*** *** ***

It was your first venture so far outside Crisscross. You were twelve then; it was two years after Carinda’s arrival. You cared less about it than your master, but she insisted, and you grew tiresome of the smithy. You travelled for three miserable days until reaching the Quarry townsite. Surrounding the hollowed peak was an expanding town, also four times the size of your home hamlet. The prospectors and miners lived here, and so did their families, in their abodes of wood and stone (mostly stone). Structures were built to support their lifestyle: from builds of alcohol and adult recreation to tent markets and more refined and permanent shops to a graveyard. There was an entire district dedicated to blacksmithing. Perhaps not unique in the human lands—you did not know—but the Quarry was the first place Carinda said she felt to be dwarf-like.

You remembered sitting in the back of the dwarven waggon; you had no reason to join your master on the front bench, for she was a pushy and loud person and you had nothing to talk to her about. It was unlikely she was going to let you explore the Quarry, so you focused on watching it from the glassless wrought window. Your master left the waggon in the middle of the street to take care of business. She did not let you join. ‘Someone needs to guard the waggon’ were her words. She didn't mean it.

The unexpected shamelessness of some of the humans was alien to dwarfs (perhaps), or Carinda did not think someone would dare to try anything. As you sat looking at the midway street—with most of the miners busy in the mountain—you heard a shady whisper. At first, you did not respond, but then the violent clangs and rattles of metal and wood coming from outside the waggon, as well as atypical silence from the ponies who would usually react made you suspicious and weary.

You opened the door to check, and immediately, your throat was collared by a hairy elbow. The unkempt fingers with heavy metal rings pushed over your mouth and nose to stop you from shouting, and from breathing. A fist smashed into your stomach, painfully so.

> Try to bite the fingers and the palm with all your teenage might.
> Swing the back of your head to try to hit the jaw of the man attacking you.
> Grab the fingers of the man with both of your hands to try to twist and pull them away. Try shouting for help.
> Grab the man and dive forward to try and fall together with the man of the waggon’s elevation.
> [Write In]

>Is this a LOTR fanfic?
>No.

>What is this?
>A oneshot quest about an apprentice and his female dwarf master.

>Who are we?
>A 17-year-old human apprentice named Julian in the small human hamlet of Crisscross.

>How often will you update?
>I want to update once a day if I am able to.

>How many options can I pick?
>Please pick only one unless stated otherwise. If you are to pick more, make sure you understand that there’s a possibility it will make things harder for the MC.

>Will there be mechanics and rolls?
>Not in this quest.

>Where are the images from?
>Heavily edited OP pic. Credit to the original owners/creators.

>Where can I find the first thread?

>>5054659
> https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2021/5054659/
> https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive.html?searchall=shortstack+dwarf
> If you prefer to read it as a story instead of a thread:
> https://anonpaste.org/?f2ff6e8d0b8aa3dd#62DZwb2gcvJkgARhqfAnzFsEFxt2EMaNimo3N7RV8TJg - Chapter 1 [Unedited]
> https://anonpaste.org/?5b258c941307d907#7GbrFhLsPM5jC6HbPXb9qsVNzXCTTLQAaE8H8h76SJBu - Chapter 2 [Unedited]

>>5098320
> Grab the man and dive forward to try and fall together with the man of the wagon’s elevation

>>5098320
>> Grab the man and dive forward to try and fall together with the man of the waggon’s elevation.
Probably won't expect it, plus don't think any of the other options will be much good given our age so best to try leverage our weight

>>5098322
> Grab the man and dive forward to try and fall together with the man of the waggon’s elevation.

>>5098320
>Grab the man and dive forward to try and fall together with the man of the waggon’s elevation.

File: The empty streets of the (...).jpg (144 KB, 1280x549)

144 KB JPG

Gasping for unreachable air, you slipped on and grabbed the hands of the man holding you. You blundered about with your step, your feet grinding over the timber base and then tripping off the small-scale ladder underneath the waggon’s iron hatchway. Your plummet was immediate and unfortunate. You fell dragging the assaulter down with you, but you were the first to connect with the raw cobblestone road, the complete weight of his body increasing the pain threefold. You ate the dirt. Your vision turned to the murk.

“Damn it, boy, I just want you to lay still, not kill you,” he said, raising himself a tad to push his knee against your back.

You were pinned to the ground. It was the middle of the street—damn it—but this part of it might as well had been a blind dead-end alley. One would have to be fortuned to have a person suddenly show up to help you, and you were not that lucky. You managed to turn your head, dragging your hair against the cold stone, to look towards the carriage. He had blurry accomplices.

“Are you sure this waggon belongs to a dwarf?” a boy, eight years old or younger, said.

“Yeah, how can you be so sure?” another boy—it was hard to tell for sure, but he looked near-identical—concurred.

“Yes, I am sure,” the man said with a growl, his attention turned to the boys, “I can tell the difference between a freak midget and a dwarf!”

“ … What should we be taking?” one of them asked, “There’s nothing -that- impressive here." Of course not: Carinda took most of it with her.

“What about this thing?” the twin was holding a leather sheet with portions of Carinda’s dark-silver relic-hammer plain to see beneath.

Idiot. Why, of all the times possible, your master decided to leave it in the waggon instead of taking it with her, the way she usually carried it?!

The man’s attention was elsewhere: judging the looting. He was not trying to knock you out anymore—perhaps he was afraid to accidentally kill you?

> “Please help!” shout at particular nobody to distract the man. Try to quickly stand up and then roll from his imprisoning knee.
> “That hammer only looks valuable, it’s made out of cheap metal. I can tell you where the real valuables are if you release me …”
> “That hammer only looks valuable, it’s made out of cheap metal. Let me go and I’ll show you where the dwarf hides the valuables.”
> “This is not a dwarf waggon! We are just regular travelling merchants!”
> [Write In]

>>5099198
>That hammer only looks valuable. Let me go, and let me have a cut, and I'll help you find the real valuables

A bluff, of course. We keep them busy until we can incapacitate them or shout for help more successfuly. If this doesn't work out, our "cut" should be pocketing the most valuable item we find, to safeguard it and then return it to Carinda.

>That hammer only looks valuable. Let me go, and let me have a cut, and I'll help you find the real valuables
We're not winning through force, so this sounds good to me.

>>5099198
>>> “Please help!” shout at particular nobody to distract the man. Try to quickly stand up and then roll from his imprisoning knee.
I disagree with drawing more attention to the hammer, though I suppose if we manage to convince them to let us up we can try take the kid hostage

>>5099198
>“Please help!” shout at particular nobody to distract the man. Try to quickly stand up and then roll from his imprisoning knee.

Rolled 2 (1d2)

>>5099217
>>5099397

>>5099458
>>5100100

> Let's roll, then!

“It’s quite nice-looking!” one of the boys said, fervently vying the hammer from another’s hands.

Other boy responded in haste, tackling the “thief” to retake the hammer. “Hey, that’s mine; I found it first!”

The hammer was held inches away from the other’s reach, he was standing on his tiptoes then. “ … and you stole what I took last time!”

The violating weight of the man unintentionally wavered as he turned his attention and voice at his companions. “Focus on the goods!”

“Please help!” you shouted towards nobody in particular—there could be people inside of those houses but you did not hold much hope—it was hard to convoke a loud yell in such a situation. However, it distracted the man, his frame raising without dexterity; with worry on his face. With a sudden and collected explosion of force, you pushed up your body to shake off his knee. In his confusion, you rolled away to the side. You gasped for air, your moment of relief lasting no longer than a second.

“A-are the watch here?!” the boy-without-the-hammer peered out of the waggon, looking rapidly to his left and right.

“Nobody is here!” the man shouted. He squeezed his hand into a fist with a loud knuckle crack. He looked furious.

> Pick up a cobble rock and toss it towards the man’s head.
> Stand up as quickly as possible and then throw a punch at the man’s mushrooms.
> Try to run past the man to take the heirloom hammer away from the boy.
> [Write In]

>>5100279
>Run past the man and take the hammer back

We may not have loved her yet, but Carinda was still our master at this point. That hammer is important to her. We have a duty.

>>5100279
>> Try to run past the man to take the heirloom hammer away from the boy.
As >>5100292 says, plus we will have something to wave menacingly

>>5100279
>Try to run past the man to take the heirloom hammer away from the boy.

You remember asking your master: ‘What’s with the hammer? You never used it, but it’s always hanging on your belt. Is it for display?’

She smiled at you, offering you yet another heat-treated ingot, undeterred by you still working on the previous one she gave you.

‘It’s an heirloom hammer, but I don’t use it not because it’s fragile, but because I don’t want to break the anvils," she said with a snicker.
You did not bother to make your eye-rolling inconspicuous, “As if! … Is it a present from your father, or your husband?”

She paused with a grin, “I don’t have one. Are you that curious? It was made from the arm of my far-grander-than-dwarf-can-count ancestor.”

With a deep yet edged wheeze you pushed yourself off the ground, floundering to make some distance between you and the white-haired adult. Cracking his neck, he began to quickly approach. “Just stay down, kid, we’ll take a few things and leave.”

You shook your head, looking for a way to pass him by. You had to risk it, that hammer was important to Carinda: she would never forgive you if it got stolen or lost. As far as you knew, it was -not- a duty of the apprentice to protect her valuables, personal valuables, not the works made in the smithy. Still—you lead your hand to caress your prickling stomach—you had to do at least that much, else this would've been your last visit.

You bent forwards, blitzing towards the waggon. The man charged to intercept, his ringed hand seizing the shoulder of your jacket. You—with not much time to think— bit into his fingers; the man let go, his fresh blood coating the metal. You jumped on the waggon.

“Why you little … “ you heard the man say. If he had any sympathy before, he was not going to be merciful to your health and well-being now.

You clutched both sides of the spread-open door, closing off the easy escape for both of the boys. Caught in the middle of their childish bickering, both of them looked frightened. You only needed one of them— you clambered inside, grabbing the upper part of the hammer’s handle. You glared at the boy. Your breathing was too heavy to speak.

He was sweating but was not letting go.

You slapped the boy, releasing his grasp and chucking him to the opposite side of the waggon, to join his twin. You grabbed the hammer with a proper-stiff grip. You raised it. “This hammer is made out of cheap metal, but it’s valuable to my master, so I’m not-”

“As if I am going to believe that,” you heard the man mumble, he had his fingers in his mouth to stifle the bleeding from the bite-wound.

“V-Vermin?” the boy you did not hit called; he stopped his hands from shaking by holding the wall. “What should we do … ?”

The other boy was rubbing his cheek, tears were beginning to form beneath his eyes, “Ouch! Ouch … I don’t want to go to prison!”

“Vermin, there’s some here!” the boy suddenly shouted, throwing a cotton bag with door handles, horseshoes, door knockers, and other small-in-value items inside. You rushed to stop the twins, but they climbed down the waggon with dexterity and boyish brisk.

The man caught the bag, his companions hiding behind him as soon as they reached him. He pithily scrutinised the bag, his face a mix of relief and disappointment.

“You better give that back,” you urged the man, leaning on the iron entrance door, “ … Give it back.”

He took out a vial from underneath his jacket and uncorked it. With a satiated smile, he threw it inside the waggon, making it shatter underneath your feet. Watery oil doused the wooden floor and your clothes. In shock, you took a step back. Your audible gripe was interrupted by him -again-. He was holding a lantern—one he brought with him, but let stay standing on the road, negligible …

He shrugged, “I can’t let you follow us, kid, so this will keep you busy. Yet seriously, don’t die.” The man bent his arm, made a step forward and then threw the lantern with all of his adult strength, making aim directly inside.

> Jump out of the waggon before the lantern reaches it. The waggon is both iron -and- timber: you’ll be able to put the fire down afterwards.
> Jump out of the waggon before the lantern reaches it. Chase the thieves to reclaim the bag.
> Jump to try to catch the lantern with your arms and safely keep it away from the waggon.
> Use the hammer to try to bat the lantern back towards the adult and his companions.
> [Write In]

>>5101130
>Jump put of the wagon, then focus on putting out the flames

>>5101130
>> Jump out of the waggon before the lantern reaches it. The waggon is both iron -and- timber: you’ll be able to put the fire down afterwards.
Seems sensible enough

>>5101130
>Jump out of the wagon before the lantern reaches it. The wagon is both iron -and- timber: you’ll be able to put the fire down afterwards.

> This will be the last post of the flashback, so it'll take a bit longer since we'll return to the present afterwards. I hope to complete it later today but if not, then tomorrow. Thank you all for playing.
> Imagine cracking the arm of a far-grander-than-dwarf-can-count ancestor, couldn't be me.

You had a second to react, and you couldn’t risk doing anything frivolous. Before the glass lantern flew into the waggon and the kindle-fire within shattered and spread, you hurriedly jumped out, landing uncomfortably on the road of stone. The oil began to burn, the blackened smoke and the smell of charing ash dispersed. The trio of thieves was already far away from the incident of their making to be seen, and you had no time to waste pursuing. Despite its out-turns, the fire itself was small and spread only across the coating of oil, the furnish of the floor resisting the smouldering.

You looked around for a way to put down the fire. There was no well, but there surely should have been one nearby—even Crisscross had one! Would the civilians have water, at least drinking water, stored in their houses? Would they be in their homes, would they open the door, would they let you take it? There were far too many things that could go wrong … You climbed past the fire to take and lift a barrel.

It was a small ale keg: precious alcohol of your master, unmatured yet but far more delicious than anything people in Crisscross could brew or buy; according to the adults. You struggled with the lid—tightened to an impossible extent. You began to sweat, and your exposed skin dried up with blood-red rimples from the seeping fire.

You dropped the keg to no effect. You followed its unsuccessful fall with Carinda's hammer, the brew spilling out to stop the patulous flame—the overfilled keg acting as an impenetrable wet mat. The dry black smoke mixed with the sizzling vapour of the ale. Coughing into your palm, your throat stinging as if you swallowed nails, you found refugee from the smoke by the large wheels. The punches of the man were still aching.

Carinda returned—not soon, but not much later. It was hard to see her through the smoke, which also semi-blinded you: made your eyes red and stingy. She looked upset and even frightened. She was about to yell and shout; you knew. Those thieves took her weeks worth of trinkets, you failed to stop them from escaping and setting fire to the waggon, you used her precious ale to put down that fire, and her heirloom hammer as a lid opener.

“Julian?” she gasped, her purple eyes trembling like forge embers. Her upper lip was raised and stiffened. She had barely noticeable … was it from the smoke? Was she… crying? “What happened?” she fell to her knees, grabbing your shoulders in a way your own mother never did.

“Julian, are you alright?”

*** *** ***

“Julian?” Vera’s voice made your eyes open, a smoke of blue and orange dusting the petite ceiling.

You coughed, “Damn it, Vera, this is too much!” You said, waving your hand to push some of the smoke away from yourself.

File: The street....jpg (137 KB, 1280x720)

137 KB JPG

“I was not sure, and you looked like you were enjoying it,” your friend smiled, opening the door to let cold freshness inside and the smoke out.

You glared at her but said nothing. With a sigh and a headache that leeched to your forehead, but did not cause real-immense pain, you leaned back into your bench. Your recollections of your nap-dreaming got mixed up, and you were at a loss at which part of it was real. Carinda never cried, not before you, never for as long as you knew and saw her.

You looked out of the window: small houses made out of blocky, unembellished stone and modest wood passed by—the outside ring of the Quarry. You curled your head, a massive hollow mountain was looming on the horizon, still at least half an hour of a journey away. Some called it the “Anthill” because of the busy-ness of it, and the number of mine-entrances all over and around the mountain’s rocky surface.

The people outside were in awe of Tetreus, just like folk back home they stopped in the middle of their work to gaze at the armoured knight on top of his looming white-coated horse. They didn’t try to stop him, as he was riding alongside the quickly sloping waggon which -would- kill you.

You could hear them talk, just barely:

“That’s a man-at-arms, it should be!”
“He’ll finally deal with that monster!
“But why is he alone?”
“Maybe he’s just that strong?”
“And that dwarf woman is with him!”
“She’s shining for real. The hell?! I though that was a joke!”
“Why are they together?”

Tetreus gruffed, pulling the reins to task God’s Gallop with a sudden turn. The stallion exhaled towards two of the gossiping women, unnerving them. Carinda stopped the waggon, veins like cracks on stone visible on her uninjured arm from only using it to handle the two ponies. The sun—while not Summer sun—was tall and unobtrused, and was making Carinda shine.

“Why the sudden silence?” Tetreus demanded, two of his fingers pointing at the woman, “Are you going to explain what is it you talking about?”

“E-explain?” she shrunk, covering her breasts with the basket she was holding, “A-are you not here to deal with the monster in the mines?”

"No." His cold blue eyes were unmoving beneath his regal helmet. “If that is a requested problem, the lord-town will send someone to deal with it.”

“Then why are-” the other woman cut herself, her gaze falling to the ground, “Is there another problem you are here to deal with-”

“King’s Representative,” he completed her sentence. “Yes, until I deal with my task, I won’t engage with another.” He saw them stare at Carinda and followed their motion. “I am waiting for the apprentice of hers to complete his work. He said he needs to come here.”

“But there’s a monster in the mine!”

“That’s his problem,” he raised his voice, loud enough to cut their doubts.

“A monster in the mines, Julian,” Veronica’s eyes were sparkling as you stumbled out to meet your master.

“Master Carinda?” you sat while she remained standing.

“That’s not good, Julian,” she said the obvious. Biting her finger, she added, “I can’t let you go inside there if that’s the case.”

That’s right, it would be hard for Carinda to follow you into the mines with her injuries; using her crunch. Carinda's doubts were reasonable.

