?” You ask, hoping they won’t just be dumped at some random village.

“That’s the idea, leave em’ with some coin somewhere… safer, I suppose. Not sure there really is such a thing these days though.” He gives a small shrug, and then turns enough toward you to offer a handshake, “I’m Dirk, by the way. Come up here and sit, there’s room on the board. May as well get to know you if you’re signed on for the whole campaign season.”

>>4622118

“I’m Frauke.” You say, pulling yourself from the interior of the wagon and out onto the protruding buckboard - It’s a bit of an oddly designed wagon, but you’ve seen similar ones a few times. You take Dirk’s hand and shake, and then wince slightly. His grasp is almost crushing, but it doesn’t linger enough to become too painful.

“Mm, so you’ve said. Nice to meet you properly, never known a witch before. Where are you from, Frauke? Not Brokhof I hope.”

“No, well sort of, I stayed with my Uncle Tristan when I was small...” It’s not easy to talk about him so soon but you push on, “and after that I lived with my mentor, but since she sent me out to learn I’ve mostly been wandering.”

“Orphan then, eh? That’s familiar around here, a lot of camp follower brats too.”

“Where are you from, Dirk?” You ask while trying to adjust your robes to sit more comfortably.

He gives a small almost dismissive wave, “Somewhere that isn’t here, grew up somewhere that wasn’t there, went to some other places and now I’m on this wagon.”

“That’s... a little vague.”

He grunts affirmatively, “Grew up on the road, pa was a mercenary. But that’s enough about me.”

>”So the company is giving the villagers coin? That’s very kind.”
>”Not to change the subject, but is there any food around here? I’m famished.”
>Talk for a bit but then retreat back into the wagon to begin your morning studies.
>Write-in.

>>4622119
Gotta stay on top of those studies.
>Talk for a bit, thank them for any support they provide the villagers, then excuse ourselves for studies.

>>4622119
>”Not to change the subject, but is there any food around here? I’m famished.”
Dirk, huh? Interesting name. Fitting for a mercenary, I suppose.

>>4622119
>>”Not to change the subject, but is there any food around here? I’m famished.”

>>4622119
>”Not to change the subject, but is there any food around here? I’m famished.”
>>4622144
Normal German name actually.

>>4622176
Oh, it's not weird in English either, per se. It's just that it's a kind of weapon.

>>4622144
>>4622172
>>4622176
Locking in chow time. It'll be a few hours before I can start writing.

>>4622144
>>4622172
>>4622176

“Not to change the subject, but is there any food around here? I’m famished.” You ask, a low rumble from your stomach emphasizing the point.

“Mm, yeah. Small chest, latch looks like a hare’s head. Gustav left it.”

“Right. Thanks.” You dip back into the wagon’s interior a little less gracefully than intended, halfway falling over and onto some of the cargo. Even at your size it’s tricky to move through all this stuff, only the small blanket cubby you were sleeping in really has any room to stand. After a few moments you locate the chest atop some barrels and manage to grab it with an awkward leaning reach.

You rub your hands together excitedly and open the latch, lifting the top and revealing some partially crumbled camp bread, a few slices of smoked ham, some scavenged berries, and a small wedge of ahmintaler. Sitting down on the pile of blankets you place the chest on your lap and dig in. Delicious. After night of freezing and running through the woods this is almost perfect. Could be warmer, the bread could be less rough and the ham less tough, but despite all of that it’s good. Surprisingly voracious for your size, you make quick work of the meal.

>+1 FP

Finished, and glad nobody saw your barbaric slaughter of the food, you awkwardly climb back out over the tied up cargo and through the flap to sit alongside Dirk.

“Good food?” Dirk asks idly, squinting at the terrain off in the distance. A thin column of black smoke is rising from the forest ahead and to the north.

You adjust you position to get a little more comfortable, and look off toward the smoke column just as Dirk is, “Mhm. I have a lot to thank Gustav for, he’s a life sav-”

That I am! No need to thank me, Frauke.” Gustav suddenly booms from next to you, the giant of a man having been walking alongside the wagon somehow without your notice. You nearly fall from the wagon in surprise, jumping back from the sudden noise and bumping into Dirk.

