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It is evening when a loan figure in a ratty borrowed cloak enters The Pretty Kitty brothel and lounge (and, these days, bar and grill). She is weary, wary, and worn out. She is a trusted agent of a great and noble race, a dark and beautiful cause, servant of ancient gods and scion of a coming age. She is an overworked, emotionally-exhausted lizardwoman. She just got off a shift helping to move and sort stolen goods in a goblin-infested slum in exchange for a place to hide from the powerful enemies who seem to surround her on all sides, and now she’s scheduled for an evening of dancing, schmoozing, and possibly sex-work… And, after she’s done all THAT, she still has two demons to secure to fulfill a pact with a powerful incubus, all while evading Paladins and Mage Inquisitors out for her blood. Only THEN, after ALL that, can she complete her first array of major mission, and prove herself worthy of her Dark Gods and their Serpent Priests.

She is a Reptilian Infiltrator and SHE (much to your exasperated enervation) is YOU.


(Previous volumes can be read at https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=reptoidqm)
>>
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>>5174490
LEVEL UP!

You have become better than ever at politesse and mercantilism.

When facing a matter where success is not guaranteed or terribly likely, failure has notable consequences, or I’d feel railroady making you fail or cheap forcing a success, I will roll dice: one d20 for each star next to that aptitude. If a couple apply, you will get a bonus d20 as well.

You also have an inherent bonus to disguise attempts when relevant, can use human magic items without your Reptilian race’s usual penalty, and you have a decreased difficulty to rolls wherein you fight an untrained opponent hand-to-hand due to martial arts training.

Having formed a symbiotic pact with the succubus Irinnile, you can also shapeshift (including to create wings or natural weapons), sense and influence emotions and even read surface-level thoughts or enter dreams, puppeteer a limited number of mortals by depositing a fragment of Irinnile into them—right now, you have inflicted this fate upon four agents of the Mages’ tower and a certain dangerous human noble’s chef. You are also seemingly immune to permanent injury as a result of fire and mundane weapons. Your demonic powers are not without a price: Irinnile has a powerful sense of <WANT> at her core. Every time you use her powers or deny her something she desires, the <WANT> grows stronger, increasing the DC of rolls to control her impulses. Thanks to you maintaining your soulbond in spite of romantic difficulties, this isn't as risky as it once was... But could still result in complications. Your current level of <WANT> is DC 16.

In general, DCs are 15, but disguise, magic item use, and favourable melees as discussed have DC 10. Thanks to Irinnile’s powers, you also currently have this reduced DC of 10 for nighttime or shadowy stealth checks, seduction rolls, and single-target illusion or mentalism checks.

Irinnile was not your only love, though. Your ill-fated romance with Edwin of Engel, a bookish human male, has left you with lasting HEARTBREAK that weakens your resolve to live and struggle against the odds. Luckily, Irinnile’s support helps to buoy you up, more than negating this penalty… For now.

You have also gained a one-time invocation of your Dark Gods’ <DIVINE FAVOUR>, and access to their <AKASHIC RECORD> of their mortal agents’ past activities; the DC to access it varies depending upon how long ago the event took place, how far away it occurred, and whether you have a relevant focus.
>>
>>5174498
You have acquired a number of items in your inventory, though you may not always have access to all of them: a suit of leafweave armour and the materials to maintain it, a magical diadem granting clarity and control when your perceptions are affected by outside sources, a hidden charm which suppresses your succubus partner’s demonic aura inside you, an enchanted dagger both frosty and fierce, a coin which can buy the safe transit of your soul, a serpent-priest staff with unknown properties, a magic scroll-case containing a hellhound, a very small amount of shirin stimulant… And suicide poison.
>>
>>5174506
“Kamunu?” the human behind the brothel’s front desk says, referring to you by one of your many pseudonyms. “Hey, that is you! What’s with the, um, new cloak, hun? What happened to that nice blue on of yours?”

“It’ss at the cleaner’ss,” you lie.

Your enchanted blue cloak is in fact being watched over by your sometime-patsy/sometimes-lover Zi the Goblin, in the aforementioned shanty-town where she lives. You can’t risk wearing it openly around town, since just earlier today, you wore the rather distinctive garment during a violent altercation with two of the city’s elite Paladin knights. You’d hoped to be able to retrieve it soon, but considering the prevalence of guards, and even a Paladin on (shudder to think!) GRYPHON-back who you skillfully evaded by means of shapeshifting and subterfuge on your way back from Goblintown, you sincerely doubt you’ll be donning it openly anytime in the near future. A shame, that—you actually quite liked that cloak, custom-fabricated as it was by your bullyable human pawn/friend/personal tailor Agatha Johan.

“Well, we HAVE to get you a nicer back-up one, hun!” Felia teases lightly. “We can’t have The Desert Princess wearing anything less than the best, can we?”

You smile a little at that. You have to admit: fashion is one of the things you’ve come to enjoy about your infiltration mission in the human Metropolis of Hawksong.

“Oh! And by the way, Mina said to tell you that you were right!” Felia says, with great enthusiasm, speaking of her employer, the brothel’s feline proprietress. “A couple of GORGEOUS girls came over from that rival lounge, Goldenrod, to apply for jobs! A tall blonde and a couple others, also VERY pretty.”

Your smile expands into a smirk at that. It’s always nice to see your schemes and machinations bear fruit, even if it’s in the form of sabotaging a rival pleasure-parlour to bolster the economic position of your cover-identity’s workplace.

“I had ssome more sssucccesss in that regard, actually,” you say.

“Oh?”
>>
>>5174514
You tell Felia that you have a lead on a hobgoblin who may be interested in some part-time work as a dancer. You do so without telling her SPECIFICS of how you encountered her, for you can hardly tell Felia that you did so while wearing the false-face of a half-orc. The Pretty Kitty middle-manager is skeptical at first, which you suppose makes sense, since goblinoids aren’t usually considered ‘conventionally attractive’ by human standards. Even when you describe her spectacular figure and mention that she might have a ‘sexy nurse’ gimmick—the hobgoblin, Yandorse, was serving as a quasi-medic at a ‘salvage’ operation for her cousin—Felia looks non-plussed.

“Goblins have a bit of a… Reputation,” she intimates. “You know, for… Being less-than-clean. There’s already a bit of wariness going around about that, too: some john caught an itch at Goldenrod, so Mina is waiting a few days to allow any wetwork by the new hires—after a personal inspection.”

“Then Mina can insspect thiss one, too,” you assert. “It will be worth it.”

“…For a hobgoblin, hun?” Felia asks after a moment. “You’re SURE about that? That there’s enough demand for… That kind of fun, to put her on payroll?”

“Felia, our bossss hass a cat’sss face,” you point out. “Exxxotic isss our BRAND. Compared to THAT, sharp teeth and big earsss are barely even worth mentioning, don’t you think?”

Felia sigh and laughs quietly. “Alright, you got me there. Mina trusts you, Kamunu, and I really ought to by now, too.”

You just smile in thanks, and go to get ready to take the stage in your usual, coin-festooned silken dancing attire. The show, after all, is about to start.

What is your plan for the evening?
>Put on a perfunctory performance, get paid, and get out of here early to go hunt down a demon or two
>Stay in tonight, pulling some extra coin in with some prostitution while you stay out of the way of the Paladins’ patrols
>Get to know the new Goldenrod recruits a little better
>Talk business with Mina and Felia
>Write-in
>>
>>5174521
>Put on a perfunctory performance, get paid, and get out of here early to go hunt down a demon or two

later virgins
>>
>>5174521
>Stay in tonight, pulling some extra coin in with some prostitution while you stay out of the way of the Paladins’ patrols
>>
>>5174521
>Get to know the new Goldenrod recruits a little better
Dat WANT is pretty high, two birds with one stone.
>>
>>5174521
>Get to know the new Goldenrod recruits a little better
>Finish up early and go demon hunting
>>
>>5174544
>>5174760
>>5174844
>>5175149
You can’t stay long—tonight is too critical to your real mission. Still, it behooves you to at least get to know your newest coworkers while you’re here anyway, earning some coin and maintaining your cover identity. In the last two months, you have become a dominant force in the brothel’s internal politics, and a ruler must know something of her subjects!

As you ready yourself to meet the latest recruits, you discover that you have run out of the body oil which helps to hide your scaly patches of skin from public discovery. They haven’t started to rise into pronounces scutes, or to revert to the darker shade they tend to assume when you neglect to oil them, but if not attended to by some means, they will be obvious tomorrow. Some might assume them a skin condition but… Well, perhaps it’s best not to chance it. You suppress your self-consciousness, reminding yourself that at the moment they look only like slightly-dry skin, or a small patch of rash, and you finish changing and go to meet the girls.

“Didiane,” you greet the golden-blonde beauty, formerly of Goldenrod fame, “I ssee you took my offer sseriously! And you brought friends…”

Didiane returns your greeting, and she introduces you to two other female humans she has brought with her: Aubrey and Luna. Aubrey is brown of hair, fair of skin, and both thin and fit of body; Luna is another blonde, tanned and freckled as if from field-work at some point in her not-so-distant past, and has a sort of neoteny to her features which some human males seem to gravitate towards—it’s enough so that you feel compelled to ask her what her age is.

“Old enough,” Luna says defensively. “Not that we’re going to be doing any, uh, ‘wetwork’ anytime soon, I guess.”

“Which is fine,” Didiane says breezily. “If you wanted to do regular whoring, we could have stayed where we were. I’m here for the ART!”

Didiane looks excitedly to you, as does her other companion. Your pitch to this woman was, after all, one which heavily emphasized the exotic dancing done at The Pretty Kitty. It makes sense that this would be her main interest!

“Well, maybe you’ll get your chanccce tonight,” you say.

“Maybe,” Mina agrees, the feline madam having crept with characteristic cat-like grace into the room while you weren’t looking. “Kamunu, good to see you. Can I trust you with introducing the new girls to the team, and getting them up to speed?”

“Of courssse,” you say.

“Appraise them honestly,” she tells you, more quietly while the ex-Goldenroddites are chattering amongst themselves. “If we’re removing the cream from the rest of the mix, I need to know who among them are worth keeping, and in what roles.”

You nod, and over the course of the evening, you learn a little about each of these three new females.
>>
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>>5175200
Luna is inexperienced, and has a bit of a temper, but she is deferential to harsh corrections and acts and speaks like someone with something to prove; she can be shaped, with a firm enough hand, and while she cannot dance especially well, she has a strong sense of rhythm.

Aubrey is insecure, but covers it with good humour; she is not an especially good dance, nor does she have much inherent rhythm, which leads to a fairly lacklustre response to her debut on stage.

Didiane, as might be expected of your previous observations, has great poise socially and kinaesthetically, proving the best at working her body and working the crowd; however, back-stage you observe her to be somewhat condescending and standoffish with the non-human (or part-human) girls of The Pretty Kitty’s staff, while being almost obsequious in how she ingratiates herself to the humans. You sense her racial discomfort, especially with the quarter-orc Grendelia, and you recognize the beginnings of an attempt to consolidate a clique even on her first night.

All three of the Goldenrod Girls seem eager to foist ‘lesser’ responsibilities onto serving girls or those prostitutes who do not dance, and each seems prone to gossip (though Luna is least so). You note all this and, before you make your escape, you report to Mina your recommendations:

>The new girls should be given dance lessons, to make sure they are up-to-speed with the existing staff, but they will be fine members of the team
>These girls are not going to be natural fits for the exotic dancers of your existing team, and are probably better suited to serving and sex-work
>These female are of lower quality than you had hoped—once Goldenrod has been bested, they should be let go
>Write-in

[Feel free to specify a different answer for each of the three as well]
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>>5175201
With matters at TPK thus attended to, and related obligations met, you request an early leave. Madam Mina grants it readily enough, be it because of the favourable impression you’ve left with her via magic or by your hard work seeking revenue streams and recruiting dancers. That or, perhaps, the Gala Attack and your breakup with Edwin have bought you some sympathy? Regardless, she puts up little fight and only admonishes you gently:

“Be careful, Kamunu. Stay close to the lights, and to crowds.”

“You’re sure you don’t want to stay in tonight, sweetie?” Felia asks, with maternal concern. “You know what’s been going on out there… First rat-monsters, now demons and cultists…”

You reassure them both that you’ll be fine, but neither seems altogether at ease. Mina, at least, knows something of your own abilities—even if you’ve scrubbed some of it from her mind. Felia thinks you merely a dancer and sexpot with minor aptitude for illusion magic. You smirk at the notion of yourself as an endangered innocent. If only she knew that you ARE the danger!

You depart The Pretty Kitty for the Hawksong night, donning…
>Something practical and inconspicuous from your wardrobe
>Your leafweave armour, for maximum protection

Once dressed properly for the occasion, you set about…
>Summoning your captured hellhound from its container, to have it help track down the other demonic escapees as swiftly as possible
>Scouring the graveyards of the city for the wraith’s new hiding place
>Tracking and monitoring the Paladin activity around the city, ready to intercept any demonic capture attempt
>Coordinating with Inquisitor Felman and Tower Guardian Lithobathius, your mage thralls, to divide and conquer
>Write-in
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>>5175201
>These female are of lower quality than you had hoped—once Goldenrod has been bested, they should be let go

I guess the draw of the goldenrod was the place and not the people
Didiane would be good if she wasn't racist.

>Something practical and inconspicuous from your wardrobe

>Scouring the graveyards of the city for the wraith’s new hiding place
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>>5175201
>>These female are of lower quality than you had hoped—once Goldenrod has been bested, they should be let go

>>5175202
>Something practical and inconspicuous from your wardrobe
>Scouring the graveyards of the city for the wraith’s new hiding place
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>>5175201
>The new girls should be given dance lessons, to make sure they are up-to-speed with the existing staff, but they will be fine members of the team
Maybe Aubrey would be more comfortable serving than dancing, but otherwise these ladies will be good additions. We're need to break them of their bad habits first, Didiane's racism especially. Nothing a bit of glamour and mentalism can't solve, it'll be fun breaking them in personally.

>>5175202
>Your leafweave armour, for maximum protection

>Summoning your captured hellhound from its container, to have it help track down the other demonic escapees as swiftly as possible
>>
>>5175201
>These female are of lower quality than you had hoped—once Goldenrod has been bested, they should be let go

>>5175202
>Your leafweave armour, for maximum protection
>Scouring the graveyards of the city for the wraith’s new hiding place
>>
>>5175213
>>5175268
>>5175300
>>5175406

[Rolling for attire, since we're tied.]
>>
Rolled 43 (1d100)

>>5175756
You strip down and don your armour—the nature of the elven leafweave leather is such that it can be worn over nearly-bare skin, and is even a better fit that way. A you do so, you consider the matter of the Goldenrod recruits.

They are… Disappointing, to say the least. Each is beautiful, admittedly, in her way. Each has some strengths and weaknesses. Aubrey, for instance, might make a good serving-girl, but then you have no NEED of more serving-girls, and the wage Mina would offer for such would be far less than she was making as an attendant at Goldenrod. And Didiane… Well, she’s good. But her obvious discomfort with demihumans makes her a liability in a business that will be emphasizing a roster of ‘exotics’.

You suppose you’ll have to let them all go, once Goldenrod has fallen. Oh well.

You finish getting changed, admiring your reflection in a changeroom water basin. It’s been a while since you wore this armour. It is attention-getting, after all, which isn’t always ideal in your line of work… But damn do you look good in it. You’re silhouette is sleek, even sensual, save the spikes of green plant-life that jut out like a layer of armoured scales. More importantly, it’s practical for the current threats. Irinnile’s abilities cannot protect you against magical weapons, after all.

You sally forth into the darkness of another Hawksong night, your frost dagger at the ready. You know of two demons who yet lurk in this darkness, somewhere, and to buy safe passage from this place and back to your masters, you have promised to deliver both of them to a powerful incubus in mid-town—the same incubus currently ‘looking after’ your fellow infiltrator Alhazred, the enthralled Head Chimericist Henzler,, several invaluable relics stolen from the Mages’ Tower, and the mutated chimeric descendant of the Great Green Dragon of legend. You don’t want to consider the complications which might arise if you can’t meet your end of that particular bargain…
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>>5175765
>43

…But Hawksong is a big city, with a long history, and you are on foot. You spend hours visiting one gravestone-filled-field or weathered crypt after another, but to no avail. Granted, time is limited. The Pretty Kitty took up much of the early evening, and walking everywhere takes so damned LONG!

‘We could fly?’ Irinnile suggests

‘And attract Paladin attention,’ you reply.

‘Hahaha, oooh yeeah. Oops.’

You sigh. The succubus within you can be… Something of a ditz at times.

<WANT: 16>

You suppose she may be a bit distracted, in all fairness.

“What about summoning… You know…”

“The hellhound?”

‘Oh! I mean, yeah, that could work. Need to feed that sucker or do a ritual to bind him to your will nice ‘n tight like what you did with me, BUT they’re good at sniffin’ around for shit, right?’

“Or we could use Yemrep,” you reply.

Irinnile shudders at the thought of summoning to grotesque, degraded little filth-imp.

‘Ye-yeeeaah, we could,’ she admits. ‘But! If he gets caught by Paladins, he’s as good at done for. They’ll wreck him like a minotaur riding a halfling’s asshole.’

You sigh, tapping your boot-clad foot impatiently. Something has to be done, if you’re to make any progress tonight.

>Summon the hellhound, to sniff our demons
>Summon the imp, you help scour the graveyards
>Grow wings and fly to your remaining destinations, albeit at greater risk of being spotted
>Pay a visit to the occultist, Lord Bianchi, to see if you can dig up more info on the OTHER demon, since the wraith is being difficult
>Track down and attack a Paladin—whittle away your competition, lest they make progress faster than you
>Give up for tonight and attend to other matters [specify if you have something in mind]
>Write-in
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>>5175772
>Track down and attack a Paladin—whittle away your competition, lest they make progress faster than you

In the same form we used with Chase and Innes, naturally
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>>5175772
>Track down and attack a Paladin—whittle away your competition, lest they make progress faster than you
We could use hellhound for this, but it woukd probably get detected in some way.
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>>5175772
>Summon the hellhound, to sniff our demons
>Summon the savage but loyal demon from the Akashic Record, to protect us against the Paladins

We clearly need some muscle to help deal with the Paladins.
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>>5176271
>We clearly need some muscle to help deal with the Paladins.
despite easily escaping from 2 at once right outside their own HQ?
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>>5176295
True and also it's a quest, so that d20 will fuck us in the ass or be a fully-loaded epic win whether we have demons or not.

Unrelated, but I like our frost dagger a lot.
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>>5176295
If you're planning on picking a fight with them after you poked the beehive, yea.

>>5176330
I'm expecting a bigger d20 pool than Chika here, at least when it comes to combat.

And yea, our frost dagger has been low key kino. I wish we could take our drake with us sometimes too.
>>
>>5175927
>>5176153
>>5176271

You reason that, if you cannot hunt down the demons before Hawksong’s human Paladins get a chance to do so, you can do the next best thing: hunt down one of the PALADINS, and thus eliminate some of the competition! After all, you just bested two of them at once the other day. Despite you anxieties at he time, it was actually quite a simple thing—even in the very heart of their territory, close to their barracks, they could neither capture nor kill you!

Finding a Paladin is, compared to hunting down a demon, quite a simple enterprise. After all, these armoured apes hardly seek to HIDE. They are symbols of Paladin king Archos’ authority, and their prominent presence is probably meant to reassure an increasingly-skittish populace as much as it is meant to deter or detain a demon.

No, the real problem is that you never seem to find them alone.

One after another, you successfully locate one duo of Paladins and then another. Each of them seems to consist of a seasoned veteran—or, at least, someone more ornately-armoured—and a squire or junior member. Worse of all, these teams are not in truth a duo… But a trio, for the senior partner is inevitably astride a great, wingless gryphon. Even gazing upon those razor-beaked terrors fills you with an instinctive fear that is only matched by the frayed nerves of the succubus inside you; as you fear the gryphon, so too does Irinnile fear the blessed blades these humans carry.

‘C-come on, Lispy,’ she says, suppressing her psychic stammer in an attempt to play the cool-headed paragmatist instead, ‘let’s forget this. A direct confrontation ain’t very “infiltrate-y”, ya know?’

‘Assassinating an elite agent of human authority is quite within the purview of my role,’ you counter her, stiffly formal to hide your own uncertainty.

Irinnile sighs, resigning herself to this just as you have.

‘Alright,’ she says. ‘Alright…. Okay. So, fine. We’re doin’ this. What’s the play, then, babe?’

What IS your play?
>Manifest wings and descend from above, taking out a senior operative before he can react and flying away before the gryphon or junior can retaliate
>Direct confrontation, using your glamour to intimidate and illusions to evade their attacks—you will teach these daylight-denizens to fear the dark!
>Summon Yemrep the imp, and use him as a diversion to draw the junior member of a team away from his senior—then, kill him!
>Approach as a helpless waif, fleeing a terrible demon… Then lure them into a trap, feeding them to your hellhound!
>Write-in
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>>5176801
>Direct confrontation, using your glamour to intimidate and illusions to evade their attacks—you will teach these daylight-denizens to fear the dark!
>>
>>5176801
>Approach as a helpless waif, fleeing a terrible demon… Then lure them into a trap, feeding them to your hellhound!
>Summon the savage but loyal demon from the Akashic Record to assist
>>
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>>5176801
>Direct confrontation, using your glamour to intimidate and illusions to evade their attacks—you will teach these daylight-denizens to fear the dark
We killin' nao.
>>
Rolled 12, 13, 18, 13, 5, 4, 3, 12, 3, 6, 11, 12 = 112 (12d20)

>>5176819
>>5176848
>>5177067
You let bloodlust temper your terror, and bolster the burgeoning confidence which ahs resulted from your earlier battel with the paladins Innes and Chase. They were no match for you—why should these men and their…. Their GRYPHON be any different? No, the same techniques which served you so well in your last surprise attack will best these barbarian buffoons as well!

You begin to shift your form as you step out of the side-street and into their path. They slow their approach, though with annoyance at an interruption and acre for a civilian—not with fear, nor trepidation.

That will change.

“Hey, girl,” the Paladin astride the gryphon grunts, “out of the road. What are you even doing out here? Don’t you know what’s been going on?”

“Sir,” the younger one says, stepping forward and narrowing his eyes, “I think there’s something… Wrong with her.”

You look up, your mouth an interlocked lattice of fang-like projections, your features shifted into demonic horror.

“By the gods above!” the younger Paladin cries, stumbling back and drawing his blade.

With a flourish of your wrist and some quick footwork to help channel the magic, you snuff the light of a nearby lantern with conjured darkness. You leap forward, counting on terror, darkness, and disorientation to do much of your work for you…

[2d20 Intimidation, 4d20 Illusion, 4d20 Melee, 2d20 Mystery Dice]
>>
>>5177199
>12

The younger human grits his teeth. He does not fall back, steeling himself against terror. He is out here tonight to guard against the forces of darkness, after all—a demonic visage will not cow a demon-hunter.

>18
Still, darkness IS your ally, and so is a bright flash of light in his eyes. He cries out, a responding thrust of his sword missing you. The wide slash which follows keeps you at bay, but this ALSO fails to inflict any injury.

“Foolish, lad!” the older Paladin bellows. “Remember what Sir Innes said: the occultists use illusions to blind and disorient!”

‘Fuck, they actually, like… Use TEAMWORK.’ Irinnile’s laments echo your own. ‘Gross.’

>12
Despite the much-critiqued lapse of your more junior opponent, you ARE held at bay. The younger paladin keeps up a defensive stance in the centre of the street, losing no ground. Worse, each time you attempt to slip around or through his defenses, he makes a bold, sweeping slash at a different angle. He is fighting blind, forming a barrier of blades to prevent you flanking him or reaching his older ally.

‘Hey, Lispy…’

>12
Belatedly, you think to look towards the old male in question. He is still mounted astride his gryphon, still has not advanced further towards you t lend martial aid… But that, in and of itself, raises an alarm. You take a step back, peering past your more immediate opponent, and see…

‘What is that?’ Irinnile asks.

You don’t know, either. The older Paladin is holding some sort of… Glowing, crystalline object. With a silver metal handle. At first you take it for a weapon, or a means to ward your darkness, but… No, he is just holding it above his head, like a…

‘Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuuuuuu—’

Like a beacon. He is summoning reinforcements by some magical means!

What do you do?
>Tactical retreat—you misjudged their readiness, and perhaps your own
>Forget the young fool, and leap ahead to target the old one with the beacon
>Focus on your current fight—you can at least take out this young man, and attempting to charge past him could get you flanked and backstabbed
>Unleash the hellhound to leap past the younger man and attack the older, while you continue to focus on your current combat
>Throw your dagger at the beacon—it’s a long-shot, but you can’t allow them to summon aid!
>Write-in
>>
>>5177221
>Unleash the hellhound to leap past the younger man and attack the older, while you continue to focus on your current combat
>Use Irinnile's shapeshifting to manifest a non-magical dagger and throw it at the beacon—it’s a long-shot, but you can’t allow them to summon aid!
May Dark Gods bring us nat 20s.
>>
>>5177221
>Forget the young fool, and leap ahead to target the old one with the beacon

make sure to keep the young one distracted with a nice illusion
>>
Can't wait to fail this and have Ismena's identity revealed to these tincans.
>>
[Awaiting a tiebreaker to write. Failing that, I'll try to combine prompts.]
>>
>>5177251
Supporting
>>
>>5177221
>Forget the young fool, and leap ahead to target the old one with the beacon

Can't leave the elder to his own devices, let the lad fight illusions. Also, I do think we've bitten off more than we can chew.
>>
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Rolled 6, 16, 10, 10, 19, 2, 15, 12, 2, 2 = 94 (10d20)

>>5177251
>>5177258
>>5177918

You MAY, in retrospect, have underestimated the difficulty of simultaneously engaging two trained holy knights in their home territory. If they’re calling in reinforcements, though… Well, there’s no reason You cannot do so as well!

You take a step back from your immediate opponent and uncap the magical scroll-case in which you have conseuntually entrapped the hellhound Brezzog. As soon as it is uncorked, you are blasted back by the force with which the unholy entity’s ectoplasm ejects, pouring forth onto the cobblestones in great sloughs of ooze. The spectacle draws the horrified and furious attention of the older paladin, while the younger takes to rubbing his recovering eyes in disbelief at what he’s seeing.

“Don’t just stand there!” the older one bellows. “Slay the demon before it manifests!”

The younger man lunges forth to do so, which is… less than ideal. Bezzog is taking shape, but not fast enough to protect itself. You briefly consider lending the vaguely dog-shaped demon some sort of aid…

But on the other hand, it serves as a perfect distraction to take attention away from you!

The beacon is priority one, and you have no idea how it functions or how much time you have already wasted. Closing distance to seize it by force is a possibility…

But that would bring you within reach of that gryphon’s dreadful maw.

No, instead you attempt a variation of the shapeshifting ability which Irinnile displayed in your raid on the Mages’ Tower: you attempt to manifest a dagger-like claw of flesh and bone from your hand, and then to detach it and hurl it forth! All the advantages of throwing your beloved frost dagger, with none of the risk!

‘Lispy, just tearin’ off chunks of us isn’t, like… Easy ‘n painless, ya’ know?’

‘Do it!’ you shoot back, and the demoness obliges.

[4d20 melee combat, with a DC of 17 because you are dividing your attention and attempting a tricky manoeuvre at a distance. 3d20 for the hellhound’s efforts at a DC 17 because it is still manifesting and is fighting Paladins. 1d20 for each Paladin’s response, to guide probabilities, and 1d20 mystery d20]
>>
>>5177988

You draw back your hand, fingernails and bones coiling together and widening even as your fingertips detach from the rest of your hand, held only by a gradually-thinning strip of skin. It is… Well, suffice it to say that when Irinnile warned you that the process would not be painless, she was not deceiving you. You grit your teeth and blink tears from your eyes, but you endure without crying out—you were trained to endure pain worse than this. Still… Well, you might not want to do this again.

>16

Perhaps it is the distraction of the pain, or the deformed remains of your hand with which you line up the throw, but the ‘dagger’ sails wide, hitting neither gryphon nor rider…

>2
But the older Paladin is at least startled enough to rein his gryphon back, and the effort of dodging the dagger causes him to drop his crystal beacon. He seems to visible hold back a blasphemous curse as it clatters upon the ground… But the beacon does not shatter, and it yet glows.