> “Let’s travel to Russet Swamp first, perhaps, by the time we return, this 'monster' will be dealt with?”
> “There must be a way for me to reclaim Ecline Ore without having to face or battle it.”
> “Let’s go the mines first and ask the miners about the ‘monster’ directly, instead of this hearsay.”
> “Let’s check the market row, if we are lucky, someone else got the ore and is now trying to sell it?” It would be a near useless rock for them.
> Climb down to join the conversation between Tetreus and the women.
> Wait for Tetreus to return and then start a conversation with him. Try and convince him to deal with the mine monster.
> [Write In]

File: 1640818477421.png (1.34 MB, 1200x1200)

1.34 MB PNG

> While yes, I am a liar, how could you tell?
> Sorry for the update taking two days longer.
> Happy New Year.

>>5104851
> “Let’s go the mines first and ask the miners about the ‘monster’ directly, instead of this hearsay.”


We can try to convince Tetreus or else find a way to lure it out or negotiate with it, depending on the monster's nature.

>>5104850
>> “Let’s go the mines first and ask the miners about the ‘monster’ directly, instead of this hearsay.”
Need to know the nature of the beast
>>5104851
Happy new year! I don't think many were around last year
>>5104892
I think it's likely he would demand to know what we were making in exchange for help, then decide Julian is an idiot and not do it anyway

You frowned. “Let’s go the mines first and ask the miners about the ‘monster’ directly, instead of this hearsay.”

Your master nodded, slapping the reins to giddy up the ponies. You waggon departed, leaving man-at-arms to pursue you afterwards. You stayed, sharing the rider’s bench with Carinda; she held back, slowing down the heavy wrought waggon to a speed of a walk. The further you neared the Quarry mountain, the narrower the streets became, with less and less space shared in-between the much more elaborate masonry houses, workshops, and stores. Here were people, and they were all surprised—and most of them excited—to see Carinda visiting again.

Bored, Veronica prodded her head out of the waggon; she would’ve joined if there was -some- space left on the bench. “Does this happen often?”

Carinda shook her head, her eyes reflecting the tower-hill in the distance, “There shouldn’t be any ‘monsters’ in here. I have my doubts.”

She hummed. “Why would they lie? If there was something to -hide- from you, Carinda, but they were expecting Tetreus to deal with it.”

You crossed your arms, the entire half of your body bending to regard Vera face to face, “I think we should wait with guessing.” You said.

The Anthill grew in size even more as you came closer to it. From the outside and inside the chutes leading into the mine came a cacophony of booming and clamorous sounds: yells of people, strikes of pickaxes, grinding of metal wheels, rails and chains, and also the bubbling of the boiling streams running like lava from the top of the mountain beneath the wooden cranes. Hundreds of mine holes, mine pits, and proper mine shafts with wooden support and arch coiled and pierced the surface like a barbed whip—just as you remembered. On the top stood a trio of fig trees.

There were hints of uneasiness—or so you imagined— but the ore was still mined, and the people were still working. It did not look as if they were -that- worried about a horrible monster. Some of the men and women working outside, covered from head to toe in dirt and soot, paused when your waggon halted near the surrounding shacks, barrels of broken rocks, and handcarts filled with ore. Carinda waved them a friendly ‘Hello’, and only a few of them returned the gesture, with hesitation. A single fidgeting man approached your waggon.

“Dwarf Carinda, your visit is always a pleasant surprise,” he said. He sneezed with no shame, his head seesawing like a wind cock.

“Head Prospector Pfone,” Carinda addressed him in kind. His brown eyes were disquietingly inspecting you and your childhood friend.

He opened his mouth, the front row of his teeth crooked and bent as if he dined every day on timber, “ … What brings you so early?”

“My apprentice needs a very specific ore from the mine,” she nodded, “ … But I heard you have some problems, some monsters, in there?”

“Oh, is that Julian?” he bent his head unnaturally low, approaching the waggon with a side-step, “Either he grew again or I’m getting shorter.”

You knew him, but not that well. “My growth spurt should stop any year now,” you smiled. You were at ideal height now, same as Carinda’s!

“It’s good to be short,” he said as if assuring you and your master. “Yes, monster … There is -something- in the levels down below,” the man hesitated. He scrapped dirt off his pickaxe with his broken and rusty-red nails. “We closed them, as only one of the eleven men came back.”

“What did he say?” Carinda asked.

“Oh, he described some crazy horrors, but I think he said it was just one,” he raised his finger, “Just one monster, but a very ugly one.”

“Are you not afraid of it?” you asked.

“That’s why we closed the lowest levels, but it’s safe where we are mining now. We can’t stop our work, and that thing does not care to ascend any higher. If it does, we’ll just abandon that part of the mine and focus on the levels above. We don’t have much of a choice until the lords send us some help.” He scratched his armpit, his shirt was so worn-out a piece of it fell as he lead his hand. “It’s been two weeks now, but I don’t remember the last time we needed a soldier to deal with our problems, so I can’t say how long those things take. I hope not very long.” He paused, “What ore do you need, anyway? I can sell you some if you have the ringies.”

“Ecline Ore.”

“ … Never heard the name,” he grimaced, “The hell are you making?”

You sighed, pushing your head into your hands. “It’s a secret.” You turned to Carinda, “It’s down-below, isn’t it?”

“ … Yes,” she said with discomfort, her thumb pointing down, “It can only be found down-down below, Julian.”

> Suggest to find and talk to the survivor. Ask him details about the monster.
> Suggest travelling to Russet Swamp first, the next day. Consult Carinda with a trap design, purchase bait on the market.
> Wait for Tetreus to return and then ask him for help. (How?)
> Wait for Tetreus to return, ask him how long it usually takes for soldiers to come to deal with a problem request.
> Investigate the city markets in the hope there’s Ecline Ore on sale.
> You don’t have much of a choice. Wait for Carinda to go to sleep and then sneak out in the mine on your own, as it is unlikely she’ll allow you to do something this hasty under her approval.
> [Write In]

> Pick more than one if you would like.

>>5105993
>Find and talk to the survivor

>>5105993
>>> Suggest to find and talk to the survivor. Ask him details about the monster.
then
> Investigate the city markets in the hope there’s Ecline Ore on sale.
Might need to get some things to deal with it, plus we need to pick stuff up for traps and bait anyway so might as well have a look

You looked at Carinda and then at your friend, “We should talk to the survivor, ask him the details about this monster.”

Your master grasped her chin with her hand, inches from stiffing her mouth, “Of course, we can ask, Julian, but … “ She hesitated.

You briefly put your hand over her shoulder, patting it in brief, “You said it yourself, master Carinda, there’s no rush with my masterpiece.” You smiled.

She slid off her hand, her face brightening and a smile breaking her frown, “You are right, Julian. We ... You'll work something out.”

Vera swung her hand up— “Let’s go!” —her hand remained stiff in the air— “go where?” She looked at Pfone questionably.

The man was coughing into his hand. Clearing his lips with his fingers, he said “He’s a bit unnerved after that, but you do you”

Pfone pointed to the west, rolling his finger as if to say ‘Then you take a walk around. He wished Carinda and the rest of you luck, before realising something, stomping his bootless foot—he had a dozen layers of socks instead to compensate—and leaving you be. Carinda chuckled at the man before leading the waggon to the awaited location. A cloud of tailing dust and searing steam wallowed through, setting on the ground beneath the mountain, and the flat roofs, like a cover of melting May snow. You and Carinda covered, the remains of the dust-slide clogging the clothes you were wearing. The ponies cried and neighed, stopping in displeasure to shake and bump at each other.

“I forgot how dirty this place is.” Your master struggled with the reins, ordering the two ponies away from the busy road, “Easy there!”

She parked the waggon away from the destination, the ponies were too agitated to continue walking. Carinda leaned awkwardly to pat one of the ponies. She managed to keep herself from falling off the waggon. She looked at you, visibly troubled, “I need to clean them,” she whispered.

You nodded, climbing into the waggon to invite Veronica to step outside. Carinda could not apologise, or admit to the awkward situation; she was not going to let you waste time helping her clean the ponies. Instead, she asked you and Vera to go ahead, while she got busy.

Your master gave you an assertive thumbs up, sharing the last glance with you. Walking with her crutch was going to be a challenge.

“We should bring back some water,” you commented, your eyes watching the sweltering streams. No, not those: those waters were far too hot.

“Yes, yes we should,” Vera answered with a smirk. With her hands behind her back, she hurried to be pacing in front of you. “Did you really grow?” her straightened hand dropped on top of your head before she returned it to hers, “I haven’t noticed.” She smirked. She was taller than you, barely.

“I did not notice either,” you sighed, “Our height difference is the same as it was ten years ago, Vera.”

File: The daily tasty meal....jpg (1.11 MB, 1568x1568)

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She huffed, shaking her head, “It’s no fun, you don’t -actually- want to be taller than me, do you, lardhead?”

“I don’t care.” You said. You did not care about Vera’s height, that much was true. You passed a row of windowless wooden shacks, and grubby dilapidated bothies; all constructed a long time. Behind even those were a series of canopies and tents fortified with leftover stone from the mines.
“Come on, let me help you,” you heard a woman say, her hands reaching for a clay bowl.

“It fell again,” the man’s oldened and strained white hands wobbled; his entire body was tense and jittery. It was not that cold.

The woman near him, about his age, took the bowl from his hands and picked the drowned missing spoon from the bottom. She cleaned her hands and the spoon and then offered the greenish gruel on top of it to the man. He remained wobbling, struggling to even eat like this.

Unchewing, he gulped down his dinner. “Pfone is a fool,” he said, some of the miners nearby looking away or rolling their eyes at him, “He’s going to get us all killed.” The woman sighed, continuing to feed him, with only a brief pause in-between to let him spout and rattle.

“Hey there, what are you kids doing here?” the woman, plump at her face but very slender beneath it, asked. Her eyes darted back and again.

“Hello there,” Vera smiled, her fists clenched. She could not help it, her eyes fell to the man, “Is it true that you faced a monster in the mines?”

“Girl,” the woman gruffed, tugging Vera back from him by her spiky hair, “He does not need to remember that, can’t you see he's stressed enough?”

“That’s true, I am the only one who escaped it,” the man’s eyes plunged to the ground, “It was horrible, I never seen or heard about such a varmint.”

“Was it big?” Veronica continued.

“Oh, it was big … twice as big as me,” he grasped his knees, but his stool and even the dirt beneath his feet quaked in the rhythm of his body.

“That is enough, Giso,” the woman said.

“No-no-no,” he strained to shake his head, “I don’t know who those two are, but the more of them know, the better. Pfone needs to stop before it’s too late.”

The woman harrumphed. She tossed the bowl on the makeshift table, spattering some of the half-eaten dinners onto it. She glared daggers.

> “Can you tell us how it looked?”
> “Can you tell us how it acted?”
> “Can you tell us how you end up encountering it?”
> “Can you tell us in what manner it attacked your friends?”
> “Can you tell us how you managed to escape?”
> “Can you tell us where was the last place you saw it?”
> “Was it alone or were there more than one of those monsters?”
> The woman, his friend(?), does not look happy about your questioning. Maybe it’s best to leave.
> [Write In]

>>5107409
> “Can you tell us where was the last place you saw it?”
> “Was it alone or were there more than one of those monsters?”

>>5107409
> “Can you tell us how it looked?”
> “Can you tell us where was the last place you saw it?”
> “Was it alone or were there more than one of those monsters?”
Though we do kinda need to ask everyhing on the list these seem to be the least traumatic
>knocking peasoup and rice
Slap a fried egg on and it's fantastic for hangovers

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You bowed your head towards the woman as a foregoing apology. “Was it alone or were there more than one of those monsters?”

“It moved as one,” Giso staggered, his trembling hands were refusing to stay on his knees. “But there were hundreds, thousands, of them!”

You scratched your head; he was not making sense. “Can you tell us how it looked?”

“I can try … ” he grieved, his breathing breaking into a squawking croak. His eyes turned pale and elfin, the sunlight no longer casting white. He tried to raise his head but, near-instantly, he closed his eyes shut and foundered it back down. You waited patiently—the woman tapped her foot impatiently—as he gathered his thoughts. “It resembled a spider, a cadaver of a spider: dry, thin, and unmoving; at first. Hidden within its bones, like parasites, were ink-black maggots, wretched-pernicious spawns, twitching and convulsing.” He covered his head with his arms, “It was moving towards our group, we were all caught in horror; how and why would such a monster exist there? Those lands are supposed to be safe-safe-safe. What God have we angered? We were not even -that- deep.”

Just imagining such a descriptive beast made your cold sweat bedew. “Can you tell us where was the last place you saw it?”

“When one of us reached with his torch to stall it, it was when I ran—falling and picking myself up and falling again. Like splutter of black oil, those spider-leeches jumped off the carcass and began devouring him. The torch fell from his hand, and it was completely dark. I could only hear their screams.” He was narrowly breathing, “We saw it on the fifteenth level of the mine, but I was not safe until tenth’.”

The woman grabbed your collar, and, with a painful thrust, she pulled you away. Swiftly, she pulled his crown into her hands, leaning him to her chest and stomach. “Forget it, Giso. They are not going to send you back. Rest. Take a deep breath, and rest.” She scowled, “I think that’s enough."

> “I understand your concerns, but I need to know as much as possible if we all want this beast dealt with.” [Write the question.]
> Nod to Veronica and thank the woman and the man Giso for the information provided. Return to Carinda.
> [Write In]

>>5107464
>Slap a fried egg on and it's fantastic for hangovers
> Poor gruel taking the brunt of her frustration.

>>5108653
>Nod to Veronica, thank the woman and the man, and return to Carinda

>>5108653
>> Nod to Veronica and thank the woman and the man Giso for the information provided. Return to Carinda.
Hopefully she will have atleast heard of something similar, if its real anyway

>>5108653
> Nod to Veronica and thank the woman and the man Giso for the information provided. Return to Carinda.

The man was not at his calmest; the incident was traumatic for him—that much was obvious. Were there horrors of his faint description far beneath the grounds of the mine? If so, the person to know for certain would be Carinda. You nodded at your childhood friend, conceding any further answer-finding. “Thanks for the details,” you smiled weakly at the man, “I hope you get better.”

He grabbed onto your hands, his tremor spasming your body. “Tell Pfone, tell Pfone if you can, tell him to stop. That mine is not safe!”

The woman withdrew the fellow. She softly released his grapple on you. You pulled away: the woman’s gaze was steel-like. You nodded in gratitude.

Vera made a futile, as ever, attempt to straighten her hair. She mumbled— “but I had other questions” — and then added with a sigh, “Thank you.”

“We should move away for a few days,” the woman paused, “or weeks, from this place. You won’t get better with the mountain in sight.”

Together with Vera, you left the couple, walking to return to where you and Carinda got separated.

“Do you believe her?”

“Julian,” Veronica tilted her head, her eyes, lips, and nose stiffening, “Do I believe there’s a monstrous and gigantic spider-looking colony of human eating bug-worms inside beneath this mine-mountain?”

“Yeah,” you scoffed, your glance returning shortly to where you just walked away from. “When you put it like that, it does sound-”

“Of course I do!” she solely clapped, tightly squeezing her hands, “I can’t believe there are so many monsters so close from Crisscross. Amazing.”

You sighed, “It’s not a good thing—if real.” You peered up the mountain, “The ore I need is below, probably where that beast lays.”

“Are you scared?” her question was like a bold-faced taunt, a cheeky smile smudged across her face.

“Yes, I am afraid of enormous ‘spiders’,” you said in earnest, raising your heavily bandaged hand, “How could you tell?”

She rolled her eyes, her hands sliding down her thighs and into the pockets of her dress, “I’ll help you out, don’t worry.”

“What do you mean ‘help me out'? Tetreus -clearly- told you not to help me, Vera."

Veronica smirked—she just smirked! “He does not have to know. Lardhead, I am telling you: do not worry.”

You passed the row of dilapidated cabins, only to find two crowds of people surrounding Carinda and Tetreus in meddling and query. Carinda stayed put, assaulted by a cacophony of requests-demands, but the man-at-arms started to move at you as soon as your eyes meet. God’s Gallop neigh silenced the discordance; the woman and children (those that followed him all the way here), previously surrounding him, stepped away from the gallant warhorse, and the knight riding it. Despite the crass act, the women were excited still: squealing, their cheeks rosy, as they watched Tetreus depart. The horse was as majestic and regal as the man-at-arms, and one of the boys proudly fell on his knees and arms to impersonate it. Another boy sat on top of him: a knight and his warhorse.

Tetreus stopped, his large but straight shadow was cast over you, forgoing Veronica. “Are you going to tell me what your plans are now?”

> “I plan to visit the marketplace. We might depart to the swamp first and I need some things to prepare.”
> “I need to discuss things with Carinda first. Excuse me.”
> “I need to get the ore in the lowest parts of the mine. The miners blocked it because of a beast. I don’t know what to do now.”
> “Why can’t you help the miners by dealing with the beast, King’s Representative? Is this mine not important to the kingdom?”
> “Carinda and I are fine with waiting for week-two-three until the levels are re-opened. What about you, King’s Representative Tetreus, is it fine?”

> Crawl through the crowd pestering your master, take her hand and say that she is currently busy helping you.
> Wave towards Carinda and hope that she reacts and reunites with you, dispersing the crowd.
> Leave Carinda, she’s a capable woman and a dwarf. If she wanted to, the crowd would be gone.

> [Write In]

>>5109939
> “Carinda and I are fine with waiting for week-two-three until the levels are re-opened. What about you, King’s Representative Tetreus, is it fine?”
It's a bluff, though. If he decides to stay with us at this place, bring up that if hes here anyway, shouldn't he be making himself useful? If he tries to drag us on, remind him that we won't be able to make a masterpiece until we get this ore.