“Ah! Gustav! H-how are you doing?” You stutter out, barely avoiding open cursing at his sudden appearance. Someone that large has no right to be so sneaky, even if you were distracted.

“Very well, tiny Drake! Enjoy the food?” He questions, flashing a crooked smile through his bushy red beard.

“Yes, thank you.”

“Good, good. So, how does it feel to be Drakefang now? A full stomach, rescued villagers, a battle handily won, the endless road ahead…” Gustav dramatically sweeps an arm in front of him, gesturing toward the horizon.

>”Good, I think? You’ve done right by me so far.”
>”I’m not sure, honestly. Being a mercenary isn’t exactly a dream come true.”
>”One year, big man. One. Year.”
>Write-in

Ended up being way longer than I thought before I could start writing.

>>4622665
>Write-in
> Little early to say, I think. It's been less than a week, and I spent most of it unconscious.

>>4622665
>”I’m not sure, honestly. Being a mercenary isn’t exactly a dream come true.”
Plus
"That said you've done right by me so far so I'm willing to give it a chance"

>>4622777
>>4622882
Going to just lock in a combo of these two, they're both expressing uncertainty and don't really contradict. I'll try to get the next post out in the morning.

>>4623102
Cool. Sleep well, OP.

>>4622665
>>”One year, big man. One. Year.”

>>4622777
>>4622882

“I’m not sure. Little early to say, I think. It’s been less than a week, and I spent most of it unconscious, and being a mercenary isn’t exactly a dream come true.” You respond candidly, shrugging a little, “That said, you’ve done right by me so far so I’m willing to give it a chance.”

“Eh, you’ll get a taste for it sooner or later, kid.” Dirk says, mostly paying attention to the road.

You sigh, “Says the lifelong mercenary, and I’m hardly a kid.”

“Hm, can’t be that old right? Too small.” He questions, turning to face you properly.

“Twenty winters,” You answer defensively, “and I’m not that short!”

Dirk squints at you with a look of mild disbelief, “Pfff, alright then. Would’ve guessed a few less than that, hardly look it. But I suppose I can see it when you’re mad.”

“You are very small,” Gustav states matter-of-factly as he continues to walk alongside the wagon, “But Dirk is right that this life grows on you, Frauke. You’ll see.”

“Maybe.” You respond noncommittally.

“Gustav, what do you make of that smoke?” Dirk asks, changing the subject as he points toward the smoke you noticed earlier. The wagon is a bit closer now, but it’s still just a single column off in the distance among the snow covered hills and trees.

Gustav runs a hand through his beard as he considers the question, squinting into the distance, “Column’s narrow, only one, black smoke, no interruptions. Probably not a raid or a signal, I’d guess a cooking fire out of control. Maybe a tanner’s shack with smoke that dark.”

“It could be a naphtha burn.” You offer out, remembering seeing an alchemist demonstrate the flammable black substance in a trade quarter once. You’d read about it prior as part of studying earth magic and the conversation was quite interesting, but you’ve never had much time for Alchemy.

“Naphtha?” Dirk questions, “Could be, actually. Usually get bigger burns with it though.”

“I’d still wager it’s an accident. Whatever it is, we’ll keep our eyes open.” Gustav says firmly, settling the issue.

>”So what’s being a Drake actually like? Everyone seemed quite spirited about the Commander last night.”
>”Have Karla and the others settled in well? Dirk said they were going to be dropped off with some coin.”
>”If you’ll both excuse me, I have morning studies to get to. Secrets of the world won’t unravel themselves.”
>Write-in.

>>4623403
>>”If you’ll both excuse me, I have morning studies to get to. Secrets of the world won’t unravel themselves.”

>>4623403
>>”So what’s being a Drake actually like? Everyone seemed quite spirited about the Commander last night.”

>>4623403
>”So what’s being a Drake actually like? Everyone seemed quite spirited about the Commander last night.”

>>4623403
>”Have Karla and the others settled in well? Dirk said they were going to be dropped off with some coin.”

>>4623498
>>4623552
Locking this in.

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>>4623498
>>4623552

“So what’s being a Drake actually like? Everyone seemed quite spirited about the Commander last night.” You ask, moving onto a topic more interesting than distant fires.