>12
The younger Paladin, meanwhile, is hacking away at the oozing, smoking afterbirth that is Brezzog’s reforming body. Wherever that presumably-blessed sword touches ectoplasm, the unshaped essence of the hellhound recoils or gives way and withers. The Paladin is making real progress…

>19

Until, abruptly, he is not. So vainglorious was the younger human in his hacking and slashing into the heart of his foe that he failed to notice the bones and teeth forming in his periphery. Abruptly, the wave of mucous-like material solidifies into chitin-like calcified cartilage, and it comes crashing down in a great collapse. The paladin cries out in disgust and anger as much as in pain…


But when the temperature rises and you begin to smell burning hair and flesh, the pain takes precedence.
“Joffrey!” the older Paladin shouts.

He is too late—Sir Joffrey is gone, his body so much grist to manifest a hellhound. The beast Brezzog shies away from the dead man’s dropped weapon, even as it gnaws upon the burning wreckage of his body and the molten metal of his armour.

“Get the other one!” you command urgently…

But the damned hound fails to heed you, absorbed in its repast.

‘Strong,’ Irinnile notes, referring to the whole of Brezzog’s breed, ‘but dumb as a bag of dicks.’
>>
>>5178012
The older paladin turns his attention back to you. You have no idea if he has already accomplished his goal with the beacon, or if he has simply forsaken it in his fury. He draws his blade, a shining line of silver in the dark, and gives his gryphon a kick to the side. It shrieks, a sound that starts high like an eagle’s cry and ends low and rumbling like the bellow of a lion.

Both beginning and end are equally unpleasant.

What do you do?
>Use Brezzog’s true name, and the threat of further action, to sic the hellhound upon your adversaries
>Throw the frost dagger at the enemy—it’s enchanted for accuracy, after all
>Prepare to meet them both in melee combat—you will resist your fear and hold your ground!
>Flee, and tell Brezzog to do the same—you do NOT want to fight a seasoned Paladin and his gryphon
>Write-in

[If attacking, specify a primary target for yourself and/or Brezzog. Keep in mind: you CANNOT manifest another flesh dagger right now, and any rolls to strike in melee will be easier… But will also require a roll against fear because of your proximity to your phobia AND Irinnile’s.]
>>
>>5178014
>Use Brezzog’s true name, and the threat of further action, to sic the hellhound upon your adversaries
>Mesmerize the gryphon and the paladin while they're distracted
>>
>>5178262
>Use Brezzog’s true name, and the threat of further action, to sic the hellhound upon your adversaries
Tell him to trample the beacon if possible and bite the tincan in the arm before he can use his racist blade.
>Throw the frost dagger at the enemy—it’s enchanted for accuracy, after all
Throw the dagger at the gryphon's head and turn its brain into a chunk of frozen jelly.
>>
[We'll await another vote, or post up after work with a combines prompt or roll.]
>>
>>5178014
>Mesmerize the gryphon
This'll take care of the paladin too since he's riding it.
>>
Rolled 10, 7, 3, 16, 2, 10, 13, 6, 11, 1, 12 = 91 (11d20)

>>5178575
>>5178264
>>5178184
>Use Brezzog’s true name, and the threat of further action, to sic the hellhound upon your adversaries
>Mesmerize the gryphon
>>
>>5178962
“Brezzog!”

The utterance of the demonic beast’s true name grabs its attention instantly, even if it wins you no favours with it personally.

“Attack,” you command, “or I will MAKE you do sso!”

The hellhound grumbles, but lets the torn-off and by now unrecognizable limb of the savaged paladin fall from its strangely-elongated jaws. As the remaining paladin and gryphon advance on you, the hellhound moves to intercept.

With an impact you can practically feel from where you’re standing, the great gryphon and the might infernal canid crash into each other. Neither gives ground, each sinking talons into the other and snapping jaws fruitlessly at their adversary’s own evasive face and throat…

But the hellhound has the advantage of being aflame, an advantage that proves key. The gryphon’s furious shrieks turn to strange, chittering squawks that you recognize as unmistakably distressed, and it begins to thrash in an agonized effort to escape.

But there is no escape. Not from Brezzog, and not from you.

You advance, squinting against the waves of heat and the anxiety rising within you. The paladin clings tight to his mount, raising his blade high and ready to plunge it down into your name-bound hound. That, you cannot allow, and you have just the ticket to throw the holier-than-thou knight for a loop: you will ensorcel his loyal steed and turn both chimeric and demonic beasts upon him!

Only…

That accursed bird-cat’s gleaming pain-maddened eyes… Those talons, that snapping beak!

‘That sword,’ Irinnile moans unhappily, ‘you can just tell he anoints and polishes that fuckin’ blade in holy oils every day!’

You feel your legs go weak as you approach and… Damnit, you just can’t muster the courage to advance! You pray to your Dark Gods for inner strength, but no resolve is forthcoming. You cannot do it—you CANNOT bring yourself to touch, or even draw close enough to properly influence, the bird. All you can do is create a distraction, blinding the damned thing just long enough for Brezzog to finish it off. You curse your weakness.

The gryphon dies, at least, which is no small thing. However, as it falls, the Paladin falls with it…

And he falls upon Brezzog, blade-first.
>>
>>5178977

The old warrior plunges sword into sulphuric savage. You hear the old human cry in anguish and anger, seeing his treasured mount’s blood spilled by dagger-like fangs and curdle in the heat which now envelops him… But as man as demon tumble into a heap, he is stabbing, slashing, and guarding his most vulnerable skin from the hellfire.

It is the paladin who rises from the messy melee… And Brezzog who lies still, whimpering and smouldering with nearly-depleted essence beneath his metal-plated boots. He is heaving, burnt despite his best efforts, and bloodied as well. He is weakened, vulnerable…

But as this man’s eyes meet yours, you see only virtuous anger and a steel tempered with age to a brutal hardness. He clenches his sword, still shining and unblemished.

Worse yet, you ca hear shouts, and the sound of more boots (and more talons!) on the cobblestone streets. Reinforcements are approaching, called by the beacon.

[10 for will to draw close, 16 for mentalism, 13 vs. 1 for Brezzog vs. the hound 11 vs. 12 for Brezzog vs. the Paladin. Earleir probability roll meant reinforcements were on their way.]

What do you do?
>Strike down this remaining man while you still can—he has seen and learned too much!
>Blind this Paladin with illusion, rescue Brezzog, and flee while you have the chance
>Stand your ground—you will not retreat from foolish apes worshiping lesser gods! [will roll required]
>Just get out of here—waste no time with rescue missions or petty vengeance. You are no match!
>Write-in
>>
>>5178980
>Blind this Paladin with illusion, rescue Brezzog, and flee while you have the chance
We can just tube him again real quick right
>>
>>5178985
Supporting

We don’t have any recognisable features or clothing at the moment - right? Due to our demonic attack

If we do, that changes the situation
>>
>>5179052
Leafweave armour and a lisp
>>
>>5178980
>Strike down this remaining man while you still can—he has seen and learned too much!
>Use illusion to blind him, and rescue Brezzog after

Can we get rid of the lisp while we're shapeshifted? Like, come on, this is Infiltration 101 here!
>>
>>5179129
Fair play, and you've spoken few wordss with esssessss. Just the armour, then.
>>
>>5178980
>>5179129
+1
>>5179143
Petition to retrospectively remove this nuisance. We can't be expected to track things like the lisp on transformation, it's Irinnile's job.
>>
Rolled 10, 9, 19, 5, 11, 12, 11, 8, 19 = 104 (9d20)

>>5178985
>>5179214
>>5179129
The old Paladin has seen too much-heard too much, if he by any chance caught your accent.

‘Irinnile, dispense with that,’ you command.

‘Lispy: delispified,’ she confirms. ‘But… You’re not thinking of going up against that guy, are ya’?’

‘He’s seen my armour,’ you send back. ‘My methods, my weapons. He must die.’

‘R-right,’ Lispy mutters, still obviously non-plussed.

Your succubus partner is pliant to your instructions, though, at least in situations like this. She does not struggle against you as you and the paladin begin to advance towards one-another, circling…
>>
>>5179363
These men, whether in vanity or arrogance, do not seem to like waring their helmets around town. Perhaps recognizability is as important to these national icons as protection? Regardless you have no shortage of places to place your knife, if only you can find an opening in this human’s defences.

Or create one.

Your tactic is simple: feint, use illusion to blind and disorient the human knight, and then lunge forward to stab your dagger into a vulnerable place.

>19

It starts off well enough: though this veteran knight is too wise to your tactics to be caught with a blinding flash or to remain entrapped in a patch of sudden shadow, more complex illusions are new to this battle. You still cannot form an actual spectral object with any convincing depth or solidity, or even a consistent shape, but you do what you can. You create patterns of light and shadow with a wave of your hand, disorienting the knight and causing him to swing wide.

‘NOW!” you and Irinnile cry as one, within your head, and you lunge forward and…

>12

…And you miss?! How did this ape move so swiftly in a full suit of armour, without even seeing you coming.

>8

Still, the man’s surprising instincts and agility aside, he has made an error: in evading you, he has stepped away from Brezzog without finishing the demon-dog off. You pop the cap of your scroll case, offering him sanctuary inside. The shredded remnants of the hound grumble with mistrust, but you point out the obvious:

“It’s me, or it’s him.”

That does it: Brezzog is captured once more within eh scroll-case on your belt. You turn your attention back to the old man…


‘Shitfuckshitaaaaaugh!’

And, as Irinnile so eruditely points out, the three additional paladins charging towards your location, each on gryphonback… and one of them, it appears, being Sir Innes from the other day. In trying to finish of this knight and falling, you have taken too long.

What do you do?
>Cloak yourself in shadow and flee on foot [specify if you have a destination in mind, once you have lost your pursuers]
>Manifest wings and fly away—none of these gryphons seem to be the winged variety [specify if you have a destination in mind]
>Hold your ground against the mammalian horde [specify a tactic, if you have one in mind]
>Write-in
>>
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We're useless. Completely and utterly useless.
>>
>>5179366
>Manifest wings and fly away—none of these gryphons seem to be the winged variety [specify if you have a destination in mind]

later virgins
goblintown
>>
>>5179366
>Manifest wings and fly away—none of these gryphons seem to be the winged variety [specify if you have a destination in mind]
Pretty Kitty - as long as we aren’t followed, and take a long route there
>>
>>5179402
At least you didn't lose Brezzog

[I'll be out for the night with a friend, but will post tomorrow morning. TGIF!]
>>
>>5179366
>Cloak yourself in shadow and flee on foot [specify if you have a destination in mind, once you have lost your pursuers]

Lose the Paladins in the sewers, to tip off the Tower to the Paladin's covert operation, and then escape to Goblintown, to bang that nurse and make a pact with the Ona- I mean, Zi. The Tower must have kept it's wards up, right?
>>
>>5179984
+1 for sewers, but bang Zi if anything and idk why would we make a pact with her
>>5179735
Bold of you to think I care about demons, RQM
>>
>>5180040
For more power! Besides, we never tried this before and I'm interested in how it'd work as a player mechanic. Can't really hurt to try, right?
>>
>>5180040
Also, I quite like doggos, and I think getting our deal demons killed is a bad idea in general.
>>
>>5180118
But pacts by themselves don't do anything, demons use them to trick people into giving them their souls or bodies in exchange for access to their powers.
Aka, you can't get anything out of this without further increasing our want and hurting the goblin.
>>5180120
I never said I want either to die, just that I don't care.
>>
Rolled 2, 1, 17, 19, 3, 14, 16, 7 = 79 (8d20)

>>5179443
>>5179573
>>5179984
>>5180040
You bend your back and will Irinnile’s wings to manifest. The succubus, as hurried to leave as you are (or moreso) is quick to oblige, but it’s still no immediate process. She the new limbs explode out , sprouting and expanding into a network of bones, veins, and muscle, the old paladin staggers forth, still blinking and squinting against your illusion.

“You’ll not escape the justice of King Archos and Moroth, you fiend,” he declares in a low voice. “You’ll pay for what you’ve done.”

He advances, sword raised high, and he brings it down…
>>
>>5180301
>19

…But despite the distraction of your transformation, you do not perish. Irinnile ahs full control of your body right now—she has to, to affect such a manipulation of your physical matter—and you can only you mentally cry out for her to do something. She does, and it’s quite effective: she moves yours legs to evade the blow, and then your dagger-hand, to stab into a chink in the huma’s armour right above the elbow. When the dagger is drawn back, it is bloodied, and you see the frost of its enchantment spread through the humans arm. He cries out in anger and pain, dropping his balde and clutching the affected limb.

He can only watch bitterly as you leap back and, with great beats of your bat-like wings, ascend away. The other paladins, drawing closer, are just as helpless to prevent your escape. Even those that take up bows and arrows to fire upon you can only curse their feeble senses, for the darkness of a cloudy night sky soon swallows you up in your entirety.

>16

You lose your pursuers quite quickly. As you sail through the cool air, you catch your breath and compose yourself; the hard mental and physical work of keeping you aloft falls to Irinnile, for whom it is more natural. You have time and space now to consider your options.

‘Still thinkin’ Goblintown?’ Irinnile asks, reading your mind. ‘Could do with a thicc little snack…’

<WANT: 17>

You suppose you could… And it HAS proven a useful place to hide out. Flying right into Goblintown could present a problem, should you be spotted by guards or Inquisitors, but if you were to land and travel by foot, you could avoid scrutiny. Alternatively, you could circle back, harass the Paladins, and try to bait them into a jurisdictional confrontation with the Tower—perhaps you can pit your foes against one another?

…But then, with so many Paladins drawn to that beacon, you also have a rare opportunity to double back to seek out those remaining two demons without immediate interference. After all, not even a gryphon-rider (save perhaps the Paladin King himself, with his winged mount) can match the speed of your flight. You could snatch up that wraith without incident, if you could but find it!

‘Easier to find it with a tight, green little friend, thooooough,’ Irinnile eggs you on.

What do you do?
>Hunker down in Goblintown to rest and sate <WANT> with Zi
>Bait the Paladins into a confrontation with the Tower Inquisition
>Spend the rest of the night scouring graveyards and crypts for signs of the wraith
>Recruit Zi into your demon-hunt
>Write-in
>>
>>5180306
>Spend the rest of the night scouring graveyards and crypts for signs of the wraith
After
>Hunker down in Goblintown to rest and sate <WANT> with Zi

We got shit to do.
>>
>>5180306
>Spend the rest of the night scouring graveyards and crypts for signs of the wraith

We can't afford Zi right now :(
>>
>>5180306
>Spend the rest of the night scouring graveyards and crypts for signs of the wraith

We’ll fix the WANT later
>>
>>5180306
>Spend the rest of the night scouring graveyards and crypts for signs of the wraith
>>
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>>5180349
>>5180350
>>5180396
>>5180403
‘Zi will have to wait,’ you say, to yourself as much as Irinnile.

The succubus whines, but does not argue the point beyond this. No sooner have you set your mind to your next course of action than you feel your wings already tilting, changing course to guide you to the first of many crypts in and around Hawksong. What follows is a long, tiring night, searching one site of interment after another. Your quarry eludes you, again and again, and without any deliberate effort as far as you can tell—though perhaps it has notice the recent bevvy of activity, and is hiding from the Paladins, and thus accidentally from its rescue as well.

You are on the very verge of surrender, hopeless and spent, when the scroll-case on your belt rumbles queerly. You land upon the ill-lit rooftop across a burial-plot used by followers of a minor goddess of—you gather from the motifs in their stained glass—rain and possibly other inclement weather. There, you uncork the scroll-case, releasing the hound once more. Brezzog is… shrunken, diminished, almost cute in its faded and ragged state. Whatever energy the hellhound acquired in devouring a man and a gryphon, the other paladin’s word clearly cut away from him, along with the souls of the goblintown waifs he consumed prior.

“What is it?” you ask.

“Not nice,” he growls. “Sending to fight knights with god-swords. Bad.”

You smile patronizingly, and nod. “But we lived, and escaped, and we gave better than we got. Look on the bright side, demon.”

The hellhound huffs.

“Did you ask to be let out just to complain?” you ask.

‘Maybe doggy needs to take a piss,’ Irinnile snickers.

“No,” Brezzog grunts. “Looking for others from the prison? So we can go? Join greater demon?”

You nod.

“Smell it. Demon.”

That gets your attention, and earns Brezzog a bit more allowance.

“Show me,” you command.

“Then you take me to greater demon?”

“When we can,” you reassure. “We have one more to find first.”

Brezzog growls, and snaps his wee jaws. “Not fast enough.”

“Brezzog,” you speak the demon’s true name, “Show. Me.”

The hellhound shrinks back a little, not technically bound but still wary of you, and it obeys as Irinnile obeys. It guides you down into the grounds of the small temple, to a mausoleum. You weave between more humble burials and their simple headstones, each bearing a name of a presumed occupant, and each with the same symbol of a stylized rain or teardrop upon it. Eventually, you reach the tomb, which faded engravings purport to be that of a former priestess.

It is very slightly ajar, almost imperceptibly so.

‘Bingo,’ Irinnile enthuses.
>>
>>5180526
“Come out!” you say aloud. “You don’t need to be afraid: it’s me, the Liberator’ from the Tower. I’m here to free you, and to guide you to your new master!”

Silence persists for a while, such that you consider going in—or, perhaps, punishing Brezzog for his foolish error. However, it is that that you hear a quiet hiss from inside the small crypt, and a chill smoke begins to coil like a spectral snake from the cracked-open door.

“Yes,” a whispery voice says, sounding so close to you that you whirl about for a moment on instinct. You see nothing, though, and so you turn back to the vague, half-tangible figure of a shroud or sheet which seems to be manifesting from the smoke. “I will go. Leave this city, its dangerous hunters… Leave for safer feeding grounds. Show me.”

You smile and nod. Two down, one to go.

‘Uh, babe?’ Irinnile speaks up. ‘I don’t wanna’ spoil the moment, but…’

“Human,” Brezzog growls, turning around and taking a deep, hungry inhalation of the scent of living flesh on the air.

With Irinnile’s senses, you are able to detect the presence of someone before you see their lantern-light. They are approach you from the direction of the temple: a supplicant or priest, perhaps, investigating the noise of your speech.

“Hello?” a young, male voice inquires. “Who’s there?”

‘Careful,’ Irinnile advises. ‘We ain’t up to our best work on holy ground, ya’ know what I mean?’

What do you do?
>Take the demons and go
>Lay in wait, to ambush and assassinate this worshiper of the Gods of Light
>Slip inside the crypt with your party, and hide until he passes
>Shapeshift into a more typical form, and talk your way out of this while the others hide
>Write-in
>>
>>5180528
>Take the demons and go
I'd vote to kill him if Irinnile wasn't cautioning us
>>
>>5180581
Supporting

We’ve fought enough today
>>
>>5180528
>Lay in wait, to ambush and assassinate this worshiper of the Gods of Light
Another soul to add to our collection!
>>
>>5180528
>Take the demons and go

>>5180666
*got our ass kicked enough
>>
>>5180581
>>5180666
>>5180692
>>5180783

Normally, you might consider killing this human, leaving them as silent as the graves around you… Or perhaps even using them to feed Irinnile’s gnawing, ever-present hunger for debauchery and human life…

But no. If ‘holy ground’ weakens your abilities, it will also impede your demonic cadre. You must get, as they say on the surface, while the getting is good.

“Come on,” you say, popping open the scroll case.

Brezzog steps back, growling in disapproval. The human’s footsteps grow nearer.

‘Ugh, baaaAAAaabe! We don’t have time for this!’

You agree, and rather than force the issue, you scoop the shrunken fiend up like an actual small dog. Brezzog squirms and thrashes, but only until you hiss a threat to bind him to some unpleasant object and to leave him thus imprisoned in boredom and weakness for a century or two. Then, you turn to the wraith.

“Can you fly?” you ask it.

“Yes,” it replies in a breathy, too-close wheeze that sends an involuntary chill through you.

“Then come,” you say.

You unfold your wings and, with a running start, you take off. The misty whorls of the sheet-like ghost break up into more immaterial mist, a swirling and uncanny cloud trailing your flight-path like the smoke behind a fire-arrow. You hear a gasp, and then cries of alarm from below as the human catches sight of your silhouette:

“Demon! DEMON! G-get the Paladins! Someone! PALADINS! DEMON!”

You cringe at being thus discovered, but… Well, it is what it is. He is crying “demon”, not “Reptilian Infiltrator”, and so your true nature and purpose remain obfuscated.

‘What’s the plan, Lispy?’ Irinnile asks urgently. ‘I, uh, think I see some dawn creepin’ up over that horizon. I can’t keep us in the air too good when it gets bright out.’

For that matter, you feel as if you could do with some rest. Your night has proven successful, in the end, but it was a hard-fought victory.

Where do you hunker down with your hellish entourage?
>Goblintown, with Zi
>The Pretty Kitty—though the demons will need to be watched carefully
>Lord Bianchi’s manor—you needed to check in on him, anyway
>The Incubus’ base of operations—the greater demon can take these lesser ones off of your hands
>Agent Felman’s home—you wish to get an update on the investigation, anyway
>Write-in
>>
>>5180939
>Lord Bianchi’s manor—you needed to check in on him, anyway
Just to check in on him. After that, Zi.
>>
>>5180939
>Goblintown, with Zi

We already had a close call at Bianchi's with Siz, I really don't want to risk it
>>
>>5180939
>The Incubus’ base of operations—the greater demon can take these lesser ones off of your hands
Let’s drop them off

>>5181005
You want to bring demons with us to her…?
>>
>>5180990
>>5181005
>>5181083
[Ah, the classic three-way tie. Barring additional votes before the evening, I'll interpret this as a slight lean towards Goblintown.]
>>
>>5181005
>>5181152
now that I think about it we can't fit both in the scroll, let's drop the wraith off at the incubus

hellhound I wanna keep for tracking abilities
>>
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>>5181209
>>5181083
>>5181005
>>5180990
‘Aww, come on!’ Irinnile whines. ‘I wanted to, you know… See that Zi again. She’s, uh, like, a useful ally in our mission!’

‘So is The Incubus,’ you point out.

‘Yeah, but ZI we can FUCK, and—’

‘—and you’re afraid of The Incubus,’ you say.

Irinnile silently pouts and crosses her arms in embarrassed indignation—you can’t ‘see’ it, and yet the image is the closest equivalent you can get to her psychic posture.

‘Maybe we can see her soon,’ you acquiesce.

You have to admit… It is appealing. Sex aside, the little goblin female always looks at you with such fascination. Fear and longing, as one, with something bordering on admiration. It reminds you of…

‘Ooo, yeah!’ Irinnile cheers up. ‘We could pay another visit to Eddie, too!’

‘No,’ you assert, banishing such thoughts from your mind. ‘We’re WORKING.’

‘Boooo,’ Irinnile says, with a resigned sigh.

You arrive shortly thereafter at the realm of rent-payers and squatters who serve as workforce for the menial positions of the human anthill that is Hawksong. There, in one of its most rundown quarters—as much a dwelling-place of mendicants as manual labourers—you find the overcrowded tenement which serves as homestead and temple to the unholy entity for whom you have gone to all this trouble: The Incubus, once Devil-Zivic but today wearing a form which is new to you: masculine, broad-featured, imposing.
>>
>>5181256
“What is this host’s personal problem?” you ask as you enter the Incubus smokey, ill-lit ‘office’.

The creature dens amongst tributes and tributaries, as usual. It snaps its fingers and waves away its supplicants before answering you:

“Lack of confidence,” it says, in a deep baritone. “Lack of agency. Lack of manhood—not literally, I suppose, but he has been made to feel that way. With the combined tribute of these people, he was allowed to buy this property from the previous owner. Now, he lives like the king of a little fiefdom…”

“With you his soul’s personal and eternal emperor?” you say. “It is sad what lengths these humans will go to, for such a petty and fleeting sense of worth.”

“Your accent is gone,” the Incubus notes. “Ssssick of feeling like a stranger in a strange land? It’s okay to feel inssssecure sometimes, you know. Natural, even.”

“Keeping my identity hidden,” you say stiffly. “I brought you something.”

You beckon, and the hellhound and the wraith enter the room. The one creeps in shamefacedly (well, if you can read the twisted hound-like entity’s inscrutable expression or cryptic, alien emotions). The other seeps cautiously in through the window, clinging close to wall and ceiling as if eager to avoid drawing too close to the greater demon in the centre of the room.

“Nicely done,” the Incubus says, nodding to both.

“Weak now,” Brezzog says of his lessened state, attempting to stand with prideful purpose despite this. “Hurt. Paladins. Will be strong again. Don’t eat!”

“Yes,” the wraith agrees, “we will serve you well. We wish to join your court.”

The Incubus laughs, the sound even more unnatural in its timbre than the wraith’s voice—enough so to make the lesser demons flinch.

“Oh ho ho, never you fear. I’m already well-fed, and I’m ALWAYS hiring.”

The Incubus grins at you, with a wink. You clench your jaw slightly. The hellhound and the wraith both seem to take some comfort in this lack of immediate hostility, though.

“Come, let me get you something to eat, my fine hound… And somewhere dark and cool to spend the day, my good wraith?”
>>
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>>5181258
The Incubus stands, motioning for them both to follow, before looking over at you.

“Oh, where are my manners,” it says. “Is there anything else you needed from me? You seem so… Self-sufficient and self-assured that I almost forgot to ask. Though I guess this IS only three of four demons you promised me so far, even after all these days…”

“Two,” you correct.

“What did I say?” the Incubus says, laughing. “Oh, well then, it’s still quite impressive for such a short time. Should I let you get back to it That poor dragon-thing you have me looking after must be feeling more and more cooped up each day he’s trapped in that barn, after all. To have freedom offered up and then just snatched away… We wouldn’t want him getting too anxious and doing anything rash.”

You narrow your tired eyes. Is the demon trying to egg you on to act faster? Why? Perhaps you are delaying some plan of its secretive devising… or maybe all the demon-talk around town, and the Paladins’ patrols and Inquisition’s investigations which resulted, have made life harder for it.

What do you do?
>Request to rest her for a few hours, to recoup your energy
>Request some dark magic lessons [specify if you have any sort of spellcraft in mind]
>Convene on grand strategy [specify if you have any questions or suggestions]
>Ask after the status of those at the farmhouse
>Ask for material aid or minions [specify if you have anything in mind]
>Leave this place and return to your mission: acquiring the final unidentified demon
>Leave this place to rest somewhere else [specify where/with whom]
>Write-in
>>
>>5181260
>Ask for material aid or minions [specify if you have anything in mind]
Loan us that hellhound to track down the final demon
>>
>>5181305
This
>>
>>5181260
>Request to rest her for a few hours, to recoup your energy
>Request some dark magic lessons
>Ask for material aid or minions [something to eat for us and Irinnile, some minions we can use and play around with, and a soul or two to try out a pack on]
>>
>>5181305
>>5181548
>>5181621
“I need the hound,” you say, “for a while longer.”

“Huh?” the Incubus says. “But you just brought me this lost little pup.”

“Resent,” Brezzog huffs.

“Its tracking abilities will help me to hunt down the last of your missing demons,” you explain.

‘And get us outta’ this dumb shitty pact, amirite?’ Irinnile chimes in.

“Quiet, succubus,” the Incubus says. “The grown-ups are talking.”

Irinnile squeaks, and pipes down, though you can sense annoyance and anger simmering deep within you where she nests.

“Very well,” the greater demon says, waving Brezzog back over to you.

The miniscule malefactor submits, though you sense misgivings on its part as well.

“Will that be all?” The Incubus asks.

>>5181305
>>5181548
[No specification]
>>5181621
[Rest here]
You seethe a little, simmering with resentment—yours, Irinnile’s transmitted along the soulbound, both?—but you cannot ignore it any longer. You are tired. You need torpor.

“May I stay here, to rest and recoup my energies?” you ask through gritted teeth.

“And how could I refuse a darling mortal like you?” the Incubus asks. “Me home is your home…”

“And your followers my followers?” you ask. “Just to… Test out pact magic one?”

The demon raises an eyebrow, smirking with the smug face of this puffed-up human man it now inhabits. “Don’t push it. You seem quite good at engineering pacts already, but besides that, these mortals are all MINE.”

The last word isn’t spoken louder, but it carries a booming resonance, a strange and occult inflection which makes your shudder. Does this being, then, consider you to belong to it as well? You remember your vision of the Hellish realms, and Irinnile’s explanation of what might yet await you there…

“However, if there’s anything else you’d like to learn…” The Incubus muses aloud. “I believe I’ve already made good on my end of things, TECHNICALLY-speaking, since you know your little ‘ectoplasm trick’ now… But for the right price, I could be induced to teach you a little something more.”