> Leave Carinda, she’s a capable woman and a dwarf. If she wanted to, the crowd would be gone.

>>5109939
> “I plan to visit the marketplace. We might depart to the swamp first and I need some things to prepare.”
> Leave Carinda, she’s a capable woman and a dwarf. If she wanted to, the crowd would be gone.

>>5109939
> “I plan to visit the marketplace. We might depart to the swamp first and I need some things to prepare.”
Think we should do what we can for now and hope for the best about the mine
> Leave Carinda, she’s a capable woman and a dwarf. If she wanted to, the crowd would be gone.
Inb4 she calls out to us as an excuse to get away from them
>>5109963
On one hand he probably would help us if it came down to it, but I don't think antagonizing him like that will do us any favors in the long run. I do wonder what his mission actually is though, if the king wanted us to become a weapon smith he probably would have demanded it and the dwarfs would probably not agree to teaching smithing if he did

“I plan to visit the marketplace. We might depart to the swamp first, and I need some things to prepare.”

Tetreus mused, staring you down unfadingly. His helmeted head faced Vera. “Meaning, you are going to spend the night here,” he said, his voice rusty-stiff. “Vorynika,” he led his gauntlet to caress the chin and neck of his warhorse, “Find us a stable, and a room; make sure the inn is genteel; tidy. Mention my name and my standing, and book it then. I will pay off the record in person, once I am there in person.”

“Two rooms?” Vera’s raised her hands to waggle above your head, as if forming an invisible bubble.

“No. Do not double-question me.” Tetreus’ shake slunk into a nod, “ … You can ask for a room; for yourself.”

“What about Julian and Carinda?” she asked, her usually-bright voice tensing.

For a moment, he looked where Carinda was: encircled still by a crowd, a mob, of people. “The dwarf-smith is well-known, she and her apprentice should have no issues arranging their overnight lodgings.”

No comeback was to be said here. Quieting your voice, you whispered, “The waggon is well-made; if nothing else, two of us will sleep in there.”

Veronica pouted, her arms tightly braiding over her chest, “While I do like myself a warm room and a fresh bed, that won’t feel right-”

“I do not need page who is ill-rested,” Tetreus interrupted, God’s Gallop exhaled, as if ridiculing. “Neither do I have time to deal with disobedience. Are you going to look for a stable and a room or not?”

“That’s not …” she opened her mouth, only to close it and hug herself tightly. “King’s Representative Tetreus, you don’t have to ask me twice.” Her freckles slid up; her smile was wooden and large, “I -just- wanted to spend the night in the stable.” She stepped forward, her hands reaching for the warhorse. God’s Gallop jerked his head to avoid Vera’s touch. “As your squire, I will need him to get used to me; and I can clean some of your armour while I am there.”

Tetreus glanced at God’s Gallop: he was obedient but uninterested.

“It is going to take you longer than one night, Vyroneca,” he shrugged his armour with a chime, “but do what you want.”

Your friend smiled. She, first, pointed her fingers at her eyes, and then at the horse, wooing him with a hugging gesture. God’s Gallop neighed, unimpressed. She raised her hand, clenching it as if reassuring you. “Later, Julian.”

You watched your friend leave—only after she was gone did you realise that you did not point her towards any inn, and she was a foreigner.

Tetreus’ horse gaited at an even pace to overcome you. You glanced to where your master was—she was a capable woman, and a dwarf, if she wanted to, the crowd would be gone—before departing towards the market. Tetreus did not acknowledge the monster in the mine; not once.

*** *** ***

You only knew one market—the one here—but you heard from merchants that the Quarry was unusual in its design compared to how the shop-markets were set up in lord-towns and king-towns. There, the merchants and their tents stood in a single boulevard, perhaps a bridge, or in a vast open square. Here, there were multiple narrow rows of streets—like a set trail, like a maze—with just-enough space, when busy, for a pair of people to move past and browse. While there originally was and was supposed to be, a ware-motif for each of the streets, that was not the case anymore.

“Ecline Ore?” you asked one of the merchants selling cheap-looking stones, ores, and metals. He shook his head. Apologising to the people trailing behind you, you explained the appearance of the ore to the seller, but his answer did not change. All of the people were pushing you to move, but each one of them placidly waited for man-at-arms to pass through. It helped that God’s Gallop had a powerful presence, and was as brawny and as hulking as a ferocious bear.

You whirlwinded in-between the stalls, searching for an ore no human trader could know the true value of. Your hands stopped—it was not an ore shop, nor did it sell strange stones, but it was overfamiliar to you.

Behind a sanded stand made out of white-grey heartwood with bleak blue coils sat a merchant in goose down vest, tucked white feathers of the collar surrounding his neck like a scarf. The brown undershirt he wore had no sleeves: the skin of his naked arms was numbing-white. He wore a characteristic scarlet-red triangular hood made out of sheep wool.

“Is that Julian?” he asked, his hands grabbing the stall table to pull himself up.

“Ontour?” your voice faltered. Was it him? Really? Ontour, the merchant who knew the language of the dwarfs, and who translated Carinda’s blueprint book for you in exchange for items of his request for you to forge. He stopped passing through Crisscross several years ago, with no prior forewarning. “What are you doing here?!” you squeezed his hand.

His face twisted, but the unblinking peridot eyes on his weathered face light up. “Julian; my favourite customer!” He kindly added, "In Crisscross."

“Where did you disappear to?” you repeated, much louder, raising your arms and pointing your hands.

“I was travelling across Wherewithal, of course,” Ontour said with a burst of rolling laughter, his hands on his non-existent stomach.

“Travelling?” your eyes fell on the strange objects on the display: an orderly line of finger-sized bark sheets with a small resin layer clinging to the non-barked side, a wrist-strap of cubical beads gilded in mercury-bronze, a skull of a boar-like animal, only twice as big, with what appeared to be broken arrowheads piercing it, a white powder, and others. Ontour’s eyebrows jumped, his hands covering the display the second Tetreus approached the stall.

A sweat fell off his scalded forehead. He looked up at the man-at-arms, wobbling awkward-like. “Man-at-arms,” he said.

“King’s Representative Tetreus,” he corrected the merchant, pulling his reins to poise above the items.

Hearing that Tetreus was even above a regular man-at-arms made him sweat even more, despite the chilly weather, “That you are, King’s Representative Tetreus. I— ha-ha—I was not expecting one of you to be so far from any lord-towns.”

“I am here on a mission,” he waved his hand, ordering with gesture alone for Ontour to pull his hands away. Ontour had no other choice but to follow his "suggestion". Tetreus was silent as he appraised and ascertained the wares. God’s Gallop leaned his head, his black-brown eyes gazing at the objects with as much interest as his knight-at-arms. “Those goods were not made in the human lands. I would ask you in detail about each of them, and for your merchant warrants, but it is not my concern today. … Are you going to tell me how you know Jiraen?”

Ontour blinked, his hand slid into the hood to scratch his drab-pink, foamy hair. “Sure. Like I said, Julian …”

> Raise your hand to cross your neck, and shake your head—making sure Tetreus does not notice—to query Ontour not to tell about your exchanges and the items you made for him. It might be best for Tetreus not to know.
> Let Tetreus finish questioning Ontour; more like inquisitioning.
> Step forwards with semi-fake excitement. Questioning Ontour about each of the items.
> [Write In]

>>5112217

> Step forwards with semi-fake excitement. Questioning Ontour about each of the items.

>>5112217
>> Step forwards with semi-fake excitement. Questioning Ontour about each of the items
He might even have some of the stuff we made lying about, though I doubt it. Could be used to show Tetreus atleast a little of what we are capable of.

>>5112500
> Ontour was about to tell Tetreus about some of the items you made for him, but if you step forward he'll be interrupted. Do you still want him to display the things you made?

Before Ontour could expose your relationship, and unveil the deals you made and what you exchange for his assistance, you took a rapid step upfront. With the tips of your boots pushing against the bluish-white substructure, you leaned to interrupt, “What did you bring to sell, Ontour?”

You felt a sudden chill; you suspected Tetreus’ eyes skewering through your neck and skull. Why was it that you did not want Tetreus to hear?

“I doubt you can afford anything here, Julian,” Ontour voice trickled as if you did not interrupt him mid-sentence, “But I can tell you, why not?”

His hand—veiled inside a white puffed glove—swayed above the items on the counter like a pendant. He pushed aside curled half-moon spirals of his pink forelocks to uncover his eyes and only then began illustrating the wares. “I don’t know their suppose names, but those I call ‘lollies’,” he motioned towards the dozen of bark sheets, each covered in a layer of resin.

“-From the lands of the elves,” you heard Tetreus inject.

“From the land of the elves, that is correct, King’s Representative Tetreus."

“Lollies, are you supposed to lick them like melted sugar?” you asked, unsure.

“Maybe you can do something else with them,” Ontour picked one of such sticks and brushed it against his ear, “But the one way I know is—yes.” He put it to his lips. His shoulders fell as he blew out white steam in pleasure. “When you do that, you can hear the sounds of nature when this resin hardened. Trees, birds, animals: they all sound a bit different from the ones in the King’s lands.” His smile grew as he gave it another lick. “The ones I have here are all from the same tree, but some of them—I know which—are ahead of others. A few ‘lollies’ ‘contain’ a beautiful elven song; euphonious singing, -very- likely a maiden.”

You did not raise your arms, “Can I try one?”

“You have to buy it, randomly,” Ontour said. He rolled the bark he was licking against his vest to remove saliva off it. Ontour acted as usual.

Tetreus gaze lingered on the pile before he turned his head away, in either disgust or disinterest.

Ontour picked the strap, his own wrist was fall too small to wear it without it sliding off him.

The knight waited until Ontour opened his mouth to speak to interrupt him. “That one’s dwarven.”

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Ontour’s smile didn’t falter. Those interruptions did not seem to bother him, “Right again, King’s Representative Tetreus. I traded it for other things when I was at Odyl Border,” he said, gently tossing it up to catch it the next second. “From what I was shown, once, and the dwarf who sold me explained, it’s some kind of ‘coal’ stone,” he dragged his finger across the ten beads of the bracelet, “The layer here is just a protective one, the real thing is underneath.” He clasped the wrist-strap between his palms, “If throw into a forge—or God forgive—into a fire, it will make it ten times hotter and bigger!”

God’s Gallop neighed, and Tetreus harrumphed with his horse in unison, “If you sell it into the wrong hands, I will be aware it was your fault."

Ontour clutched the bracelet. His body shifted and rocked as he returned it back to the counter, “No way, no one will buy them for -this- price for a prank, they are -far- too dangerous for anything else but their intendant use.” Ontour tossed you a winking peek. His eyes then turned to the skull.

“That one is far too barbaric to be anything but the lizardmen.”

“You are well-versed, King’s Representative Tetreus,” Ontour complimented. The skull looked heavy, he struggled to lift it with both of his hands. He placed it down, sighing strenuously. “Apparently, it belonged to a towering beast they call ‘Iju’. The lizardmen hunt it for their rituals, and those are not remains of arrows, but hand blades they toss with just their hands. It’s made out of some metal they dig up from their strange volcanoes. ” He knocked the skull with his knuckles, “I do not wish to try, but they say not even a cross-bolt would be able to penetrate it. The only way to kill this beast is through its skull, and it took this lizardman—or do they hunt in groups?—seventeen of those blades to kill this one.” He beamed, “Pretty amazing.”

“Who are -they- who say that a rule-town bolt won’t be able to penetrate it?”

Tetreus lead his hand over to his crossbow, with Ontour nervously watching his every motion. The man-at-arms halted. “And the last valuable thing you have is…” he hung, his words resting still. Ontour waited with iron-sworn patience. “Gnomish?” He was guessing.

“T-that’s right,” Ontour was dragging the skull away from view, “The gnomes call it ‘Shomp’, it’s a powder that cleans all grime and dirt, and equal. All you have to do is rub it against the spot, or tumble your entire cloth in it, and it will be clean and resist all the dirt and will smell nice forever.

“I did not venture that far into the territory of the gnomes, it is the farthest of them all, but I know that they are obsessed with cleanliness."

Ontour’s prices were consistent in their audaciousness. Even in Crisscross, almost none could afford to buy the things he vended. Like the things Carinda made for sale, it took a whole family fortune or hard months of work to purchase a single ware. Unlike Carinda, Ontour did not visit very often, three times a year or less. Sometimes he left without selling a single thing; you were always confused by such. Did he -not- want to sell them? You had funds in your possession, but the “Iju” skull was impossibly extortionate. You could buy either the gnomish powder or the bark from the elves ... but why? The bracelet would require bartering.

> Tell Ontour that you are interested in the wrist-strap, but even your funds are not enough. Ask if he can lower the price?
> Tell Ontour that you are interested in another thing on display …
> Tell Ontour you are willing to share an interesting rumour about a sentient "elven" tree if he’s willing to lower the price of the bracelet.
> Ask Ontour if he has anything you “traded” him for the translations to show Tetreus your blacksmithing proficiency. Those things were made years ago, you got much better, and while you did put effort into them, they were not ‘masterpieces’. Still, it can shut up Tetreus for a while.
> Ask Ontour if he heard any rumours concerning elves in the local lands.
> Ask Ontour in secret if he is willing to translate one more thing for you—the letter Carinda received months ago from her homeland.
> Ask Ontour if he heard anything about the dark spider-like beast in the mines.
> Ask Ontour in secret if he knows what is the “deal” between dwarven master-appointed, the King, and apprentices such as yourself.
> [Write In]

>>5113595
>> Ask Ontour if he has anything you “traded” him for the translations to show Tetreus your blacksmithing proficiency.
Fingers crossed
> Ask Ontour if he heard anything about the dark spider-like beast in the mines
If he hasn't, describe as best we can to see if its anything he's encountered

The bracelet is interesting though, don't think we'll need it for forging since we get to use an actual dwarf forge but it might come in handy for killing this monster assuming it works like a grenade

>>5113648
Support!

>>5113595

>>5113648
> don't think we'll need it for forging since we get to use an actual dwarf forge
> It can be used to replace the Black Horn Tree from the Russet Swamp.

>>5113595
> Ask Ontour if he heard anything about the dark spider-like beast in the mines.
> Ask Ontour in secret if he knows what is the “deal” between dwarven master-appointed, the King, and apprentices such as yourself.
> Tell Ontour you are willing to share an interesting rumour about a sentient "elven" tree if he’s willing to lower the price of the bracelet.

You scratched your cheek, mulling over your thoughts. “Do you have any of the things I forged for you?” you asked unelaborately.

Ontour leaned off the stand and reached for a double-decked yet still- prosaic cart. Tetreus stayed silent, only inclining forward to watch.

“I sold many of them,” he said in-between a chuckle, “I believe the people were happy with their purchase. But there was one I … “

Two cotton bags filled with things both soft and heavy whorled and fell off the cart; Ontour snubbed the fact to pull out a tiny metal blade from beneath other bags. It was the last of your works; it was made in secret from Carinda. It was the size of a butter knife, but the blade-part was sharper and longer. The handle was iron the same, not wood, but was embellished and styles with pewter, silver, and even higher quality iron.

“A letter opener?” the man-at-arms spoke dryly. Holding tight to his reins he leaned his body to take the knife into his arms instead. You knew this would happen, so you posed Ontour for the knife and then offered it to him. Tetreus returned to his saddle. He folded to inspect it up-close with just the open space of the slit, but he didn’t remove his helm. “You asked for a letter opener?”

Ontour looked at you. Placing his hands on his hips, he said, “I was -really- running out of imagination with that one, but it ended up quite useful, it takes just a couple of swings of whetstone to sharpen it, and it’s sturdy enough to stab through hard leather.” He looked at Tetreus, muted in his seat, and winced, “Of course, I get a lot of letters and go through many annoyingly-sticky books and tomes, so I use it as intended.” Ontour shook shoulders, “Everything else is sold, yeah. Maybe you can make me a few things more?”

Tetreus clenched the knife. “Seven years of dwarven tutorship and you make nails and letter openers,” he said in self-righteousness.

You left the knight to his appraisal. “I wish you kept the axe or the hammer or the neat candle holder.”

Ontour shook his head, “Julian, I am a merchant. I get things cheap” —he pointed both of his palms to you— “Or for ‘free’, and I sell them for high. You should be happy that someone in, say, Whey Horn is using the things you made, blacksmith.”

“Yes, I am very happy.” You were not. “Have you heard about the monster in the mines?”

“Of course, everyone did,” he tapped his fingers, “I was hoping to buy some ores or metalworks that are hard to find anywhere else, but because of the so-called monster, they don’t have much to spare, and it’s expensive.” He covered his yawn, “Nothing you can do.” He glanced at Tetreus, “They made a request, so everyone is just … waiting. I can wait,” he smiled, “I have a few weeks to sell everything I have here.” He followed your gaze, “Do you actually have the money for the bracelet?”

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“I don’t have the full amount.” He leaned back into his cart, upset. “But if you are willing to lower the price to the amount I -do- have, I can share a very interesting rumour with you. It’s about something elven, and close-by.”

“Is this rumour even as half as interesting as my ‘lollies’?”

“Much more, unless you already know something elf-related?”

He paused, biting his upper lip, “I do have a rumour of my own, those things are intangible. How about we exchange the rumours we know, as drinking buddies ... Although you are too young to drink!”