“And for good reason! Lussan’s a rare sort.” Dirk answers first.

Gustav nods in agreement and continues to walk alongside the wagon, “Aye, that he is. Unshakeable confidence. Going to change the realm someday.”

The thought makes you wrinkle your face a bit in skepticism, “Change the realm? I thought mercenaries were paid in coin, not idealism.”

Gustav pats the coin purse dangling from his belt, “Can’t deny that, but there’s more to life than coin, Frauke. It just needs to be damn good to take instead.”

Dirk scoffs and then idly scratches at his old scar, “Maybe not much more though, eh? We usually win and the pay is better than most, and that’s good enough for me after... less rosy experiences.”

“I heard about that big battle out east a year ago. Lussan commanded that, right?” You question, finally getting around to asking about the only reason you even knew the name Drakefang.

“Ah, Iron Hill, hell of a battle. No, the Commander wasn’t in charge. Not officially.” Gustav answers.

“Would’ve been less of a bloody mess if he had been, avoiding stepping on the Duke’s toes was almost worse than the fighting.” Dirk says, spitting on the snow covered road as the wagon rolls along.

“Oh? Do tell.” You probe.

“The Duke heading the war council split our company up, probably afraid we’d desert if things went poorly and we were left together.” Gustav explains with plenty of gesticulation to help set the scene, “Lussan led our cavalry on the hill, and the rest of the company was split between both flanks - I had command of the right. Enemy outnumbered us about two to one. Things got bad during the push, pikes didn’t hold back on either side and the Duke’s men in the center began to buckle.”

“Sounds bad.” You say grimly, trying to picture the battle in your mind’s eye. Battlefield tactics definitely aren’t your area of expertise, but this isn’t too difficult to follow.

“Messy, bloody messy.” Dirk mutters, “Damn Duke should’ve listened to the Commander, could’ve done it clean from the start.”

“How’d you turn it around then?”

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>>4623839

Gustav continues to tell the story, less the jovial giant of his casual conversation and more like the trained killer you glimpsed during the rescue mission, “Lussan saw the mess coming after the previous night’s war council, gave the flanks separate orders to feign a retreat when the center broke - Didn’t tell the Duke, of course. It’s… a little hard to explain after that, but the Commander rallied the cavalry after dealing with the enemy riders - Not just ours, other companies too, and managed to circle around and smash through their reserve line. He didn’t stop, lead the charge all the way into the rear of their center force just as it began to break formation to pursue the Duke’s men. Flanks reformed and we encircled the lot of em’, their pikes couldn’t get back in position. Biggest bloodbath I’ve ever been in, took hours.”

“Oh. Wow. Lussan must be quite something then. ...What does he look like?” You ask, having difficulty imagining the charge without a description of the Commander.

Gustav chuckles at the question, “Think you might fancy him, witch?”

Your cheeks redden a little at the accusation, “No, no, I’m just trying to picture him. If I’m working for the man I should at least know what he looks like.”

“Well, it’d be hard to mistake him for anybody else. Comely fellow, long blonde hair, about this tall.” Gustav holds his hand out to a bit below his shoulder, “Sort of... soft looking for how good of a fighter he is, lasses seem to like it. Hard to figure his age though, younger than me though by a fair bit.”

“Northern?” You question.

Gustav nods, “Always assumed so, but he’s got the old empire in his spirit if not his blood. Even has a drakefang fashioned into a sword, like the dragon riders used to - Damn thing’s a terror in a fight, no idea where he got it. His armor is Imperial as well, black steel and the helmet sort of looks like a dragon’s head.”

“...Hence the Drakefangs.” You say, the name finally clicking. It isn’t uncommon for people to draw on old imperial imagery to gain legitimacy or fame, but usually it’s less overt than practically dressing like a warrior out of antiquity.

“More or less.” Dirk agrees.

>”What’s he like as a person though? It’s reassuring that he’s skilled, but that hardly tells me much.”
>”Wait a moment, Gustav. You commanded an entire flank? You can’t just gloss over details like that.
>”A witch and a man that dresses like a dragon rider, how... strikingly imperial. Almost sounds like a convergence.” [Hidden Lore: Magic]
>Write-in.