What do you do?
>Ask for tips on bettering your shapeshifting and combat abilities
>Ask for tips on increasing your ectoplasmic reserves, to puppeteer more people at once
>Ask for tips on bettering your empathy and telepathy
>Ask for tips on increasing your energy-drain abilities
>Request advice on how to avoid or escape the Hells, or liberate a soul therein
>Reject the offer, and just rest

[If you request tips, specify what you offer in exchange]
>>
>>5181651
>Reject the offer, and just rest
dang he knows so much
makes irinnile look like a chump
>>
>>5181678
Succubi are considered very lowly demons. I was trying to convey that -- sorry if it didn't work. Then again, Degenerates are considered very lowly Reptilians.
>>
>>5181681
I was just trying to diss Iri there. Maybe work that in. Very lowly. The lowliest.
>>
>>5181651
>Reject the offer, and just rest

>>5181699
Nah. Nah. Yemrep.
>>
>>5181678
>>5181788

‘Lispy, don’t take the bait!’ Irinnile hisses. ‘The price won’t be worth it!’

‘I don’t know,’ you muse, ‘this demon knows a great deal. Certainly more than you. It almost makes you look pathetic by comparison.’

‘L-Lispy, you KNOW that I know you don’t mean that!’ Irinnile stammers. ‘I can read you’re fuckin’ MIND, babe. You can’t—’

‘I guess that’s what I get for partnering with a LESSER demon.’

‘Hey!’

‘But I guess it could be worse,’ you acknowledge.

‘That’s more like it,’ your succubus pouts.

‘You’re at least a SMALL measure better than Yemrep.’

‘WHAT!!’

“What’s a ‘Yemrep’?” The Incubus asks aloud.

You freeze, recalling the demon’s uncanny ability to ‘hear’ Irinnile.

“Nevermind,” it waves it off. “Are you two done your telepathic make-out session? I agreed with pretty much everything you said… But I’m currently occupying the identity of a busy man. I have places to be, PEOPLE to be.”

“I think a rest will suffice,” you say.

“Tetovala—the tattooed one—will show you the way.”

A familiar figure steps forward, summoned as if a demon from the nearby doorway: a young woman, waifish and lean, covered in tattoos. She avoids eye-contact, appearing sullen as she leads you to a presently-unoccupied room amongst many, an apartment converted into one more shared space. You remember the way The Incubus realized her dream: a faceless form, fluid with ink and patterns. You wonder what the man which the demonic crime-lord now occupies looks like, without its uncanny influence.

“You almost live like goblins,” you note.

“What?” Tetovala says, taken aback.

“Your space shared with others in your family, serving multiple purposes, under communal ownership.”

Tetovala laughs at that, and when you arch an eyebrow, she explains: “We own nothing. Not even ourselves. This place isn’t ours.”

“Ah,” you say, seeing the truth her in her eyes.

“You neither,” she says as she leaves.

You feel…
>Unnerved by the implications
>Assured in your control of the situation
>Curious about the nature of the demon’s cult
>Disgusted by the demon’s pathetic attempt at Dark Godhood
>Write-in

However, more than anything, you feel TIRED, and you will gladly take advantage of the accommodations, whatever their sinister nature. You lay your head down, falling into…
>A dream of what has been lost
>A dream of what could have been, and might yet be
>A dream of dark glory
>A dream warning of what lurks
>A brief and dreamless torpor, restful in its Reptilian simplicity
>Write-in

Quiet in here today. Elden Ring?
>>
>>5182111
>Disgusted by the demon’s pathetic attempt at Dark Godhood
PRETENDER

>A dream of dark glory

yes
>>
>>5182111
>Unnerved by the implications

>A brief and dreamless torpor, restful in its Reptilian simplicity
>>
>>5182111
>Disgusted by the demon’s pathetic attempt at Dark Godhood

He is merely a scavenger at the throne of true power

>A dream of what could have been, and might yet be
>>
>>5182111
Actually I (>>5182294) will change to
>Disgusted by the demon’s pathetic attempt at Dark Godhood
Didn't quite get that "implications" meant dealing with this fagstick is somehow detrimental to our freedom. We will stab the entire bird kingdom if it's necessary to get out of the game.
Also consider me split between
>Dreamless Torpor
>Dark Glory
I will support either one of them
>>
>>5182343
>>5182341
>>5182115
As you drift off to sleep, you reflect on the cloying, pitiful attempts of your host to sway you, to hold you and these human wastrels captive in its own tiny domain. Does it think that this will make it a Dark God? Frankly, it’s offensive to you as a worshipper of the genuine articles.

No, when you sleep, you dream of TRUE dark glory.

In your dreams, you understand intuitively that you are dead, yet you feel no fear. Even as you descend down into the myriad Hells of the demonic plane, you are calm and at peace. You see the demon princes, those other weak little devils who play at true divinity, and though they hunger for you and reach up to pull you down, you are at peace. You close your eyes, and trust in the Truth Beyond Lies, and in The Great Design…. And you are saved.

You feel true strength coil about you like a powerful serpent, a force lifting you up and away. You hear wailing, cursing, the gnashing of teeth in frustration. When you open your eyes, you see the Hells and their poor, pretending princelings falling away as you are lifted up, up, UP!

You rise past ruined Hawksong, an obliterated waste. Those surface ‘people’ who still live there are cowed, stripped of their finery and cast down, groveling and laboring. Above them stand Reptilians holding whips, dressed in gemstones and fine silks and all manner of gold. The hideously chaotic and haphazard constructions of generations of men are replaced with the careful, symbolically-placed and deliberately-constructed buildings of a true Reptilian capitol, every pinnacle and precipice aligned to form great sigils and symbols of allegiance to the stars above, and the dark forces which guide them. At the far end of the city, the Paladin King’s gaudy temple to his false power has been converted into a great throne for the Dragonborn, now mended and made whole and towering in his ancestor’s full glory.
>>
>>5182412
You rise higher still, higher and higher, up above even where you and Irinnile once soared. You rise through heat and cold to the clouds and past them. You are coated in their dew, and your clothing melts away to be replaced with the ceremonial cloak of an Honoured One of the Serpent Priests’ ceremonies. Thus draped in finery and anointed in the oils of heaven, you ascend BEYOND that petty, paltry realm, where the Gods of Light are said to reside…

Higher still than the sky, and the stars of the firmament… And into the waiting darkness beyond.

For the first time, you feel fear, but it is the fear of a small snake before a larger one—an appropriate, natural fear of power before greater power. You fear for your worthiness, or lack thereof, beyond the wonder which you know you are approaching…

But this fear, too, fades as you are called deeper, deeper into the blackness… And briefly, oh so briefly, you behold the GLORY of the realms of your Gods, where you are destined to join them as beloved servant! It is… So, so beautiful. The winding, organic stone and metal of this non-euclidian beacon in the darkness… It brings tears to your eyes! You struggle to keep them open, to behold it in its entirety….

But you can’t, and when you open them again, you are awake. Alive. On the surface world of the mortal plane. Among humans, and demons. Inglorious, Degenerate.

“For now,” you whisper to yourself.

‘Oh… Uhh, morning, Lispy.’

Irinnile sounds… Strange, almost distant. You sense some sort of… Discomfort in her, but she says nothing.

‘What’s the plan?’ she asks, feigning cheer as she senses your probing attention.

It’s dawn. What do you do?
>Check in with your thralls, learn what has happened while you were busy
>Talk to the Incubus or its cultists about something [what?]
>Head to Lord Bianchi’s, to research the final demon and to learn how to locate it
>Check in with your Reptilian contacts [Roth, or Albacete?]
>Go get more body oil—you’re out, and your skin is getting… Scaley
>Check in with Irinnile, see what’s bothering her
>Write-in
>>
>>5182414
>Go get more body oil—you’re out, and your skin is getting… Scaley

poor iri, gotting mogged by zivic and then the dark gods
>>
>>5182414
>Check in with Irinnile, see what’s bothering her
On our way out, keeping in mind that Incubus could be eavesdropping
>Go get more body oil—you’re out, and your skin is getting… Scaley
Our superior dry skin must be hidden again. Why even live?
>>
>>5182414
>Go get more body oil—you’re out, and your skin is getting… Scaley
>Check in with Irinnile, see what’s bothering her
>>
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>>5182480
>>5182473
>>5182468
You gather up your pack, change into a fresh change of clothes, and set out for the day. You nod to the tattooed woman as you leave, but she does not return the gesture, simply watching you impassively as you depart. From another follower, you get directions to the nearest apothecary—and, finding there are none, you settle for a general store known to stock feminine hygiene and beauty products for the lower rung of human society.

In your pack, you have enough coin to afford a small amount of the oil necessary to suppress the scale patterning which tends to appear across patches of your body when insufficiently moisturized. Of course, you could just have Irinnile shapeshift them away… But they are a symbol of your true nature, your deeper loyalties. They tie you to your mother, and her race.

‘Yeah,’ Irinnile agrees unenthusiastically, ‘you’re a loyal one.’

You slow down slightly in your walk, confident that you are now far enough away from The Incubus to have this conversation without being telepathically overheard.

‘Something is the matter,’ you say, matter-of-fact in your confrontation.

‘H-huh?’ Irinnile stammers.

‘I feel it as easily as you feel my emotions,’ you respond, though not harshly. ‘You’ve been strange all morning. Morose. What is it?’

‘…’S nothing.’

‘Irinnile,’ you begin… Then you moderate your tone. ‘Babe, what is it? You can tell me.’

‘…You’re gonna’ leave me.’

You blink in confusion, stopping short for a moment. Then, you press on, continuing your walk to the store.

‘What are you talking about?’ you ask. ‘Our souls are BOUND—’

‘Until you use your coin, an’ escape the Hells… An’ leave me down there. You almost went down inta’ hell for some fellow lizard-lady you barely even knew, but… But I saw your dream. Your dark glory. You’re… You’re jus’ gonna’ up ‘n die, and leave me down there. You were so MAD at me, that I didn’t tell you that you were hellbound, but I guess… I dunno’, I figured we’d get out of that together, an’ then BE together.’

You don’t say anything right away.

‘But… You’re not gonna’ stay down here with me on the mortal plain, either, huh?’ she asks. ‘And you can’t take me with ya’.’
>>
>>5182930
You enter the general store, a small and stuffy place, full of ill-packaged items on rickety shelves. It’s cramped, mouldy, mouldering, sad… But full of more essentials and inessential ‘luxuries’ than any such store outside the auspices of Hawksong and its satellite communities like Sparrowtown would hold, even in such a relatively unaffluent neighbourhood.

“One bottle of your finest oil,” you say.

The man behind the counter sizes you up, smirking a little as he makes an assumption of why you might need such a product. “Oh? Lubrication, huh?”

He’s not WRONG in his assessment of your profession—not technically—but with Irinnile’s emotions seeping into you, you feel your irritation flare.

“I don’t require skincare advice from a pox-marked peasant,” you snipe back.

“Feisty!” he says, then leans across the counter. “That IS how I prefer them. How much?”

What do you tell Irinnile? But, well… She can tell if you’re lying, so it must be the truth.
>You cannot turn your back on the paradise you beheld, or the affirmation of the Dark Gods, not even for her [-affection, weakens soulbound]
>You care more for her than for any paradise the Dark Gods can offer—you will find a way to be with her, wherever it may take you and whatever it may deny you [+affection, strengthens soulbond]
>You will extend your time together, in this world, as long as you can… But one day, you WILL need to leave
>Write-in

What do you do to the man?
>Pay up, and leave this place in peace—he’s a waste of time and effort
>Mesmerize him, and take his oil and his other valuables as well—and the coin behind his counter
>Draw your dagger, raise an aura of intimidation, and dare him to say another word
>Agree to prostitute yourself to him… And then drain him dry and feed him to Irinnile, as a treat
>Write-in

Where will you head next?
>Bianchi’s, for research purposes and a check-in
>Felman’s, to get an update on the ongoing investigations
>Roth’s, or Albacete’s, to discuss the Reptilian’s moves and to keep them abreast of the Dragonborn and the other events of the last few days
>Yosef’s, to see about getting ahold of those glasses
>Zi’s, to sate some <WANT> and mend your wounded heart with a cute date
>Write-in
>>
>>5182932
>You cannot turn your back on the paradise you beheld, or the affirmation of the Dark Gods, not even for her [-affection, weakens soulbound]

We'll try and find a way to take her with us tho

>Pay up, and leave this place in peace—he’s a waste of time and effort
We'll need more oil in the future.

>Felman’s, to get an update on the ongoing investigations
>>
>>5183020
Supporting this
>>
>>5182932
>>You cannot turn your back on the paradise you beheld, or the affirmation of the Dark Gods, not even for her [-affection, weakens soulbound]
>Agree to prostitute yourself to him… And then drain him dry and feed him to Irinnile, as a treat
>Felman’s, to get an update on the ongoing investigations
>>
>>5182932
>You cannot turn your back on the paradise you beheld, or the affirmation of the Dark Gods, not even for her [-affection, weakens soulbound]
She knew we would end up in hell because of her, didn't say a fucking word and now we're the bad one for not wanting eternal damnation because of a lowly succubus? Really?
>Pay up, and leave this place in peace—he’s a waste of time and effort
>Bianchi’s, for research purposes and a check-in
And next demon.

Can't we just mind-connect to Felman on the way? Having to choose between the two while we have to go on foot seems like a waste of time.
>>
>>5182932
>You care more for her than for any paradise the Dark Gods can offer—you will find a way to be with her, wherever it may take you and whatever it may deny you [+affection, strengthens soulbond]
I'm planning on us being bad ass enough to escape from hell and get into Dark Valhalla together.
>Mesmerize him, and take his oil and his other valuables as well—and the coin behind his counter
Keeps him in line and alive, though I would like a snack. Maybe he can can have a taste of us if he begs for it.
>Bianchi’s, for research purposes and a check-in
Maybe he has a cute maid we can pound to lower our Want.
>>
>>5183402
>>5183292
>>5183232
>>5183037
>>5183020
You take a deep breath, meeting the eyes of the human man and slamming your coin down on the counter. He flinches back, and it makes you feel a little better. You take your oil, and you leave.

‘Irinnile,’ you address her a you continue on your way, ‘I will TRY to find a way to bring you with me, but…’

‘But if you can’t, if it’s that paradise or us, you choose paradise,’ irinnile fnishes.

‘Wouldn’t YOU?’

She ahs no answer to that, but you feel no change in the emotion emanating from her, filling you.

‘Consider this,’ you snap, ‘you KNEW we would end up in Hell because of you, and you didn't say ANYTHING about it… And now I’m the bad one for not wanting eternal damnation because of a lowly succubus? Really?’

Irinnile flinches back, and for a moment you feel the irritation turn back to sadness. Then, the feeling dulls, becomes less intense.

[-affection]

The bond between her essence and your soul wavers, but does not break. You consider this development, tactically and romantically… But not for long. You have almost arrived at your destination, after all.

You are one more in those winding corridors of tilting, refurbished buildings painted in arcane and imperceptibly alien colours: The Initiate’s Village, built sprawling out towards the almost literal ivory Tower of the Hawksong Mages. You have to be careful not to attract too much attention here, which you achieve by pulling up your hood and slightly shifting your skin-tone so as not to match the description of any ‘Southern Demonists’. One bright side is that, unlike the res of your journey here, the presence of Hawksong’s non-magical City Guard is almost non-existent here. You walk carefully, with purpose and an aura of calm, past an Inquisitorial patrol; this is the only impediment to your journey to the humble ground-level dwelling of Inquisitor Felman.

The Inquisitor himself opens the door, drawn to this place by your mental summons—a much faster and less-conspicuous process than the lengthy meditation required to properly ‘commune’ across Irinnile’s ectoplasmic link.

“Inside,” he half-commands, half-suggests.

You frown at his wilfulness, but follow the instructions for practicality’s sake.

“Watch your tone,” you admonish him.

“There’s no time for that!” he exclaims once the door is shut. “We’ve found something!”

“Explain,” you demand.

Felman does so, elaborating upon the latest development in the Inquisition’s investigation into demonological activities around the city. Following the discovery of a demon-in-disguise (Siz-Gamid) in the Royal Library, the librarians were questioned about unusual activity therein and thereabouts. Of course, as one might expect, almost immediately this drew attention to...
>>
>>5183425
“Lord Bianchi,” you say grimly.

“Yes,” says Felman, looking a little surprised.

Of course. A spooky, arrogant, black-clad young nobleman always reading books on matters mysterious and occult within the bounds of legality, maintaining a guard around him so as not to be unduly interrupted (or observed), even bringing his own tomes whose contents he refuses to share… he might as well have painted a target on his back.

‘Ha! B-boy’s fucked,’ Irinnile laughs, clearly deriving some enjoyment from the fall-from-grace of the man who sought to summon and enslave her.

‘We are as well,’ you point out, ‘if they mentioned we were seen with him.’

“Did they speak of any associates?” you ask.

Felman is quiet for a moment, narrowing his eyes, but shakes his head.

“But we plan to bring him in for questioning today,” he says.

You feel panic rise, and begin to consider your next move.

“What happened to your… Lisp? Accent? Whatever it was?”

You ignore Inquisitor Felman’s question. You have quite enough on your mind.

What do you do?
>Instruct Felman to redirect the investigation [specify if you have a patsy in mind] to the best of his ability
>Get Felman to stall the Inquisition long enough for you to destroy any evidence of Bianchi’s occult hobbies and library
>Spirit Bianchi out of town, on his way to his family’s old home in the countryside, before he can be arrested and questioned
>Alas, Bianchi’s usefulness is at an end—you’re headed to his home to kill him
>Write-in
>>
>>5183427
>Spirit Bianchi out of town, on his way to his family’s old home in the countryside, before he can be arrested and questioned

also I kinda miss the lisp, and it might look weird for us to lose it all of a sudden. Maybe we can keep it for anything tied to our base identity, and lose it for COVERT OPS?
>>
>>5183427
>Spirit Bianchi out of town, on his way to his family’s old home in the countryside, before he can be arrested and questioned
Oh maan, I thought Ismena was supposed to practice speaking without the obvious lisp? How come this never made Isaac and then the Archmage suspicious?
>>
>>5183629
You only ditched the qccent recently. If you want it back in your base identity, append it to your vote... But it hardly matters for Felman. If he was ever freed from your enthralment, him knowing your accent/lisp is intermittent would be the least of your worries.
>>
>>5183717
Ik we ditched it with shapeshifting, it just never occured to me that everyone we interacted with has heard it. I think I subconsciously assumed Ismena was doing her best to cover it in general and only lost control under pressure.

It's a bit of a tiny mindfuck for me, since I made these assumptions without paying them any attention whatsoever. Was it ever brought up aside for individual instances where Ismena was upset/angry/etc?
>>
>>5183427
>Alas, Bianchi’s usefulness is at an end—you’re headed to his home to kill him
We don’t really need him anymore…his books are now more useful than him

And I’m sure that his family’s country estate will be the next place they search if he’s not at his city home - c’mon guys
>>
>>5183796
This isn't modern life anon, they don't have a database on everyone. If they even know about the estate Bianchi can have us take him somewhere else.
>>
>>5183753
[There was a vote in an earlier thread about whether to suppress it, and in that vote it was noted that Edwin might find it weird if The Infiltrator suddenly stopped having her 'accent'. It's come up a couple other times: little comments, Irinnile's nickname for her, and (most notably) when Chase and Innes commented on her accent prior to accosting her.]
>>
>>5183801
Of course they don’t - but they can easily ask the staff at his estate about other properties

And the vote isn’t to ‘take him to a safe house’ - it’s to take him to that specific country estate
>>
Rolled 11, 12, 15, 12, 17 = 67 (5d20)

>>
>>5183524
>>5183629
>>5183796

“When?” you demand. “When will this happen?”

“Within the next few hours,” Felman answers.

You give him no goodbye and you explode out of the Inquisitor’s home—you owe him none. The only thing which stops you running down the street now is the attention it would bring to you. Instead, you force yourself to walk as swiftly as possible without becoming conspicuous, hurrying at a brisk walk to Lord Bianchi’s home in the city.

However, when you arrive at the estate, you receive an unusual reception: one of Bianchi’s bodyguards, playing at gate-guardsman, actually attempt to STOP you, albeit without much apparent enthusiasm.

“The young lord has requested that you not be allowed to enter,” the human tells you.

“Ssstep assside,” you say, lacing your words with venom and with magical influence. You will Irinnile to return your accent, if only to expedite the conversation to come.

>>5184137
>17

He does so, and without a fight. So too the next one who runs towards you. You push past them, and past older and more mouldering servants who do not even put up this token resistance, marching on to Bianchi’s study. There, you find him reclining awkwardly, clearly made uncomfortable by the lasting damage to his spine and leg—damage you inflicted. From the look on his face when you enter, you wonder if he might now remember that.
>>
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>>5184151
“You!” he scowls, though you see the fear behind the sneer. “How did you… Guards! Where are my blasted GUARDS?!”

“Handled,” you say, “and handily. What sseemss to be the problem? What iss the idea of barring me entry?”

But, of course, you already know—already SUSPECTED earlier, that the life-or-death confrontation with Siz-Gamid had jarred your enthrallment from this human’s mind and had shaken him back to full wakefulness.

“You know damned well,” he says, standing and beginning to back away. “You… You mesmerized me! Took my wits from me!”

Your plan has been to spirit Bianchi away from this place before the Inquisition arrived. You still could.

“Lord Bianchi—” you begin gently, approaching even as he backs himself into a corner.

Lord Bianchi bookcase and knocking loose a tome. He recoils from it, most probably recalling the source of his infirmity… If, you hope, not the one who inflicted it upon him. He looks back to you, furious and afraid, and like a cornered wererat he makes the stand he is forced to make.

“You stole my DEMON! My RESEARCH! My FUTURE!”

He is growing hysterical.

“Lisssten,” you say, “the Inquisssition iss coming. For YOU. I’m here to help—to get you out of here.”

“I’m not going anywhere with the likes of you, you… Witch. Whore. Traitor! SNAKE!”

You resist the urge to smirk at that last one, while Irinnile snickers. Still, this leaves you in a bind. Without a carriage at your beck and call (as when you were seeing Edwin of Engel), your travels across Hakwsong are by no means swift. Two and a half hours passed, to bring you to this place. It is almost midday. The Inquisition can’t be far behind you now… And Bianchi knows so much more than he KNOWs he knows. He could give up the entire game.

What do you do?
>Use politesse—convince him that you’re on his side, or at least a lesser evil than the Inquisition
>Use merchantilism—parley the true-names of other demons from the Akashic Record to win him back to your side
>Use force—knock him out and drag him out of town if necessary
>Use the dagger—slay this fool and be done with it
>Use suicide poison—make it look like he killed himself, and brainwash his staff to corroborate it
>Use your connections—offer to introduce him to The Incubus, and show him the Symbol of Authority to back it up
>Use your ectoplasm—the very last of it that you can spare—to make him a more permanent thrall, with less of this troublesome free will
>Write-in
>>
>>5184153
And it all begins to crumble now.
Bianchi please.
>Use politesse—convince him that you’re on his side, or at least a lesser evil than the Inquisition
>Appeal to his reason
He would've died if it wasn't for us that summoning day, we got possessed Irinnile and didn't mention it because it would be too awkward to explain and then one lie led to another. The fucking fox would've used the scroll to capture his soul for Incubus, but we saved him from that and then we wanted to help his leg even despite him being mesmerized, it just didn't work out with how many things we had on our head. If we really wished bad for him, we would've just killed him by now and taken over his library.
>Promise him a pact to let him use Irinnile's powers as he initially planned to in return for secrecy.
This way nobody can get scammed.
>Tell him to take the touchiest-subject books so Inquisition doesn't have access to everything he knows
>>
>>5184153
>Use your connections—offer to introduce him to The Incubus, and show him the Symbol of Authority to back it up

>Use politesse—convince him that you’re on his side, or at least a lesser evil than the Inquisition

Combination of these two
>>
>>5184309
Introducing Bianchi to the Incubus will make him independent, plus if he falls for demon's false promises and turns his back on us, it will give Incubus more power over us. It's dangerous and not at all beneficial.
Not to mention that Bianchi isn't very... good at making right choices and his greed will surely lead to him becoming Incubus' thrall or being weaponized against us. Not even a shadow of a doubt after he failed to prepare for Irinnile's summoning ritual and then nearly became Incubus' property by blindly trusting the Fox woman. Both those times we had to save his ass lmao.
>>
>>5184334
That is a good point…

But we can’t kill or kidnap him - the staff have seen us.

Altering the vote here >>5184309 to this

>Use politesse—convince him that you’re on his side, or at least a lesser evil than the Inquisition

If that fails

>Use merchantilism—parley the true-names of other demons from the Akashic Record to win him back to your side

We don’t have to honour the deal once he’s out of the city after all…
>>
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>>5184346
Yeah I hate the fact that no matter what we do now, the staff will talk to Inquisition about Ismena. Ideally we should make them all go with us, but it's too much of a risk, considering the faith cops are closing in and will be here in a couple hours. We could get noticed.

The most sound solution I see would be mesmerizing everyone who saw us here and then ordering Felman to make sure our demonic influence over them is not dispelled, should they be interrogated.

I don't think this could be avoided unless we went into turboautism or "paranoia" of sneaking in so nobody saw us, but even I didn't think things would go THIS bad here.

At least now I can be happy that I tried to think ahead and prevent as much collateral damage as I could. This shitshow is exactly why I treat every security flaw seriously. When I'm not shitposting.
>>
[It appears we have two votes so far. I'll hold out for more, and do my best to blend the two so far of all else fails]
>>
>>5184272
Supporting
>>
>>5184153
>Use merchantilism—parley the true-names of other demons from the Akashic Record to win him back to your side

We've been holding onto these for a while, might as well use one.
>>
Rolled 1, 10, 11, 10, 14, 1 = 47 (6d20)

>>5184943
>>5184346
>>5184686
>>5184272
[Still something of a tie, but I can work with this.]
>>
>>5184956
“Ssee reasson,” you apepal to Lord Bianchi. “You would have died if it wasssn't for me, that day when we ssought to sssummon the ssucubusss. Only my intervention ssaved you!”

“You bound it to yourself,” he spits. “you could have just as easily bound it to ME, and you bloody well know it. You kept it secret for a reason!”

“I wasn’t ccertain how to divorcce mysself from it,” you lie. “I would have done sso if I could.”

“So instead of asking for my aid, instead of offering up its abilities, you lied?” he scoffs. “Do you take me for a fool?”

“I… didn't mention it because it would be too awkward to exxxplain,” you say. “I mean, would you have believed me? Clearly not. From there… Well, one lie led to another.”

“That, I believe,” Bianchi sneers, grabbing a staff to use as a walking stick and edging to towards the door.

You move to stop him, your appeal growing more urgent.

“The fucking foxxx would've used the ssscroll to capture your sssoul for The Incubusss! I sssaved you from that! I even planned to help with your sspine, your leg, dessspite you already being mesmerized. It jussst… Didn't work out with how thingsss played out.”

>1

“You mean because you were too busy staging insurrectionist assaults on the Tower and the King’s men with your cronies?”

You hesitate. Just how much does he remember?
>>
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>>5184985
“You’re no ally of their ilk,” you say, tone lowering. “I know how you resssent King Archosss and hiss government… The Tower and their hoarding of knowledge. You’ve SSEEEN what I have acquired accessss to… What I could grant YOU accccesss to! I could give you the names of MANY demonss… Could even give you the sssuccubusss!”

‘H-hey,’ Irinnile whispers, affronted.

You reassure her that it’s a bluff.

“And take advantage of another ritual to turn me into your… Your plaything, your minion?! To drop ANOTHER FUCKING BOOKCASE on me?!”

Okay, so he remembers a lot.

“Lord Bianchi—”

Your latest appeal is interrupted as he staggers forth. At first it seems like he is making a bolt for it, but as you move to stop him, you feel a shooting pain. You look down and find a long, thin line of steel piercing your abdomen straight through: a blade, drawn from the staff. A sword-cane?

“You shouldn’t have done that,” you hiss, and you see red. Your calm is gone. “Even a pitiful, weak-willed, half-assssed demonologissst like YOU should know that, if I’m posssessssed, I can’t be harmed by mundane weaponsss.”

>1

Lord Bianchi’s expression isn’t devoid of fear, not at all… But you also are not certain you’ve ever seen this smarmy snob any smugger than he is right now, in spite of it.

“I didn’t use a mundane weapon, you stupid bitch.”

It’s then that you realize that the pain isn’t fading… Isn’t lessening. In fact, it’s growing worse. You try to speak, to demand an explanation, but only a rattling croak emerges… And blood. Lots of blood. You look down again at the staff in Bianchi’s hand, and you recognize it: the family heirloom staff, which you helped this foppish occultist to materialize from Irinnile’s own essence, that first night when you encountered her.