> “I prefer the bracelet.” Show Ontour the amount of money you have—just a tad less. “Sell it to me first.”
> “I prefer the bracelet.” Show Ontour the amount of money you have—just a tad less. “But I’ll tell you the rumour first if you prefer.” He might say he already knew it—if he really did— but otherwise, Ontour was honest.
> “Very well, what is your rumour?”
> Look at Tetreus. Ask Ontour: “Do you remember for how much you sold the things I made for? It was expensive, right?” Try to impress the knight.
> “I am working on my masterpiece to complete my apprenticeship. That bracelet would be of great help.”
> “Once I can enter the mines I can gather, or just buy, some ore and make something for you in forges here.”
> [Write In]

> On the back-burner:
> Ask Ontour in secret if he knows what is the “deal” between dwarven master-appointed, the King, and apprentices such as yourself.

> A young boy returns from the marketplace. “Mother, I am back!” “Did you buy the things I asked for?” she asks. “No,” he beams, “Better, I bought pieces of bark, you can hear elves sing if you lick them!” “Are you stupid?”
> Remember to avoid predatory merchants and buy local.

>>5114276
>"I prefer the bracelet. I'll tell you what I saw and heard--better even than mere rumours--if you sell it to me first"

>Ask Ontour in secret about the deal between Carinda and the King

> I'll wait to see if there are any more replies.

>>5114276
Going with >>5114434
Don't think Tetreus will be that impressed with tools unless they're on the level of relics.

>>5114276
>“I prefer the bracelet.” Show Ontour the amount of money you have—just a tad less. “But I’ll tell you the rumour first if you prefer.” He might say he already knew it—if he really did— but otherwise, Ontour was honest.
Ask Ontour in secret if he knows what is the “deal” between dwarven master-appointed, the King, and apprentices such as yourself.

You leaned on the stall-counter, “I prefer the bracelet.” You shared a nod with him. “How about … I’ll tell you what I saw and heard—better even than mere rumours—if you sell it to be me first.” You took out a bag from within another leather pouch to place the money on the counter, “With a -very- small discount.”

Ontour paused to consider it, but he did it just to be polite. “I prefer the money. If there” —he pointed towards the money bag— “really is as much as you said. You can -practically- afford it. Come back when you’re a little m-m-m richer.”

You repossessed the money before any bystanding thief got any funny ideas, “Isn’t bartering part of the trade?”

He smiled, “Not for this merchant. I prefer to patiently wait until there’s a person who’ll purchase it for its true value.”

You tossed your glance across the oddities, “And how did you come up with those 'true-value' prices?”

“Trade secret."

You scowled. “Sure it is.”
He waved his hand, “You can always ask your master—is she here?—to provide you with the difference?”

Ask your master for money? To buy a dwarven-made bracelet? You still needed money to purchase the trap supplies.

"Yes, she's here." You placed your fists on the counter. “Ontour,” you lowered your voice, “Let’s put that aside. Do you know anything about how those deals between the king and the ‘appointee’, like master Carinda, work? What is promised between them?”

The coral-haired man leaned back, thumbing his man whiskers, “I don’t know the specifics regarding your dwarf, but I have heard and met another appointee-dwarf who taught masonry arts to a kid your-age-at-the-time." Waving his fingers from his throat to yours, he added, “I can tell you in details, sure. Your secret for mine?” A sly smile was on his face.

> “Forget about it. I might come back later. It was nice to see you again, Ontour.”
> “Very well, but you’ll have to tell me first, and in all the details you know.”
> [Write In]

>>5117098
>> “Forget about it. I might come back later. It was nice to see you again, Ontour.”
Seems people really want the bracelet, and he ain't bartering it so no need to stick around. We will probably learn the details of the agreement eventually, but this might be the best chance to use our info. on the tree...honestly not too sure on this one
>Come back when you’re a little m-m-m richer.”
jam the triforce of fist down his face

>>5117098
>“Very well, but you’ll have to tell me first, and in all the details you know.”

Rolled 1 (1d2)

>>5117458
> “Forget about it. I might come back later. It was nice to see you again, Ontour.”

>“Very well, but you’ll have to tell me first, and in all the details you know.”

“Forget about it. I might come back later. It was nice to see you again, Ontour,” you leaned back with a straight back.

“Sure,” he repeated your motion. His eyes were peeking through your jacket, where your leather bag was. “I’ll be here for a few more days.”

“-or weeks,” you said, tossing one last glance at the prices exhibited.

“Tell your master I said ‘hello’.” Carinda held Ontour in contempt for all the dwarven wares he managed to peddle, although she sold more than him.

You nodded, stepping away from the waggon. Tetreus returned the letter opener which you returned to Ontour.

“One year with a dwarven blacksmith should account to ten years of tutorship under a mastersmith from the lord-town guilds,” Tetreus was staring off into the distance; a row of buildings were shrouding the horizon in cobblestone and chimney smoke.

“That is what the King said, and what he awaits for,” he shook his head, pulling the reins to turn away from Ontour’s stall. “Will all this effort you are putting—commendable but unimpressive—are you planning on making something like that bracelet?” He paused, glaring at the amused crowds and then back at you, “Will it have preternatural properties?”

You coughed into your fist, “Hopefully it’ll be able to impress even a dwarf.” One dwarf: Carinda.

“Hmph … Are you going to tell me where we are going next?”

> Since you avoided spending money on the bracelet, you have more than enough to purchase the things you’ll need for the trap. Many stalls selling freshly butchered, as well as smoked and salted, meat, but live animals to be used as bait are harder to find, and more annoying to transport. There are chickens, pigs, sheep, rabbits, bulls and cows. You don’t know the size of the beast, which bait will be sufficient? What else will you need?
> Return to reunite with Carinda and come return back with her to the market. She might not be a hunter but maybe she can offer some advice on how to prepare a sensible trap; she -did- venture into the Russet Swamp before.
> Ask Tetreus if he can offer you some advice on making a trap, and what things you’ll need to prepare one. He's a man-at-arms, he should know something.
> “King’s Representative Tetreus, can you—at least—tell me what will happen once I become mastersmith?”
> “King’s Representative Tetreus, what have you promised Veronica? Will you really make her a squire if you are happy with her work?”
> “King’s Representative Tetreus, I am not the first appointee apprentice, am I? What sort of master compete you judged before I have made?

>>5118330
> Return to reunite with Carinda and come return back with her to the market. She might not be a hunter but maybe she can offer some advice on how to prepare a sensible trap; she -did- venture into the Russet Swamp before.
Better to have specific knowledge to our situation
>> “King’s Representative Tetreus, can you—at least—tell me what will happen once I become mastersmith?”
Bet he will give a half answer like "serve the crown" or "work on commissions"

>>5118330
>> Return to reunite with Carinda and come return back with her to the market. She might not be a hunter but maybe she can offer some advice on how to prepare a sensible trap; she -did- venture into the Russet Swamp before.
> Ask Tetreus if he can offer you some advice on making a trap, and what things you’ll need to prepare one. He's a man-at-arms, he should know something.

>>5118330
>Return to reunite with Carinda and come return back with her to the market. She might not be a hunter but maybe she can offer some advice on how to prepare a sensible trap; she -did- venture into the Russet Swamp before.
Ask Tetreus if he can offer you some advice on making a trap, and what things you’ll need to prepare one. He's a man-at-arms, he should know something.
> “King’s Representative Tetreus, can you—at least—tell me what will happen once I become mastersmith?”

> Update later today.

You scratched the side-bottom of your neck. “Let’s reunite with master Carinda.”

“You said you were here to purchase supplies” —God’s Gallop walked; the crowd dispersed, no different than if the horse was a massive urchin — “are you unable to do it without the dwarf, Juryan?” Tetreus’s voice was distant; it was hard to guess his expression. His eyes were fixed on the houses snailing at his sides: he sat too high to pay people any attention.

You followed the man-at-arms behind: it was convenient to have the merchants and peasant step out of his, and thus yours, way. “I have never been in Russet Swamp, King’s Representative Tetreus. She knows more than I about the place.”

“I am certain she knows as little as you about those districts and our—human—lands."

You kept on with your march in silence; the market was, indeed, rowdy and noisy, but Tetreus and you continued to move through it without words. No! Damn, you had questions! “King’s Representative Tetreus, can you—at least—tell me what will happen once I become mastersmith?”

“ … -If- you become a master blacksmith,” he held his iron gauntlet in clattering vise. He turned towards you, then back, then again: either to have his armour jangle in a sonorous grind or to loosen his muscles.

He let out a heavy sigh, “If you fail with this masterpiece, your master will be forced to stay until you make something to satisfy my appraisal.” He lead his fingers against the slit of his helm, “It won’t hurt for you to know. I will tell you this much, and it’s nevertheless undecided. The day you will become a mastersmith, you will either be appointed an apprentice, or you will be sent to a guild in some lord-town, the closest being Cenotaph, to teach-tutor people in there. Meanwhile, you will have personal assignments from the crown and the personages of his majesty.”

“I will have leave Crisscross?” you asked. The answer was obvious.

“It hasn’t been decided yet."

“What'll happen after I finish teaching -that- apprentice? Will I be ‘free’?"

Tetreus snapped his reins: God’s Gallop was obedient, so it was not to set him straight. “You sure have a lot of questions, Jiraen. Everything in due time. Focus on your masterpiece and -not failing- my expectations.” He shook his head, his way of sitting stiffening. “I doubt much-lot you will be able to repay what the King paid with just that alone.”

“What do you mean?”

He didn't answer, and he gruffed his teeth when you repeated the question. Was he not allowed to tell, or was he acting difficult just because?

File: In the dark of the night....jpg (137 KB, 1280x549)

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*** *** ***

As previously decided, you and Carinda were spending the night in the waggon. The two opposite benches were easily removable; there was enough space to share between you and your master. You did not mind being short—you didn’t want to grow any taller than her—but in such situations, you could plainly point out the benefits of being short. You brought enough cotton cloths, feather blankets, and woollen throws to not worry about the cold nighttime. You and your master sleep back to back, and even though it was not the first time, you felt her warmth.

In the market, Tetreus, expectedly so, refused to offer you any suggestions. Carinda had hit him in the chest plate and called him out on this, asking him to be at least a tad useful. He dismissed Carinda’s words, making her even more furious and frenzied. ‘I am not here to help him make his masterpiece, but to judge it — I am here to see how and even what he finishes.’ The man-at-arms said. Thus, he persisted with shadowing and ‘judging’ you like a hungry limpet.

Carinda had not met the beast, and only infrequently paid a visit to the Russet Swamp. She was not a hunter, nor a woodcutter, neither was she a swamp-dweller. Despite what Tetreus implied, she still knew the lands.

You bought the following items according to her advice: charcoal to hide the scent, horse glue (either to make it the main focus of your trap or to strengthen the other parts of it), two sharp axes to easily deal with the thorned nevergreen, briars, brambles, copsewood, and undergrowth, two stacks of ropes (one hemp and one cotton), and lastly— two chicken hens, for they were easy to transport and quiet, at least compared to other ‘bait’ livestock on offer. Even still, they made it a struggle to sleep.

You told Carinda about Ontour and the bracelet. She was unemotional to his mentioned presence. She was uninterested in the inventory listed until you mentioned the wrist-strap. She scrunched her nose, but then shook her head. ‘Too expensive for what it is, Julian.’ She explained: ‘In the dwarven mines, that stuff is everywhere; we do make it into bracelets but it is not that valuable. The children and young smiths use it to fix their mistakes, as sometimes they can't work with weak flames. The masters, and apprentices really, had learnt and know by heart the forges and its flames and do not need those Firebrands. They are a novelty item.'

She was right, but for you, there were many potential uses for those stones, one of which was to melt your Ore into stomach-needing liquid.

The waggon’s door squeaked without any resistance. There was a white flash in the shadows, one which awoke you. You reached for … nothing.

“Julian, wake up,” you heard a voice whisper. In your languor, you could not recognise who or where this voice came from. “Julian, wake up!”

“Who … Who’s there?!” you muttered, failing to free yourself from the seven layers of cloths and throws you found yourself in, like a webbed fly.

“It’s me, stupid,” Vera said. The moonlight was reflecting the object she held: Tetreus’ broadsword.

You grunted, pushing yourself to sit up, “What are you doing? It’s the middle of the night,” you looked at Carinda: she was still asleep.

“It’s actually the early dusk,” she smiled, waving another object—a loaded crossbow. You exhaled in relief: her fingers were far away from the trigger.

“My questions still stands,” you made an attempt to free yourself from the covers, but it was too cold to do so; thanks to all the wind Vera let inside. You slid them all back on, shuddering. “I think you are going to get in trouble for taking those," you raised your finger, pointing between them.

She shook her head, “I’ll return them before the man-at-arms realises they were gone. We don’t have -a lot- of time, so let’s go, hurry-hurry!”

“Go freaking where?” you cursed, rubbing your eyes; it did not help, if you were to wake up, you had to wash them with some, damn it, cold water.

She dangerously waved the sword from your face, through the waggon's interior, and pointed it towards the door, “To the mines, -obviously-.”

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, “To the mines? Dozen people died in there, Vera, there’s a horrible monster in the lower levels.”

Her neck bent forwards, enough for you to see the spark in her eyes, “That’s why I brought those, lardhead.” She raised the crossbow and the weapon. Pausing, she clumsily pressed the hilt of the longsword to her chest, “Just to be clear, the sword is mine, you can have the crossbow.”

You put your hands over your head, “Do you -realise- what you are suggesting here?”

She lowered the sword, huffing, “Of course I do, Julian. You need the whatever-ore, and it is down there. Carinda is injured, and will not be able to assist you, or even go with you because of her leg.” Her olive gaze fell on your sleeping master. “Because of this monster—worrying for your safety— she will not allow you to go. The knight, Tetreus, said he will not assist you; even if he could, he’s too tall for those mines, and his armour is too cumbersome and heavy. I heard that he's hurrying you up. The miners said they do not know when other men-at-arms will arrive to kill that thing; they might, but in a week-or-two-or-four.” She bit her lip, stopping to look through the glass door onto the empty streets of Quarry. “It’s unlikely we’ll stumble on this beast anyway, it’s just one, and the mine is huge—right?

“I just want to help you, Julian, and I was even told not to.” Vera raised her chest and hit the iron door with the sword’s hilt, “not a good friend?”

> “Alright. Okay. Despite me never seeing you use a sword ... let's go."
> “Go back to sleep. We’ll deal with the mine, or what the situation will be, after our trip to the Russet Swamp.”
> “We’re -not- doing that, Veronica. In fact, I am returning with you back to the stables to keep an eye in case you decide to go to the mines alone.”
> A crossbow will unlikely to be -much- of use. Borrow Carinda’s heirloom hammer.
> [Write In]

>>5120263
> “We’re -not- doing that, Veronica. In fact, I am returning with you back to the stables to keep an eye in case you decide to go to the mines alone.”

Talk her down! It sounds like a fun adventure... But we can try Russet Swamp first, and return when we're a bit more seasoned and less likely to die. Maybe with Carinda healed up, to assist, if at all possible. Hell, maybe we can make some money off our swamp-trek to facilitate buying the bracelet, then use the bracelet to immolate the creature!

>>5120263
>“Go back to sleep. We’ll deal with the mine, or what the situation will be, after our trip to the Russet Swamp.”

>>5120263
>> “We’re -not- doing that, Veronica. In fact, I am returning with you back to the stables to keep an eye in case you decide to go to the mines alone.”

“We’re -not- doing that, Veronica.” You stood up, straddling over the wooden floor—chilly to your sockless feet—to meet your friend. You reached for the sword, but Vera quickly put it out of your sight. “In fact, I am returning with you back to the stables to keep an eye in case you decide to go to the mines alone.”

She crossed her arms, the tapping of her boot was clear and loud in the distinguishing silence of the night. “I don’t -really- need you in there.”

You changed into your jacket. You fell into a pile of pillows and throws to make it easier to slip into your shoes; you did so in a rush; in a hurry.

“Why don’t you want to go?” she asked, “Are you a chicken, Julian? Chick-chick-chick?” She flapped her elbows as if they were wings.

“Kakow!” one of the hens cried from its cage.

Veronica was fleering. She left her hands on her hips, “See? Your brethren-sister agrees.”

You sighed, “We are still not going, Vera. It’s too dangerous, and insane, to do so.” You opened the doors, the cold wind plunged them wide-open without much of your aid. “I don’t -care- what Tetreus said, it’s not my fault we have to wait here. We can deal with this after the swamp.”

Vera allowed you to gently push, almost with no effort, her out of the waggon. Grounding herself after a brief jump, she said, “Maybe, but don’t you want to kill that beast yourself?” She gripped the handles of both the sword and the crossbow. She raised the heavy sword and, with a woefully imperfect motion, swung it through the air in a wobbly arch. “Hah!” she yelled, taking a step forward and raising her crossbow. “and it’s done and dusted.” Chuckling, she looked at you, “Are you -sure- you don’t want to go? There might be precious ore in there too; gold, silver, I am not sure?”

“I am sure, Vera. We’ll deal with it later.” You added, “I don’t trust you not to go by yourself, you seem -very- eager … why?”

She sharply looked away, “‘You seem very eager Vera’, why do you think? I want to impress and show Tetreus that I’m capable, lardhead, it's obvious.”

“By dying in some unfinished, and for now forsaken, hole in the mines?”

She waved her hand, more exasperatedly than any -normal- person would do, “By killing that ‘spider’, Julian.”

You took a deep breath. “Vera, I doubt very much that Tetreus would appreciate it. He does not, and won't, care about that monster, now or after.”

She veiled herself with her hands, her white dress garments clung to her warm cotton underwear, “So you will not just join me, but also stop me?”

“You are not thinking this through, Vera. If something goes wrong down there nobody will save us.”

“I’ll save you.”

“I am not as confident I’ll be able to save you.” You put your palms to your lips, “It killed -ten adult men-, Vera. Come on now.”

“You just don’t want me to impress a knight, or to become one.”

“I don’t care if you become a herbalist, a tailor, a knight, or whatever. One thing I -don’t- want you to be is a -corpse-.”