>>4623842
>>”Wait a moment, Gustav. You commanded an entire flank? You can’t just gloss over details like that.

>>4623842
>>”What’s he like as a person though? It’s reassuring that he’s skilled, but that hardly tells me much.”

>>4623842
>”A witch and a man that dresses like a dragon rider, how... strikingly imperial. Almost sounds like a convergence.” [Hidden Lore: Magic

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>>4623843
>>4623870
>>4624066
Going to give voting another hour or so, if there isn't a decision by then I'll just roll it off.

>>4623842
>”Wait a moment, Gustav. You commanded an entire flank? You can’t just gloss over details like that.

>>4623843
>>4624196
Looks like questioning Gustav won.

>>4623843
>>4624196

“Wait a moment, Gustav. You commanded an entire flank? You can’t just gloss over details like that.” You ask, questioning your very limited understanding of the Drakefangs.

“Of course I did, I’m one of the company captains.” Gustav partially answers, stepping around a dip in the road where several pavestones are missing.

“You’re what?”

“He is, somehow.” Dirk says, rolling his eyes.

“Wait, wait, then why didn’t you say that when I asked?” You question, thinking back to your first exchange the night before.

“I cut to the heart of the question, you wanted to know who our leader was.” Gustav says innocently, “Besides, I thought ordering the men around made it clear.”

You give him a blank look, “I had you figured as a... sergeant or something. A lower rank, not sure how it works exactly.”

“You wound me.” Gustav says, poorly feigning a stereotypical nobleman’s accent and then breaking into a chuckle, “What did you think a mercenary captain would look like?”

You consider the question for a few seconds, “...Not entirely sure, now that I think of it. More normal?”

“You’re going to have a rough time if you expect captains to be normal.” Dirk sighs, “Job attracts eccentrics, freaks, and madmen. Wouldn’t pay as well otherwise.”

Gustav lets out an affirmative grunt and narrows his eyes, “Mm. True enough, though you should be mindful of which group you put me in, Dirk.”

“Definitely all three, Captain.” Dirk responds without hesitation, eyes on the road.

”HA!” Gustav guffaws loudly enough it’s a wonder the wagon doesn’t rattle apart, “And that’s why I always pick you for special detachment! Can’t trust the others to speak candidly.”

“I’m just here for the extra money.” Dirk mutters unconvincingly.

“See? He’s a merc’s merc.” Gustav says with a huge grin.

“...Sure. So you really commanded an entire flank?” You ask again, desperately trying to wrap back around to the original question.

Gustav shakes his head, “No, not quite, we only made up around a third of the flank. Knew a few of the other captains from my years as a Tortoise though, they followed my lead once things got bad.”

"Being huge and loud helped." Dirk comments.

“Tortoise? Don’t tell me you have a giant shield somewhere and I just haven’t seen it yet.” You groan, increasingly unsure of what to make of the huge man.

“What? No, we didn’t use shields, just heavy armor. It was my previous company, it disbanded about five years ago when the captain got a barony. I was his vanguard leader for two years.” Gustav half explains, plenty of questions lingering.

>”Two years? Don’t people, you know, die in vanguards?”
>”...So where’s Arastro at? Haven’t seen him yet today.”
>”Uhuh. Well, I should really get to my morning studies. We’ll talk later, okay?”
>Write-in.

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>>4624476
>”Uhuh. Well, I should really get to my morning studies. We’ll talk later, okay?”
The way this keeps popping up as an option makes it seem important. Also we should cloud ourselves in a proper aura of mystery to make up for short built.
getting a strong pic related vibe from Lussan [\spoiler]

>>4624476
>>”Uhuh. Well, I should really get to my morning studies. We’ll talk later, okay?”

>>4624476
>>”Uhuh. Well, I should really get to my morning studies. We’ll talk later, okay?”
>>4624625
Nah Lussan is actually a princess

>>4624476
>>”Uhuh. Well, I should really get to my morning studies. We’ll talk later, okay?”