‘Oh fuck!’ Irinnile cries. ‘Oh shit! Oh, babe! No!’

This wound… It’s potentially lethal, but only POTENTIALLY. You can regenerate it, but it will take time… Uninterrupted time, without distraction. And you doubt if you have long before the Inquisition arrives now. Minutes? An hour?

‘I can fix this I can fix this I can FIX THIS,’ you panicking inner demon shrieks.

What do you do?
>KILL THIS SURFACE-BORN SON OF AN APE! TEAR HIM APART AND EAT HIS SOUL!
>Get away! Get out! You’ve been made by the staff either way, and further combat will only risk further injury—right as a pack of damned mages are bearing down on you!
>Make a last-ditch effort to negotiate a pact—whatever Bianchi wants, just to fix this mess!
>Try to force the regeneration while maintaining your distance, and hope to the Dark Gods that the Inquisition doesn't burst in
>Call in the [DIVINE FAVOUR] to smite this entire building and its denizens
>Call in the [DIVINE FAVOUR] to restore you to full health, so you can handle this personally
>Die
>Write-in

Oof, a DOUBLE fumble. Yikes.
>>
>>5184988
>Try to force the regeneration while maintaining your distance, and hope to the Dark Gods that the Inquisition doesn't burst in

If they do arrive - then we call in the divine favour to smite everyone
>>
>>5184988
>KILL THIS SURFACE-BORN SON OF AN APE! TEAR HIM APART AND EAT HIS SOUL!

Use it for healing fuel
servants too, if possible
>>
>>5184988
>Say that Inquisition is coming for him right now, and the fact he badly wounded you instead of listening, leaves you with no choice here.
Also call him a failure, might as well.
>KILL THIS SURFACE-BORN SON OF AN APE! TEAR HIM APART AND EAT HIS SOUL!
If it's possible, claw him or stab him with a body-blade and then immediately jump in to suck out his life essence.
>Remember to leave through the back, or a window on the back
Even if not in the next update, just please remember to do this instead of walking out on the street under the current circumstances.

Do nat 1s have priority over other rolls? I don't remember this being a thing before.
>>>Die
The fact that this isn't a joke option is pretty wild. The implications would be... interesting, to say the least.

>>5185021
Yeah, at this point we should just kill everyone who saw our face and burn this place to the ground, starting with the pool of our blood. Inquisition knows this moron fucked with demons so a succubus slaughtering the entire household won't be much of a surprise.
>>
Rolled 9, 11, 19, 9 = 48 (4d20)

>>5185009
>>5185021
>>5185285
>>
>>5185419
>>5185009
>>5185021
>>5185285
“The Inquisssition is coming for you, right now,” you say, radiating a quiet fury, “And I cannot let them question you.”

“W-wait! Stay back! I’ll kill you!”

>19

You ay be badly wounded, but you are also a trained Infiltrator—not PRIMARILY combatant, but certainly educate din such arts. Hawksong ahs only honed your abilities. And Bianchi? Bianchi is an out-of-shape nobleman with back and leg injuries, wielding a weapon more designed for concealment and surprise than effectiveness.

<WANT: 18>

It takes but seconds of work with some succubus-manifested claws to shred him to ribbons, and consuming his fleeing soul is almost enough to make up for the expenditure of energy in the brief scuffle.

<Bloodlust trait>

The easy killing is not quite enough to sate your need for retributive violence, however. You rip the sword-cane from your abdomen and drive it into him, again and again and again, perforating his face and chest beyond recognizability. Only when his lifeblood is pooling out in every direction do you look up and see a servant-girl staring at you from the doorway, silently mouthing a scream that cannot quite escape her lips.

Irinnile laughs nervously, a little hysterically even.

‘It’s fine,’ you say grimly. ‘I can fix this.’

The servant girl barely begins to shriek before an extended claw pierces her skull, and with another few hacks of your claws you separate head from body. These people all saw your face, after all. Every single servant in Bianchi’s home must die—and you set about inflicting exactly this.

You topple candle-sconces, spilling flame out not carpets and the library of books as you go—it’s harmless to you, but it boxes in your prey. One by one, you teach these humans why you are nightmare to them—a Reptilian demon, a monstrous reminder of the Age of Scales which fell away, but will rise again. Caged by flames, they fall to you one after another, as smoke and blood cloud your every sense—sight, smell, taste, until the roar of the flames fills even your hearing.

You scream in glorious revelry as the last guard falls beneath your wrath.
>>
>>5185428
“What in the name of all the Gods?”

“By the deep magic!”

“But that fire out, you cretins! Hurry!”

Your head snaps to face the voices. You caught up are you in your virtuous violence that you take a moment to even realize who it is. It’s only when an ice-spell lances through the fire, snuffing some of it out a freezing solid a portion of your newly-created lake of human blood that you realize it.

“This way!”

‘Felman the Incelman,’ Irinnile murmurs, a little nervously.

You recognize the voice, too. The Inquisition is here. In your desire to slaughter these surface-apes and to hide your identity, you have delayed too long.

‘It’s not our fault that some of ‘em hid in closets ‘n shit!’ Irinnile protests.
Consuming their escaping life-force been enough to abate Irinnile’s hunger, to help fuel your healing…

<WANT: 16>

…But you have not taken the necessary time to regenerate it and, now that your adrenaline is dying down, you are beginning to feel woozy, light-headed, almost… Sleepy.

‘Wait! Babe, no, don’t do hat!~’

Irinnile snaps you out of it, and she helps you clear your head. You need to move. You’re on the verge of unconsciousness.

‘Wing?’ you ask her.

‘Can’t,’ she replies, ‘it’s daylight out there.’

You have precious seconds to decide on a course of action. The Inquisition is almost upon you. A lesser being would panic, freeze, but not you. You are a Reptilian Infiltrator! You:
>Hide deep within the burning building, regenerating your wounds and hoping they do not find you until you are well enough to slip away unnoticed
>Shapeshift into a ‘survivor’ and scream for help
>ATTACK! ATTACK! ATTACK! You still have the element of surprise on your side
>Turn Felman against his colleagues, and use this distraction to escape
>Make a break for it! These bookworms are slow on foot, certainly compared to you, and you are confident you can lose them if you dive through the fire and out a back window
>Call down the [DIVINE FAVOUR], expending it to smite them all
>Write-in
>>
>>5185285
>Do nat 1s have priority over other rolls? I don't remember this being a thing before.

[If none of your other rolls is a success, and you have at least one 1, it's a critical failure. SO has it always been! Sorry if that wasn't clear to everything. I THINK I elaborated upon that earlier in the quest, but it just happens fairly rarely so it doesn't come up often.]

[Also, heads up: I am going out for a drink with a friend tonight, so I may or may not post again today. I will tomorrow, though!]
>>
>>5185432
>Make a break for it! These bookworms are slow on foot, certainly compared to you, and you are confident you can lose them if you dive through the fire and out a back window

Hopefully the fire is big enough they don't even notice us leaving.
>>
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>>5185428
Now we are become Roth, the incinerator of mansions. I will miss Bianchi a little.
>>5185432
>Make a break for it! These bookworms are slow on foot, certainly compared to you, and you are confident you can lose them if you dive through the fire and out a back window
Running short on power because of action we have little to no control over is frustrating, but I guess it's really just our fault for keeping the demon hungry.
Inb4 Ismena gets a Second Wind ability because we keep almost getting her killed time and time again.
>>5185433
Oh right, I forgot we rolled below 15. Don't remember critical failure rule, but that's very likely just my bad memory.

Purely theoritical question - how bad would be our disadvantage if we actually attempted to bluff past the Inquisition in this situation? If I was one of those guys and saw Ismena emerge from the flames with a gaping stomach wound and didn't recognize her voice from any of the staff's screams, I'd probably ice bolt her in the head and ask questions layer.
>>
>>5185432
>>Make a break for it! These bookworms are slow on foot, certainly compared to you, and you are confident you can lose them if you dive through the fire and out a back window
As usual, I leave for a bit and everything's on fire again.
>>
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>>5185726
Welcome back, anon. Take a seat and get ready to pocket some demons cause we're nearly done here and leaving. Just be careful, there is blood all over the floor.
I wanted Bianchi to live, but our hands were really fucking tied.
>>
Rolled 14, 7, 3, 3 = 27 (4d20)

>>5185476
>>5185724
>>5185726
You take one look at the numerous silhouettes of your approaching enemies, and you turn the other way. Leaping not the smoke and flame, you hope to shield yourself from their sight, and to abscond out the servants’ entrance or the kitchen before they even know you’re here.

‘Won’t they now when they see all the… You know, claw marks an’ shit?’

‘Bianchi toyed with the occult routinely,’ you say. ‘You should know: if he’d tried to summon you alone, would he have lived?’

Irinnile titters.

Still… Remembering Bianchi’s cold, dour expression and how it had softened to you… His drive, albeit one given to a curious and short-sighted, narrowly-focused obsession… You actually think you’ll miss him a little bit. But then, the fool gave you no choice.
>>
>>5186397
A sudden explosion of cold air buffets your body, shocking you and snapping you out of your reflections. You pull your magic cloak tight around yourself, and this alone save you from being frozen like the kitchen around you. Snowflake drift through the air, stalactites and stalagmites of ice jut from the roof and floor, and the window through which you were escaping is shattered by the sudden shift from burning heat to wintery cold.

Shivering—neither reptiles nor many demons handle such temperatures well, magic cloak aside—you turn to the mage responsible.

>14 for stealth, daytime, no cover

You see a young woman, in the signature red, pointed hat of the Inquisition… And those damned glasses, capable of tracking you across this blasted surface-city and maybe even beyond.

‘Lispy, you’re hurt…’

‘I know, but she saw me.’

‘I shifted our face,’ Irinnile appeals. ‘It’s only been, like, a split second. Look at how surprised and confused she is. She ain’t gonna’ do SHIT with those glasses. Let’s just go!’

But can you really take that chance?

‘Babe! You could DIE!’ Irinnle wails.

You are still holding Bianchi’s sword-cane, crafted of succubus essence, in your clawed hand. Your blood, his blood, and the blood of those who served him, coats the blade. You aren’t sure what face Irinnile provided you, but must be a fearsome sight indeed. This Inquisior has not yet made a move…

What do you do?
>Attack the inquisitor (melee)
>Attack the Inquisitor (throw your dagger)
>Use a glamour of intimidation to drive her back
>Attempt to snatch up or smash her glasses, and then escape
>Fuck it, just leap out the window and hope she’s too startled to track you
>Write-in
>>
>>5186413
>Use a glamour to drive her back
Blind her ass and then
>Fuck it, just leap out the window and hope she’s too startled to track you

We 100% need fighting lessons from Felman and Roth now. There will be more fighting whether we like it or not and our current skillset is completely devoid of real offensive abilities, which we get fucked over by repeatedly.
>>
>>5186413
>>Attack the Inquisitor (throw your dagger)
Go for the eyes
>>
>>5186413
>Fuck it, just leap out the window and hope she’s too startled to track you

Would killing her even work if the glasses are already locked on to us? Wouldn't someone else be able to just pick them up and use them?

Might be time to finally lead our crew out to the hideout. Write Zivik an IOU for one (1) demon.
>>
>>5186413
>Attempt to snatch up or smash her glasses, and then escape

Pair it with a glamour to disorient her
>>
>>5186424
>>5186628
>>5186761
>>5186781
[Seems like we have (roughly speaking) a tie between an attack focused on the glasses, and escape. I'll await a tie-breaker; no 1-post-by-this-id votes. Failing that, I'll attempt to blend the two, but with a penalty to your escape if you fail on your glamour/attack.]
>>
Rolled 13, 15, 18, 9, 4 = 59 (5d20)

>>5186424
>>5186628
>>5186761
>>5186781

The glasses, and being tracked by them, are certainly a threat… But perhaps not AS big a threat as the possibility of death. As you wipe some more blood from your lips and feel another wave of nausea and disorientation hit you, it is THAT fear that takes precedence. Still, you can’t just run without TRYING to head off the tail.

Closing your eyes for just a moment and performing the physical gesture necessary to focus your inner reserves of magical potential and to align them to Irinnile’s own, you project your aura much as you would to seduce or confuse… Only this time, you do so to provoke fear, not agreeability or lust.

“HOLD.”
>>
Rolled 9, 2, 2, 2 = 15 (4d20)

>>5186987
>18

The effect which follows has much in-common with paralysis, even if it is technically not. The Inquisitor is frozen in terror of her alerted perception of you. Though you struggle to maintain this effect in your weakened state, it is sufficient to prevent a counterattack as you lash out with Bianchi’s sword-cane, drawing a line of blood across her face.

This breaks the spell, causing the woman to cry out and to lash out with a bolt of lightning… But the shot goes wide, her vision obscured by the blood dripping down from her gashed brow. Better yet, the attack has the intended effect upon the glasses, splitting them across the bridge, and in her stumbling the fumbling Inquisitor even steps upon the lenses. With a smirk, you dive out the window and take off on foot, swiftly evading your remaining pursuers.

However, you know they will be canvassing the area now. Worse, as they widen the net from Bianchi, you are certain the similarities to Roth’s attack on the Zivic Estate will not go unnoticed. This could well lead to inquiries with the librarians about Bianchi’s known associates… including yourself, a fairly-recognizable young woman seen in both his company and in that of Edwin of Engel.

‘Aw shit, do we gotta’ kill EDDY now?’

You squint your eyes at the idea, fighting back tears at even the very idea. Still… The matter fo Edwin must be considered.

What do you do?
>Go to the Engel manor to confront Edwin, and to plead with him to say nothing
>Go to the Engel manor to threaten or kill Edwin
>Trust Edwin to keep his mouth shut, as he said he would, and go elsewhere, such as…
>>Goblintown, to hide out under your Zithra identity
>>Roth’s residence, to report in and consult with an elder operative
>>The pretty Kitty, to create an alibi via your work identity
>>The farmhouse, to escape Hawksong altogether
>Write-in

[Mystery dice, rolling away in the background...]
>>
>>5187001
>Trust Edwin to keep his mouth shut, as he said he would, and go elsewhere, such as…

>>The pretty Kitty, to create an alibi via your work identity
>>
>>5187001
>>Go to the Engel manor to confront Edwin, and to plead with him to say nothing
Yes I'd still love to fix things
>>
>>5187001
>Go to the Engel manor to confront Edwin, and to plead with him to say nothing

Totally to not just see him, that'd be crazy... Dark Gods below, how I wish we were still a couple.
>>
>>5187001
>>Go to the Engel manor to confront Edwin, and to plead with him to say nothing
>>
>>5187199
>>5187199
>>5187127
>>5187115
>>5187018
You would never HURT Edwin. Never! But, well… A good Infiltrator plugs all leaks.

‘You just wanna’ see him again,’ Irinnile teases.

<Heartbreak: 85%>

‘That’s… Not it,’ you insist in vain. Irinnile can sense your feelings; she knows the truth.

You’re no fool, though: though you might be eager to see him again, you first change from your soiled cloak and dress and into something more presentable, shifting your shape and face back to their ‘default’ state as well. Only then do you approach the Engel Manor—and with no small trepidation.

When you arrive, it is late afternoon, almost the verge of evening. Your heart is pounding in your chest, Will Edwin hear you out? He’d have to, right? This is Edwin! Your beloved, silly little human pet, so understanding, and caring, and trusting. A simple lie, the batting of your eyelashes, and he’ll do whatever you require. Maybe, if you play this right, he could even—

‘Pound us into weak-kneed, mana-filled jelly with that big ol’ greatsword between his knees?’ Irinnile proposes excitedly.

You were THINKING, actually, that he might give you another chance to make things right… But even thinking it with any deliberateness now make you feel weak, and silly, like some human girl or flighty hatchling rather than a proper Infiltrator. You (attempt to) dismiss the frivolous notion as you approach the gates and greet the servant there.

Unlike at Bianchi’s, you are not turned away outright. This give you hope, but it isn’t long before you realize that this is a FASLE hope. You are brought by a familiar young man into the entryway of the boxy, modernist mansion, but in the great hall it is not Edwin of Engel who greets you, but his father, Fynn.

“Ismena!” he greets you, surprised. “I’d… Been told not to expect you any longer.”

You say nothing, hiding your disappointment behind a pleasant smile.

Fynn of Engel descends the stairs, leaning down to kiss your hand in a ‘gentlemanly’ but out-of-date fashion—an action he would not take, you expect, were his son here to see it.

“It’s a pleasant surprise,” he says. “What brings you here?”
>“Where’s Edwin? I need to speak with him.”
>“Have you heard about what’s going on in the city? I need shelter.”
>“I’m here for you, actually…” [seduction, with the opportunity to sate WANT and to enthrall ectoplasmically]
>“Nevermind, I should be going.”
>Write-in
>>
>>5187531
>“Where’s Edwin? I need to speak with him.”
Strictly to cover our ass. Remember they saw us with him.
>>
>>5187598
Supporting
>>
>>5187531
>“Where’s Edwin? I need to speak with him.”
>If Edwin isn't home- “I’m here for you, actually…” [seduction, with the opportunity to sate WANT and to enthrall ectoplasmically]

We need an official alibi in case the Inquisition comes knocking anyway.
>>
>>5187776
They are not coming here anytime soon. This is only a path they MIGHT follow, if
>they widen the net from Bianchi, you are certain the similarities to Roth’s attack on the Zivic Estate will not go unnoticed. This could well lead to inquiries with the librarians about Bianchi’s known associates… including yourself, a fairly-recognizable young woman seen in both his company and in that of Edwin of Engel.

I'm openly against fucking Fynn.
>>
>>5187783
We should get Felman to scrape goat Bianchi as the main suspect, and have his death be ruled as a demonic summoning gone wrong.
>>
Rolled 16, 16, 14, 13, 9 = 68 (5d20)

>>5187598
>>5187751
>>5187776

“Where’ss Edwin?” you ask, taking your hand back.

Fynn hides his disappointment well, but only outwardly. Irinnile’s senses register it just fine, just as she easily tracked his desire.

‘I mean, I’m just SAYIN’: maybe he don’t have his son’s amna reserves, but Eddy inherited that schlong from SOMEONE…’

You ignore her, focusing instead on Fynn’s reply:

“I’m sorry to say he’s… Out.”

“Out where?” you ask. “It’sss ssomewhat urgent. I musst sspeak with him.”

Fynn sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose, and begins: “Ismena…”

“Fynn, please, it is a matter of grave importanccce to all of uss,” you appeal.

Fynn sighs, nodding. “Okay, well, just… Don’t make a scene, alright?”

You arch an eyebrow.

“He’s in the Initiate’s Village, helping out with the repairs and fundraising efforts around The Endless Fountain.”

Immediately, you understand Fynn’s increasing boldness with you, as well as his reticence to elaborate upon Edwin’s location.

‘That son-of-a-bitch is playin’ hide-the-mana-reserve with Paula!’ Irinnile screeches, outraged.

You don’t say anything right away, suppressing the succubus’ possessive anger. She’s not BONDED to Edwin—you get the feeling she doesn’t even especially like him on any interpersonal level—but the rage she feels at being deprived of your most reliable source of high-quality magical energy and desire is quite real…

And you’re not exactly feeling calm, either.
>>
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>>5187851
>16

You grit your teeth, forcing your own emotions and Irinnile’s down. You will tears not to form in your eyes.

“Ismena?” Fynn says.

He looks genuinely concerned… Though you can sense some predatory desire still there, as if he thinks this revelation might better his chances with you.

‘Would serve Edwin right,’ Irinnile grumbles. ‘Fucker didn’t know how good he had it! Like that Paula prude is gonna’ give head like a TRAINED PROFESSIONAL with a SEX DEMON in her, amirite?!’

<Heartbreak: 90%>
<WANT: 18>

You’re beginning to wonder how much of Irinnile’s reaction might actually be feedback from YOU, which has a sobering effect. Aren't you the voice of reason in this symbiotic relationship? Are you really this bound up in this… Mammal? Well… Yes. But should you be?

What do you do?
>Thank Fynn, and leave to go confront Edwin and Paula
>Thank Fynn, and leave to go assassinate Edwin and Paula
>Give into Fynn’s advances, to spite Edwin
>Give into Fynn’s advances, to enthrall and use him
>Leave, and go on a long walk to clear your head, eventually arriving at…
>>The library, to silence the lead before it ever reaches Edwin
>>The Pretty Kitty, for your shift
>>The Incubus residence—you’re done with this city
>Write-in
>>
>>5187861
>>Thank Fynn, and leave to go confront Edwin and Paula
>>
>>5187861
>Leave, and go on a long walk to clear your head, eventually arriving at
>>The library, to silence the lead before it ever reaches Edwin
Did we ectoplasm Paula or just mindfuck her? I think we wiped her memory of that night, but was it the whole night?

>>>assassinate
>>>you’re done with this city
Our prompts are getting more and more crazy, lol. Wouldn't mind changing the environment myself, but I think changes this big would divide a lot of anons.
>>
>>5187861
>Leave, and go on a long walk to clear your head, eventually arriving at…
>>The library, to silence the lead before it ever reaches Edwin

no good way to confront them
>>
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>>5187924
>Our prompts are getting more and more crazy
>>
>>5188024
But we will just refuse to go with anything wild, RQM. Got too used to being comfy and resolving all the problems without colossal consequences, plus nobody wants to accelerate the quest's finale.
Real shame we didn't visit hell when we could.
>>
>>5188024
Edwin is too dreamy to harm him like so.
>>
>>5188024
he didn't say that
>>
>>5187861
>Give into Fynn’s advances, to spite Edwin
>Leave, and go on a long walk to clear your head, eventually arriving at…
>>The Pretty Kitty, for your shifty

We'll turn Paula into a cuckquean, but after we start mindfucking and seducing our three newest recruits. Hell, maybe we can even make a pact with them after we wrap them around our fingers.
>>
>>5187861
>Leave, and go on a long walk to clear your head, eventually arriving at…
>The library, to silence the lead before it ever reaches Edwin

Get ahead of the investigation

Also on the walk, talk to Felman via our mental link about what their moves are

He’s leading this investigation after all
>>
>>5187877
>>5187924
>>5187991
>>5188123
>>5188211

“I need to go,” you tell Fynn, keeping the quiver which you feel in your chest out of your voice. “Don’t worry—I won’t bother Edwin.”

You turn to leave, but Fynn calls out: “Ismena!”

You turn tense and ready to reject him more forcefully.

“Edwin doesn’t know what he’s giving up,” he says.

You smirk at that. “Neither do you.”

The human man seems puzzled by your words, but you do not clarify. You just turn, and go. You have work to do.

True to your word, you do not seek out Edwin and Paula on their… Charitable endeavour? Date? Bah—it doesn’t MATTER what it is. It’s no threat to you—not if the Inquisition never has any reason to seek out either of them. You will head this off at the pass—get ahead of the story and snuff out the embers of the fire which threatens to engulf all three of you.

‘…You protecting that traitor, babe?’ Irinnile asks, surprised.

‘I’m protecting my mission,’ you say, as much to yourself as to her. ‘I’m protecting my people, and the Grand Design.’

Irinnile isn’t convinced… Nor, you suppose, are you. Your mptives aren’t pure. Edwin knows more than anyone else—he is a terrible risk, left alive. However, he’s…

‘Too dreamy to kill?’ Irinnile finishes.

You huff in frustration at your own pitiful, oh-so-human weakness. You’re at the Hawksong Royal Library, though. There is no time to dwell on such things—it is late in the afternoon, essentially evening, and you have work to do.

When you enter, you find the library mostly empty. This is perfect for you. Better yet, your ‘leak’ is there: the helpful elfmaid, Fesliel.

“Oh, hello!” she says, looking up from her rolling wood-and-steel cart, stack with books and scrolls. “I was just filing away the last of the returns. I’m afraid we’re closing up.”

“That’sss fine,” you say, with a smile.

Fesliel blinks a couple times, looking at you again. “Oh, wait—you’re that young woman who comes here with Edwin of Engel, aren’t you? I haven’t seen you in a while!”

The sting of her words, however unintentional, helps make what comes next all the easier. You…
>Kill her swiftly and cleanly, with your dagger
>Attempt to mesmerize her, and to use her to feed every drop of her lifeforce to sate Irinnile’s growing want [remember: elves are magical creatures]
>Knock her out and attempt to erase her relevant memories
>Slay her and set this place ablaze, destroying countless tomes of human knowledge and covering up your crime
>Write-in
>>
>>5188342
>Attempt to mesmerize her, and to use her to feed every drop of her lifeforce to sate Irinnile’s growing want [remember: elves are magical creatures]

Time to see how magical elves are
>>
>>5188034
This is fine, too. I have a header ready for one more thread, since I foresee this taking a BIIIT longer than I originally thought. Just be aware that dragging the mission out too long can also net a Bad End.
>>
>>5188342
>Knock her out, steal SOME of her life essence and attempt to mesmerize her to send her out of Hawksong
We could try to make her leave the city and go somewhere else. Killing is only going to bring more problems and immediate attention to this place.

Thanks for helping us here, RQM. Even I didn't remember what exactly linked Bianchi to Edwin and us.

>>>too dreamy to kill
No, Edwin just doesn't have it in him to act maliciously, which he proved by not turning Ismena in after he learned she was one of foreigners behind the attack on Gala. Killing either of them would, again, cause more problems.

>>5188347
We already know, better knock her out first
>>5188394
Shit, well. We are famously so bad with deadlines, that it's starting to look like ADHD.
>>
>>5188342
>Attempt to mesmerize her, and to use her to feed every drop of her lifeforce to sate Irinnile’s growing want [remember: elves are magical creatures]

We super charged now
>>
Rolled 15, 18, 16, 11, 10, 2 = 72 (6d20)

>>5188665
>>5188347
>>5188711
[DC 17]
>>
>>5188793
You feel this elven librarian put up more resistance than any other besides the trained mages with their anti-demon charms. Her inherent magic, glowing bright as if reflecting yours or redoubling against it, fights to shield her mind as you approach.

“Nn—No! What are you doing?!” Fesliel protests, dropping her book and staggering back. “You shouldn’t…”

“Shhhh,” you quiet her, touching her cheek, then bringing a finegr to her lips. “It will all be over ssoon.”

>18

The fight leaves her limp body, her eyes going lank and compliant. She nods, and parts her lips for your thumb at lightest pressure. Together, you go behind the library, through a rear door…

…And there, you learn something of the appeal of elves. You pin her down, a hand over her mouth, and explore her body and soul in such completeness that, by the end of the experience, you’re sure you know her—KNEW her, you suppose, for she is no more---than she ever knew herself.

<WANT: 14>

‘WOO!’ Irinnile woops. ‘Babe, we SUPERCHARGED now!’

There was indeed a lot of magical energy within that lithe little frame. It has a different… Texture?... Than Edwin’s, a different sort of feel as it radiates through you and your demon alike. Less potent, you think, less intense… But more stable. A filling meal, but not as richly flavoured, perhaps.

‘Screw the metaphors—let’s go see Laskar for a bit more elf-meat!’

‘Easy, girl,’ you chide her. ‘We have a body to dispose of.’

Irinnile groans at your responsibility, but with her <WANT> abated somewhat, her need is less urgent. She doesn’t fight against you as you do what must be done. Over the next few hours, you use Bianchi’s sword-cane (a useful acquisition indeed!) to dismember the librarian, and you set about disposing of her.

‘It’s nighttime, Hotstuff,’ Irinnile points out unnecessarily. ‘We going to work?’

You know she means The Pretty Kitty, but your last escapade has ensured you will be late for your shift at best. Perhaps it is unwise not to establish an alibi, but then again… perhaps you’ll not need one for much longer?

What do you do?
>Go demon-hunting again—you still have a mission to complete
>Check in with Roth—he can better dispose of this body, and provide useful advice
>Rendezvous with Felman [or another thrall] to follow-up on your near-capture and the investigation’s subsequent progress
>Rest and recover at The Pretty Kitty—for the sake of your alibi, and the completion of your recovery from your magically-inflicted wound
>Write-in
>>
>>5188804
>Check in with Roth—he can better dispose of this body, and provide useful advice
We stalled for far too long. Might as well listen to his complaints now and get rid of the evidence before shit escalates.