Veronica inhaled deeply as if preparing to respond, but no words left her puckered lips. She did not know what to say to that. She waved the dangerous sword without much care for your—or her own—safety, “He told me not to help you; once we are in that swamp, I won’t even be able to assist you, because he will be there, nearby. And if that guy leaves without appointing me his squire, I’ll just be left with my boring work!”

> “If you wish to go into those mines -that- much, I won’t stop you, Vera, but you are making a mistake.”
> “If you wish to go into those mines -that- much, then I have no choice but to stop you.” She has a sword, what are you thinking? Wrestling her?
> “Veronica, I promise I will put a good word for you to the man-at-arms. You are hard-focused and quick to learn; he sees that, and I know that.”
> “Veronica, once I become a master blacksmith I will be able to meet men-at-arms like him. I’ll ask them if they require a squire, alright?”
> “That is a -stupid- reason to go and die for. You never used a sword, you never fought a monstrous beast. Vera, let's just go back to sleep.”
> [Write In]

>>5120932
>Vera, I promise to put in a good word with Tetreus. He, and I, both see how dedicated, hard-working, and quick to learn you are.
>And really... Are you sure you want to be squire to this unhelpful jackanapes of a knight? When I am a master smith, I can always put in a good word to someone more suitable in his profession...

>>5120932
>>> “Veronica, once I become a master blacksmith I will be able to meet men-at-arms like him. I’ll ask them if they require a squire, alright?”
Hell, if we get to choose an apprentice Vera would happily jump on that

>>5121015
> Hell, if we get to choose an apprentice Vera would happily jump on that
> Would~ she?

>>5121028
>Would she?
Maybe? Probably not. I mean, you know better than us, but she seems to crave adventure. Blacksmithing is tomboyish, but still just a regular ol' trade.

>>5121028
happily jump on us

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>>5121063
> Julian is well aware she dislikes working in her tailor shop, although she still puts in the effort when required, and also hates her mother trying to marry her off (she tried with Julian but both rejected).
>>5121064
> Maybe to beat him up!

>>5120932
“Veronica, I promise I will put a good word for you to the man-at-arms. You are hard-focused and quick to learn; he sees that, and I know that.”
> “Veronica, once I become a master blacksmith I will be able to meet men-at-arms like him. I’ll ask them if they require a squire, alright?”
> Tetreus also doesn't seem like the type who will forgive you "borrowing" his sword and sneaking off.

> Sorry all, there won't be an update today.

“Veronica, once I become a master blacksmith I will be able to meet men-at-arms like him and ask them to help you.”

She paused, lowering and pointing both the sword and the crossbow at the ground, “Oh really?” Her lips perked, “Just like that?”

You heedfully neared to your childhood friend. Reaching for Tetreus’ blade, you nodded “Just like that, Vera. I’ll be able to do that, for you ... ”

“You sound mightily convinced of that, lardhead.”

“You -sure- sound dubious of your best friend,” you let out a harrumph. You grasped the hilt and thus, her fingers. “That jackanape said that, in a coin-flip chance, I will have to leave Crisscross to work in a lord-town guild, -and- that I’ll be tasked with making forge items for the nobility” —you noticed her staring you down, her eyebrows scowled and her eyes narrowed— “I am not bragging! I am saying that I’ll be able to put a word for you: I’ll ask them if they, any of them, require a squire, alright?”

You tried to draw out the sword but her grip forbid you, “I want to earn the position with my own power, Julian.”

You laid your second palm to unfairly move the naked sword out of her hands, “You are so stubborn! Vera, you can’t fight favouritism!”

“Well, I want to!” she threw her arms downwards; the crossbow discharged, the bolt shooting through the cobble with an echoing crack.

You flinched, your leg instinctively darting away. “Tetreus is not going to appreciate losing a bolt … or you ‘borrowing’ his sword!”

Veronica knew: she was already on her two knees in a fruitless and desperate attempt to pull it. “Ghhh, I know that!”

You soughed, falling in the same way and pushing her hands down to secure enough space for your hands. You pushed and pulled, and while the bolt did shake, it did not wish to leave. The heavy crossbow was deadly, amazing, precise, and annoyingly penetrative. It could pierce through the thick hide of an oversized bear, and now, you learnt, it could puncture a stone-layered road. Was it the honour of the crossbow or the bolt, or both? Veronica made sounds and spit words unbelonging to a tailor’s daughter, but you weren’t much pleasanter with your wrangle.

“Huff!” the both of you yelled, finally pulling it out of the stone. Despite crushing the cobble, the broadhead remained sharp and glossy …

Both of you huffed, leaning back on your hands and gasping for fresh, crisp-cold air. You felt your throat hurt, but you spoke nonetheless.

“Veronica, I -promise- I will put a good word for you with Tetreus. You are hard-focused and quick to learn; he sees that, and I know that.”

She looked away, the half-moon reflecting in her eyes, “You don’t understand, you lardhead … Why would any of those knights bother with me, some hay-filled pumpkin from a tiny hamlet? I know as much: they already have daughters and sons of nobles assigned and waiting for those positions.”

Before you could reply, the silence of the night was interrupted; again, but not by you or your friend. Metallic clang and resounding steps were heard.

> Pick up the sword and the crossbow and attempt to hurriedly hide them in the waggon.
> Toss the sword and the crossbow into a nearby row of bushes.
> Take the sword and the crossbow into your hands. What will you tell Tetreus (it’s unlikely to be anyone else) for you to have those items?
> Make it look like a fight, and insist that Veronica goes along with it. She did not want to help you, she wanted to kill the beast—say that.
> [Write In]

>>5123321
>Let Veronica take the lead, but have her back like a good best friend

This is her error, her career, her destiny. She wants independence, to earn things by her own power. Just let her know we have her back, and stand ready to speak in her defence and praise and to vouch for whatever she says.

>>5123321
Going with >>5123373
Don't think Tetreus leans that hard on the lawful stupid scale but there is a fine line between obedience and duty.

You both turned your heads. Was that the man-at-arms? The forthcoming character made no attempts to hide his presence, like a cumbrous golem, his steps boomed, rich and thunderous. Withdrawing the corner—it was, indeed, Tetreus—his large blackened silhouette swallowed you whole; his physique scintillated by the glassy, misty-blue moonlight. You heard Veronica loudly swallow. You saw her intimately squeeze both of her weapons.

Tetreus’ shadow shrank as he paced towards the two of you. He remained silent; the uncanny song of his suit of armour made you uncomfortable. He stopped, like a heavy storm brought to an end. Without words, his hands, layered in plate iron, lunged to take possession of his crossbow and guards. Veronica did not hold to them tightly, she was neither stupid or stubborn to do that. Vera flinched in pain as he took the weapons from her arms. He exerted more force than was required, and with his tug, your friend collapsed on the ground. He sheathed the sword with uneasiness.

He was not going to speak first, but you couldn’t do it either. You silently looked at Vera: it was her error to fix, but she had to act, and to do it fast.

With a heavy cough, and hurried trudge, she semi-raised herself to sit on her rear. Her hand vanished in her hay-like hair as she impishly chuckled.

“You found me~” she said, taking the palm out of her hair to slap it against the other, pleading. “I am so very sorry, King’s Representative Tetreus.”

The man-at-arms returned the crossbow to the hook on his belt. His uncaring gaze, veiled beneath the blue of his eyes, looked intently at Veronica.

“Were you trying to help him?” he asked, his loud voice likely awakening the resting residents—you saw a few looking out of their windows. He didn't care.

She raised her chin and shook her head. Her constrained grin turned into a meek smile, “Not really. He doesn’t need my help anyway.”

“He does,” Tetreus mocked, his eyes now downing you, “He needs all the help he can ‘afford’.” He paused, “Vornika. My weapons are the weapons of the King: stealing them is a transgression, using them is a vice. Are you going to tell me the reason for such foolish actions?”

She shrugged, “Of course I will, it’s nothing -that- important.” She waved her hand, “I just wanted to kill the monster, the one in the mines.”

“Did you …” he sighed, “What you -do- is none of my concern. If you wish to get rid of that so-called-monster so much, do it with your weapons.”

Veronica scratched the back of her neck. She pouted, “Your sword and crossbow are in another higher class. I can’t even own a darn sword.”

“Your friend should be able to make a sword -at least- as strong as mine.”

“You know I am now allowed to make weapons, sword especially.”

“You can make one as your masterpiece,” he said, “and -when- you are a master blacksmith, there will be no restrictions.”

“By then, that thing would’ve eaten all of the miners,” you muttered.

“Unlikely, in -due time- they will receive the help they need.” He glared at Vera, speaking dryly, “Neither from me, or from you.”

“I’ve never seen him make a sword,” your friend hummed, putting a hand to her lips, “but I bet it would be a great one, right, Julian?”

“Sure …”

Tetreus turned, ignoring the murmurs of the foiled people or entire families, “You are an eager one ... come to my room and clean this armour.” His departure was much less menacing than his arrival, although just as loud. Veronica gave you a weak smile and hurriedly ran after him.

*** *** ***

You waggon left Quarry hours ago, and the four of you were on the road afresh: this time, in the direction of the Russet Swamp. You awoke shivering from chill. The roofs, windows, walls, roads, and the greenery: everything was covered in the feathery hoarfrost, and sparkling with the early dawn’s sunlight. As soon as the waggon left the town, it began to snow, scarcely. Tiny snowflakes flurried from the sky: in equal amounts the sky was aquamarine clear or covered in white-bright clouds, and it continued this way through the rest of the day.

You were unsurprised to see Veronica untroubled and unapologetic by the night’s events. She was hard-at-struggle to clean the gauntlets belonging to the man-at-arms, the nooks and crannies of it were hard to reach or polish, so she had a wooden twig to assist her.

Vera’s eyes were red and watery, and beneath them she had dry blemishes: all from lack of sleep. She did not reveal whenever Tetreus forced her to work all night, or she did so an an apology, or if she was excited to work with his armour. Your friend said that the man -did- remove his helmet to let her scrub it, and what kind of face he had: light-blue eyes, flowing red copper hair to his neck level, and a dog-like nose.

You were with Carinda, on the bench, moving through the meadows, hill-lands and soft slopes. She was humming an unknown song to herself.

“Does it snow a lot where you are from?” you asked your master.

“Sometimes.” she smiled, her leading hand had bluish veins. “Sporadically, mostly in Winter, for a week, no longer. It happens a few times, can be five can be ten. When it does, it turns very-very cold. Temperature jumps up and down, it’s lucky we dwarfs stick to the mountains and caverns.” Carinda chuckled, nudging you, “I bet you want to ask if we have any Winterly traditions in my homeland?”
You rubbed the place she hit, “You know me too well, master.”

She smacked the reins, “We do. My clan has a game: make iron moccasins and jump into a frozen lake from high above. The point is to make them strong enough to break the ice, but not heavy enough to make it impossible for you to swim back … Yes, it’s quite dangerous ha-ha-ha!”

Thump. “ … !”

What was that? Carinda did not hear or notice, but you felt as if you did. You shook your head in search, but you could find nothing suspicious.

> Ask Carinda to stop the waggon, and then look around to see if this was something important.
> It was nothing. You don’t have time to waste, you won’t be able to deal with the Russet Swamp if it turns dark.
> [Write In]

>>5124645
>>5124647
>>5124649
>You are an eager one ... come to my room and clean this armour
lewd
>My clan has a game
Wouldn't the weight of a dwarf be enough to crack the ice anyway...?
> [Write In]
Look around but keep going, don't think it'll be a stowaway seeing as we spent the night in there so if it's small enough to escape everyone else's notice it's hopefully nothing

>>5124866
Supporting.

>would the weight of a dwarf be enough to crack the ice

They seem very dense, so between that and the shoes, probably.

>>5124649
Please note the above vote.

>lewd
>Tetreus is not good with words.

>Wouldn't the weight of a dwarf be enough to crack the ice anyway...?
>They seem very dense, so between that and the shoes, probably.
>You can ask Carinda directly, I doubt she'll mind answering.

>>5125400
>ask your waifu her weight
I mean, I guess we can frame it in a flattering way...

You poked your head to glance at your suspicions. Strange, there was nothing there. You wiped your eyes with your hand: still nothing. You moved back into the “comfort” of the pew, one on which Carinda was standing by your side; not a single time had she waned or decided to sit. She was heavy, but in a good way, bulky and thick, and her leg muscles were the same. Were other dwarfs similar to her, or was it just her alone?

“Dwarfs are” —you licked lips, trying to find the word not to offend your beloved master— “strong. Does your clan really need those shoes?”

Her reddish blue eyes sparkled in the company of her dwarf-body (you were looking at it more than it was appropriate) shining like a bronze statue in the hoary sun: in the moments it wasn’t obscured by the cloudy shrouds. She bumped her chest, “Trust me, Julian, that ice is a formidable foe. We might be strong, but our legs are still fleshy and bony."

She hastily lowered her hand. The ponies switched from one side of the road to another, it was an unintended but harmless change, as Carinda was trying to explain -and- control the ponies with just one working hand. “If you try landing with your feet, they’ll get splashed. Hmmm, I actually think the ice that forms is worse than here, it is much sturdier and much thicker in its layers. We had some dwarfs that could not break through it, despite their iron moccasins, and despite the height from which they jumped.” She smiled, “Those dwarfs were not me!”

“Being a master blacksmith probably gives you an unfair advantage.”

She raised her chin in a gesture of pride, “I knew I was going to be a blacksmith from early on, but I did not start as a master blacksmith."

Your cheekbones fell as you grinned. “But did you win every time?"

“There can be more than one winner, as you just have to: one, break the ice, two, swim back. But I can’t remember losing!”

*** *** **

The following hours, your waggon continued to pass undisturbed. The way your master illuminated and shimmered when exposed to the sun was—by now—a regular occurrence to you, Veronica, and the rest of Crisscross. To Tetreus, who was looking at her from time to time, it was a baffle, an abnormality. Your master once mentioned how, for the dwarfs, the sun was not this warming light, but an allergen; rust, she compared.

Tetreus did not speak to either you or Veronica, his thoughts: somewhere else. As he did not yet have the opportunity to dirty it, his armour was polished to near-perfection; your friend did a good job. It was unlikely Veronica did any waxing or enamelling, so until then cleaning it was destined to become a regular occurrence, still, for now, it dazzled just as much as Carinda. Vera had just a few hours. Certainly, he was impressed?

File: The swamp of red....jpg (148 KB, 736x981)

148 KB JPG

Thus, you came to the Russet Swamp: it was closer to the Quarry than a journey from Crisscross. Dismal in its look, any sort of path was no longer visible, or present. It was all: mushy quicksand, slushy mud and watery bog-land, with a blood-red moss shivering on top. Growing from beneath the bog, like loose-jointed skeletons, were stripped trees with darkened trunks and bone-like limbs and blade-like branches. Swelling bushes and billowing vines, each of them almost completely thorn-ridden, unfolded like breathing laminae between the quagmire and the trees. It was an unwelcoming entrance, and you were not even sure if it’d be possible to build a trap in such conditions. You needed at least a semi-stable ground.

“We are here,” Carinda said, her smile waving. She glanced back at the waggon. It was not going anywhere.

God’s Gallop obediently and slowly squatted to the ground, letting Tetreus climb off him. The man-at-arms paced, looking with attention at the sight.

As soon as the waggon stopped, Vera jumped out of the door, her feet landing in the runny mud. Her face scrunching from the sudden flash of blood—she did travel without moving for hours now—she wallowed to where the quarrel of perturbing trees began.
“Something,” she gasped, “something like this was -this- close to Crisscross?! And I did not know? This looks-”

“Dangerous,” you interrupted her with a smirk, passing by to begin taking out the items, old and newly-purchased ones.

Veronica rolled her eyes, “Well, yes, but also amazing. I thought for miles it would be just green meadows and grey rocks, but we have -this-, here!”

“God’s Gallop will not be able to pass through,” Tetreus said, his cold voice interrupting you two, “I care less for the waggon and your ponies, but they are in the same situation. Someone is going to have to stay here to watch them, and that someone will be you: Vornyica.”

“Y-you want me to stay?” Vera’s words cracked, “But they are going to hunt down a beast!”

“And you made a promise not to -assist- him with that,” Tetreus reminded, his voice austere, with no drop of sympathy.
“You know you are going to have to stay as well, right?” Carinda intervened. She slapped his armour with a smirk, “You’ll -drown-, knight.”

The man-at-arms did not see the humour. He approached the beginning of the swamp, his boot quickly submerging into the mud.

“Not to mention,” Carinda rolled her head with an earnest smile, swaying her injured hand above her head, “You are far too tall, Tet-Re-Us. Even if you get rid of your armour, which will take hours, you are going to collect every thorn and every bramble there. So you are going to have to stay behind as well. Just the two of us can handle it, can’t we, Julian?”

Tetreus’ teeth grind with a hollow echo. He spat, “Granted, but you are injured as well, won’t that pose a problem?”

Carinda paused, looking at the sky, “Maybe a little, but it won’t make me -sink- faster. I have been here before, I can get by.”

The man-at-arms sighed, “It would be best if I could attend to watch … I do not trust you not to assist him, appointee Carinda.”

“We are not going to do any forging in that swamp, and even if we were, getting components and smithing are different things and you know it.”

Vera was now bouncing before the knight, his knees falling and raising like she was a singing cricket, “I can go and keep an eye on them,” she suggested. He gazed at her, but she did not falter. “King’s Representative Tetreus, you can trust me with this!”

“ … And leave me -alone-?”