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>>4623842
Hang on leader of a mercenary company described as
>Comely fellow, long blonde hair, about this tall.” Gustav holds his hand out to a bit below his shoulder, “Sort of... soft looking for how good of a fighter he is, lasses seem to like it. Hard to figure his age though, younger than me though by a fair bit
and is going to "change the realm someday"

I am very worried

>>4624625
>>4624640
>>4624829
>>4624864

Mind drifting toward other matters you wrap up the conversation quickly, “Uhuh. Well, I should probably get to my morning studies. I’m sure we’ll talk later.”

“Studies? Mm, very well then, if that’s what witches do to stay sharp.” Gustav says, stroking his beard while pondering the thought. Dirk just gives an acknowledging grunt.

“It is.” You say, slipping slightly less awkwardly back into the wagon’s interior.

It still isn’t easy, but practice helps you navigate the cramped stacks of barrels and chests of various styles without too much embarrassment. Squeezing your way toward the back of the wagon you open up one flap of the split rear covering, securing it’s dangling loop of string to a small brass hook on the sideboard. With the lighting fixed you settle in among the blankets once more, moving your grimoire to your lap and carefully unknotting the red string keeping it’s protective leather satchel shut.

Reaching in you pull the old spellbook out with care, though it’s hardly a delicate thing. Bound in heavy black leather and protected by slightly raised silver cornerpieces it could probably be run over by several carts without much issue, but anything that might risk ruining the subtle pressed patterning of thaumaturgic geometry on its surface is best avoided. It’s a work of art but with a very practical purpose: The transmission of knowledge from mentor to student.

Written by your mentor Åse when she was “young”, whatever that even means for her, the grimoire is a completed work with no room to be modified. A sort of work diary, historical text, thaumaturgic treatise, and list of various contractions and calculation tables all rolled into one monster of a book. It’s your only truly reliable source of knowledge as you travel across the realm, but it hardly contains every arcane secret there is to learn - Partially a practical matter of page space, but also largely due to Åse’s insistence that true learning requires exploration and natural discovery. Perhaps she’s right, you’ve learned a lot while traveling, but it’s a frustratingly slow process at times.

Opening the silver clasp on the grimoire’s side, patterned to look like a metallic rose in bloom, you lift the heavy cover and…

>Begin study of a new word of power, opening up untold possibilities.
>Continue your study of a word you already know, deepening your understanding.
>Begin learning a contraction. Something blasty probably, mercenary work seems messy.
>Practice the basics of enchantment, a difficult but valuable skill.

>>4625032
>>Continue your study of a word you already know, deepening your understanding.

>>4625032
>Begin learning a contraction. Something blasty probably, mercenary work seems messy.

>>4625032
hey QM, would you mind elaborating real quick on our understanding of the pros and cons of contraction-casting?

Is it more mana efficient? just faster? what would "faster" even do for us, OOC

>>4625125
Sure thing.
Contraction casting can be thought of as being closer to a traditional fantasy spell, with limited pre-set effects and significantly less ability to be tailored to situations than normal word casting - Generally only damage and range can be adjusted, or whatever passes for potency among more utility focused spells and even then only slightly. Mana costs and casting times are reduced significantly though, allowing for a mage to stay in a fight longer and respond properly to sudden events such as volleys of arrows or assassins leaping from a bush next to them. The opportunity cost of learning contractions is worth consideration, as you aren't increasing word skill or learning new words and there's only so much time in the day.

Mana costs are generally a third as much as normal casting, and casting time is reduced to one fifth the normal time. This means two or three word evocations can usually be cast in a second or less, with practice able to reduce that further to be almost be at will. Some gesture and vocal component will always be needed, but it can become significantly compressed.

The basic system the quest is based on (GURPS) has one second combat rounds which is a little too fine for most Quest purposes, things would take forever to do post by post, so reduced casting time is mostly relevant for time critical things like combat, sudden environmental threats, and other fast magic. Imminent threats will usually be clear from descriptions in story posts or explicit warnings on certain options, though a bit of suspicion about unseen threats and general common sense is still advised.

The main issues with contractions are friendly fire potential due to lesser control, being unable to end your own spells at will, a need to train up the contraction to a useful level even once it is made, and a general lack of flexibility since most details have to be fixed in advance. Other methods of getting responsive combat potency include prior preparation via enchantment (permanent word magic) or ensorcellment (long duration word magic), use of spirits or constructs, proper spacing and tactics so it just isn't an issue, and of course good old fashioned normal combat training.