And according to >>5188394, we really need to start prioritizing the important things (fulfilling the pacts in time, disposing of Yosefs, delivering the dragonborn) to get them done before the bad end.
>>
>>5188810
In fairness, it depends what you define as "bad"
>>
>>5188820
Mission failure, of course.
>>
>>5188804
>>Check in with Roth—he can better dispose of this body, and provide useful advice
>>
>>5188804
>Check in with Roth—he can better dispose of this body, and provide useful advice

AKA we learn how fucked we are
>>
>>5189197
>>5189084
>>5188810

As you approach Roth’s door, hesitant even to knock, you’ve been putting this off for a while. The Dragonblooded Reptilian, masquerading as a blacksmith for decades now at this forge, is your man point of contact. He ahs been ally, brother-in-arms, almost a mentor to you… A lover to you on at least one occasion. One thing he has never failed to be, however, is your harshest critic. You do not relish what si to come.

‘We could just, ya’ know… Not tell him any a’ the bad stuff?’ irinnile suggest.

It would hamper his ability to deliver you useful counsel to do so, though. You gulp, steeling yourself, and rap upon the portal. As always, it takes the old Dragonblooded One time to open his many, many locks and latches. Normally you’d mock such paranoia but, well… he Has been kidnapped twice in the last month or so.

“Yes, how can I—” Roth asks he opens the door, looking almost chipper… Only for his voice and expression to drop as he looks down and sees you. “Oh.”

“Yesss,” you sa with a smile. “That ‘oh’.”

“Well, don’t’ just stand there,” he huff, “come in.”

To your surprise, Roth actually begins to pour you a drink as soon as you are inside—a gesture he has never, EVR even hinted at. You didn’t even realize he had alcohol on the premises! As he hands you a tumbler, you sniff it, and find it… Surpsisingly mild, fruity, and floral.

“Our kind handle alcohol more poorly tan these grain-muching surface savages,” he notes.

‘Aw shit, is THAt what it is?’ Irinnile muses. ‘I just thought you were a lightweight!’

“Why are you offering me this kindnessss?” you ask.

Roth huffs, looking away and sipping his own drink. “I heard what happened at the Gala. You’ve not returned since. No golems have descended upon us, nor Paladins nor Inquisitors.”

He looks at you with… Almost, ALMOST respect.

“You succeeded,” he says, in your True Speech. “Excellent work, Infiltrator.”

Irinnile laughs aloud the sound rattling around your brain. ‘That ain’t the half of it!”
>>
>>5189273
And so you tell him all of it: Chika’s destruction, the Dragonborn’s discovery and liberation, Henzler’s and Felman’s enthrallment, your further bargaining with The Incubus, your battles with the forces of The Tower and with the Inquisition as you acquire the promised demons, Bianchi’s demise. All of it except…

‘We tell him about Edwin, an’ Roth’ll gank him,’ Irinnile notes, neither with great enthusiasm or (you note) evidence displeasure.

“This alliance with The Incubus… Your methods in rounding up these demons… Leaving a DIRECT DESCENDANT of a Great Dragon in the clutches of a demon…”

Roth’s usual disapproving harrumph rears its ugly head, as he glwoers at you.

“As ever, you leave far too much of our destiny in the hands of lesser spirits, rather than trusting in the Dark Gods… Or in yourself. It is a shameful waste of time. This ‘dragonborn’ should be among our people already. You say you’ve left him there for DAYS, with only… A surface-ape, mutants, and a DEGENERATE for company?”

“The Fleshweaver, Henzler, made the Dragonborn as well,” you note. “I suspect it is a hybrid—a ‘chimera’—as well.”

The notion fills Roth with obvious shock and disgust.

“But still,” he says, with great resignation, “A being that close to a true dragon… He cannot be used as a bargaining chip, let alone when the Paladins or The inquisition could so easily render your new ‘pact’ untenable by destroying the final demon before you acquire it. And this Incubus has the dwarven relic as well! You’ve given this pathetic spirit FAR too much leverage.”

“What would you have me do?” you ask, trying to keep the defensiveness from your tone. “What’s done is done—I must now ensure the pact is completed. That is all there is to this matter.”

“Stage a coup—a betrayal.”

You blink, first your nictitating membrane and then your outer eyelids. Such is your surprise and confusion. You take a sip of your drink, thus far untouched.

“I… Cannot.”

“You CAN,” Roth presses. “You engineered your initial pacts to favour us—the only bright spot in your dealings with this DEMON. Use your human puppets to steer the Inquisition against that bastard’s nest of weak-willed human slaves. Destroy its hosts, its base of power! Then, we eliminate a rival, and an obligation, and offer up to the humans a sacrificial lamb!”

It is… Clever, in Roth’s own direct and brutal way.

‘Lispy,’ Irnnile quails, ‘if we fuck this up, Inky’s gonna’ be PISSED. We’ll be fucked, and NOT, I repeat NOT, in any a’ the fun ways.’
>>
>>5189274

Do you finish your drink?
>Yes
>No

Do you tell Roth about your final conversation with Edwin?
>Yes
>No

What do you do about the matter of The Incubus and this final demon?
>Go for Roth’s plan—turn the Inquisition against The Incubus
>Turn this down as too risky, but ask for Roth’s aid in hunting down the final demon
>Tell Roth you need to consider your options, but request combat training
>Attempt to seduce Roth, while you’re hear anyway [will render him to tired to lend martial aid even if you choose such an option, but reduce <WANT>]
>Ask him about something else [what?]
>Thank him, and leave
>Write-in
>>
>>5189275
>Yes
We need it

>No
He doesn’t need to know that part

>Turn this down as too risky, but ask for Roth’s aid in hunting down the final demon
Let’s just get the final demon, get the Dragonborn and gtfo of this city

The Incubus will come into conflict with the inquisition naturally enough. With our sleeper agents we can also prolong the conflict. Making both sides weaker
>>
>>5189275
>Yes
>No
We already solved edwin by killing the librarian


>Turn this down as too risky, but ask for Roth’s aid in hunting down the final demon

Demons ping higher on the inquisitions radar than us. Framing it is a trump card we should save for a truly dire situation.
>>
>>5189275
>Yes
This will somehow fuck us over later, won't it?
>Yes
>Turn this down as too risky, but ask for Roth’s aid in hunting down the final demon

>Request combat training
>>
Rolled 6, 3 = 9 (2d20)

>>5189281
>>5189290
>>5189331
>>
>>5189576
OUCH?
>>
>>5189576
>>5189331
>>5189290
>>5189281

You hastily down your drink, wiping a bit from your lips. You look to Roth, briefly considering owning up to the one part of the story you have not spoken on… But no. Edwin, and matters related to him, are well-in-hand. Handled, even. There’s no need to have that discussion. Instead, you say:

“Dragonblooded One, your plan is too great a risk. If it failed, we could lose EVEERYTHING. I cannot even say for certain how to locate the farmhouse where our operatives and our prizes are kept.”

Roth’s eyes widen and his nostrils flare, emitting a puff of smoke. You hasten to amend your statement.

“I have quite easy ways to locate them, using the puppet Henzler, but this would still put the Dragonborn, our fellow Infiltrator, and the dwarven relic at risk.”

Roth scoffs, grumbling something about the irresponsibility of ‘keeping all eggs in one clutch’, but he nods.

“Assist me instead, if you would,” you continue. “We need only acquire one additional demon.”

Roth taps a foot repeatedly, looks to you, paces the room… And then leaves. When he returns, he is wearing a chestplate, mail, and carrying a short, straight blade—plain, unornamented, effective.

“Very well,” he says, “we will do this in the manner which you propose.”

“Thank you for your—”

“Do. Not. Fail.”

You close your mouth, not finishing your sentence.

‘So, uhhh… What’s the play?’ Irinnile asks.

You sit down, feeling the drink wash over you. Your confidence swells a little, inhibitions lower. It all seems very doable, you reckon. The final demon is a mantid-like creature. To catch such a being, you need only…
>Find easy prey, such as what the hellhound was feeding upon
>Release Brezzog, the hellhound, and have him sniff about for his old jailmate
>Summon Felman to assist you in searching out the demon with his mage expertise
>Pay old Lord Yosef a visit, to see if he has any insight into such beings
>Return to the library, using a key stolen from the elven librarian’s corpse, to search their archives for clues
>Summon Siz-Gamid again, hopefully with better results now that the glasses which might have targeted her are sabotaged
>Write-in
>>
>>5189592
>Release Brezzog, the hellhound, and have him sniff about for his old jailmate

Whole reason why we asked to keep him
>>
>>5189592
>Release Brezzog, the hellhound, and have him sniff about for his old jailmate
>Shield Roth's eyes from display of such devilry
>>
I'm sorry if we messed up the story, RQM. The image in OP makes me feel like we did.
>>
>>5189592
>>Summon Siz-Gamid again, hopefully with better results now that the glasses which might have targeted her are sabotaged
>>
>>5189611
Supporting

>>5189684
Bad feels

Are we locked into the bad ending path?
>>
Rolled 8, 20, 8, 20, 5, 11, 20, 17 = 109 (8d20)

>>5189605
>>5189611
>>5189990
>>5190246
You and your better-bred comrade Roth step out into the streets of Hawksong. It is dark, but even so, you find yourself hesitant to don your leafweave armour or your bloodied magic cloak. After all, both are distinguishing features that will be immediately recognizable to those forces of Tower and Crown investigating the demonic attacks around the city. However, if you face down Paladins or Inquisitors again, you may have need of these protections.

“You may wish to avert your eyes, to pressserve your purity,” you teasing warn Roth as you uncork the scroll-case containing your tracker.

Roth rolls his eyes and snorts in annoyance, though whether at your continued reliance on devilry or at your jibe, you cannot say.

Brezzog, emerging from the case head-first, shake himself as his ectoplasm fills out into something mid-way between his original great size and the much-diminished state which his defeat consigned him to. The hellhound looks to you, inscrutable in its alien expression—even its aura and body language are unreadable to you, though through Irinnile you sense annoyance.

“You would rather be with The Incubusss,” you note.

“Yes,” Brezzog says, succinct and to the point. “Knights… Pain.”

“Hurry in helping usss, and you will return to your masster all the sssooner.”

Brezzog snorts now, and in a curious way, its attitude reminds you of Roth.

‘They do make a cute couple,’ Irinnile sniggers.

“Guide usss,” you instruct the hound. “We sseek the mantid… The lasst of your liberated brethren.”

Dutifully, the hound turns its strange, almost insectoid head one way, then the other, scenting the air in an almost viper-like way. Truly, ‘hound’ is a relative term.

“Follow,” it barks, and sets off at a brisk trot.

“Sstick to the alleysss!” you hiss after it, following swiftly.

Roth sheathes his sword, pulls a drab and brownish cloak about him, and follows you both.

What do you wear?
>Something protective
>Something inconspicuous
>Some surplus, ill-fitting scrap armour from Roth’s forge

[Continuing... After a few rolls]
>>
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>>5190291
>20 for tracking

You follow Brezzog for some distance through the murk of a misty night, trusting the infernal entity’s nose to guide you. It does not fail you, as the demon quickly catches the scent of its familiar fellow.

However, that isn’t all it sniffs out.

For a time the hellhound bounds faster and faster, forcing you to exert yourself to catch up and beginning to leave heavier, slower Roth in your dust… But suddenly, on the edge of a dense area of human housing out towards the dockyards but not quiet in sight of the sea, this chase comes to a screeching halt. The hellhound stops, stiff and alert, and emits a guttural growl that ill-suits its new, smaller size. You

“What isss it?” you whisper.

“Knight,” Brezzog rumbles; then, correcting itself: “Knights.”

Roth draws up behind you a moment later, winded; you shush him before he can speak, and guide him to the bottom of a rising gravel path between many tall tenements. There, you peer out, using your demonically-aided eyes to get a sense of the situation.

You half-expect to see Paladin knights cornering your quarry—it would be par for the course with your lousy luck, but no: it is entirely the opposite. You can just faintly make out a rail-thin shadow, moving in a spidery mode of locomotion which seems altogether unnatural at its much greater size. Creeping along a wall and swinging from laundry-lines, dangling from parapets like a monkey along jungle treetops… And following a pair of Paladins. Unlike previous pairs, both seem to be full-fledges, gryphon-mounted fighters of standing and seniority. You recognize Sir Innes as one of them, now armed and armoured with heavy steel plate and a great, menacing mace. The other, with sword and shield and riding a gryphon who moves jerkily as if unused to its rider, is he who fought you back on the night prior; his mount is clearly a replacement for that which Brezzog slew in that confrontation.

>20 times TWO for stealth

You spy upon them, listening to the silence between them but sensing something subtly… Off. Roth, less adept at the art of stealth, hovers back, with Brezzog remaining with him as well. For your part, though, your stealth is such that you creep close enough to hear them—almost close enough to kill them!—without being noticed. The two wizened warriors are mostly silent, until…

“You sense it, don’t you?” says Innes.
>>
>>5190332

>17 for Paladins' <Detect Evil Outsider>

“Aye,” says the other man, almost too quiet to hear.

“Is it one,” Innes asks, “or two?”

“…Was one. Now… More. Two at least. One is faint, very faint.”

“One is above us,” Innes notes.

“Aye,” the other Paladin agrees.

They slow. With a start, you realize they are AWARE the mantis-demon is hunting them… And they are ready for it, or at least believe you are. Worse, by their words, you know that they sensed your approach, and that of Brezzog, though it’s evident it is a vaguer sense their feeling for the mantid. You could still ambush them—probably take one of them out, maybe his gryphon as well—but could you handle both?

‘Or we could go back an’ get Roth an’ the hound,’ Irinnile suggests, her tone lapsing into hysteria at the thought of battling two great chimeras and their well-armed demon-slayers alone. ‘Y-yeah! Let’s do that, huh, Hotstuff?’

What do you do?
>Attempt assassinate one of the paladins, and draw their fire—maybe the mantid will take advantage of the opening?
>Return to Roth and Brezzog, and coordinate an organized assault
>Wait for the mantid to attack, and to draw the Paladins’ attention, and then backstab them when the risk is reduced
>Assume a less conspicuous guise, with no lisp, and create a distraction as an apparent innocent
>This is an unnecessary risk—intercept the demon above, and warn it that the Paladins have detected its presence and that it should leave with you
>Write-in
>>
>>5190246
>>5189684
There is no "messing up" the story, because I have no intended path or end for this -- just options. As for if you're locked into a bad end... No comment, but you're definitely not locked into the WORST end. Just also not the BEST, if one criteria for that, for you, is Edwin's undying love and acceptance of you as a Reptilian agent.

The art is all just meant as a gift to you anons for playing, highlighting relationships with the characters you seem most invested in... But it doesn't reflect an OTP or anything. After all, The Infiltrator is holding a knife.
>>
>>5190336
>This is an unnecessary risk—intercept the demon above, and warn it that the Paladins have detected its presence and that it should leave with you

don't want to get reinforcements summoned on us yet again, roth can't escape quick like us
>>
>>5190291
>Something protective
As in, clothes.
>>5190336
>This is an unnecessary risk—intercept the demon above, and warn it that the Paladins have detected its presence and that it should leave with you
Let's hope they don't follow...
>>
>>5190370
Supporting this
>>
Rolled 12, 4, 8, 2, 14 = 40 (5d20)

>>5190370
>>5190624
>>5190652
You look down at your attire: a simple brown-and-white dress, men’s pants to enable you to run swiftly without chafing… No armour, no cloak. You are in no shape to battle such a bevvy of bruisers. No, frankly, do you think that you would do so anyway—not after your last encounter with their corps. The paladin whose name you do not know almost singlehandedly slew you and Brezzog, after all! No, discretion is the better part of valour, if you even cared for valour at all to begin with.

You sink back into the shadows and, once safe from sight, you manifest Irinnile’s wings.

<WANT: 15>

This is the swiftest and quietest way to reach the hunting mantis-demon. You signal for Roth and Brezzog to move back, and to ready to retreat. Roth nods and complies—he may enjoy slaughter, as you do, but he is first and foremost a pragmatist, or he would not have survived undetected so long. Brezzog, for its part, needs to be dragged back, pulled against the force of its fierce hunger for holyman flesh and for vengeance. Roth is up to the task, and so you spread your wings and fly.

When you land upon the rooftop behind the mantid, you have to do so joltingly to evade a sickle-like limb which whips through the air before you, nearly catching you and ripping you open. Only when you land and the lanky, leggy entity looms over you does this demon seem to recognize you.

“Liberator,” it greets you. “Return later.”

You blink a couple times, then smile and say, “I ssee that you are busy, good demon, but thisss hunt iss doomed.”

“What do you mean by this?” it responds in its unnerving, chittering voice; you THINK you detect confusion and outrage, but who can say?

You intuit that you have correctly judged this entity: it is a hunter, first and foremost. Similar to Brezzog, it seeks to glut itself upon living flesh and departing souls. However, its choice of prey is curious…
“You have been detected,” you explain, “and they wait to ensssnare you. You should come with me, to rally with the Greater Demon and the other freed prisssonerss.”
>>
>>5190767

The mantid runs its blade-like appendage through its mouth, a dozen thin tongues lapping across it in a rapid, rasping motion to clean it. The way its face forms a more human maw, only to then crumble apart into so many distinct mandibles and papillae is… Unnerving. So, too, does it upset with its reply:

“I am no coward. I hunt the strong. I admit misgivings about fighting two men and two beasts at once… But I will issue my challenge. I will not flee mortals, not even these… Paladins.”

Your smile feels more forced now, as you say, “I wish you would reconsssider, my friend. These humanss will not fight honourably… They are sspecialisstss in sslaying demonsss, and they do not value to integrity of ssuch a challenge.”

It’s a guess, technically—you don’t know how they would react to a demon challenging them to what amounts to an honourable duel.

>14

“I will be the judge of that,” the demon hisses and clicks. “I will test their mettle!”

Your smile is gone now.

“You may join me in this, Liberator,” the mantid allows, as if in deference to your displeasure. “You are owed gratitude, and it would make the numbers more even—the battle better.”

What do you do? This devil won’t be reasoned with.
>Agree to aid the mantid in battle against the Paladins
>Refuse—it’s on its own, for duels are dumb and immature
>Refuse, but lend aid from above, at an opportune moment—sneak attacks are NOT dumb or immature
>Leave, while the getting is good
>Attack the mantis-demon—it will be easier to beat, you reckon, and then you can stuff it in your scroll-case and leave with it as your prisoner
>Write-in
>>
>>5190771
>Agree to aid the mantid in battle against the Paladins

ughghghgghghgh
fookin dumb bug
>>
>>5190771
>Refuse, but lend aid from above, at an opportune moment—sneak attacks are NOT dumb or immature
>>
>>5190771
>Refuse, but lend aid from above, at an opportune moment—sneak attacks are NOT dumb or immature

Or if the demon is getting wrecked - just sneak away.

Alternatively…could we consult the Record for the demon’s true name and then compel it to leave?
>>
>>5190943

>Alternatively…could we consult the Record for the demon’s true name and then compel it to leave?

[No -- you had no luck even finding this variety of demon when you searched the record, qnd its true name would be harder to find... If it's in there at all. The Akashic Record of the Dark Gods only records events to which an agent of those gods was a direct witness. If no agent ever summoned the mantid in the past, you have no record of its name.]
>>
>>5190771
>Agree, but lend aid from above, at an opportune moment—sneak attacks are NOT dumb or immature
He can fuck right off, we're NOT getting close to those those griffins.
>Tell Roth to be ready to cook the birds at an opportune moment
>>
>>5190878
>>5190932
>>5190943
>>5190960

“I am willing to aid you,” you begin, tentatively, “but… Not sso directly.”

The demon freezes, then its limbs twitch and shudder in an unpleasant way-unpleasant to you and, by its subtle shift in tone, unpleasant to it, also.

“Most dishonourable.” The demon twitch again, and turns around. “You will spoil the fun of my hunt. Stay out of it, then. I will permit you to kill one—ONE—human, and one chimera.”

You frown, saying “Ssneak attackss are a valid sstrategem in a hunt.”

“If you attack the mortal whom I am dueling,” the mantis-demon says as it clambers towards the edge of the roof, “I will vivisect you and eat your entrails.”

‘I don’t like this one no more,” Irinnile comments, shrinking back to the far side of your aura, away from the mantid.

The mantid leaps from the rooftop, coming to a calamitous clatters of limbs—you aren’t sure whether four or six, as it seems to shift between the two configurations as it makes certain movements—upon the next. The Paladins’ attention snaps to this monstrous entity, more fearsome than Brezzog was and with a more unsettling aura. They draw weapons, and their gryphons feathers flare into a mane about their heads as they squawk and screech.

Neither of them has paid you any heed. You suspect you’ve gone unnoticed, comparatively mundane and drab in comparison to this grotesque gargoyle of a demon.

“There!” shouts Sir Innes. “Take aim!”

Both human warriors draw up bows—they expected winged prey, no doubt , after your last escape from the Paladins. They let fly one arrow after another, but the mantid bats them away with the flats of its sickle-like blades. It leaps down, comes crashing down in a heap, and for a second you thik an arrow ahs found its mark after all… But the mantid rolls forwards and up into a leap.

“Fight me, cowards!” the mantid chitters, its voice shrill. “One by one, I will cut you down! You may even bring your birds!”

The humans hesitate. The other one, Not-Innes, casts about with his eyes, no doubt seeking out the other demonic presence he sensed. Do they hesitate to directly engage the demon out of fear, disdain, or because they sense a trap? Regardless, you duck out of his vision and…

>Draw and throw your frost-blade
>Wait for him to look away, and then swoop down upon them with Bianchi’s sword-cane in-hand
>Signal Roth and Brezzog to let loose dragonfire and hellfire form their hiding place below
>Attempt to muddle the mammals’ minds with magic, creating an opening for the mantid
>Write-in

[Please also specify a target, or target(s) if you plan to attack more than one]
>>
>>5191296
>Attempt to muddle the GRIFFINS’ minds with magic, creating an opening for the mantid
Mantis can do this his way. I'd rather avoid irritating it any further if we're planning to take it to the Incubus after.
>Signal Roth and Brezzog to let loose dragonfire and hellfire form their hiding place below
Only on the birds as well.
>>
>>5191370
+1
>>
>>5191370
>>5191577

You hatch a plan: to muddle the minds of the mounts of these men, and then to advise your allies to attack!

The first step is key. You are at a considerable distance, targeting two gryphons at once, and they are distracted by more immediate and pressing concerns, so it is no easy feat… But they are also bird-brained chimeras. You flash a beacon of light, a twinkle directed at them to draw their eyes; unfortunately, it is as likely as not to draw the eyes of their riders. You can only hope The Mantis seizes the moment, while you help even the playing field with a bolt of psychic energy directed at the two cat-bird hybrids…

5 for mentalism [DC 17], 2 for Roth's attack with firebreath [DC 10 if you distract them, 15 if you don't], 3 for The Mantis' attack [DC varies depending how the first two go], then 4 dice for your various opponents' reactions
>>
Rolled 14, 13, 4, 17, 20, 3, 18, 2, 12, 4, 12, 10, 1, 20 = 150 (14d20)

>>5191592
>>
>>5191592
>>5191594

The first step goes flawlessly! Not only to you manage to use careful angling of the glare from your illusory shine to catch the gryphons’ attention, but you manage to avoid tipping off either rider! Once both gryphons’ heads are swiveled towards you, you shut your eyes, move your hands in mesmeric patterns, and let the magic flow from your mind and soul and into theirs. For all their great size and terrible form, these creatures are, if anything, even SMPELR than Hirschel… And it is a simple thing for you to dominate such simple minds.

You don’t just befuddle these artificial beings: you make them YOURS.

It is a simple thing to make both bird0monsters throw their human riders at that point, inciting cries of alarm and confusion.

“Pantera! Woah!” the Paladin-with-No-Known-Name cries, before being hurled to the ground.

“It must be the demons!” Innes shouts, having leapt from his mount to avoid a similar hard fall. “Sir Garreth, steer clear! Make distance from the gryphons!”

You smirk and tilt your head. Oh, as if you’d let that happen. No: before he can get too far, this ‘Sir Garreth’ is pinned beneath the weight and the hooked talons of his dreadful hybrid horse-substitute. You think you ca JUST make out hm pleading with his gryphon to release him, to snap bac to its senses…

>18

…But it is too late. You signal your allies, and Roth steps forward from his hiding place. Neither Paladin ahs so much as a moment to respond before the dragonfire engulfs the area, swallowing up man and gryphon alike. Screams and shrieks go up, as Sir Garreth and his beloved, hideous ‘Pantera’ go up in flames, scorched across more than their surface even in the brief burst of fire. If there is any flame that can eb said to be hotter than that of the Hells, you know, it is dragonfire; even one of a diluted bloodline such as Roth is a force to be reckoned with.

However… A merely dragonBLOODED one such as he lacks the tremendous lungs and tremendous magical stores of a true dragon. Then the fire dissipates, you see that Garreth has been baked alive like a lobster in his shell of armour—if he is breathing, he will not be for long. The still-smoking, ember-clad corpse of his great gryphon lies atop him, quite plainly dead However, Innes was the more prepaed of the two paladins: he was able to draw up a plainly-magical shield, and to use this to guard himself… And his gryphon, at least somewhat. The beast is burned, weakened, half-mad with pain and with your mesmerism’s lingering influence… But it is a LINGERING influence, too, for forcing it to stand still and to endure the flames which so hurt it was enough to break your domination through instinctive self-preservation. The man is largely unharmed, but he cannot rely on his mount any longer.

“Yes! YES!” the mantis cries jubilantly. “This is as it should be. The weak fall away. The strong survive! NOW, we DUEL!”
>>
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>>5191602

>12…

The Mantis advances in a blur, almost to swift to see even from your elevated vantage point. Its limbs are raised high into the sky, ready to come down in twin scything arcs and to skewer the holy warrior at his weakest points, far too fast for a shield to be moved into place to block. You have no doubt that it would have been fatal…

>…vs. 20

…Had not Sir Innes somehow seen the bug-demon approaching, and wisely dropped the shield. Somehow, this old man had speed and strength necessary to haft his mace from his belt, and accuracy enough to bring it upwards in an arm that deflect one blade Then, stepping sideways to avoid the other, he let The mantis stumble past him on sheer momentum, landing among the gravel. The mantis began to right itself—BEGAN this process—but for all its unnatural speed, Innes was clearly no normal man either.

Sir Innes brought his mace down with a sickening crunch and splat, and where once The Mantis had a head, now there was so much fragmented chitin and blackish, brackish goo.

‘T-techncially, bug-boy could still be “alive”,’ Irinnile suggests nervously. “His, uh, his ‘brain’ isn’t ya’ know, the centre of his being. Demons are built different. If his essence isn’t capture or oobliterated…’

But you aren’t apying attention to her silver-linings lecture; honestly, you suspect Irinnile’s yammering is just to quiet the fear you feel rising inside her at this display of Paladin prowess. You feel a similar horror rising inside you, but for different reason… Because you follow Innes’ eyes, and see them lock upon Roth and Brezzog.

What do you do?
>Swoop down to stand between your allies and this Paladin
>Shout a warning to Roth
>Throw your dagger in a desperate bid to slay Innes before he can attack your allies
>Let Roth provide a distraction while you collect what remains of The Mantis
>Write-in
>>
>>5191603
*isn't captured or obliterated

This is what happens when I post in a rush: typos and missed dice rolls. Damnit.
>>
>>5191603
>Let Roth provide a distraction while you collect what remains of The Mantis

I believe in Roth
>>
>>5191603
>>>he dropped his magical shield
>>>only Roth used his fuel

HMMM
>Shout a warning to Roth
Let the doomer parry the boomer
>Have Brezzog fry Innes
BBQ
>Scoop up the Mantis

By the Dark Gods, those great rolls were amazing to read.
>>
>>5191603
>>Shout a warning to Roth
>>
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Rolled 2, 12, 13, 8, 10, 11 = 56 (6d20)

[Post incoming. 3d20 for Roth, 2d20 for Brezzog, 1d20 reaction die for Innes.]
>>
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>>5191988
>>5191837
>>5191637
>>5191627
>>5191837
>>5191627
>>5191637

“Roth!” you cry. “Look out!”

This catches the dragonblooded Reptilian’s attention, but also that of the human warrior. Sir Innes pauses in his advance for a moment, looking to you. You see him squint to get a clearer look, and then his eyes widen.

“You!” he roars, recognizing you from the alley despite your shifted appearance on both occasions—perhaps, you guess, by your voice or by context.

>13 vs. 11

The distraction is sufficient to allow Roth a chance to flee… But, naturally, Roth is not to sort to abandon the field of battle, and a living witness to the Conspiracy. With a roar of his own—a more visceral one, beyond the capability of human vocal chords—he leap forwards, drawing and swinging his sword. However, Sir Innes is undoubtedly the more skilled, experienced fighter, in spite of Roth likely being of a similar age. Roth, for all his brutality, is an assassin; Innes is a veteran fighter of head-to-head battles against superhuman foes. The human raises an armoured arm to deflect the blow, shielding his face against both Roth’s repeated, savage attacks upon the region of his exposed face and throat, and then pushes him back with a heavy kick.