> Allow Veronica to talk and convince Tetreus on her own if she can.
> “Vera is capable, she’ll keep a close eye on me and my mistakes, King’s Representative Tetreus.
> There seem to be a reason Tetreus does not want to stay alone - loneliness or boredom? Tell Vera it might be better if she stays behind instead of going. The Russet Swamp will always be here for her, but this might be a rare opportunity to bound.
> Carinda is injured and walking with a crunch. You can handle this alone, suggest that she stays behind. Still, if Vera will assist you, you won't mind.
> [Write In]

What will you tackle first?
> The trap for the swamp-dwelling beast you need for its stomach.
> The Black Horn tree you need for its wood.
> [Write In]

>>5125946
>Speak up in Vera's favour
>Suggest that Carinda rest up
>Bring Vera if possible, instead

>Black Horn Tree first

>>5125946
> Allow Veronica to talk and convince Tetreus on her own if she can.
SHe's a big girl after all
> The Black Horn tree you need for its wood.
Easy bit first, Carinda dosn't have to do anything too physcial since Vera is with us

>>5125946
There seem to be a reason Tetreus does not want to stay alone - loneliness or boredom? Tell Vera it might be better if she stays behind instead of going. The Russet Swamp will always be here for her, but this might be a rare opportunity to bound.
> The Black Horn tree you need for its wood.

Rolled 3 (1d3)

> Speak up in Vera's favour
> Allow Veronica to talk and convince Tetreus on her own if she can.
> Tell Vera it might be better if she stays behind instead of going.

> Do not ask Carinda to stay.

> The Black Horn tree first, you need for its wood.

“The Russet Swamp is not going anywhere, Vera, maybe you -should- stay,” you said, pulling the belts of the bag containing the trap supplies inside. She gazed at you as if you just twisted a knife into her open wound, and then slowly sprinkled sand on top: betrayed. The man-at-arms was not displeased; he failed to cross his arms—as if forgetting the bulkiness of his armour—so instead, he settled to exhibit his composure by keeping his arms separated on his stomach. He nodded once, affirming your words.

You grabbed the two axes—virgin in use, curved, and sharp—made long ago but left unsold by your master.

“Oh really, lardhead?” she asked you, her hawk-like gawk unmoving.

“Yes, I think you should,” you repeated. You approached her to stand face-to-face, nodding your head dully at Tetreus. In a low voice, you added, “He said himself he does not want to be alone, Vera, isn’t the whole point of this trip to show him your good sides; and to bound with him? You should not be avoiding him. I can’t ask master Carinda to stay behind and for us to just go on our own.”

“Why not?” she huffed, a puff of white smoke bursting out of her nostrils as if she was a feral hog. “Then you’ll miss the ‘bridge-effect bounding’ in the scary, dangerous swampland in your last days with your ‘master’?”

You rolled your eyes, pushing past her, “You know where the swamp is, you can always go here on your own; I don’t suggest doing that, though.”

She curled her hands into fists, throwing them above her head as she bent her neck and back. She bit her lip and grind her teeth, holding down a cry. With a sudden motion, the upper half of her body fell, her knees bending as she slapped them.

“Fine. Fine. Fine!” she muffled, then said, then yelled. She inhaled the bitter air, finally standing straight and calming herself.

“Yes, you will,” Tetreus freed God’s Gallop of his reins, ignoring Vera’s expressive outburst. The warhorse waited patiently until man-at-arms stepped away before shaking its head, and its unbound pale mane. God’s Gallop approached the reigned pony-duo, staring them down with his deep eyes. He made a loud snort, covering the two in a chalk-white mist.

“Watch your horse.” Carinda scowled. She began to move towards the swamp with her crunch. “Give them some grass if you can, Veronica.”

*** *** ***

Carinda’s axes made quick work of the sharp branches and even sharper bushes of thorns and brambles. You only had an axe each, but you both had only one working hand, so it sorted-ironed out. As you feared, her handcrafted crutch got stuck in the bog a lot, and despite her strength, even she struggled to pull it out. You tried to assist, but all she asked of you was to clear the way ahead.

File: The Black Horns ....jpg (116 KB, 681x900)

116 KB JPG

Finally, you arrived at a stretch of high marsh. It had a semi-stable, yet still viscid soil, one where Carinda’s crutch could press and stay still, if not wobbly. It was at a higher elevation than the swampy bog you walked through for … you were not sure for how long. Pans of turfless swamp ponds were separated by the glutinous elevations and toppled over, collapsed trees, with oversized insects sitting on top of them. They were not as big as a human, or even a dwarf, like the ones in fairy tales, yet they were twice as big as the ones you had seen before. Not only were they bigger, but they also had twice as many wings, legs, eyes, mandibles, and what else. Carinda assured you they were not poisonous, yet she also added that their sting bite would hurt a damn lot, and the rash would scratch for a long while, month at least ... at least!

The trunk and bark of other trees were blackened, but the Black Horns before you were wholly charcoal in their appearance. There were no branches below or even in the middle of it, but, like untangled hair, the remnants grew upwards like horns. They twisted with no pattern, each branch and twig avoided touching the other. Despite the black hue, the bark unnaturally shone under the moon from the sap that sometimes leaked through, not unlike liquid crystal mercury, from beneath the bark.
There was one tree in particular, the biggest one of them, that towered, to neither your or Carinda’s surprise, above all of them.

And caught, ensnared by a cage-nest of study branches and outgrowths, the only ones entangled, was a person, a human, a man as old as thirty.

Noticing you, he gasped, his hands reaching through the small windows:
“Oh! Gods! Thank you! Thank you! You have to save me, this thing … I’ll explain later, please free me!”

> Ignore the “blood moon” on the pictures. The moon is standard.

> Allow Carinda to deal with it.
> “Please explain first, what happened? Who are you? How did you end up like this?”
> Carefully approach the tree and investigate.
> Attempt to climb the tree and cut the branches.
> Attempt to cut the tree from below the trunk, collapsing it entirely.
> [Write In]

>>5127729
>Vera’s expressive outburst
aw
>>5127730
> “Please explain first, what happened? Who are you? How did you end up like this?”
No point in us getting caught as well, don't approach until we're sure it's not a trap

>>5127729
Oof, we did our bro Vera really dirty here.

>>5127730
>Carefully approach the tree and investigate

>>5127730
>Carefully approach the tree and investigate.

> Update later today.

You and Carinda shared bothered looks: how -would- someone end up in a situation like his? Placing the blunt side of the axe on your shoulder, you asked, “Please explain first, what happened? Who are you? How did you end up like this?” The man had small white hair curled and combed back above his ears, as well as a forked beard—both unwashed and unkempt. He was, at least in appearance, as bulky as Carinda, although heads taller; this all made it look as if he was a child in a cradle. The thick iron rings on each of his fingers shimmered from the scarcely present sunlight: that thick was the coverage of the trees. You did know his name: “Vermin”.

The man gruffed, he did not recognise you or he pretended not to. “We don’t have the time!” he repeated, gasping for air (he had a lot).

Your master was still. You didn’t take a step to assist him either. You were far too curious now, what was -he-, the thief from your past, doing here?

“You don’t look well-prepared for this swamp,” Carinda said, making the same motion as you with her axe.

His body was snarled by the branches, but unlike a spider web, it was as if he fell asleep and they grew around him. The man scrunched his eyes, clutching the firm branches to no success, releasing them soon after. He sighed, saying in clear distress, “Dam it boy, I’ll explain it quickly, but you have to hurry while it is asleep.” He monotoned, “I bought this elven pollen from a merchant in the nearby city, he said it would grant life to anything I use it on; I paid a fortune for it. Travelling away, I discovered that the bag had a hole, and the pollen was accidentally dusting off through it! I rushed away, as I was followed by mossy beasts which I brought to life, by accident, all the way to here! They didn’t follow me into this swamp, but a human-eating beast did. I ran, of course, I did, and I ended up climbing this tree. I don’t even know-how, my resolve to survive and escape that thing was stronger than the mere absence of branches.”

“Elven pollen and the Black Bristleleaf we found on the bridge said it came from somewhere around here,” Carinda said, "It makes sense."

You frowned, lowering the axe to lead your finger against its edge. You raised your voice, “So you brought -this- tree to life as well?”

“All on accident!” he pushed his face against the outgrowths, like a criminal against jail bars, “And it wants to keep me here!”

“Why?”

“How would I know?” he made another useless attempt to pull-and-break the branches, “Huff... It ‘said’ it was lonely and it was very grateful to me!”

You gruffed, eyeing the towering timber. Those trees, their way of thinking was bizarre if nothing else. “Is this one asleep … ?”

“It looks that way,” Carinda eyed the man and the tree suspiciously, “but if it’s like the one on the bridge, it’ll wake up as soon as something that’ll provoke it happens; maybe as amicable as us approaching it.” Her fingers stuck in her braids, she said, “If it’ll wake up, -for sure- it’ll be harder to cut a few branches or logs off it, I bet the thing will try to fight back. That’s a big tree, it’ll be painful.”

“How much do we need?”

“Depends on how big the thing you’re making it,” she smirked, being playful with your secret, “You’ll need it to burn the Ecline Ore, right? I don’t know much about this tree, Julian, but if neither slow-or-fast burning, let’s assume it is regular coalwood, we won’t need much: a branch will do.” She touched your axe with hers: ‘Clang!’ “Of course, it’s better to be safe and collect more, but I don’t think we’ll get the chance. Those branches are too high, else we could just rush and chop … Say, how about we -toss- them?”

“Where does rescuing me come into that?” the man asked.

Carinda hummed and harrumphed. Rolling the axe around her wrist, she smiled and said, “We can try tossing it at your ‘cage’.”

> You are not a good axe thrower, you are not an axe thrower at all! Ask Carinda that she allows you to silently creep towards the tree, attempt to climb it the way “Vermin” did, and chop a branch at a hand-wave distance. Then jump, pick it up and run as fast as you can.
> Nod to Carinda. You do not want to end up freeing/killing Vermin so have you and her attempt to cut off two random branches.
> Carinda is a better axe thrower than you—you think? Ask her to toss her axe at a branch while you try to “free” the man.
> Carinda is a better axe thrower than you—you think? Ask her to toss the axe at the Vermin’s cage while you toss it at a branch.
> Ask Carinda to wait, you are not sure how you feel about this. Maybe, it’ll be easier to discuss things with the Black Horn man-to-tree. If Vermin is not lying, then it wishes him no harm; perhaps you’ll be able to convince it to let the man leave and then ... ask it to give you a piece of its own body?
> The other Black Horns were not as big, but maybe it would be wiser to focus on them instead. You’ll need more than a branch off them, however. You had no guaranteed chopping off the branches, or falling an entire tree, would not wake up -the- Black Horn, though.
> [Write In]

> Who is Vermin? The guy who robbed Carinda’s waggon in the flashback.

>>5129815
>> Nod to Carinda. You do not want to end up freeing/killing Vermin so have you and her attempt to cut off two random branches.
> [Write In]
Ask Vermin what we gain from helping him. Unless he can convince us, the only reason we would help would be from the goodness of our hearts (lol) or if Carinda wanted us to.

>>5129815
> Nod to Carinda. You do not want to end up freeing/killing Vermin so have you and her attempt to cut off two random branches.

THEN, when we have what we need:

> Ask Carinda to wait, are are doing to discuss things with the Black Horn man-to-tree. If Vermin is not lying, then it wishes him no harm; perhaps you’ll be able to convince it to let the man leave and then ... ask it to give you a piece of its own body?

I don't like Vermin, but leaving him to die here seems... Spiteful.

>>5129815
>Carinda is a better axe thrower than you—you think? Ask her to toss the axe at the Vermin’s cage while you toss it at a branch.

“What do we get for saving you?” you looked over your handaxe, unsure of your throwing capabilities.

“Oh come on … “ the man’s glance circled, his fingers twitching as if attempting to reach for something hidden, “I don’t have much on me.”

“So you do you have something,” you shouted, raising your head to stare at him; could he not recognise you? “What is it?”

The man struggled on, wroughting with his ligneous chains. “I just have a few things I st- bought, and this damn-damned dust!”

You raised the fingers of your injured hand to massage your stubble. There could be some use for the elven pollen.

Carinda shook her head. A scowl shrouded her face: dubious and disapproving. “You are starting to sound like those merchants, Julian.” You were about to shout, but you stopped mid-breath, your words faltering. The wood of her handle rustled as she tightened her grip. “You shouldn’t be looking for monetary advantages and gains like that, Julian,” she said. She hurried to glance away once she realised you were looking.

“But … ” ‘This man tried to rob your waggon, he set it on fire!’ you wanted to reveal, but was now really the place and time for it? Or was it?

“Do you want to help him, master?”

“There are no reasons we shouldn’t, Julian,” she pushed down your chin with the eye of her axe, “People do appreciate when you help them.”

Would this person appreciate the gesture? You raised your head to see Carinda: on her face was not a grimace, but a fawning smile.

You sighed. You nodded your head twice. You muttered, “If he is not lying, then the tree wishes him no harm, so if it wakes up, we can try and talk it over, but I doubt it’ll allow us to cut those branches when it’ll begin talking and moving, so we should handle that first.” Fumbling, you curled and pivoted the axe to raise it above your head: it did not feel heavy to wield, but the iron weight was substantial if attempted to toss. With a feathery smirk, you asked, “I never did this: can you teach me how to throw correctly?”

“You never tossed an axe?!” she was taken by surprise. With her louder-than-typical voice booming even taller, she lurched to stand behind you. “I guess you would not.” She clutched your elbow, twisting and raising it, “Stand still, I’ll put you in a pose.”

“C-could you two hurry up? This thing is going be awake any moment now,” he said, “any moment now ... ”

Carinda ignored him. With her warm breath tickling your neck and her sizeable chest pushing against your back, she trailed her muscly fingers by your wrist, elbow, bicep, and shoulder, firmly grasping, massaging, and correcting each one of them. After a few moments, she said, “That should do it,” she leaned back, self-satisfied.

“First, lower it to your leg level, pointing it down, then bring it up to the way you are holding it now, then make a one-fourth circle with it, and then let go of it as soon as your arm is straightened, just about.”

Your cheeks were burning red. “Huh?” you blinked, your eyes darting from your dear master to your axe. She was standing there, adorable and … expecting. You put the blunt end of the axe to your nose to scratch your face with your wrist. “Right, of course. Thank you.” You looked over the tree, “It might be best if throw them at the same time."

She lightly tapped the handle against her thigh, “That is good thinking, Julian. Maybe you can even try and beat me,” she winked.

You tensed your grip: you were not as confrontational as Carinda, or as competitive as Vera, but … if there was one thing you wanted to do now, it was to impress your master. That was the main intent behind your masterpiece, and your unexplained-whimsy urge to show off your axe throwing abilities. You closed one of your eyes to make aiming easier.

“Let’s do it on three,” Carinda lead her axe in a quick, circling motion, “two,” you could hear her handle tense and strain, “and… one!”

You ended up with your eyes both closed shut. You could not help it: it was heavier than expected! Despite Carinda’s “massage”, your arm ended up strained and stretched, the bones thwacking with a resounding noise. You opened your eyes to watch your axe spinning through the air, high enough to reach the level of the branch, but not precise enough to hit it. It failed to connect, flew over and aside, landing onto the marsh.

Carinda’s toss … you could scarcely see it. It flew with frenzied blur, the razor-sharp edge cutting the air with a sharp ringing. Unlike yours, it barely span, only when Carinda intended for it. The ebony branch had no chance, the axe cutting through it like battleaxe through paper, and then away. Without losing its speed or strength, her axe flew far into the glades.

Carinda’s smile turned into a frown, “Subterraneous rain, why did I do that?” She slapped her face, “That was stupid: we have to look for it now.”

The heavy, thrice your size, branch tumbled and feel, the part with much of its twigs sliding into the mud like clawed fingers. You watched the Black Horn tree, but even after a minute or two, there was no reaction. Was that not enough to wake it?

"Are you sure it's 'alive?'"

"Yes, it's very much alive!"

> Your throw was pathetic and unimpressive. “I want to try again." Go to pick up your axe, come back, and throw it again.
> Two branches would be better, but you do not want to risk it. Approach the tree and pick up the branch with your master.
> Pick up your axe and then give it to Carinda to free the man, as you’ll surely screw it up.
> Approach the tree at a close, but safe, distance. “Black Horn? Can you hear me? Could you please release your prisoner?”
> [Write In]

> Thanks for playing so far. I would say the quest is 2/4 way done, maybe 3/5.

>>5130646
>With her warm breath tickling your neck and her sizeable chest pushing against your back,
Awww yea all acording to plan
>>5130651
> Approach the tree at a close, but safe, distance. “Black Horn? Can you hear me? Could you please release your prisoner?”
While I think the time for diplomacy is over we also don't want to go near the tree and take a root to the face. If it's as greateful to Vermin as it says it is then we can try convince it that keeping him jailed like that will kill him since he aint a plant

>>5130698
Been interesting so far! Curious to know why you went with a diceless format though

>>5130651
>Approach the tree, open negotiations

>>5130698
So one more thread? Looking forward to it!

>>5130651
>Approach the tree at a close, but safe, distance. “Black Horn? Can you hear me? Could you please release your prisoner?”

You laughed, “At least your axe did what it was supposed to. Mine missed, and we -also- have to go and search for it now.” You looked at your arms, clenching and unflinching your fingers, “At least, when we will approach it, it won’t see us holding weapons: it won't think we are hostile.”

Carinda pushed her braid to hang behind her ear, “I wonder if those things can even feel or react to pain; doesn’t seem that way, but I don’t trust it.” She furrowed her brows, pushing her hands to the side, “Let’s leave the axes aside, for now. Let’s take the branch and then figure out how to free that poor sod above.” She knocked her head up and leaned on the crunch, but you put your arm before her to intervene.