>>4625163
Hm! Interesting.
>Begin learning a contraction. Something blasty probably, mercenary work seems messy.
Get one very combat oriented contraction under our belt, so we're not caught with our pants down casting 11MP magic missiles. (That's 3 DAYS of magic regen, even with our pendant helping out, y'all).

>>4625032
>>4625163
>>Begin learning a contraction. Something blasty probably, mercenary work seems messy.

>>4625114
>>4625183
>>4625193

You lift the heavy cover and turn to a page dealing with the basics of contractions, the parchment finely illuminated with a border of relevant spell formulae and geometry, and a tiny enchanted doodle of a witch disintegrating a charging knight with a fireball. Åse was more whimsical in her youth apparently. The ache of fatigue still haunts you like a specter after the previous night’s heavy handed evocations, and anything to avoid fainting again while fleeing an enemy camp seems promising.

What do you focus on?

>Move+Magic: A rapid fire burst of five weak and unguided manabolts. Good against unarmored or very lightly armored enemies.
>Protect+Strengthen+Magic: A basic reinforced mana barrier. Circular and flat, slightly taller than Frauke. Angle depends on casting position. Helps prevent turning into a pin cushion.
>Write-in. Give me the spell idea, I'll try to make it work if possible.

As a reminder, Frauke knows: Earth, Magic, Move, Control, Protect, and Strengthen.

>>4625359
stop giving us such good options!!!
>Move+Earth. Either a pebble cluster-launch, or maybe a blast of sand that inhibits visibility etc. Dm's choice. Something earth-themed.

>>4625359
>>Protect+Strengthen+Magic: A basic reinforced mana barrier. Circular and flat, slightly taller than Frauke. Angle depends on casting position. Helps prevent turning into a pin cushion.

>>4625359
>Move+Earth. Either a pebble cluster-launch, or maybe a blast of sand that inhibits visibility etc. Dm's choice. Something earth-themed.

>>4625183
yes, get something quick, cheap and with a low AOE, to avoid accidentally blowing up our own men in the heat of battle. Something like good old-fashioned lightning bolt. Would've made short work of these fucking dogs as well.

>>4625359
>>4625362
>>4625431
missed the update. Something like boulder strike then, or a stone lance shooting up from the ground.

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>>4625362
>>4625426
Since it was left to my choice I'll opt for the pebble cluster. Some fun can be had with switching out what the "pebbles" are (stone, lead, iron, etc) even if the contraction itself can't be changed, and it gives at least some AoE at a distance - The missed pebbles have to go somewhere after all.

Sand blasts/dust clouds are a fun idea, might be something to pursue later.

>>4625362
>>4625426

You ponder the possible contractions that can be formed with the words you know, looking for inspiration among the pages of the grimoire. Learning something like a fireball or lightning bolt would be possible with a teacher or if you knew the words for either, but as it stands most of the written contractions are little more than examples of what can be done. You sigh and lean back against one of the chests, wishing your studies were further along and more words could be used - That can always come later though, not getting gutted by some scruffy mercenary with a rusty longsword is a little higher on your priority list currently.

Something aggressive seems in order, but all the light and flash of a purely magic evocation is just too obvious. In the dark you’d give away your position immediately, and practicing in seclusion would be difficult. Even as beautiful as they are, manabolts draw too much attention to be the only contraction available - And that’s exactly what this will be, for a while at least.

Setting yourself to the task you begin the long process of defining the parameters of the contraction, how the intent and power behind each word will collapse into a more efficient and single vessel. Slowly but surely the edges of idea form and then solidify: A hail of stones, a piercing cluster of projected earth - like small shot from a handgonne. No flash, no light, just simple direct force split between nine stones.

>Contraction formation begun: Scatter Stone [1/2]
>-1 FP

After hours spent working on ironing out the details you’re nearly spent, the mental toll is just exhausting. It’s going to take hours more to get the contraction to a working state, and then hours upon hours of practice for it to be of much use in an emergency. Ugh, even thinking about it makes you want to curl up and go back to sleep.