Though neither friend nor foe gains ground, this skirmish gives you an opening to make your won move. You uncap your magical scroll-case, no longer host to Brezzog the hellhound, and swoop down on wings of night to scoop up what remains of The Mantis. The twitch carapace scratches and scrapes at the ground as the honour-bound abomination strives to re-enter the battle… But whether its head be vital or not, it clearly has compromised its motor coordination. You evade the snapping jaws of the wounded gryphon, now laying upon the ground and guarding its vitals as an injured animal is wont to do, and likewise you evade the flailing sickles and hands of the disoriented demon.

“Calm yourssself,” you whisper. “I am getting you out of here.”

“Like HELL you are, witch!” Sir Innes bellows, swinging his mace and forcing Roth back. The elder human looks back over his shoulder at you, and whirls about, hefting his weapon high.

“Hound!” you snap at Brezzog. “Defend me, and avenge your failure!”
>>
>>5192006
>10

Brezzog howls a haunting wail, and leaps upon Roth’s back. It clamber up the Reptilian, springboards off of him, and hurls itself and a ball of exploding, infernal plasma at the human. Innes is caught off-guard, and forced to turn his mace from its intended target (that is to say, you) to batting away the fireball, and then fending off the hellhound which produced it.

What do you do?
>Continue to ritual needed to bottle up The Mantis, then retreat
>Transmit some of Irnnile energy’s to The mantis to get it up on its feet, at the expense of Irinnile’s <WANT> sharply rising
>Torture the wounded gryphon to distract Innes, granting Roth another opening
>Join the fray with dagger and sword-cane
‘H-hey, babe, no way!’ Irinnile interrupts your consideration of your options. ‘One solid blow from that mace and we’re fuckin’ DONE for. I can’t regenerated smashed-in-head-it is, Hotstuff.’
>Write-in
>>
>>5192009
>Continue to ritual needed to bottle up The Mantis, then retreat

Innes is 2 stronk
at least he doesn't seem to be calling for backup
maybe we can glamor him once mantis is secure
>>
>>5192009
>Continue to ritual needed to bottle up The Mantis, then torture the wounded gryphon to distract Innes, granting Roth another opening

If we can feed on it's soul, all the better in my opinion.
>>
>>5192009
>Continue to ritual needed to bottle up The Mantis, then torture the wounded gryphon to distract Innes, granting Roth another opening
If it's of any use, ofc.
Let's hope the dragondog squad gets better rolls this time. Don't wanna spend the following days shitting healing potions for our disemboweled Dragonblood and beaten hellhound.

If we win I'd like to loot these pieces of shit, maybe ask Roth how good are their weapons and equipment. And if we have a moment, take a look at their armor and griffins up close to familiarize ourselves with them and possibly find some weakspots.

Is Roth's dragonfire different to demonic? As in, can the Paladins/Tower notice it wasn't a demonic entity that cooked 2.5 of their friends and pets?
>>
Rolled 15, 20, 14, 11, 14, 5, 20, 8, 6, 20 = 133 (10d20)

>>5192039
>>5192183
>>5192188
[3 dice for Roth, 2 for Brezzog, 4 for your melee combat, 1 for Innes' reaction]
>>
>>5192303
You trust in Roth to handle his own business… At least, for long enough to finish soothing the headless bug-demon and to perform the necessary ritual to activate the scroll-case’s magic.

Your faith proves well-founded: though Innes fights well, the combination of Brezzog and Roth proves a potent one. They flank him, provoking a wing of his mace to one side only to tackle, bites, or slash at him from the other. His speed with such a heavy weapon is impressive, admittedly, but even he cannot draw the mace back and swing it in the opposite direction as quickly as the pair can move against him.

You return your focus to your own task. The Mantis’ physical form begins to liquify, to re-congeal, and then swirls up and into the container as if flowing down a drain, but against the pull of gravity. Your cap the case, stand again… And turn to the gryphon.

>20 for you

You approach the great bird-beast, anchoring your scroll-case to your belt and drawing your frost dagger instead. You struggle against that old, ancestral terror of the snapping beak—no, you work WITH it, letting the terror of being torn to shreds and consumed by this unnatural apex predator motivate you to greater feats of nimbleness as you dodge the pained creature’s jaws. You close the distance and, with a leap and a beat of Irinnile’s wings, you sail over its head and land upon its back… Where, with knife in hand, you go to work.

The screeches your torture elicits in the big, struggling chimera send shudders through your spine, almost force you into a flying retreat against your judgement, but you persist. Your own reaction is nothing compared to what it elicits in Innes, though. The man whirls about immediately, eyes wide in fury and fear for his animal companion.

>20 for Innes vs. Brezzog’s 14

Brezzog seems to believe in has an opening… But he is wrong. Innes swings his mace underhand, catching the demon-dog square on and sending it chittering and wailing into a wall of a nearby building, where its physical form collapses in on itself. Brezzog slides down the wall, leaving a streak of ectoplasm, and lies still.

Innes, however, is already running toward you, bellowing a war-cry.

‘Oh fuck fuck FUCK FUCK BAAA-aaa—AAABE!’

Irinnile is now willing you to fly away as well, her instinctive phobias joining your own… But you wear the diadem, and it gives you <CLARITY>. You hold steady, meeting Innes’ eyes...
>>
>>5192324


>20 for Roth

…As he realizes his error. The Paladin was so eager to rescue the gryphon that he failing to guard against Roth. Though he might not have been the superior fighter, Roth IS a skilled assassin, and not above attacking an opponent from behind. He reaches out, grabbing the knight by a strap across the back of his armour and wrenching him back, and into his neck he plunges his straight, simple blade. Again and again he stabs Innes, splattering them both with blood and ensuring the paladin’s demise with no further struggle.

You look into the man’s eyes as he realizes he has lost, failed, and died. It gives you no small satisfaction, but as a ‘kindness’, you send his gryphon to join him.

You take a deep, shuddering breath and climb down from the gryphon’s back, while Roth cleans his blade. Only the two of you remain alive… Well, and Brezzog, you hope.

“We should go,” Roth whispers as you approach, in the True Speech. “This was no quiet battle. We will have been heard, likely seen, by humans.”

“It is dark,” you reply.

“It was lit by flame, and a gryphon’s cry is not something that can be mistaken,” Roth says.

You sigh. You’d been hoping for a more thorough examination of the bodies, their equipment.

“We should at least take their belongings,” you say. “Their equipment seems… useful.”

You reach for one such piece of equipment—the dropped shield, which could defend even against dragonfire… And you flinch back, your hand singing and faintly smoking, skin blistered and nails split.

‘Yyyyowch!’ Irinnile hisses. ‘Blessed arms, babe. No-go for a demon ho.’

You frown. “Dragonblooded One, i… Will check upon the hellhound. Perhaps, as a blacksmith, you can better inspect the quipment?”

If Roth registers the real reason for your change in duties, he makes no comment, simply complying while haughtily telling you: “Waste no time, Infiltrator. I cannot fight off two such opponents at once, much as I am loathe to admit it.”

The old Reptilian IS moving stiffly, slowly, as if overexerted. The scant energy you retrieved from the gryphon’s demise is scarcely enough to mend your burned hand, and Brezzog… Well, the hellhound has seen better days, though you and Irinnile are able to confirm that his crumpled shell contains the spark of demonic ‘life’, such as it is. You scoop him up, cradling him in one arm.
>>
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>>5192326
>>5192326

Roth joins you not long after, heavily-laden with bow, sword, mace, and shield of the Paladins.

“I cannot carry it all,” he says.

“If I am to fly, neither can I,” you reply.

“Hrmph.”

What will Roth take with him?
>The sword
>The mace
>The shield
>A bow and quiver
[Choose two]

What is your next move?
>You have all the demons—head straight to The Incubus
>Rest at Roth’s home—you need time to rest, and to think, before negotiating with such a deadly frenemy
>Let Roth head home—you plan to scout the city a bit, to see what response your slaying of the Paladins creates
>Before you can make preparations to leave Hawksong, you still have one matter to attend to—the Yosef bloodline—and you will begin by paying your ‘grandfather’ a visit
>Write-in
>>
>>5192188
>on the nature of dragonfire

[A close magical/forensic investigation could perhaps turn something up... But likely not. After all, Hirschel Yosef was slain by Roth's fire, and so was Zivic, and (to your knowledge) nobody drew any draconic conclusions.]
>>
>>5192329
>The mace
>A bow and quiver

>You have all the demons—head straight to The Incubus
get them delivered before anything else can pop up
>>
>>5192326
This post was amazing, gotta love when Roth rolls high. I'd say that seeing our allies wreck havoc is sometimes more satisfying than doing it ourselves.
>>5192329
>The shield
Protects from magic, this might come in handy
>A bow and quiver
If we ever need to hunt some corvids! Oh, and speaking of
>Look to the sky
Wonder if the Incubus saw us

>Thank the Dragonblooded for his assistance and give him a pat
Good Roth, real good. Maybe even the best.
>You have all the demons—head straight to The Incubus
Just make sure nobody follows us, tell Roth to do the same.
>>
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>>5192336
Yes, yes. Hmm, yes.
>Tell Roth to redirect traffic coming here and get ready to scrub the scorch marks...
>>
Rolled 1 (1d2)

>>5192434
>>5192518

[Breaking equipment tie, posting]
>>
>>5192804
>>5192518
>>5192434
After seeing the havoc that mace can wreak, you can’t very well abandon such an item! And, as your unconsciously tilt your chin and peer into the (apparently) empty night sky for signs of possessed, undead corvids, you reflect on the wisdom of perhaps sharpening your ranged combat skills. Though you hold out hope that you will not need to be shooting down any Incubus entries any longer, it would still be an obviously useful skill for an Infiltrator to cultivate. With an appropriate weapon and some more training, you could have slaughtered those Paladins from the rooftop without ever exposing or endangering yourself!

“The mace,” you tell Roth. “The bow and quiver. Bring those, leave the others.”

Roth glowers.

“If you please,” you add, albeit with a small smirk.

Roth grumbles, but complies, letting the rets drop with a crash and clatter.

You pat him on the shoulder in a familiar fashion, saying “Don’t be so dejected, Infiltrator. You performed very well!”

“Where next?” he asks, not pulling away from your friendly gesture but clearly uncomfortable with the humanity of the action. “This is your operation—I take no responsibility for this mess.”

You roll your eyes at the notion that vanquishing so many highly-placed human warriors could constitute a ‘mess’, even if a few humans saw fire-illuminated shadowy silhouettes. It’s not as if you plan to wait here until back-up arrives, after all!

“The Incubusss,” you say, in the human tongue, before reverting back to True Speech. “It is time to end this, before any FURTEHR complications arise. Ensure we are not followed, and I will do likewise.”

“Obviously!” Roth snaps. “Do you think I cannot do my job?”

‘He DID get tracked by Inky back to his little lair,’ Irinnile says, snickering at the old reptile.

You just smile, too pleased with your victory to take Roth’s grumpiness to heart.

The two of you, and Brezzog, make your way across town, to the Incubus’ lair in the semi-squalid not-quite-slumland. You travel carefully under cover of dark—there are guards aplenty, and you even hear a gryphon’s cry once as a small platoon of Paladins travel in the opposite direction at some speed. You smile to think of their reaction when they see the evidence of your superiority in the butchered and burnt corpses of their fallen friends.
>>
>>5192829
It is almost dawn when you arrive, and your adrenaline has worn off. Exhaustion is settling upon you like a cloak, though Roth beside you shows no signs of tiring despite his heavier load to haul. You are greeted by the Incubus, still inhabiting the local ‘lord’ of this apartment complex. The man looks taller, fuller of chest and broader of features, more chinsome; you cannot help but imagine he must normally be quite the opposite, if this is his price to play flesh-puppet to The Incubus’ whims.

“I hear you’ve had quite the night,” The Incubus says, grinning in a rakish and hungry way.

“Sso you were watching,” you say.

“Not up top,” The Incubus says, tapping a toe. “Below. Rats.”

“You are fond of vermin,” you snipe back, eliciting a rare chortle from surly old Roth.

The Incubus shrugs expansively, seemingly unbothered.

“I have a thing for strays,” it says. “Are you planning to pretend you don’t have your own… Proclivities?”

“We have the demons,” Roth announces brusquely, changing the subject.

You send Brezzog forward, and hold up the scroll-case containing The Mantis.

“So I see!” The Incubus acknowledges, clearly excited. “Such obedient… Allies.”

You say nothing.

“So, I suppose our business is concluded,” The Incubus says. “The pact is sealed, and so forth. Pass me the scroll-case, and you can go meet your merry little band of Tower-raiders and carry on with your night.”

What do you do?
>Agree—you’re ready to leave Hawksong, to fetch The Dragonborn, and to travel ack underground to bask in the glory which awaits
>Ask The Incubus to shelter the Dragonborn and the others a little longer—you have a few other matters to attend to, before you leave
>Request rest here, before you travel further
>Ask The Incubus something else [what?]
>Screw that—sic Brezzog on The Incubus’ followers, and shout for Roth to use that holy mace to end this infidel entity
>Write-in
>>
>>5192831
>Agree—you’re ready to leave Hawksong, to fetch The Dragonborn, and to travel ack underground to bask in the glory which awaits
>>
>>5192831
>Screw that—sic Brezzog on The Incubus’ followers, and shout for Roth to use that holy mace to end this infidel entity
>>
Awaiting a tiebreaker
>>
>>5192831
>Request rest here, before you travel further
>>
>>5192932
>>5192984
>>5193230

You lower your hand, eliciting a look of bemused confusion from The Incubus and its current host.

“It hass been a long night,” you say. “Perhapsss it would be besst to take advantage of your hosspitality again, before we travel in the morning?”

The Incubus inclines its head, saying: “By all means. I’d be happy to play host to you—and your draconic friend—again. We’ll conclude our business tomorrow, then”

Roth practically froths with rage, but you shoot him a look, and he acquiesces, albeit with obvious displeasure. The Incubus beckons to the tattooed waif and her ambiguously-gendered compatriot, who lead you to a different room than last you used. Brezzog does not come with you, trotting after The Incubus with only a brief backward glance. You still hold The Mantis in your care—your only remaining leverage.

“I don’t understand,” Roth says, whispering in True Speech. “What are you playing at? There is now reason to spend any longer in the company of this pitiful lesser being than necessary.”

“You are tired, too,” you admonish him. “I can see it. Rest, Aged One.”

Roth harrumphs at the implication. “I could, and have, worked longer and more arduous nights than this.”

“But you need not,” you point out, “and whatever the morning brings, we will face it without the disadvantage of sore muscles and weary minds.”

“I will hardly be sleeping easily, in such… Company!” he says, a little loudly, nodding towards your human guides.

'Me neither,' Irinnile concurs, in rare agreement with Roth.

'You don't sleep, anyway,' you remind her.

'Yeah, but still!' she protests. 'This place is a total creepshow, babe. Gives me the hobbie-gobbies.'

“Do you get the feeling our guests are saying rude things about us?” the androgene asks aloud, in Northern Common-tongue.

The tattooed female simply laughs. You give Roth a sharp nudge, and shoot a winning smile at the other two. They set you up with two adjoining cots in a dimly-lit lower bedroom, with heavy curtains and a musty, mouldy odour poorly covered by burned herbs.

What do you do?

>Ask The Incubus’ followers something [what?]
>Discuss plans to betray The Incubus with Roth [specify if you have anything in mind]
>Sneak around the complex, looking for valuables or leverage
>Do some dream-delving [who do you target?]
>Sneak out of the complex to visit someone before you leave [who?]
>Sate some <WANT> with Roth
>Just sleep, resting as well as possible in preparation for tomorrow
>Write-in

Averaged out the votes, since it's still effectively a tie, but two are at least votes to not IMMEDIATELY betray or travel with The Incubus
>>
>>5193249
>Sneak out of the complex to visit someone before you leave [who?]

Gank that nerd yosef
>>
>>5193249
>Sate some <WANT> with Roth
>Sneak around the complex, looking for valuables or leverage
>>
>>5193249
>Sate some <WANT> with Roth
>Ask The Incubus’ followers something
Are they happy with the deal they got out of this?
None of them seem to be upset about being bound to stay here be used as flesh puppets, so I wonder how bad they they wanted their wishes granted. Or maybe they are just street rats used to shit environment, who knows?
>Take turns sleeping to avoid being taken by surprise

Sorry I just get a kick from haphazard votes sometimes. Especially with the mace we have it could've been... interesting.
>>
Rolled 15, 2, 11, 19, 13, 20, 2, 12, 4, 15, 11, 15, 16 = 155 (13d20)

>>5193422
>>5193355
>>5193350
>>
>>5193499
Did we succeed in pregging Roth?
>>
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>>5193499
The two humans take their leave, and you and Roth alike settle in as best you can. You’re tired, and you’ve slept here before, but Roth is abuzz with nervous energy. You feel it, too—the tension in this place, the foreboding atmosphere. There’s something about being a host to such a cloying and sacrilegious creature, a pitiful aspirant to Dark Godhood which just sits wrong, in the pit of your stomach.

‘You know,’ Irinnile muses in faux-innocence, ‘we both know just the recipe for nervous energy…’

You sigh good-naturedly, and humour the succubus. Well, you could SAY you’re humouring her—the truth is that your <BLOODLUST> and <HEDONISM> are both such that the earlier burning and butchery has stimulated your own oh-so-human libido in undeniable ways, and Roth’s strength and brutal efficiency went a long way towards focusing that on your fellow Infiltrator.

“H-what? What are you doing?!”

His protest is predictable, as you settle into his lap, but you simply smirk at it. He pushes against you, but you push him down.

“Come now,” you tease, “don’t pretend that the battle didn’t raise your blood as well, Superior One.”

“How do you manage to make PROPER deference sound so insincere, Degenerate?” he shoots back…

>19 for seduction

…But it is without real venom, and so too are his struggles rather half-hearted. You rock your hips expertly against him as the two of you continue to wrestle, and by the time he has you pinned, you feel a familiar, deliciously-draconic dual engorgement against your abdomen.

“I’ll teach you due respect, Lesser Female,” he snarls, a sound richly-textured with a heated implication.

“I am an eager student,” you shoot back sarcastically… Then slip out of his grasp, just long enough to clutch hold of his amulet.

Roth flinches back, startled, and his human disguise flickers and wanes. You see glimmers of those golden, slitted eyes, the rough red scutes of his true body.

“Should I not be taught this lesson by the REAL you?” you whisper.

The Reptilian Infiltrator above you grunt a wordless agreement, ripping his Amulet of Disguise from his breast, and then your clothing from your body.

<WANT: 14>

The next hour passes pleasantly enough, and when you are done, Roth has miraculously found proper, restful torpor in this den of devils. You smirk down at him, stroking the jagged scales of his chin to wish him farewell, and you reacquire and replace your scattered clothing. Unburdened of some of your own stress by orgasm, and with Irinnile’s everpresent appetite thus abated, you return to the real business of Infiltration.

>>5193533
Roth would never allow you to peg him without magically forcing the issue with mesmerism or ectoplasmic puppeteering -- it's a testament to your seduction skill that you can even arouse him outside of a heat cycle
>>
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>>5193536
>20 for stealth

By the burgeoning light of dawn, you are no longer blessed with Irinnile uncanny occult influence to aid in your natural stealth… But you ARE an Infiltrator, and well-practiced by this point. You move fluidly, silently, from room to room. You do not TRUST this Incubus, nor its human acolytes. You want leverage or, better yet, something material.

You find both.

For one thing, it seems the demon has done one better than the communally-living mammals of Goblintown: where they keep their wealth in hastily-inventoried storehouses, this quasi-godling has consolidated the wealth of the people here in a single room. It reminds you of the wererats, from your early days in Hawksong, and how the late and not-so-great Boss Leo kept a ‘throne room’ replete with stolen knickknacks from the surface. This room is better curated, certainly, and more thoughtful in its accumulated acquisitions.

You find more just currency, and saleable goods, too. Among these are even a couple weakly-enchanted items and magical reagents: a stick of engraved, treated wood which you sense great power within, a couple scrollcases not unlike that on your belt, but containing actual scrolls, and a rune-carved stone.

With a bit more in-depth investigation, you find a hidden chamber inside the shelving unit hosting this horde, and inside that hidden space you find a cache of incriminating letters, journals containing confessions of crimes and improprieties, personal belongings without obvious value, even carefully-woven bundles of human hair.

‘Blackmail,’ you think to yourself, and to Irinnile by proxy.

‘An’ th’ means to curse and control people,’ Irinnile notes, almost with as much admiration as fear. ‘Inky has these bitches of theirs on a tight-ass leash. ‘Specially the ones who are into petplay, judging by that one journal.’

The Incubus has means to ruin and discredit any of the humans in its little fiefdom, and the means to kill or control any who go against it. This implies a mastery of magic yet unshared with you, and you shudder to think how much that network of control can now be extended with useful, powerful demonic agents at the greater demon’s beck and call, and ectoplasmic control and surveillance of Hawksong’s prince…

Your work is interrupted by the faint sound of approaching footfalls.
>>
>>5193539
You hastily replace the incriminating cache of hellish leverage, slipping out of the room without a trace and circling back so as to appear that you have come from another direction. It is then that you bump into the human you have taken to thinking of as The Androgene: the large, almost-manly-yet-faintly-feminine enforcer who served as host and avatar of this place’s master when first you visited.

“…The snakegirl,” The Androgene acknowledges you, with some suspicion. “Couldn’t sleep.”

You smile easily, and shrug. “Excccited about tomorrow, I ssuppose. My companion iss out like a ssnuffed candle, though.”

The Androgene chuckles, a sound full of forced femininity. “Maybe he’ll wake up on the not-a-total-asshole side of the bed.”

“He jusst doesssn’t trussst your bossss.” You tilt your head. “Do you?”

>16 for politesse

You watch the human’s aura and micro-expressions with interest. How total is the demon’s control of its inner circle? Not total, you’d wager—you see confidence waver, even as this human says:

“Of course. I owe The Master everything… Everything I am, and can be.”

“All carrot, no sstick?” you ask, tone and expression carefully neutral. “How unlike a demon.”

The Andogrene only shrugs. “The Master isn’t like most demons, then, maybe. The master is… More.”

“And nobody ever triess to leave? Ever tiresss of the arrangement?”

You see defensiveness rising in this human, the familiar and exploitable cognitive dissonance that comes from a believer having their own doubts thrown back in their face.

“I… We have nothing else. We’re the forgotten, abandoned, rejected. The Master isn’t some perfect flawless angel… But what have angels, or gods, or priests and Paladins ever done for someone like me, or Tetovala, or any of us?”

“Sso you’re free to leave,” you interpret, “but with nowhere to go, sso you sstay.”

The Androgene falls silent.

“What would happen if you left?” you ask.

“We can’t leave,” The Androgene says, sounding less happy about it. “We… We won’t. We wouldn’t. Look, I was just… I’ve got to go. There’s work to be done… For The Master.”

What do you do?
>Let The Androgene go, and then loot the room [specify if you take valuables, blackmail material, magic items, or all]
>Offer up the cache to The Androgene, and suggest a revolt or renegotiation of terms between these humans and The Incubus
>Offer and alternative pact to The Androgene, with Irinnile [specify terms]
>Return to your room, and get a bit more sleep
>Go find and confront The Incubus with what you’ve learned, and demand further concessions [such as?]
>Write-in
>>
>>5193540
>Return to your room, and get a bit more sleep

If we're gonna start a war with ziv we should get the dragonborn delivered and no longer in his custody first
>>
>>5193540
>Seduce and offer an alternative pact to The Androgene, with Irinnile [specify terms]
I can make your heart's desire into reality. I can make you into a true woman... or man, if that's your desire. Or is it simply to be valued, desired by others? I can turn your dreams into reality. All I ask is for your... assistance, and cooperation, held in confidence for eternity. A small price, to turn your desires into reality, hmm?
>Let The Androgene go, and then loot the room [All]
Even if our offer falls flat, it may be prudent to take his shit. I'm always interested in magical shit, and the blackmail material is always useful.
>>
>>5193540
A demon in charge of a cult? Pottery.
>Return to your room, and get a bit more sleep
I fear anything we do with her will be found out the second Incubus takes over her body if they have mutual bond like we do with Irinnile. He absolutely has reasons to check after we spent a night in here.

>>5193599
Anon/s, I feel it's important to remember that we have a pact of noninterference with Incubus, which is the only thing that keeps him from kicking our ass.
As >>5193542 said, if we really want to ruin everything built in here, we should wait til after we remove Dragonborn, Alhazred and Henzler from under his wing.
Would be also nice to discuss this with Roth beforehand, he might put the blackmail to good use for OUR cause in this city.

>>5193533
>pregging
yet another anon of culture, I see
>>
>>5194060
>>5193599
>>5193542

“I should resst asss well,” you say. “Ssleep well, A—”

You stop yourself short of calling this human ‘Androgene’.

“…How did you know my name was Ash?” The Androgene asks, narrowing their eyes suspiciously.

‘Whew,’ Irinnile says, ‘SAFE.’

“I know many thingsss,” you bluff smoothly.

You flash a smirk that you suspect has an effect chilling and mysterious. This human may yet be a useful game-piece, when you are ready to make a move—it is important to make yourself seem an equal to their false god in their perception, if you are to steal sheep from this flock. However, it would be foolhardy to make a move now, before you have secured the Dragonborn, the dwarven master stone, and your GLORY…

‘An’ you’re sleepy?’ Irinnile asks.

‘And I am sleepy,’ you acknowledge, ruefully, closing your nictitating membranes and rubbing your eyes.

You hold back a yawn as you return to the room assigned to you and your still-slumbering co-conspirator. It’s unlike a full-blooded Reptilian to still be asleep so late in the day… But then, you DID take a lot out of him.

‘Literally!’ Irinnile sniggers.

You glance between his cot and yours, and sleep…
>Spooned by Roth [+Roth affection]
>In your own cot
>In Roth’s cot, after kicking him out of it [-Roth affection, +sadism]

In the morning, your plan is to:
>Hand off the scroll-case with The Mantis inside, and follow The Incubus to the farmhouse
>Demand to see your various minions and allies, and to speak with Alhazred, before the ahnd-off
>Ask The Incubus to meet you at a second location, where you will bring the scroll-case and The Incubus will bring the Dragonborn et al [specify a location]
>Write-in
>>
>>5194295
>Spooned by Roth [+Roth affection]

>Demand to see your various minions and allies, and to speak with Alhazred, before the hand-off
Leave the scroll once we depart with the Dragonborn
>Use Irinnile to make sure that Henzler and Alhazred are not under influence of Incubus or any other magic
Not letting this slip our attention.
>>
>>5194295
>Spooned by Roth [+Roth affection]
desperate for that affection

>Hand off the scroll-case with The Mantis inside, and follow The Incubus to the farmhouse

Maybe hold onto the case until we get to the farmhouse though

also the lisp is back! nice
>>
>>5194351
[You remanifested it when dealing with Bianchi,and never specified (or had reason to) get rid of it since. All the non-lispy dialogue was in True Speech, wherein half the syllables are hisses anyway. Because it's not actually a lisp, it's a foreign accent]
>>
>>5194295
>In Roth’s cot, after kicking him out of it [-Roth affection, +sadism]
Only because the image amuses me.

>Demand to see your various minions and allies, and to speak with Alhazred, before the hand-off
>Use Irinnile to make sure that Henzler, Alhazred, Dragonborn, the animals, and the loot are not under influence of Incubus or any other magic, and are not missing
>>
>>5194831
>>5194309
>>5194351

You wake from a restful, dreamless torpor, cradled by warmth. As you open your eyes and snuggle in, for a brief moment you can almost, almost imagine you are back at the Engel Manor, with HIM…

“Degenerate, what IS this? You were assigned your own cot.”

…But, of course, you’re not. The warmth you feel is the inner flame of a distant dragon-descendant, and there is no affectionate caress, nor kid words. When you roll over, there is a yellow-eyed, unblinking glare, not that look of love and adoration.

“I didn’t hear you complaining about sharing a bed before you fell asleep,” you note, with no small smugness.

“That was… It… You must have sued your damned demon to affect me again.”

You say nothing, simply sliding a hand down to cup Roth’s sex.

“Then what is this, I wonder, Superior One?”

Roth shoves you from the mattress then, but as you sit up, you smile in triumph. Roth may be no Edwin, but your ‘relationship’ with him has its own little pleasures, its own rituals.