“Let me talk with it,” you said, your eyes shifting from your master to the Black Horn. “Or, at least let me -try- and talk to it.”

“Talk with it? Are you sure, Julian?” Carinda pushed her chin against your arm. She glared at the tree fastidiously, “Talking did not work with that nuisance on the bridge.” She ruffled your hair, “It’s a good thing to stay optimistic, but I don’t know if that is a good idea.”

“It’ll make things easier,” you would’ve had nodded, but that would cease her intimate touch. “I hope ... ”

She raised her hand from your head too soon and sighed. She struck the ground with the end of her crutch, raising herself on her tiptoes. “Be safe.”

You nodded with a confident smile. You approached the tree at a close, but a safe distance: “Black Horn? Can you hear me? Could you please release your prisoner?” Nothing happened, so you took another step.

You heard a soft, muddled, cracking sound. The moored roots began to move at an unhurried speed, shivering the shade of soil and wet mud.

The tough rutted surface of the tree, as if unchanged by the lifespan of its age, began to flounder and fall. The Black Horn continued to shake and meander. Deep, rugged lumps of bark formed into coils and then into massive pair of three startling empty monolid “eyes”; the last lump twisting into a hellish maw, its fang-like timbers needle-sharp, long, and savage. The silvery sap fell from the tips of it like the blood of dead prey.

Vermin yelped as the branches of his cage entwined even further, with tendrils and withes surrounding him like a cocoon; proper. The ink-black crown branches, each veined and previously straight-upward, began to twist into horn-and-antler-like forms. The bending came to a stop. Its predaceous—in its look—maw moved. A hollow crunch, and then, from within, a pair of big red-eyed ravens jostled and bolted towards you.

You covered your face from their unexpected appearance. Carinda lunged, waving her hand, and then her crunch, to scare them away. Neither of them was hungry for human (or dwarven) flesh, despite their starving glare and malnourished look.

“Shoo! Shoo!” Carinda waved her crunch long after they were gone. She stopped as the soft ground began to tremble.

“My branch … my arm … ” the Black Horn said in a feminine, yet still sunken and gruff, voice. From the fresh wound where the axe cut it, mercury sap oozed-dripped on top of the cut branch; faster and faster the resin flew, and then like a liquid web, it hoisted the branch and bonded it back to where it was before. A loud crack, and the branch, and another on the other side of the Black Horn, twisted into a clawed hand.

“Black Horn?” you asked. Carinda had you in her arm to protect, but you also held her in the same way. “Can you hear me?”

“Who is there?” The voice came from not only the maw, but the branches, the pieces of bark, and even the roots. It was uncanny.

“We are” —what were you supposed to say?— “a human a dwarf, and we wanted to ask you if you could please release your prisoner.”

“A prisoner? Who is a prisoner?” The tree watched as you pointed your finger at Vermin. “Him? Oh no,” there was no further the branches could strangle the man without crushing him, but they still pushed and rolled him in her (?) outgrowth twigs. “He is not a prisoner. He is my saviour! I owe so much to him.” Was it supposed to be a hug? “I was so lonely, so alone, and then, he brought me to life!”
“I think he would be as grateful to you if you let him down.”

Her leafless canopy shifted, trembling in place. “I … can’t do that, then I’ll be all alone. He can wait, a few months, or maybe years, I am an ancient Black Horn after all. Those roots are deep, it’ll take me some time to learn to walk! But once I am able to, I’ll return my favour to him; tenfold!”

“He’ll die from hunger and thirst by then.”

“No-no,” she repeated as her pawed branch cleaved and lugged the ground, “I’ll get him some fruits, pine cones, and lizards to eat.”

> “There is another tree not too far from here, maybe you and him can keep each other company, and be friends? I’ll introduce you.”
> “Fruits, cones, and lizards will not be able to keep him alive. The only way you can thank him is by asking what he -really- wants.”
> “If that is your wish, then it is best if he stays, and you thank him properly in a few months-years, just as you plan to."
> "Could you give us one of your branches? It would mean a great lot."
> Maybe you should return later, when it is "asleep" again, and cut another branch then.
> [Write In]

>>5132529
>Fruits, cones and lizards won't sustain him
>Even then, he will die long before you will
>But I know another living tree who could be good company, and for longer

>>5130772
> Curious to know why you went with a diceless format though
> I did not really have a reason or a way to implement gameplay-rolls to make the story more interesting, as I didn't want to just tackle it.
>>5131184
> So one more thread? Looking forward to it!
> Those threads fly by past so it's likely.

>>5132529
What >>5132727 says.
>>5132917
Fair enough, suppose roll for effect leaves you at the mercy of the dice too much

>>5132529
>>5132727 +1

“Fruits, cones and lizards won’t sustain him,” you said, “even then, even if they do, he will die long before you will.”

The tree’s gaping maw enlarged, the blackened trunk leadenly fell forward with a loud crackle. Braced in place by her roots, the Black Horn’s bark sizzled from its crevices as she inclined in your direction. The rinds of her trunk furrowed over her hollow eyes, all six sets were glancing at you.

“He does not have to wait until I die,” she echoed. One of her clawed branches dug into the ground, raising a pile of soil, dripping with swamp water. Exposed and distressed, the lizards hiding within the marsh-mud scrabbled to stay on top of it, while the walloping worms dug further into it. “I know I’ll be able to move and free my deep roots, and then him and me, we can leave: together.” The Black Horn wiggled the blades of her hand-like branch, passing the marsh like a sieve through it, the sharp twigs penetrating the desperate worms and lizards. “You say this is not food,” her branches wiggled as she stopped herself from tossing the catch into Vermin’s cradle. “Then what will he eat?”

“He probably likes clean water, roasted beef, peeled and stewed farm vegetables,” you scratched your head. “I did not mean he won’t be able to wait long enough for you to control your roots and stand up, but we, humans, don’t live as long as you do.”

Her hollow eyes morphed and reformed on the other side of her trunk, with only her vampire-like maw remaining to drip at the sight of you. The Black Horn raised the prickled slew towards the moon, the glisten of their twitching bodies as if captivating her. “They are flesh and blood …”

“Humans don’t eat bugs and lizards,” you made a further step forward, your hands clenching, “Even if you let him go, you don’t have to be alone. I know another living tree who could be a good company, and it will be that for much longer.” You watched as her eyes twisted again.

“Another. Living. Tree?” she questioned, with every rustling word her horned branches growing and twisting further. Another set of eye-like hollows formed above the floral crib, staring directly into the wasted man’s eyes. “How did it thank you? I will be much more thankful.”

“I,” he gasped. He inhaled, loudly and tiredly, “don’t know. Maybe it wasn’t me. But, the boy is right, it would make you a better company.”

She lowered the clawed branch above his entrapment. She shook it violently, raining pieces and guts of reptiles and wigglers on top of him. Covering, the pair of eyes watching him spirited away. “I’ll take care of you. I am not interested in being friends with other never-greens, they are withered and bushed, they do not make good company. I want to be friends with my saviour … I’ll find a way to feed you what you like ... ”

“The other tree is -living-, the same as you,” you shouted, loud enough for her to hear you.

“That does not mean it is not dull,” her branches and roots whispered. “Once I can move, we’ll travel the lands, together. I’ll do it for you.”

Carinda whispered, “It’s certainly as bothersome as you. Just a tad, I feel sorry for the elves for having to deal with this in their lands.”

Black Bristleleaf can move, but won’t. Black Horn wants to move, but can’t.

> Shrug your shoulders at Vermin. “Sorry, we tried everything we could.” Pick up your axe and cut a non-sentient Black Horn.
> Look at Vermin. “You have to tell her she’s being egotistical, and that is not what you want to do. Make it clear for her”
> “You, Black Horn tree, is being egotistical. Those things are what you want, not him. He told you what he wants to do: leave.”
> “No, the tree I am talking about is not dull, at all. I’ll ask him to come, meet up. If you agree, can you let that man go then?”
> Go and find your and Carinda’s axes. Return to cut a branch, and Vermin’s cradle, with them. “I guess we have no choice, then.”
> [Write In]

>>5134329
>"Master Carinda... This is the man who stole from you years ago, who set your cart ablaze. Are you sure we cannot just take some Black Horn from nearby and go?"

if she insists on saving Vermin

>"No, the tree I'm talking about is not dull, at all. I'll ask him to come, meet up. If you agree, can you let that man go then?"

>>5134329
>Look at Vermin. “You have to tell her she’s being egotistical, and that is not what you want to do. Make it clear for her”
> “You, Black Horn tree, is being egotistical. Those things are what you want, not him. He told you what he wants to do: leave.”

> Sorry all, no update today.

>>5136201
No worries. Thanks for keeping us informed!

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The tree was indeed bothersome, but so was Vermin. “Master Carinda … This is the man who stole from your waggon years ago, and who set your cart ablaze” —she was taken aback, her head turned to lay her lilac eyes upon Vermin and the binding branches he was inside of— “Are you sure we cannot just take some Black Horn wood from nearby and go? Leave." You questioned, clenching your fist and following the motion of her eyes.

“ … Wait, you are that boy?” Vermin said, his voice garbled up. He pushed his brawny hands through the gaps of the branches. “Damn, just my luck.”

Your master stared, her gaze unmoving, at the ground. “Julian,” she asked, “Is he is the one who hurt you?”

“I tried to stop him, but there was not much I could do at that age,” you waved your shoulders with mock annoyance.

“That changes a lot. You have a good memory, Julian, as good as a dwarf’s” Carinda pondered, placing her uninjured hand beneath her chest and taking a few unsecured steps towards the Black Horn nevergreen. “I do wonder if he would help us if we were in the same predicament?”

“I would, of course, I would,” Vermin replied immediately, “I can beat up people, but I don’t kill them, never, and I don’t leave them to die!”

“We did our best try, but there’s nothing more we can do,” she huffed, nodding her head and pointing her hand to where your axe flew and likely landed. “I would love to do more, but we are busy. As soon as we return to the Quarry, we will tell them about your situation and ask to send help.”

“What … are you kidding?! They will not help me, and even if you don’t tell them who I am, ask they know, once they are here, they will arrest me.”

Carinda clutched a fist, “Maybe that’s for the best." She looked up," If you were down here with our help, I would be smashing you up this second.”

“Do you want me to apologise?” Vermin’s old-copper eyes laid on you, “I am sorry, boy. Do you want me to beg?! I would, but my body is all stuck!”

“You have to tell her she’s being egotistical, and that is not what you want to do. Make it clear for her,” you advised the man.

The two of you made an arch around the aloof Black Horn. Vermin’s pleading voice continued and lasted, but he was soon out of your views.

Rummaging through the marshy ponds and pools, and climbing over the fallen trees, in due course you had managed to retrieve the axe you threw. The course of your master’s toss was tougher to follow and thus, her axe harder to find. Carinda’s crunch was more of a hindrance than help in this unwelcome morass; she tried her best to hide the fact. Your master slipped and fell into a viscous bog.

It was impossible to pull her out on your own, and so you quickly returned with cut limbs of regular leafless trees. She ascended out that way. Your master exhaled. oversized mosquitoes allured by the worn-out sweat of you both zigzagged here and there and around you. Carinda grabbed one of them into her hand and squashed it like a … bug. She tossed the cold meat at her boots and whipped the rest against her leather pants. Her next attempt to grab them was unsuccessful, but she dispersed the rest.

“Thanks, Julian,” she thanked you, resting her hands on her knees. “I am sure it flew towards here, somewhere.” She bit her lip, her eyes looking at the sky, “Maybe we should stop. I’m sure we’d find it eventually, but we -really- don’t have time to waste here. We have some torches but ... ”

> Suggest you continue looking for her axe. She seems to be sure it’s here. With her heirloom hammer cracked, and now one of her expertly crafted axes lost, she’ll end up associating the last days spend helping you with bad accidents and damaged property!
> Agree with Carinda, offer her your axe as she is, now confirmed, a much better wielder of it. Return to chop some Black Horns.
> Agree with Carinda, but unless she asks for it, keep the axe on yourself. She is injured, while you have two working legs and arms.
> [Write In]

>>5137041
> No worries. Thanks for keeping us informed!
> You're welcome!

>>5133125
> Fair enough, suppose roll for effect leaves you at the mercy of the dice too much
> I will most likely use rolls for my next quest, as I know players enjoy it and engage more, but there are whole gameplay systems in some of the quests and I am not sure if I can do those correctly or balance-ly.

>>5137673
>Continue looking for the axe

We have to make good memories with our waifu. It's the LAW.

>>5137673
>Suggest you continue looking for her axe. She seems to be sure it’s here. With her heirloom hammer cracked, and now one of her expertly crafted axes lost, she’ll end up associating the last days spend helping you with bad accidents and damaged property!

>>5137673
>Suggest you continue looking for her axe
Chances are we won't be coming back this way anytime soon

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You raised your axe to cut a couple of cumbersome branches out of your way, clearing the path for your master to pass. “Let’s continue looking for it! Master, I think you are right, it should be around here -somewhere-.” You nudged your head as if requesting her to step first, with an intention to follow and watch her closely from behind. Carinda looked coy at you, nodding and stepping forward.

With Carinda’s heirloom hammer cracked, and now one of her expertly crafted axes lost, the last thing you wanted was for her to end up associating those last days spent with you with accidents and her damaged belonging.

With a careful but quick wave, you wielded the axe, its more dulled side, over her head, and then to both flanks of yourself, badgering and keeping the blood-sucking insects at bay. Either because it was getting late, or because the reviled things got a whiff of you, those midges began to crop up ofter.

You ploughed against Carinda's stiffened back as she came to a sudden stop.

“Carinda?” you coughed, “Master Carinda?”

She did not reply. Instead, she came forward, her crutch sliding off the Russet Swamp’s parapet. Her supporting aid fell into the flabby marsh, bending and then slinking with the damp basin. You clenched to hold onto Carinda, but, of course, she was much weightier; instead, she dragged you along, onto the slippery slope and then into one of the dozen of turfless ponds. You rolled, falling on top of her abdomen. You had no physical injuries but you felt ill: light-headed from the sudden wheeling.

“Are you alright?” you asked, pushing your hands off her leathered stomach and then off the brackish ground. The muddy water was not deep, but it still reached your stomach. With peat beneath your feet, it was hard to find an even footing. The entire surface of the marsh was covered in yellow-green algae. Up this close, the marshes’ common smell of dampness, mould, and rot was for your stomach to tolerate and ignore.

You looked around, and, thankfully, you noticed a tall wooden handle peaking out of the water: it was unlikely to be anything else but one of the axes. You turned to Carinda to find only half of her head peeking out of the water. She was silent and mute, and she was ignoring the axe completely. Instead, in her eyes, glinted an amber object. You followed her gaze to find a closed amber lily perking from the surface, surrounded by a crown of reddish lilac leaves. There was no other flower alike nearby.

Struggling, you pulled Carinda’s head to save her from the unhealthy swampy water. Her breathing was calm and slow, and she did not react.

You tried again, “Master?”

She didn't say anything, her attention consumed fully by the water flower.

> Cover Carinda’s eyes with your hands in hope that’ll fix the problem.
> Go and pick up the axe, and then return to check on your master.
> Go and pick up the lily, and then bring it to your master.
> Go to the amber lily and wreck it with your hands to fix the problem.
> [Write In]

>>5139561
>Cover Carinda’s eyes with your hands in hope that’ll fix the problem.

>>5139561
> Cover Carinda’s eyes with your hands in hope that’ll fix the problem
Wait and see, if it dosn't then we can throw a rock or something at it

You stood behind Carinda, placing both of your hands over her eyes. For a short time, maintaining her silence, she faltered, leaning on her right side without the assistance of her crutch. Her nostrils flared, and she stood up with an impulsive thrust, sloshing and splattering the swamp’s water. You clung to her wet and gooey back, your arms resting across her shoulders and neck, your hands clutched over her eyes. Carinda inhaled, beginning to haul herself towards the unbloomed lily, ignoring you, or the dislocated bone of her foot. You slid one of your hands over her nose, closing it tight.

Again, she stopped. Unmoving, with her shoulders broad, her arms lowered, her hands in fists, and her legs far apart; she resembled a sculpture. The surface calmed. You pushed yourself closer, hanging with a slippery grip onto her face. It felt inappropriate to fiddle with your master's skin in such a way, but it was not the time to think about it.

“Master Carinda?” you asked. No answer followed. You furrowed your brows, glaring directly at the flower. Unlike your master, you couldn’t smell a thing, and you were not allured by its almost garden-variety appearance. Sight, smell … what else was there? Touch? No. Taste? No. Sound? You leaned your ear, but aside from the trickling of water and buzzing of insects, as well as encroaching sounds of trees and howling crunch of thorned quagmires, it did not look like it made any sonority.

But, you couldn’t smell it, either. If you had another pair of hands, you would cover her ears too, just to be cautious.

> Let go of your master. Quickly drop and rush towards the lily to pick it up before her.
> Let go of your master. Quickly drop and rush towards the lily to destroy it before her.
> Try and pull the head of your master away from the lily; keep her nose closed as you do so.
> Still holding onto your master, toss your heavy leather bag at the flower. You -might- hit it.
> With a great effort, attempt to pull your master downwards, into the water.
> [Write In]

>>5141429
>Toss your bag at the flower

Let's not get too close. Might be a predator.

>>5141429
>>5141570 +1

Letting go of Carinda did not feel right, and you were unsure of approaching the flower up-close: it might have had been a trap. You pushed your feet and knees up against her back, climbing upward. You slid away the palm of your right hand to reach for the one thing you figured you could toss: your leather bag. One hand was not enough to cover thole whole of your master’s minted face, so you intruded and secured your entire arm, up to your elbow, as if a big claw, over it.