>Curl up and go back to sleep. [Time skip to the evening]
>Force yourself up and go back to the front of the wagon, there’s more to learn and you're curious.
>Just enjoy the view from the rear of the wagon, the snow topped hills and forest really are rather pretty when you’re not freezing to death among them.
>Write-in.

>>4625633
>Just enjoy the view from the rear of the wagon, the snow topped hills and forest really are rather pretty when you’re not freezing to death among them.

>>4625633
>>Curl up and go back to sleep. [Time skip to the evening]

>>4625633
>>Just enjoy the view from the rear of the wagon, the snow topped hills and forest really are rather pretty when you’re not freezing to death among them.
we need to rest up

>>4625633
>>Curl up and go back to sleep. [Time skip to the evening]

>>4625633
>Just enjoy the view from the rear of the wagon, the snow topped hills and forest really are rather pretty when you’re not freezing to death among them.

>>4626116
throwing my hat in with
>Enjoy the view
to prevent a tie.

>>4626116
>>4626193
>>4626220
>>4626339

You close the grimoire’s heavy black cover, sealing it’s silver rose clasp with a snap. It slides smoothly back into the satchel, a snug fit. Inhaling, you close your eyes and try to relax and center yourself, tying the satchel shut with a complex knot. It's a deeply familiar process, and there’s no need to watch to know your movements are correct. Little rituals like this, even though they don’t swirl with mana, are important for keeping in the right frame of mind. A simple, clear demarcation between the depths of arcane study and the rest of life. You open your eyes and exhale, the knot completed.

Moving toward the rear of the wagon you settle in among the cargo there, moving some about just enough to be able to sit comfortably and enjoy the view. You rotate your mother’s ruby pendant idly in one hand while looking out at the world. One of the other wagons is just back a bit on the old road, driving almost through the same ruts left in the snow by your own wagon and the lead. The teamster gives a small wave with a gloved hand, which you return politely in kind. A few Drakes walk along nearby, alone or chatting in pairs.

The sunny morning sky is gone. Dark grey clouds gathered while you were studying, rays from the midday sun peek through the cover here and there and give the land a harsh but beautiful character. Jagged stone hills and ancient spruce forests alike are covered in a blank of white, and contrasted in great swathes of light and shadow. Much of it is far behind, back toward Brokhof, but hints of motion among the clouds and the rustling of trees along the road betrays the inevitable. In a few hours the snowfall will grow heavier once again, and the view will fade away.

For a moment a shadow stirs among the clouds, a dark blotch swooping down from one grey cloud bank to another in a gentle arc. You blink, and then squint to try and see it more clearly, but it’s already gone.

>Call one of the soldiers over to the wagon, it’s worth getting to know more people.
>Sing a melancholy song. The beauty of the view will vanish soon, making it all the more special. Uncle Tristan enjoyed your singing, and he’s gone now too…
>Keep your gaze fixed on the clouds. Was that just a trick of the light?
>Write-in.

>>4626542
>>Keep your gaze fixed on the clouds. Was that just a trick of the light?

>>4626542
>Call one of the soldiers over to the wagon, it’s worth getting to know more people.

>>4626542
>Sing a melancholy song. The beauty of the view will vanish soon, making it all the more special. Uncle Tristan enjoyed your singing, and he’s gone now too…
In memory of uncle Tristan

>>4626542
>Keep your gaze fixed on the clouds. Was that just a trick of the light?

>>4626542
>>Keep your gaze fixed on the clouds. Was that just a trick of the light?

>>4626544
>>4626678
>>4626712

Your eyes stay fixed on the heavens, searching the clouds for the strange shadow. The shape was far too large to be a bird at such a distance, but the movement was so similar, so gentle and natural looking. Was it merely a trick of the light created by the higher clouds, like a shadow puppet play put on by some unknowably vast being? Watching intently for a minute, and then two, nothing reappears. You maintain your vigil for a while longer, focused on the slow gentle shifting of the light among the clouds. It’s not like the earlier movement, too soft and slow, and still nothing reveals itself. Smirking slightly you let out a small laugh, what exactly were you expecting? It feels a little foolish to have been so enamored with it, like a daydreaming child seeing the shapes of animals or castles in the clou-

Wait, there it is again, the shadow! Ascending this time, piercing into the upper levels once more. A miniscule dark blur at this distance, it’s nearly impossible to make out any features of the silhouette besides wings. Some monstrously great creature of the air, a giant eagle or...