<Roth Affection: 45%>
<Heartbreak: 85%>

“Get dressed,” you all but command Roth, eliciting another supercilious snort of wounded pride. “It’s time to finish our business here.”

“And not a moment too soon,” he remarks, donning his amulet and once more cloaking himself in human guise. “This is a tainted and unclean place.”

‘I think we left some stains on that mattress, I’ll say that much,’ Irinnile jokes.
>>
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Rolled 7, 2, 17, 16, 17 = 59 (5d20)

>>5194841
Once the two of you are presentable, you exit the room and find yourself face-to-face with two stoic-looking male humans, large and imposing if not especially bright-in-the-eyes. Labourers, perhaps. Behind them, The Incubus occupies the same shell as the previous day.

“Are you ready?” it asks.

“Yesss,” you answer, reverting to the local human dialect, “but the ssscroll-case sstayss with me, until we arrive and assessss the otherss.”

The Incubus grins. “I assumed you already would have! You have the Head Chimericist’s eyes and ears, after all, don’t you?”

You say nothing. Did the greater demon sense as much, or learn it by other means?

“Perhaps you were… Otherwise occupied last night?”

‘Fuck,’ Irinnile curses. ‘How much does it know?’

“Nothing happened!” Roth snaps, clearly taking the remark another way.

The Incubus just smiles wider, saying nothing more on the subject. Instead, it says “I agree to your terms. Why shouldn’t I? After all, I made you a promise to…”

Here, the demon changes tone and timbre, eerily replicating your own voice.

“…ceasse my liesss, and misssrepresentationss, never again decceiving you in any way, shape, or form while our alliancce holdss.”

You nod.

“Does our alliance hold?” The Incubus asks solicitously, seemingly calm.

“Of courssse,” you say.

“Good!” The Incubus says, clapping its hosts hands. “Then let’s be on our way.”

The Incubus seems to have acquired itself a carriage—not so nice as that owned by the Engelson Storehouse Company, and drawn by a mule, but it beats walking. Admittedly, however, it is quite crowded once the two burly human bruisers are loaded in the back with your and Roth—himself a fairly large male.

‘Eh, I’ve had bigger,’ Irinnile quips.

“It looks a little cozy in there,” The Incubus notes.

The demon holds out an arm, and a corvid descends from on-high, lighting upon it obediently.

“I’ll find my own way there,” says The Incubus, stroking the bird’s plumage.
>>
>>5194844
The carriage leaves its master behind, and makes its way to the edge of Hawksong. It exits the major trade gate and rolls slowly in the direction of the countryside—towards Sparrowton, where your journey began. It’s almost poetic, in its way, though a more paranoid part of you (and irinnile) wonder what that implies for The incubus’ knowledge of your journeys… And your destination, the entrance to the local Reptilian forward base within the nearby hills. Roth, too, fidgets, elbowing himself space and idly fingering the hilt of the blade on his side.

By midday, the carriage takes a detour from the main road, driving into farmland only distantly adjacent to even a rural town centre. There are great tracts of land here—great enough to feed the humans’ premier metropolis, you suppose—and this affords certain farmers a great deal of privacy.

A scarecrow awaits you on this particular plot of land, at the end of the dirt road where your carriage-ride comes to an end. In the midst of a great field of grain. Only as you step out do you realize it is no scarecrow—in fact, there is a crow alighted upon the hatted figure of a farmer. With a familiar overfamiliarity, he speaks up, saying:

“What took you so long?”

‘The Incubus,’ Irinnile hisses.

“We cannot all travel asss the crow fliess,” you say.

The Incubus, in form of farmer, laughs good-naturedly—if uncannily, unable to conceal the inhumanity in the sound.

“Come, come,” it says. “Come see the ‘merchandise’, will you? I’m eager to trade these hungry mouths for what’s in that scroll-case.”
>>
>>5194858
You exit the carriage, Roth at your side… And both of the large humans hovering a bit too close for comfort. The Incubus leads you to a great barn on the property, conspicuously silent of the mooing and other animal sounds which emerge from the one adjacent. Once inside, you find a dimly-lit space playing host to a makeshift laboratory, bathroom, and kitchen—thankfully, not all centralized in one space. Among these facilities sit the Degenerate Infiltrator Alhazred, reading a scroll in apparent fascination, while Head Chimericist Henzler toils over a queer-looking device and several glass slides.

The three chimeras in your ‘employ’—the tentacled dog-creature, the owlbear, and Hirschel the Greater Feather Drake—are all there as well, your tiny feathered friend having visibly cowed the others, to the point where when you arrive he has cornered the owlbear who flinches back from his nipping jaws and flcikers of faux-dragonfire. The fourth chimera, the Dragonborn, has pressed himself into the opposite corner from his former jailer (and probable creator). When you enter, his long neck lifts and rotates his head to face you and your entourage; this, in turn, tips off Alhazred. Henzler doesn’t look up from her labour.

“It is time?” Alhazred asks, calm despite obvious eagerness to escape this captivity radiating from his aura to your empathic senses.

“It is!” The Incubus-Farmer says gleefully. “I trust you’re satisfied, my reptilian protégé?”

You frown at the terminology, but you don’t dwell on it—not right now.

‘Irinnile, are they clean?’ you send psychically. ‘Check the Dragonborn, too. Even the loot.’

‘I can still hear you,’ The Incubus reminds you with its own telepathy. ‘And I can’t lie or deceive, remember? There is no trace of my domination in either the good Chimericist, nor your fellow hybrid.’
>>
>>5194860
>17 for occultism

‘Inky seems ta’ be tellin’ the truth,’ Irinnile says, though without great certainty.

You suppose a lesser demon WOULD have trouble spotting the subtle handwork of a so-called GREATER one… But The Incubus makes a good point about the pact, too. Surely you can trust in its binding magic to keep this sinister being honest, up to a point? And anyway, your own magical sense seems to confirm your thralls and allies are all ‘clean’… Though, concerningly, you do not see the dragon-heart nor the dwarven master stone among them.

“Now, are you ready to hand me the last demon?” The incubus asks. “I kept the safe, and out-of-sight, and your big friend fed. YOU fetched the demons for me. That was the deal, no?”

“Where are the relicsss I acquired?” you ask.

The farmer’s face smiels a little TOO wide to actually be naturally, biologically possible for a human.

“Ooo,” The incubus says, “you ARE a sharp one. That wasn’t actually part of the deal, you may recall. But I’ve kept them safe, and they’re around.”

“WHAT?!” Roth roars.

Alhazred, too, looks shocked to hear this.

“I… Thought arrangements would have been made, as for our safe passage and sanctuary. When they took them, I was told that they were to be returned.”

“They will be,” The Incubus assures, “but that’s a SEPARATE deal.”

Do you hand off the scroll-case?
>Yes, and begin negotiations for the remaining relics
>No, demand The Incubus return your relics FIRST
>No, and command your allies to attack
>Use your magical senses to scan the area for the relics
>Write-in
>>
>>5194862
>No, demand The Incubus return your relics FIRST
Taking our items and letting us believe they would be returned unconditionally, would attaching conditions not count as a deception?
>>
>>5194862
>No, demand The Incubus return your relics FIRST
This is the price we pay for lowering my guard.
>>
>>5194923
>Taking our items and letting us believe they would be returned unconditionally, would attaching conditions not count as a deception?

A fair point worth addressing

>>5195221

"Iss thiss not decception, then?" you say, narrowing your eyes. "Taking our itemsss and letting uss believe they would be returned unconditionally, would attaching conditions not be a violation?"

"You bring me my new demon friends from the Tower, I give sanctuary to your dragon and your hoard," The Incubus recites from memory. "These were the terms. Sanctuary was granted... And even then, you didn't bring my all of my 'demon friends', did you?"

Siz-Gamid. This much is true: you are shy one demon.

"I can sstill--"

The door opens again behind you, causing you to jump involuntarily. Roth draws his blade, whirling around to face this new entrant. You would have done likewise but to turn your back upon this Farmer-Incubus seems too foolhardy; instead, you look over your shoulder and see…

“Ssiz-Gamid,” you hiss quietly.

“Who?!” Roth demands.

The blonde, spectacled woman is unmistakable: Siz-Gamid’s apparently-preferred human form.

“I took the liberty of summoning this ‘friend’ myself,” The Incubus casually notes.

‘How?!’ Irinnile howls. ‘How’d Inky even know the name ta’ summon Siz?’

‘I know yours, as well, Irinnile,’ the Incubus’ voice invades your mind again, causing Irinnile to shrink back with a squeak. ‘To answer your question, though… Prior to an unfortunate fire, I had an asset among the staff at a certain late, not-especially-great young nobleman’s estate… Someone who overheard a certain ritual, on my behalf.’

Siz-Gamid says nothing, simply crossing its arms and sighing.

“So,” the Incubus says, “Your pact is, sadly, not something you can personally complete any longer. How can you present me with all fur demons, when I already have one?”
>>
>>5195441

“You would not have that demon without my actionss,” you insist, thinking quickly. “Thiss makes my half of the bargain fulfilled, doesss it not?”

“Maybe, technically,” The Incubus says, shrugging casually and leaning against the wall. “And maybe, technically, sanctuary was granted so long as I kept your playthings safe from Tower and Crown scrutiny. One partial fulfilment of terms for another.”

‘That’s bullshit,’ Irinnile huffs. ‘But, I mean…’

“It’s a large enough loophole for a demon with any mind to speak of—so, admittedly, not a succubus—to squeeze through,” the Incubus concludes smugly.

“And should you not need to inform me of ssuch loopholess, under our previous pact?” you demand.

The incubus shrugs, saying, “Is it deceiving or misleading you to simply assume that you are clever enough to know your own intentions when YOU are offering ME a deal? If we’re laving things up to interpretation, perhaps ‘safeguarding your dragon and your hoard’ requires I safeguard them against the VERY high likelihood of exposure when you try to travel cross-country to your little rendezvous point.”

You hesitate. What WAS your plan?
>Find somewhere to hole up until nightfall, if The Incubus won’t let you stay here, and then travel under cover of darkness while avoiding the road
>A straight shot, protected by glamour and illusion to the best of your ability
>RAMPAGE! Let the humans know that The Great Green Dragon has returned, by the destruction wrought in its wake; direct witnesses are to be crushed or burned for security reasons
>You… Were sort of hoping The Incubus would help with that, so you might need to make a new deal after all
>Write-in
>>
>>5195442
The Incubus holds out a hand, beckoning with two fingers for the scroll case.

“Come now,” The Incubus says, “let’s talk this out like civilized Reptilians and demons, shall we? I'll even send my boys to go fetch your 'safeguarded' possessions, so you can see for yourself that they're intact."

It snaps its fingers, and the two humans depart. Roth fumes, gripping his sword more tightly. Upon his back, he still has the Paladin’s mace, as well. He glances between the farmer-bodied Incubus, the two human (?) thugs, and Siz-Gamid. He does not speak, looking to you accusatorily… And expectantly. The unspoken words in his gaze are: ‘This is your fault, now how do we fix it?’

Before long, the two human males return. One holds what is unmistakably the dwarven master stone; the other gingerly holds a smoking, faintly-glowing bucket by hits handle, flinching back from the heat of what you presume to be the heart of the Great Green Dragon inside the container.

What do you do?
>Ask The Incubus what it wants in exchange for handing over the scroll-case, returning your items, and lending you material aid if required for the last leg of your journey
>Make The incubus an offer it can’t refuse [set your terms as well]
>Hand over the scroll-case, and reframe your existing pacts in such a way as to force The Incubus to hand over the items [specify how, refer back to previous posts and threads for evidence]
>Refuse to hand over the scroll-case, attempting to call the demon’s bluff
>ATTACK! This deceitful worm will have its smug smile shattered by Roth’s mace, and ground beneath your sensible shoes
>Write-in
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>>5195442
>Find somewhere to hole up until nightfall, if The Incubus won’t let you stay here, and then travel under cover of darkness while avoiding the road
Reptilians had their secret routes worked out for ages. We're not a race of morons if have avoided detection for all this time.
>>5195444
>Ask The Incubus what it wants in exchange for handing over the scroll-case, returning your items
I wish we had the team ready to jump his ass right now.

These pacts are an insane spike in difficulty compared to everything else ...and at this point it feels like they don't even matter. Also feels like we shouldn't even try to lay a finger on this fucking cunt, because, based on how easygoing he is around our bloodthirsty schizo MC and knowing what demonic ectoplasm is, he likely has a dozen of sleeper units to jump to in case we kill this farmer guy.

And all this couldn't be prevented because we can't do as much as organize, let alone prepare for this fucker when it's not clearly stated how he works and how to defeat him for good-good.
>>
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>>5195515
[There's a lot of stuff you could have done, and could still have done, but deals with clever devils get complicated. To allow you to solve all your problems with very straightforward, onesided pacts with guileless demons seems... Anticlimactic to me. I do hope you're still enjoying the quest, and don't worry: the Incubus isn't the only clever antagonist closing in on you]
>>
>>5195444
>Find somewhere to hole up until nightfall, if The Incubus won’t let you stay here, and then travel under cover of darkness while avoiding the road

>Ask The Incubus what it wants in exchange for handing over the scroll-case, returning your items, and lending you material aid if required for the last leg of your journey

it does have a point, damn it
we should have tried resummoning siz right before arrival
>>
>>5195444
>>5195659
ACTUALLY
upon review of old threads

>‘Now,’ the greater demon says, reaching with outstreched arms and, to your comfort, manifesting true lips and tongue upon its host’s face once more, “shall we conclude our business by sealing this new pact? You bring me my new demon friends from the Tower, I give sanctuary to your dragon and your hoard?”


>“I have liberated more than demonss,” you begin, and then you explain—in succinct detail—the acquisition of a dragon-hybrid chimera of great size and greater importance, and several other relics, hidden in a bayside cave.

>‘And you wish for me to hide these treasures away from prying eyes?’ The Incubus asks. ‘I can do that, I suppose… But it’s a lot of faith to put in little old me, is it not? Given our history, and your misgivings? Why not use some of those Engelson Storehouse Company resources’

>“We will bring you your demonss, in exxchange for keeping the Dragonborn and my alliess and itemss in ssafety and sssecreccy.”

>‘The pact is sealed,’ the greater demon agrees.

Our items were always part of the deal, not just our allies like it said up in >>5194862, which makes it a filthy liar in violation of our pact.

Good thing all quest protags have eidetic memory.
>>
>>5195652
>>5195663
Forgot to say that I was changing my option 2 vote to:

>Hand over the scroll-case, and reframe your existing pacts in such a way as to force The Incubus to hand over the items [specify how, refer back to previous posts and threads for evidence]

It's worth a shot. If it weasels out of this one too I can fall back on asking what it wants in return.
>>
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>>5195667
>>5195515
>>5195659
“‘We will bring you your demonss, in exxchange for keeping the Dragonborn and my alliess and itemss in ssafety and sssecreccy.’”

“Hm?” The Incubus asks. “Yes, I did as you asked… I granted sanctuary, for a time. We’ve been over this, haven’t we?”

You smile grimly.

“SSAFETY and ssecreccy,” you say, “impliess ssaefty, too, from theft and exortion, wouldn’t you ssay? If you were to leave money with a human treassurer, but he refused to return it later, iss that truly ssafekeeping? Ssafety impliess ssafe return.”

The Incubus stares at you, face twisted up in thought. Roth looks between you both, while Siz-Gamid raises her eyebrows in obvious, impressed interest. Fiannly, the Incubus stands straight,s teps forward… And then with a distinctly rural hoot more native to its host, the demon slaps its knees.

“Clever girl!” it says. ‘Cle-VER. You see why I want this one on our side?”

You say nothing. You honestly just wish you had a party of minions ready to jump this devil… Though, come to think of it, you suppose you do.
‘Lispy…’ Irinnile worriedly whines.

‘I won’t,’ you say succinctly, cutting her off.

And you won’t, either—so much as laying a finger on this troublesome entity, could be problematic. It is so easygoing despite knowing how dangerous any one of your assembled allies could be. It makes you suspect that it has contingencies in place beyond your ken. A part of you regrets not doing greater research into the capabilities of incubi… Or perhaps you should have simply disposed of the Incubus when it was trapped in the same scroll-case which you now proffer it.
>>
>>5195799
“That’s not very nice,” The Incubus half-heartedly complains, reading your surface thoughts.

You close your mind to it, and return to present business: “The heart and the sstone, firsst.”

“You know, you still never DID fully fill your end of the bargain…” The incubus muses aloud.

“If you EVER hope to win my allegianccce,” you say coldly, “do you think cheating me over ssuch a technicality will advanccce that objective?”

The Incubus tuts, but its infuriatingly-calm smile is back as it signals for its henchmen to leave the stone, and the bucket containing the heart, at your feet. It, meanwhile, reaches out to take the scroll-case. Reluctantly, you acquiesce to provide it.

“What now?” The demonic extortionist asks.

“Reptilians have had their ssecret routess worked out for ages,” you declare with racial pride aplenty. “We're not a racce of moronss, to have avoided detection for all thisss time.”

“And will those routes accommodate your dragon-sized companion?” The Incubus asks, oh-so-innocently.

“We will make it work,” you insist, unwilling to barter any longer with this pit-fiend. “Roth, Alhazred, othersss, to me.”

“Yes, Infiltrator,” Alhazred says, gathering up his scrolls into a pack.

“Watch the tone,” Roth complains, but you can tell that he is as eager as you to leave.

“A moment,” Head Chimercisit Henzler requests. While your tense standoff was going on, she had already begun to pack up her equipment, but even with her small mobile laboratory, it is quite the operation.

“Don’t be a ssstranger!” The Incubus calls after you as you leave. “And safe travels!”

‘I hate that guy,’ Irinnile spits. ‘Hate hate HAAATE that guy.’
>>
>>5195800
“What are our options?” you ask your fellow Infiltrators.

“Traveling in broad daylight invites trouble,” Roth says, and you nod. “We have a safehouse in Thrushville—a low-value but well-placed Infiltrator who serves as an innkeeper and who hosts traveling agents as required. But the ‘Dragonborn’, as you call him…”

Roth looks to his ‘cousin’, simultaneously so much greater and(certainly to his sensibilities) lesser with obvious confusion as to how to interact with it, or even to refer to it. The Dragonborn looms over him, bristling with some sort of tension—a rivalrous desire to oppress a lesser dragon and assert territorial dominance, perhaps? Roth takes a step back.

“He is large,” Roth says, stating the obvious problem plainly.

“I suppose we could hide him in the forest nearby…” Alhazred suggests. “All or some of us could remain with him, to… Supervise.”

“We could also find another farmhouse nearby and slaughter the humans inside, then sue their barn to house him until nightfall,” Roth suggests. “Fewer moving parts, in that plan. No surviving witnesses. We can cover the slayings with a fire, afterwards.”

‘That’s this guy’s solution to everything,’ Irinnile scoffs. ‘But, uh… We could just brainwash ‘em, too. Maybe they have a cute farmer’s daughter type? Or son? Ooo, or both! Double the pleasure, triple the fun!’

Henzler, whether due to her single-minded focus on her research notes or her enthrallment, says nothing about any of the proposed plans.

"Hrrrungar," the Dragonborn grunts, its speech faculties clearly not much improved for all its captivity with scholarly folk like Alhazred and Henzler. "WANT."

The dragonborn gestures at some sheep, and other livestock, which you can see roaming the distant hills of one such neighbouring acreage.

What do you do?
>Hole up in the forest until nightfall, and hope to pass unnoticed
>Leave the Dragonborn and other conspicuous chimeras hidden in the woods [with who to supervise?] while you [and who else?] attend this Infiltrator’s inn
>Pay a ‘visit’ to a nearby farmhouse [specify if you go for mesmerism or murder as a mechanism to take it over]
>Write-in
>>
>>5195802
>Pay a ‘visit’ to a nearby farmhouse [Mesmerism]

Solve a majority of our problems. Feeds the Dragonborn, feeds our WANT, and we can try out the Pact mechanics in an isolated and safe environment.

Also,
>“You will alsso teach me, and my demon, how to become more powerful in dark magickss,”
was apart of the pact as well. Incy had no right to extort us to learn more tricks.
>>
>>5195802
>Pay a ‘visit’ to a nearby farmhouse
Mesmerism and we should Ectoplasm one of them if possible. Leaving sleeper witnesses without means to check on them sounds like a bad idea.

>>5195652
>There's a lot of stuff you could have done
Oh I bet there WERE ways to stop him, but try getting the right votes through when it seems like you're the only one worried with thinking ahead abd applying actual logic.
>To allow you to solve all your problems with very straightforward, onesided pacts with guileless demons seems anticlimactic
For sure, but you could've added disclaimer that this will likely fuck us over, because the truth about /qst/ is that nobody thinks past the choice prompts. Choice says we can solve our issues with a pact? Well it sure must work, nevermind the character behind pacts being presented as a trickster demon who steals people's souls!
And yeah I voted for it because at that point I convinced myself to let go and don't get paranoid over possibilities implied, but not presented to us. Was a mistake.
To me personally this situation we found ourselves in just felt punishing for not going through with the punch and trying to kill him when we had the corvid.
>Incubus isn't the only clever antagonist closing in on you
I'm blocking this out of my memory. I'm worn out after being autistic for several threads until eventually clashing with foxanon who never *really* cared for staying safe and just called me "paranoid" until I stopped caring myself.

>>5195663
Thank you anon.
>>5195854
We did learn how to use Irinnile's ectoplasm from him. Dunno if that counts tho.
>>
Rolled 12, 20, 16, 16, 5 = 69 (5d20)

>>5195999
>>5195854
You spend morning trekking the hills and valleys of the sweeping farmland, skirting the edges of uncleared forest in case you (or your associates) need to hide. Several options for possible hiding-places present themselves, but one stands out: a patch of farmland with a lodging so distant from its neighbour as to verge on hermitage. These people clearly prefer to keep their distance from fellow humans, and do not seem like the type to have unexpected guests or even regular check-ins by their nearest neighbours.

‘In other words, perfect victims!’ Irinnile enthuses.

You have the others of your group wait at the forest’s edge, and approach to scout and to make contact yourself. Once the residents are mesmerized, their reaction to a giant, malformed dragon-man will be muted or nonexistent, but the presence of Dragonborn (or an owlbear) will only make the process more difficult before that.

Your scouting identifies six denizens: an older human male, probably in his fifth or sixth decade of life; a much younger woman with weary eyes, who you take to be his wife; a younger male, barely a man, built with the strength of a farmhand; two young human children, male and female; a great and powerful-looking sheepdog of great size and shagginess This is in addition to a small treasure-trove of chickens, cows, sheep, and goats to offer up to your hungry dragon companion.

You wait until chores divvy up your targets, when the farm-wife is fetching water from a nearby well with a bucket. When she is bent over (ad after you have admired her fulsome rear), you approach, clearing your throat and saying aloud:

“Ma’am? I’m sssorry to bother you, but I could use ssome asssissstancce.”

The woman stands up with a start, dropping her bucket and yelping a minced oath to the Gods fo Light. She whirls about.

“Who… Oh! I… Hello. Who are you, and what do you need.”

“Jusst a traveler from Hawkssong, traveling back home,” you say truthfully. “And asss for what I need…”
>>
>>5195999
I back pacts because I'm pretty sure the demons are compelled to obey them while we can break them at any time (and also free the demons to do nasty shit which is why we haven't broken any yet). Also our soul is already damned so might as well.

I'd ask Iri how strictly demons are forced to follow pacts but I wouldn't be surprised if a WEAKLING like her had to go by the letter while Zivic is strong enough to fudge a line here or there.
>>
>>5195854
>>5195999

>20

“…Where would you like me to sstart?” you finish the thought, once you have touched the woman’s temple and erased her nervousness and reluctance with a bolt of pure will.

“A-anything,” she murmurs, wobbling as if drugged under the shock of the psychic realignment.

“Gather your family to greet their new guesssts,” you whisper, stroking her hair and gazing hypnotically into your eyes. “And I will gather my friendss.”

Though none of the rest of the family falls so utterly under your power as the farmer’s wife, one by one you assert your power over them. Old man, young man, children, dog, each is ensorcelled in turn until you are master of this place. Then, you summon your entourage of Reptilians and hybrid monsters, who survey the farm beneath the watchful eyes of its eerily, uncannily-calm owners, who stand in a line as you instruct.

“Amazing,” Alahazred murmurs, waving a hand before the dazed humans’ faces. “So many minds dominated so thoroughly, and so quickly…”

He looks at you, impressed. You straighten your back slightly, basking in it. Hirschel, your feathered drake companion, alights upon your shoulder, taking the stance for a summons.

“You did fine, I guess,” Roth acknowledges. “I will search the home for any others you missed.”

“I missed none,” you insist.

“We shall see,” Roth says, unconvinced, and geos about his search.

“HrrrUUUNGUR,” the Dragonborn says, staring at the bite-sized humans. “FEED!”

“The dragon chimera has intense nutritional requirements,” Henzler notes, speaking for the first time in hours. “Will we be here long enough for me to further review the results of my experiments?”

What do you do with the family?
>Take time to question each of them, and to determine who might make good candidates to test out pact-making with Irinnile
>Use your last available charge of ectoplasm to permanently puppeteer a human
>Sate <WANT> with one or more of these humans [which one(s)?]
>Feed one or more of them to the Dragonborn [which one(s)?]
>Write-in

Do you do anything else while you are here.
>Butcher animals for you and your party to eat a celebratory feast
>Attempt to learn how to cook
>Search the farmhouse for valuables
>Talk to Henzler about her researches into “fixing” the Dragonborn’s deformities
>Talk to Irinnile about the nature of demonic pacts
>Catch up with Alhazred [specify any questions]
>Write-in
>>
>>5196147
>Feed one or more of them to the Dragonborn [which one(s)?]
As many as he wants

We don't need to sate, do we? Last listed WANT was 14. If we do, with the young man.

>Butcher animals for you and your party to eat a celebratory feast

>Talk to Henzler about her researches into “fixing” the Dragonborn’s deformities
is until nightfall long enough for you to review

if we can fit it in, not too urgent since it just got resolved
>Talk to Irinnile about the nature of demonic pacts
>>
>>5196141
>compelled to obey them
The way I understood this initially was that pacts magically bind both parties to do as stated in them with, but since now we surely know that pact entails what both parties remember instead of what was actually said, it's clearly not the case.
So you might be right. And if you are, I want to weaponize this against that smug motherfucker if we get a chance. But we'd need to confirm it first... which is going to be hard without Bianchi.
>Also our soul is already damned so might as well.
Not how it works. We're only damned as long as Irinnile is in our body. We absolutely can make her manifest in a physical body of her own instead. Or make her possess someone and wipe their ego.
>I'd ask Irinnile
Yes, this. Do this.
>Lesser demon
This doesn't mean shit. She DOES utilize pacts herself and even if her personal skillset isn't as impressive as that of a greater demon, she ought to have picked up SOMETHING from the mighty and powerful during her stay in hell for tens or hundreds of years.
>>
>>5196147
Whew, this is gonna be a long one. I guess my 'tism is back.

>FEED Dragonborn some of the cows and sheep
>Sate <WANT> with one or more of these humans
I'll let Irinnile pick cause it's either elderly or pedophilia and I just don't want to let the power levels to go down again.

>Butcher animals for you and your party to eat a celebratory feast
and
>Talk to Henzler about her researches into “fixing” the Dragonborn’s deformities
>Catch up with Alhazred
Ask what did they feed Dragonborn and if he noticed anything worth mentioning about Incubus or his minions.
>>5196169 killing their family or putting them in lethal danger will break our spell immediately. Also consider the following:
>Discuss with Roth what can be done with this place
This place could be used as Reptilian checkpoint, that way we would utilize Irinnile's work to the fullest and our extended underground family would keep an eye on them without ectoplasm.
A generation or two and we can have their children fully indoctrinated and working for the cause without demonic magic.
>Tell Roth and Alhazred you need to keep Henzler unbothered once she gets Underground.
She is not only a highly valuable asset, but technically has ascended beyond her humanity thanks to her brilliant mind and lack of common human weaknesses. Plus we didn't put our finite ectoplasm in her just to make her an underground slave or worse... and to really drive our point home, remind Roth that Henzler could kill every single person on this farm including him and the Dragonborn without breaking a sweat, so it's better if nobody interferes with her.
>Talk to Irinnile about the nature of demonic pacts
>>
>>5196185
>Pact entails what both parties remember instead of what was actually said

The Incubus kept very strictly to the letter of both agreements, actually, exploiting loopholes in phrasing and in conditions to try to manipulate The Infiltrator into making further deals.
>>
>>5196147
>Take time to question each of them, and to determine who might make good candidates to test out pact-making with Irinnile
>Sate <WANT> with one or more of these humans [which one(s)?]
The wife in her marital bed, preg the farmhand in the barn, unless Iri has a better idea on who she wants to nibble at.