Fortunately, ignoring the fact that you were making Carinda smell your damp-wet cloth instead of the flower, it seemed to have worked. Wrangling with how uncomfortable your position was, you seized the swollen satchel and placed it between your thumb and your other fingers. The fire-like lily was close, but not -that- close enough to make it easy for you to reach it easily: it required you to toss your back: heave it straight.

Carinda stood motionless, but she was bending onto her injured side. You had to struggle to hold on to her, as well as to do everything else. Unlike your axe, your bag was not meant to be thrown, and nor did you have a walking start. You repeated the rest of the motions your master taught you. Holding on to the bag, you lowered your hand. You swung it above your head, and then you threw it unbending with all the strength you had.

This time, you watched with open eyes as the bag flew through the air, soaring straight but spiralling around itself, before smashing with its heaviest, largest, and bluntest aside on top of the flower. Large splash echoed, and two-winded flies, the smallest of the kind—as small as a dirt sprinkle—flew away from the heavy water. Leafy aquamarines and red-yellow petals splintered and bunged beneath the sudden weight. You waited as the disturbed water rings ceased to be.

You felt Carinda’s lips press against your skin: her voice was muffled by your arm. Before you could do it yourself, she, without much gentleness, grabbed and tossed your arm away from her face.

“Blagh. Julian, what in the world? Ughh.”

Courteously, you let go of her, sliding and landing a few feet away. “How do you feel?”

“Very rarely, but I've had worse headaches,” she said, clutching into her elevated forehead with her fingers. “Agh, but it sure does hurt.”

“Do you remember what happened?” you tucked your arms around your wet self to keep yourself warm.

“Yes, we were looking for my axe,” she used her hand to pull her head up, “I remember, I threw it too far; we could not find it, but we decided to keep looking. We went across some thicket, and then, I found your arm burrowing my face like a pickaxe.”

File: The swamp basin with no f(...).png (5.19 MB, 1600x1583)

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Your cheeks flushed, “Please, believe me, master Carinda, I -had- to do it. There was this flower, and the moment you saw it, it was as if you became bewitched. You only looked at it, at first, but when I covered your eyes, you -scented- it, and then you began moving towards it. When I also covered your nose, you just froze and remained unmoving ‘till now.”

“A flower?” with her brows furrowed, she glared at the direction you rose your hand to point to. Presumably-likely, It was crushed when your bag fell on it, and not much of it remained. You explained its looks, its colours.

“Have you seen anything like it?” you asked.

“No,” she shook her head, putting one of her hands on top of another beneath her navel. “Not once since I visited here.”

“Must not be a common thing then,” you sighed with reassurance. Inside of your bag were some items, you hoped they did not get -too- soaked.

A smile soon replaced Carinda’s troubled expression. Clumsily, she approached to grab the handle of the axe and raise it out of the water. Watery mud and sludgy weed trickled from the axe’s sharp edge towards her wrist, but she paid it no mind. She turned, her eyes closing and her lips widening, “I guess even without elvish influence, this place still has -some- creepy magic. You were untroubled by it, right? I wonder if it only influences dwarfs … Well, it does not matter, thanks for saving me again."

“A-any time,” you bit your lip and swallowed. The way she so genuinely appreciated you … you loved it.

She kneeled to lean on her axe—it was too small to replace the crutch lost. You and she looked to find it, but it was sunk beneath the marsh.

> As you go to pick up your bag, take what remains of the trampled flower: with its strange effects no longer potent and active.
> Leave the remains of the trampled flower behind; the least you deal with it, the better.
> Search for the lost crutch, as you remember more or less on which part of the hill-slide Carinda lost it.
> Make a makeshift crutch from a tree branch to assist Carinda. Leave this basin as quickly as you can.
> [Write In]

>>5142348
>> As you go to pick up your bag, take what remains of the trampled flower: with its strange effects no longer potent and active.
May be someone in town knows what it is, or we can pawn it to Ontour
> [Write In] Let her us as a crutch

>>5142675
> [Write In] Let her us as a crutch
> That's good, but maybe will be hard and tiring to walk around and to deal with the trap and the beast.

>>5142348
>Retrieve bag and flower
>Make a makeshift crutch from a branch

>>5142348
>As you go to pick up your bag, take what remains of the trampled flower: with its strange effects no longer potent and active.

> Hello, I will post an update shortly, but it's a bigger one and I delayed starting it, no excuses!

You approached your submerged bag with a cautious step. You peered beneath the besmirched surface to find nothing lying in ambushing wait: neither a set trap nor a flesh-eating beast. It was impossible to squeeze boiled leather free of its drench, so you put it back around your shoulder and neck the way it was before; you and your bag were wet just the same.

Your bag left almost nothing of the flower; it wasn’t that big in the first place. You piled a couple of petals into your palm, squeezing them into a clump and shoved them as such into your bag. Perhaps, you could find some use for them in the future, or at least learn what it was exactly.

Carinda was yanking herself beneath the bog’s slope—dragging her injured leg— using the axe to pull herself ahead. You returned to her side. “It’s going to be a pain for me to travel without that crutch.”

You leaned, allowing your knees to stay an inch away from the mud. You foraged the dredge with your hands, stepping from one place to another. You looked at your master, then at the soft and goopy cocktail of soil, water, decomposing plants and moss. Carinda joined your attempt, but you sighed soon after she did so; it was to be a fruitless endeavour.

You said, “I think we lost it somewhere here, but it's hard to say. I don’t think we’ll find it.” You stood with Carinda, shoulder-to-shoulder, offering her yours. “If you’d like, you can use me as a crutch. I can handle it.”

Your master tilted her head. She tossed her injured hand over your neck, her waterlogged cask weighing you down. You gasped for breath. Placing your head over the other shoulder, she chuckled, “I appreciate it, Julian, but I don’t think that’s going to be wise.” She rested, forcing even more of her weight on you. You stumbled to balance out.

“I know you are strong, Julian, but neither of us will be able to fight, or make a trap, and walk at the same time this way."

Battling her words, you stumbled up the hill, your feet drowning in the mud. Your joints aching, and your muscles burning from pain, you were hard-pressed to drag your beloved out of the basin. At first visibly upset and surprised by your actions, your master soon made her own step, encumbering you only as much as it was necessary for her. Using your axes as picks, you plucked away the sludge to dig into the layer below.

With a yell, you climbed out, your knees stinging and trembling from the physical toll of the ascend. Momentarily, everything became a blur, and you fell. Carinda caught you into her stalwart, yet soft, dwarven hands.

As you learnt before, hugging was not part of a dwarven custom or their practice at all, yet she held you dearly and with care despite it. Your spirit rebounded soon after, and once Carinda made sure you were alright, she placed you down on the ground above the hill; no longer entertaining your suggestion. “Julian, who are you trying to impress?” she said with a smile, although her voice uncomfortably reminded you of your dotting dear mother. She clenched her fists and shook her body, with almost none of the water leaving her body and armour; not too effective. “Rest a bit, I know I -said- it’ll be a pain without the crutch, but it’s nothing I can't do."

You shook your head, leaning your injured hand one of the fallen trees, “Master, -you- should rest.”

She rolled her eyes, kicking the same tree, “I appreciate it, but we don’t have the time for both of us to rest.”

You raised your axe, bashing the blade through the darkened, waterlogged bark, and into its thick innards.

“Let’s none of us rest, and work, then,” you grinned, pushing your leg to free the axe from the tree.

Carinda let out a huff. She understood your intentions: to make a crutch of the tree laid here. Taking a step forward, she struck the tree from the other end; her strike was stronger and much heavier than yours, splitting and severing the end of the dead tree with no further effort. “Don’t overwork yourself here, we still have a beast to hunt and capture!”

Although it was short, you and Carinda had never before spent time cutting a tree, and woodworking it into an object. It was once in a time bounding experience, and you hoped she saw it the same way. She was—unsurprisingly—much better at it than you, and she did not hold back to make you feel as if your efforts were more than hers. She put all of her strength, all of her backbone and spunk, into her work, and she never held back. You knew—you learnt quickly—that if you were to be her apprentice, you would constantly be shadowed by her first-greatness.

It was not made out of iron, but Carinda made sure her new crutch was as sturdy, as strong, and as functional as her previous one; the way she moved with it—it was certainly the case. With both of your axes, you came back to where the Black Horn trees grew, although you avoided approaching the one that was gigantic and sentient. You did not wish to deal with either it or Vermin’s beggings. Cutting the branches of other Black Horns was easy. Despite their steel-like appearance, and with Carinda’s axe-wielding abilities, you two gathered the firewood rapidly.

You gathered more than enough to make into ash and burn the Ecline Ore you would collect. What other use there was for this wood, you were unsure. You decided to drag your gathering to the waggon, as you and Carinda agreed it was impossible to deal with the trap, the beast, and the collection of branches at the same time. Aside from the thicket of scarlet razorfens and annoying but more-or-less harmless insects, there were no problems with your backtracking. Scrabbling out of the Russet Swamp, you found your waggon, standing the way you left it. Tetreus, arising from beneath the waggon, began to approach you, a crust of blue snow on his armour fracturing.

“Hey. Where’s Ve-”

“-your friend went into the swamp,” he interrupted, his voice lacking any distress.

“W-what do you mean she ‘went’?” you asked in disbelief.

“She snuck into the woods,” he raised his arm, pointing behind you, “while I wasn’t looking.”

“You were not looking?” Carinda strode in front of you, grabbing the rimmed space separating the knight's plate and chainmail. His body shifted, but he resisted Carinda’s attempt to bring him to her eye level.

Monotonously, he said, “We were discussing, and she offered to prepare a meal. It was taking too long, so I -queried-, and she was nowhere to be found. It wouldn’t make sense for her to be anywhere else but in there.”

“Why didn’t you go after her?” your master asked.

“The same reason I did not join -Jybaen-,” he said, grabbing Carinda’s wrist with his gauntlet. Neither of them released their grip. Tetreus was taller, and he was protected and covered in metal; Carinda had dwarven strength. “-because my armour is too heavy, and it’ll be impossible for me to traverse that place. It is what -you- said, what -you- told me, dwarf.”

“H-how long ago did she leave?”

He glanced at the lingering sun. “Not too long ago, but it’s been a while.”

Carinda’s grip cracked his armour, tearing a piece of it. A nest of crows, unsettled by the echoing shatter, flew from the trees to briefly cover the sun. “She’s just a teenage girl! Why weren’t you taking better care of her?”

“I am not her father,” Tetreus pulled himself back, leaving the plate piece in Carinda’s hand.

“You are useless, is what you are,” Carinda threw the piece at him, resounding another clang.

“-neither is she my squire,” he tightened his fist. “She came on her own."

In-between your shaky breaths, you asked, in disbelief at Vera's actions. “I thought you said you were going to train her on how to be a squire?”

“No,” Tetreus said, his voice cold as a blade. “I said I was going to -show- her what is it like to be a squire, let her experience it for a few days.”

> “What was the last thing you two spoke about before she left?”
> Carinda might be using a new crutch, but she is still limping and injured. Ask her to stay behind. Run to where the beast could be on your own.
> “We have no time left, master, let’s hurry.” Rush with Carinda to where the beast is supposed to linger. There is no time now to make a trap.
> Grab one of the hens. There is no time for a trap, but you can use bait!
> “If she dies, her blood is on your hands; the least you can do is give us your sword, and your crossbow!”
> “Veronica is doing all of this just to impress you, Tetreus! I don’t know how, but you have to help us save her!"
> [Write In]

> Grab one of the hens. There is no time for a trap, but you can use bait!
> “Veronica is doing all of this just to impress you, Tetreus! If she dies, her blood is on your hands; the least you can do is give us your sword, and your crossbow!”
> Carinda might be using a new crutch, but she is still limping and injured. Ask her to stay behind. Run to where the beast could be on your own.

>>5143980
>>5144062 +1

>>5143979
>Carinda’s grip cracked his armour
Damn, doubt it's made of tin either
>>5143980
>>5144062
Yep

You would have had -loved- to stay and tell the oh-so-regal “King’s Representative” your boiling inner thoughts; thankfully, Carinda voiced similar type of condemnations. Both she and Tetreus were inconvincible in their quarrel. You wished to join in as well, but there was no time to lose. You climbed into the waggon, putting one of the hens under your armpit. You only brought two of Carinda’s axes, and both the sword and the crossbow remained in Tetreus’ possession, hanging off his belt. It would be -ridiculous- for Veronica to leave without -any- kind of weapon.

Ridiculous, but it was something Vera would do. You formed a tight triangle around your mouth and nose with your fingers and palms, wheezing the cold air in a poor effort to calm yourself. You believed—you had to believe—your friend to be strong, robust, and capable. If you were to rescue her, she would be angry and upset; she deserved to be so.

You ran and then jumped off the waggon’s platform, landing into the brownish glaze above the trail. Your knuckles cracking, you looked up t to stare into Tetreus’ eyes—past his obtrusive helmet and the dazzling sun.

“Veronica is doing all of this just to impress you, Tetreus!” He flinched, was it at the fact that you disregarded his title? “If she dies, her blood is on your hands; the least you can do is give us your sword, and your crossbow!”

His head turned slowly from Carinda towards you with a glacial glare. Staying silent, he clenched and unclenched his gauntlet, its fingers thudding in derisory cadence. He stopped, and looked back, at God’s Gallops’ mighty, and sudden, whiff. “Remember who you -only- are."

He lowered his hands, one laying on top of the hilt of the sword and another on the heavy wooden tiller of the crossbow, “I would tell you to stay, but you are not going to listen. I don’t want you dead either, but all of this-”

“Just give us the bloody weapons,” Carinda said.

Tetreus’ side tilted away from her reach. He raised his left palm to shadow above Carinda’s face, at the same time pulling the sword with his right one. “One of them, and I suggest you take the sword, as you won’t have the time and experience to reload the crossbow fast enough during a fight.” Carinda kneeled beneath his hand, fully intending to take possession of the sword, but ... you were in a better position to grab it. With a gulp, you stepped back.

“Julian?”

Your eyes fell on her crutch: she was limping. “Carinda, you are injured. It will be best if you stay behind. It will be safer for you and quicker for me.”

“What are you sayi- hey!”

With an axe in your left hand, a very long, heavy, and cumbersome sword in your right hand, as well as a hen under your arm, you turned away from the waggon. Ignoring Carinda’s shouting and yelling, you rushed back into the crimson stains of the Russet Swamp. Your feet soak in the slush and your skin scraped against brambled thorns as you ran into the overgrowth.

“Julian! Julian … Don’t do anything stupid, Julian!” Carinda’s voice could reach you still, unsurprisingly. Her chest—her lungs—were stentorian!

“If you can lure that beast here, I’ll deal with it,” Tetreus’ much colder, yet still thundering voice echoed after and beneath hers.

> Start shouting for Veronica’s name immediately. Keep your weapons in a tight hold.
> Once you reach deep inside the swamp, shout for Veronica’s name.
> Remove the clamp from the hens’ beak. Keep it tight above your head, and allow it to shriek and kukawk freely.
> Once you reach deep inside the swamp, hide in a brush, and release the clamp-less hen to walk around.
> Sheathe your axe and take Tetreus’ broadsword with both of your hands: make it easier (?) to wield.
> [Write In]

>>5145407
>> Remove the clamp from the hens’ beak. Keep it tight above your head, and allow it to shriek and kukawk freely.
Since w're still close to the wagon we should draw as much attention as we can. Either Vera hears the siren song of cock or she hears the beast start to chase us, hopefully

>>5145407
> Sheathe your axe and take Tetreus’ broadsword with both of your hands: make it easier (?) to wield.
> Remove the clamp from the hens’ beak. Keep it tight above your head, and allow it to shriek and kukawk freely.

You stopped in place, your boots dragging deeper into the mud. If Tetreus was being sincere, then it would have been better to keep close to the waggon. You sheathed your axe, knotting the lank wooden handle under your belt. The longsword was forged for an adult—an imposing and tall knight; to wield and attempt to swing it, small you would need two hands.

Clumsily holding onto the sword, you tightly secured the restrained and visibly terrified hen from your armpit; her yellow eyes trembled as you put two of your fingers under the clamp to pull and free its beak. The hen, its feathers of brown and orange hues, attempted to bite at you. Then, failing to do so, she began to screech. “KUKAW!”

The hen’s cry was so sudden, so loud, and so close to your ear, that it nearly turned you deaf. Holding tight beneath its wings and tights, you rose it above your head, wincing in pain as it continued its horrid cluck.

“KUKAW!” You heard but were unable to spot over the tall fruitless trees a band of disturbed crows lifting away. “KUKAW! KUKAW! KUKA-A-A-AW!” The chicken cried and wept for help—or mercy. A buzzing cloud of overgrown insects—malformed and twisted in all shapes—crawling and airborne, came closer. They stayed in passive lingering, not assailing.

Yet both the beast and Veronica were not in your sight.

> Put the hen on the ground and hide behind the bushes and the trees. Wait patiently.
> Put the hen on the ground, free its claw restrains, and hide behind the bushes and the trees. Wait patiently.
> Continue moving forward, to where the shallow open river-like wetlands filled with overhanging plants begin.
> Continue moving forward, to where the swamp forms a deep stagnant lake with submerged weed like-islands.
> [Write In]

>>5146249
>Continue towards the stagnant lake
Seems like a likely place for a marsh monster.

>>5146249
>> Continue moving forward to the stagnant lake
Hopefully we don't get too bogged down

> Hi all, no update today. Please check back tomorrow, probably in a new thread, where we discover if Vera was eaten or not.

>>5147725
>childhood friend loses again
Somehow I am not surprised

>>5147725
Looking forward to it, QM!

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196 KB JPG

>>5149214
>>5149252

>>5149278