Without warning a deep chill runs down your spine, the hair on the back of your neck raising up as an undeniable sense of being watched by something floods over you. A simple, primal suspicion that a predator lurks nearby. No, it’s closer than that, closer to the feeling of a person standing over you but just outside of your vision. Behind you, craning down low and close enough to your neck that the faintest heat of their breath washes over your skin. Closer still, the heat of it playing over your ear, breath nearly forming into words.

”. . .”

>Turn around, look behind you! You instincts are screaming at you to pull away.
>Keep your gaze locked firmly on the dark shape and don’t move. Prepare to cast if needed.
>Don’t look away, and raise a hand slowly to your neck. ”...What are you?”
>Write-in.

>>4627020
>Your* instincts
Gah, damn typos.

>>4627020
>>Keep your gaze locked firmly on the dark shape and don’t move. Prepare to cast if needed.

>>4627020
>Keep your gaze locked firmly on the dark shape and don’t move. Prepare to cast if needed.

>>4627020
>>Turn around, look behind you! You instincts are screaming at you to pull away.

>>4627020
>Don’t look away, and raise a hand slowly to your neck. ”...What are you?”
Dragon

>>4627020
>>Keep your gaze locked firmly on the dark shape and don’t move. Prepare to cast if needed.

File: TAKE HEED.jpg (396 KB, 2729x1798)

396 KB JPG

>>4627054
>>4627327
>>4627578

Your body tenses, eyes remaining fixed on the dark shape as it swoops from cloud to cloud. So far away, but with a presence so terrifying close. Gritting your teeth you direct your thoughts within yourself, feeling the faint but steady pulse of mana. Barely enough for a small spell, but you will not simply surrender to this thing or your fear. Fists clench. It’s all too much, Brokhof, Uncle Tristan, fighting, killing - This thing, whatever it is, caught you at the wrong time. Enough of this already, it’s too much!

The heat of the presence, the unsettling warmth breath on your neck and ear, flares in intensity. Almost like a flame, blossoming into the heat of a raging inferno and then vanishing just as quickly into a wash of tingling numbness. The presence is somehow closer than before. Your left shoulder blade suddenly burns like a heated iron was shoved against it, a searing agony that blanks your mind in white for a heartbeat.

Blinking and wincing, you recover your senses after a few moments. Your eyes widen in realization. This thing got past your aura. In your thoughts you hear it; a voice like thunder, a deep rumbling bass that resonates with the power of mana.

”OBSERVANT ONE! TENACIOUS! SO, THAT IS HOW IT WILL BE.”

“BEARER OF THE MARK, LISTEN WELL! THE SUFFERING HAS ONLY BEGUN FOR YOUR KIND.”

”THE KEY WROUGHT BY MAN IS TURNING. GATES ONCE CLOSED SHALL AGAIN OPEN. TAINTED BLOOD OVERFLOWS! REPRISAL NEARS! A DELUGE OF CRIMSON AND DARKNESS FROM A TORN SKY. WHEN THE LINES SHIFT, THE SUBJUGATION WILL BEGIN ANEW.”

”SEEK THE CHILD! BEWARE THE RED WATERS!”

>”Get. Out. OF. MY. HEAD!” Strengthen+Protect+Magic. Reinforce the magical portion of your aura and resist with what little mana you have. 4 MP. TN 13 to cast.
>”W-what? Tainted blood? What child? I don’t understand, what are you telling me?!”
>Try to push back into this creature's thoughts, perhaps this connection runs both ways.
>Write-in.

>>4627694
>Try to push back into this creature's thoughts, perhaps this connection runs both ways.

>>4627694
>>”Get. Out. OF. MY. HEAD!” Strengthen+Protect+Magic. Reinforce the magical portion of your aura and resist with what little mana you have. 4 MP. TN 13 to cast.

>>4627694
>Try to push back into this creature's thoughts, perhaps this connection runs both ways.
I doubt it'll explain any better if we ask, but we need more info.