>Feed the Dragonborn some farm animals
>Search the farmhouse for valuables
>Talk to Henzler about her researches into “fixing” the Dragonborn’s deformities
>Talk to Irinnile about the nature of demonic pacts

>>5196141
>>5196185
I was hoping to use Sid as a Bianchi replacement, what with her extensive knowledge and being stuck as a servant for the Head Demonologist for many years. In fact, we can probably still strike a favorable deal with her if we know what specifically her deal is with Incy.

>>5196250
Keeping Henzler around may be a wise precaution, given her combat abilities. We still have to deal with the Tower.
>>
>>5196408
>The Incubus kept very strictly to the letter of both agreements, actually
Until he forgot that keeping our shit was part of the deal? Or was he just lying, which... he was also not supposed to do?

>>5196440
>Recruiting Siz to backstab the Incubus
Doesn't trying to buy her out mess with our pact of noninterference with Incubus? I'm not 100% sure now, but it's possible we made that a point to protect Edwin and our other allies.

>Keeping Henzler for Tower
Henzler is crucial to fixing Dragonborn's mutations and she's the only person he's listening to. I'd rather leave her be and utilize our control over Felman and Prince to deal with those issues.

We could also ask her to share some of her anatomy tricks with us and then use Irinnile's shapeshifting skills to replicate them... maybe. If not this, then I'm sure she can provide us with a substance to dope our human-reptilian body.
>>
>>5196147
>Take time to question each of them, and to determine who might make good candidates to test out pact-making with Irinnile
>Sate <WANT> with one or more of these humans
>Attempt to learn how to cook
>Search the farmhouse for valuables
>Talk to Henzler about her researches into “fixing” the Dragonborn’s deformities
>Talk to Irinnile about the nature of demonic pacts
>Catch up with Alhazred [Incubus shenanigans with them]
>>
>>5196501
>Until he forgot that keeping our shit was part of the deal? Or was he just lying, which... he was also not supposed to do?
Clearly he isn't as infallible as he would like to appear, or he was hoping we would forget to get more shit from us. We just need to be more autistic in our dealings, and keep a record of our previous pacts with the bastard. Maybe we should include a clause about him adhering to the spirit of our dealings instead of just subverting the technicalities of it, even if the pact breaks? I honestly think upgrading Iri into a greater sucubus is a smart play, give us less reliance on Incy as a matter of principle, and thus more room to maneuver in any potential dealings.

>Doesn't trying to buy her out mess with our pact of noninterference with Incubus?
Not necessarily. Incy keeps trying to fuck with our shit under the table after all, and that's somehow kosher with our pacts. I see it as fair play.

>I'd rather leave her be and utilize our control over Felman and Prince to deal with those issues.
We'll need to get in contact with the Prince then, and soon.

>We could also ask her to share some of her anatomy tricks with us and then use Irinnile's shapeshifting skills to replicate them... maybe. If not this, then I'm sure she can provide us with a substance to dope our human-reptilian body.
That's a grand idea, I fully support that line of inquiry. We have a wealth of magical knowledge at our disposal, we should totally utilize it.
>>
>>5196577
>Maybe we should include a clause about him adhering to the spirit of our dealings instead of just subverting the technicalities of it,
Definitely not, that opens up a whole his idea of the spirit vs our idea can of worms.

> Incy keeps trying to fuck with our shit under the table after all, and that's somehow kosher with our pacts.
RQM said the one fuck over attempt was made carefully around the wording. We'll need to do the same or risk opening ourselves to full acts of aggression.

>>5196250
I don't think reptilian leadership wants or cares about having a base on this random farm, but ok.
>>
>>5196524
>>5196440
>>5196250
>>5196169

>Feed the Dragonborn some farm animals
>Butcher animals for you and your party to eat a celebratory feast

“Roth, Alhazred, can I entrust the two of you with the Dragonborn’s feeding?”

Alhazred nods immediately, though Roth looks immediately conflicted, torn between resentment for the way you send him hither and tither to do your bidding, and the inherent honour of serving a Great Dragon (or the next best thing). Ultimately, though, both oblige you.

“Take the farmer, and butcher a few additional mammals for us,” you call after them. “I will have our hosts prepare us a feast, to celebrate this momentous occasion: our victory over the humans and devils of Hawksong!”

“Do not count your eggs before they hatch,” Roth admonishes, “or you will end up with a cold clutch and no blood-heir.”

‘Babe, I think he threatened to knock you up,’ Irinnile whispers into your mind’s ear.

You suppress a snort of laughter, and just wave the pessimistic old Dragonborn.

‘But speaking of makin’ babies…’
>>
>>5196713
>Sate <WANT> with one or more of these humans

You survey the assembled humans. The old man does little for you, and Irinnile concurs; his mana reserves are tied to his life energies, and those must be sadly diminished.

‘Roth manages to make it work, though,’ she muses.

‘Pure-blooded Reptilians experience negligible senescence, beyond a certain age and up until the moment of their death,’ you explain.

‘So drac don’t crack, izzat it?’ she quips. ‘Still, this human deffo did. Look at those wrinkles. EWW! Bet his life force tastes like moth-eaten old cotton.’

The children are off the menu, too. Even the notion brings you back to… Difficult memories, of your early ‘seduction training’ as a young Degenerate. Your stomach roils, and you take a deep breath.

‘No desire in ‘em yet, anyway,’ Irinnile comments, more dispassionately; she shares your disinterest, if not your disgust. ‘Could feed ‘em to DB?’

The Dragonborn? Well… You’ll have to think on that, when it comes time to leave this place and to decide the ultimate fate of these humans, but by the roars and panicked bleating of sheep from the field outside, he seems to be managing well enough as is.

However, the young man and the farmer’s wife… They both have their appeal. The young man is sun-tanned, freckled, sandy-haired, broad-shouldered. His hands look rough, but strong. And the woman… Well, she has a weariness about her, but a strong jawline, bright blue eyes in contrast to rich dark-brown hair, and a certain pleasant curvature to her physique under her practical, much-patched clothing.

“What are you two, to each other?” you ask the two enthralled humans, in their own tongue.

“He is my husband’s son, from his first marriage,” the woman answers.

The young man just nods. You pry at his surface thoughts, and sense a latent desire for something a bit less familial, and a bit more intimate, already lurking there.

‘Ooo, stepfamily kink,’ Irinnile slavers. ‘Think I’ve seen THIS play out before.’

You smirk, placing one hand upon the hip of each and guiding them towards the adjoining room. To the young man, you whisper: “Warm her up for me.”

With Irinnile’s assistance, you send a swell of lust through him, and slap him on the rear. He grits his teeth and reels at the sudden wave of mentalism-amplified erotic urgency, and looks hungrily at his father’s bride. She he takes her by the arm and pulls her into the room, she does not resist—in fact, she shuts the door behind them.

It doesn’t quite muffle the sounds.
>>
>>5196716
>Talk to Henzler about her researches into “fixing” the Dragonborn’s deformities

You turn to Henzler, who has a look of impatience.

“So, may I set up my laboratory?” she demands.

“We will be leaving come nightfall,” you tell her.

Henzler sighs, shaking her head. “Hardly worth it. I wish you could have waited a few more days… I was making some real progress.”

“Do tell,” you command.

What Henzler rattles off—talk of ‘genetic and morphic plasticity’, ‘chromosomal compatibility between disparate organ systems’, and ‘rejection of subsequent graftings’ all honestly goes over your head. You are no Fleshweaver—you aren’t even a formally-trained occultist and illusionist!

“Can you fixx him?” you ask, straight to the point.

“I can,” Henzler says, “but… It will require further research. You and your partner, Alhazred, you two hold the key. Your hybrid physiology is not one of separate subsystems patched together with surgery and magic, but of natural birth supported by a surprising and frankly UNNERVING compatibility between your paternal and maternal lineages. Alhazred tells me you hatched from eggs?”

You are a bit taken-aback, but you nod. To the best of your knowledge, you were hatched from an egg, just as a full-blooded Reptilian.

“Fascinating…” Henzler murmurs. “We ad to use basilisk eggs, for lack of better material, but they’re surprisingly small and soft-shelled. Drake eggs are even worse as a match—like frogspawn—and gryphon eggs were utterly incompatible. What size was your egg?!”

You almost flinch at the ferocity of tone, the intensity. This human mage, enthralled or otherwise, is clearly passionate about her labours.

“I… Don’t know,” you admit.

“It must have been enormous, if you ‘hatched’ the size of a human newborn…” Henzler murmurs. “I don’t know that I can fix the dragon-chimera, but I we were to grow a successor in a Degenerate egg… Yes, yes, it would be the perfect environment, the next best thing to a dragon’s! We used human blood, it’s true, but sparingly, sequestered to the nervous system so as to shore up the mind against the effects of lesser reptiles’ and amphibians’ influence. When it spread to its other tissues, we assumed that was what let to malformation of the embryo, and the final product… But perhaps it was the OPPOSITE. Perhaps, we needed MORE human material, or ‘Degenerate’ material, to better serve as a bridge!”
>>
>>5196717
You nod, considering her idea. “Sso… You wish for a Reptilian-human hybrid to… Lay an egg, into which you will weave sspellcraft and dragon blood, to make a ssecond Dragonborn?”

Henzler blinks, then says: “Yes, in layperson’s terms, that is close enough to my intent.”

“You… Cannot mend the one you have already producced? Cannot make him whole?”

“It would be POSSIBLE, but harder. It would require major surgery, grafting, healing magic… Better to put him down or keep him as a back-up.”

You are incensed by how casually this ape-descendant speaks of ‘putting down’ a most noble dragon-heir. How dare she?! But… Well, you suppose your people, in their efficiency, might see things her way as well, when it comes down to it. Truly, Henzler has overcome much of her race’s weakness.

You leave Henzler to her mage-minded thoughts, while you join your two newest pets in the room. Both are undressed, their clothes scattered as by a farmland twister, and both are glossy with the sweat of exertion. Their eyes are still glassy, affected by your influence, but their positioning and the enthusiasm you heard coming from this room… Both lend themselves to the belief that neither was following your orders unenthusiastically or by rote.

You and Irinnile grin hungrily at the waves of now-generalized lust wafting off of them, at all that raw and primal energy exposed, and you set upon them like a beast from Hell.

<WANT: 12>

>Take time to question each of them, and to determine who might make good candidates to test out pact-making with Irinnile
>Search the farmhouse for valuables

When you are done, sandwiched between the farmwife and her stepson and waddled by the admittedly slightly-itchy bedding of the cuckolded farmer’s freshly-defiled marital bed, they are as still as putty in your hands. They readily relinquish the location of their family savings, their heirlooms, their useful trade-tools and trade-goods. They are not rich, by any means, but they are not dirt-poor and some of what they offer up to you is potentially worthy of your attention.

“After dinner, you and the children will gather these thingsss up for usss,” you instruct.

“Yes, of course,” the farmwife—Gisela—says without difficulty.

“Alright,” the young man, Stefan, agrees.

Your curiosity is piqued, though. These two have clearly harboured some dark desires for one another, and the female’s attitude and countenance belie a deep dissatisfaction much of the time—you sense it roiling within her.
“Tell me,” you say, “what iss it you each desssire?”

They both seem confused by the question, so you rephrase it, in line with the notion you have been musing over: “If you were to make a pact for your very sssoul, what would you consssider a fair priccce?”
>>
>>5196718

If the blunt sacrilege of your unconventional pillow-talk would normally disturb them, your mesmerism handily negates these inhibitions, demanding honesty.

“I want to do that again,” the young man blurts.

“Obviousssly,” you say, smirking.

“And I want Gisela all to myself,” he confesses. “And to see the world! I want a house of my own, to be my own man… To not be just my father’s errand-boy any longer. I can’t live me life like this, to grow up to be just like him, out here where nobody else bothers to even pass through.”

You nod. How… Typical.

“And you?” you ask his stepmother, teasingly tracing fingers across her so that she trembles as she answers.

However, her frankness shocks even you: “I want to be free, free from my husband. I never wanted to be married to some old, sad, drunken oaf… A subject for his anger at his own failed life, a substitute for the wife he actually wanted.”

“And for freedom, and the chanccce to go where you will and be with who you want…”

“…And to be young again, to get my years back,” the farmer’s wife says.

“…To be big, strong, a real man,” the farmer’s son says, looking away.

“…You would ssell your ssoulsss?”

“Yes,” the both agree, though only the wife with great enthusiasm; the son seems to feel some shame.

You consider this as you dismiss them from the room, and clean yourself up.

>Talk to Irinnile about the nature of demonic pacts

‘Irinnile, I think it’s time you better explained pacts to me,’ you psychically send to the succubus.

“All work an’ no play with you, I swear!’ she says.

‘We just finished playtime,’ you point out.

‘I could go for another round,’ she says suggestively.

‘It would kill them,’ you say. ‘Maybe later. Maybe. But first… How did The Incubus resist our pact? I thought a pact bound both parties, irresistibly!’
>>
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>>5196720
‘TECHNICALLY, it only binds the demon,’ Irinnile corrects you. ‘It’s jus’ that no demon who isn’t… Like, in a real damned bad position is gonna’ make a deal that doesn’t have a big-ass carrot or stick attached for the mortal, ta’ keep ‘em honest. Or, if they can swing it, they’ll attach a contingency curse.’

‘The Incubus didn’t seem terribly bound by our agreement,’ you grumble.

‘We-eeellll…’ Irinnile hesitates. ‘Look, I’m not the BEST at the whole… Pacts… Thing. I’m a lover, not a lawyer! But, well… Inky’s actually been pretty lax on holdin’ you to account with loopholes, I think.’

“What?!” you cry aloud, before reverting to mental comminiques. ‘It promised me magic lessons, the safekeeping of my goods, and then attempted to extort further conditions after the fact! How is this permitted, if demons are bound by their word?!’

Irinnile explains, saying: ‘If a demon can find a loophole in phrasing, or conditions… Like, say, not TECHNCIALLY deliverin’ every demon to meet your end of the bargain, or a lesson on better usin’ ectoplasm counting as ‘teaching you dark magic’ ‘cause you didn’t specify a number of lessons to fulfill that end of things…’

‘It was implied!’ you exclaim, outraged. ‘It was in the spirit of the agreement!’

“And, but only the words count—‘else the ‘spirit of the agreement’ for the demon would always be ‘to try an’ screw over the mortal, obvs’, and that’d probably end up implicit to every deal.’

‘Even ours?’

Irinnile freezes up, saying nothing for a moment.

‘I mean, I’d say we have a pretty good whole mutual thing goin’ here, NOW, but when we first got together…’

‘Yes?’ you press.

‘W-well, you had me over a barrel an’ trapped in an incense-holder, anyway, ‘member?’ Irinnile says, laughing nervously. ‘I couldn’t have done nothing, anyway, soooo…’

You let the silence hang.

‘You ever heard the humans talk about a ‘devil’s advocate’?’ Irinnile asks, changing the subject abruptly. ‘It comes from this kinda’ stuff! If you can make a demon see that something is contextually implied in the wording of a deal—even IF they don’t WANNA’ pony up, they gotta’. But if they can find wiggle-room where they can make the case that they couldn’t KNOW or be EXPECTED ta’ know it was part of the deal… Well, they can slip through those cracks, even if they’re tiny. We aren’t obligated ta’ fill in gaps like that for ya’, or to assume th’ most favourable-ta’-you-guys kind of assumptions, even if someone might ask us to.’

You muse on this, albeit not too happily.
>>
>>5196722
‘Would forming pacts between you and other mortals empower you?’ you ask, eventually.

‘It’d give me more status,’ Irinnile says, ‘an when they Die, an’ their souls become MINE… Hell yeah! Before then, well… If they start doin’ the right rituals, veneratin’ me, feedin’ me their desire on demand… Yeah, I’d have a bit more fuel for th’ fire, that’s for sure.’

That’s something to consider, too, you suppose… Though it might make Irinnile less beholden to you, to share her powers so freely.

‘You’re all I need,’ Irinnile reassures you quickly, her spectral touch upon you, her lips near to yours. You catch a glimpse of her golden eyes. ‘I mean it. I don’t need a hundred pacts an’ souls ta’ be happy. Just you.’

You don’t say anything, not sure what even TO say. The succubus’ earnestness is… Unusual, stunning even. It leaves you off-balance.

“Anyway,” you say aloud, “let’sss… Join the others.”

Working like steam-powered automatons, with visible tension, the aged farmer helps his wife and son to prepare your meal. Both still reek of one another, and of sex, and while the farmer cannot rail against them, you can see the hatred and betrayal bubbling beneath your spell’s constraints.

The humans make for you mutton, beef, and chicken—all meat, all readily-digestible by your kind—and serve them with water upon your request.

“The Great One is fed also,” says Alhazred, of the Dragonborn.

“What were you feeding him at The Incubus’ farm?” you ask, curious.

“Much the same,” Alhazred admits, “but The Great One clearly prefers the hunt… And live prey, as well.”

“A dragon needs to be master, hunter,” Roth says with a certain amount of pride in his own distant nobility. “It—HE—probably never was given much opportunity to exercise that instinct. Now, those instincts are coming out with vengeance. I doubt there’ll be much livestock left by the time we leave.”

“We brought in the owlbear and the dog-creature,” Alhazred nods, to the corner of the room where both lay. “The Great One likely would have killed and eaten them as well, otherwise.”
>>
>>5196724
Alhazred and Roth eat you at the table, though Roth is meticulously poring tallying the copper and silver coins presented to him by the two human children, and testing the quality of golden and silvery candle-sticks and the patina of fine dishware. Among them is a sword, a wooden shield, and a chain-shirt.

“Mostly plated or painted rubbish,” he says with great surliness, “but the coin is proper to this kingdom, unadultered. Good metal, worth keeping. And this old sword and this mail is good. The old male served in a military campaign.”

The meal, too, is most satisfying—not too seasoned, luckily, for while humans seem to enjoy an overabundance of spice and herbs, this family has far fewer of them available than the urban folk of Hawksong proper. You all end the evening full and content. It really is the safest and calmest you have felt in some time. It feels good to be speaking your own tongue openly, surrounded only by fellow Infiltrators and those two enthralled by your magic to worry about.

‘Enthrallment won’t last forever, though,’ Irinnile notes. ‘Well, maybe for the sexy momma’ an’ farmboy, but not th’ rest, without more effort.’

Night is almost upon you now, and the time has come to decide what to do with this farm, and the family who dwells there, before you take your leave.

What do you do?
>Feed the family [or some of them, specify who] to the Dragonborn—let him get a taste for the flesh of your enemies—and burn the place down to cover your tracks
>Offer a pact to one or more of the humans [specify who, and what terms]
>Stay another day, and travel tomorrow night—you are tired, you’re enjoying it here, and you plan to muster your strength to more deeply enthrall these humans [+hedonism]
>Turn this place into a waystation for your kind, and a sanctuary should you later require it, with these human slaves to man it
>Write-in
>>
>>5196725
>Offer a pact to one or more of the humans [specify who, and what terms]
>Stay another day, and travel tomorrow night—you are tired, you’re enjoying it here, and you plan to muster your strength to more deeply enthrall these humans [+hedonism]

For the wife, youth and freedom from her husband. The farmhand, the wife and becoming the beefy man he wants to be. We can offer leeway on trips and seeing the world. In exchange, your souls, your veneration, and your loyalty is ours, and you have to teach and raise these children the same principles. A vow to secrecy and silence, and you will have to take orders when necessary, but we won't be overbearing. We can even throw in a clause to be on the lookout for other marks ripe for the picking.

As for the kids? They'll probably sell they're souls for a couple of sweets, but I'll largely leave it to the others in how they want to handle the children.
>>
>>5196618
>RQM said the one fuck over attempt was made carefully around the wording. We'll need to do the same or risk opening ourselves to full acts of aggression.

Agreed
>>
>>5196763
Agree roughly with this. Get the wife, son and kids to form a pact with Irinnile.

I agree with the bits about teaching their kids the same and a vow of secrecy.

Feed the husband to the Great One

Then leave tonight. Don’t stay another night - we’re too close to the city
>>
>>5196725
>Offer the pact to the son and mother.
>Youth, strength and cuckold removal. Leeway on trips and seeing the world.
>For their souls to Irinnile, veneration and loyalty to Ismena and reptilians. They have to teach and raise the children the same principles.
Unless they want the kids gone too, lol.
>Trick the redneck husband outside and feed him to the Dragonborn. Try to catch his soul.

>>5196844
>A patch of farmland with a lodging so distant from its neighbour as to verge on hermitage. These people clearly prefer to keep their distance from fellow humans, and do not seem like the type to have unexpected guests or even regular check-ins by their nearest neighbours.
Anon... we're like a day away from Hawksong and in a secluded place closer to Sparrowtown. We're safe distance-wise.
>>
>>5196577
>Clearly he isn't as infallible
I was lowkey pointing at QM there, because it really just feels like his mind slipped.
>We just need to be more autistic in our dealings
Wholeheartedly agreed.
According to https://archive.wakarimasen.moe/qst/thread/5007143#5020341 and https://archive.wakarimasen.moe/qst/thread/5007143#5020803, we're not to alert our superiors to his presence or sic our allues, subordinates or thralls after him...
However, he never technically fulfilled his end of the bargain https://archive.wakarimasen.moe/qst/thread/5007143#5020869, which means nothing prevents us from attacking him.
I did not reread our second and third pact fully yet, will do later.

>Incy keeps trying to fuck with our shit under the table after all, and that's somehow kosher with our pacts. I see it as fair play.
...and the first pact also said to stay out of each other's ways. He did indeed get in our way by summoning Siz-Gamid AND trying to use it to bargain against us.
Still, if we bring up the first pact again, it might alert him to the fact it's invalid and do something about it, so I'd rather play fair and square with him for now until we figure out how to send him back to hell.

>We'll need to get in contact with the Prince then, and soon.
Just a reminder - Prince is also under Incubus' control (we put both Irinnile and his ectoplasm in him). Bet he already started using him to his advantage.

>>5196618
>Definitely not, that opens up a whole his idea of the spirit vs our idea can of worms.
Yeah I agree with this. And in general the less pacts and rules we introduce, the better.

>We'll need to do the same or risk opening ourselves to full acts of aggression.
Pretty sure he doesn't mean to hurt us or he would've done so already. And as for the wording... see the rest of this post. We are not bound by the pact of noninterference and nonaggression, but he probably doesn't realize it so we should keep it as an ace up our sleeve.

>I don't think reptilian leadership wants or cares about having a base on this random farm, but ok.
It would help our agents to have a surface safehouse away from Hawksong. Not saying it's necessary, but it'd be better than slaughtering everyone in here.
>>
>>5196937
I think the non-interference pact is still de facto upheld, even with the technicalities of him not leading us directly to the amulet. It feels like the same technicalities that he was trying to pull on us with the Sid-gaz shit. I think more pertinent is the alliance in the second pact and what that really means, both de facto and de jure.
>>
>>5196959
I think that pact on its own is only held together by our good will and the fact he didn't fulfill his end of the bargain could be used as a loophole of necessary.
Got link to the second pact?
>>
>>5196937
>I was lowkey pointing at QM there, because it really just feels like his mind slipped
[Anon, demons read/interpret contracts selectively, not in the spirit of what's intended. If I need to explicitly remind people each time you make a nearly-literal deal-with-the-devil or gene wish that you should look out for loopholes or unclear phrasing... I mean, I know what >>5195999 said about adding disclaimers, but come on, we all know how that works.]

[As for the second pat of alliance…

>“I will acccept thiss ectoplassm of yourss, and use it upon the Princcce…” You pause for dramatic effect. “But I want ccertain assssurancess.”

>“A proper alliancce,” you say. “One where you will never, EVER reveal the Reptilian Consspiraccy… Even if the pact iss broken.”

>“You will alsso teach me, and my demon, how to become more powerful in dark magickss,” you continue.

>“You take a deep breath, and add the final clause—the one you only just thought of as you were listing the others. “And you will ceasse your liesss, and misssrepresentationss, never again decceiving me in any way, shape, or form while our alliance holds.”

You could argue the demon has already broken this pact by ‘misrepresenting’ the contract’s terms, but The Incubus would argue otherwise, as I just went over… And furthermore, the pact actually ONLY ahs a magically-binding effect on The Incubus, as Irinnile just explained to The Infiltrator. If The incubus still treats it as in-effect, that means it can’t actively lie to you, or deceive you without plausible deniability that this is what it is doing, or expose the conspiracy. If it thinks the pact is broken…

> Even if the pact iss broken.

…Well, we’ll see. Given what Irinnile told you about their function, it may be worth considering how enforceable a deal to ‘keep the deal, even if the deal is broken’ is.]


>>5196937
>>5196959
>>5196965

“Gissela, Sstefan, come,” you say.

Both all but snap to attention, and approach the table from where these unwitting servants have waited, dutifully.

“You… Husband, father. Farmer!”

The other adult human, the wizened one, nods haltingly.

“Go outssside, and fetch me a bucket of water,” you command.

Alhazred begins to stand, to follow the farmer and protect this man against the wanton aggressions of the Dragonborn… But he stops when he sees your expression, and sits back down, expression neutral but perplexed. The farmer leaves, shutting the door behind him, and you turn back to his family.

‘What now?’ you ask Irinnile.

‘Lift the mesmerism,’ she says, ‘they can’t make a pact under mind-control. Them’s the rules.'
>>
Rolled 3, 3, 16, 7, 18 = 47 (5d20)

>>5197035

You hesitate… But you do as you must, removing the mesmerism from the farmer’s wife, Gisela, and then from his son, Stefan. The younger children, you leave in their state of uncanny quietness and good behaviour—you will attend to them later, but you have no desire to wrangle such rug-rats while trying to navigate the complexities of demonic pact-making. Both gasp as if emerging from cold water, the young man in particular trembling and glancing about, as if for a weapon or an escape. He finds only you, your allies, and your pet monsters.

“Oh Gods Above, what is this?” he asks the universe at large. “What is happening? What did I…”

His eyes land upon his stepmother, and he groans.

“What did we do?” he whispers.

Gisela reaches out, cupping his face in a comforting gesture. He flinches frm it, then leans into the embrace. She looks abc to you, eyes no lonegr weary, but steely.

“You want to offer us a deal,” she says.

“Clever girl,” you and Irinnile say. “Cle-ver. Yess, a deal. Freedom, youth, a fresh sstart for you… Strength, and the opportunity to ssee the world—in sstintss, conditional to our approval, for your sson… Ssorry, your new man-of-the-housse.”

“And my husband?” the farmwife asks.

Before you an answer, you hear a low rumble outside—like the sound of a volcano about to explode—and the farmer cries out in panic as lethal danger breaks your spell. Then, a rush of flames, and a roar.

“P-Pa!” his son cries out, and runs to the door to rescue him… But his one-time stepmother grabs his arm, and shakes her head.

“What do you want in exchange?” she asks you.

“Your ssoulss,” you smile, “well, and your sserviccess. We want your veneration, and your loyalty to usss, and you have to teach and raise these children the ssame princcipless. A vow to ssecreccy, of courssse, and ssilencce… And you will have to take orderss when necessary, but we won't be overbearing.”
>>
>>5197037
>18

The farmwife nods, after only the briefest delay.

“You can’t be serious?!” he stepson (does the term still apply?) shouts angrily. “These monsters killed my father!”

“That’s right,” Gisela says coldly. “He’s dead, gone, eaten by that… Thing outside.”

Roth glowers at a mammal speaking ill of the Dragonborn,, but you gesture for him to simmer down, and he grudgingly does so.

“If we want to live,” the farmwife tells the farm’s new master, “we take this deal.”

He still looks unconvinced, but she reach out to him, guiding his hands to her hips, and meets his eyes.

“Isn’t this what we want?” she says quietly. “Freedom, for both of us. It’s too late to go back—we can have all our dreams made true by this… This woman, or we can…”

“…Die like Pa,” he finishes.

>16

The lad glares at you… But he puts out his hand, offering it to shake. So, too, the woman.

You smile widely, and shake one then the other, feeling a smidgen of Irinnile’s magical force channel into them, and then back again. A connection is formed, a pact struck.

“Now, about the children…”

“You leave them out of this,” the woman says swiftly. “I mean it—I’ll do as you ask, but you let those children be. I’ll raise them to respect you and… And they can make their own choices, but they’re only CHIDLREN. They can’t… Selling their souls is…”

What do you do?
>Accept this condition—though you’re under no obligation to do so, your first deal already having been struck—as the humans are Not magically-bound by this pact in the way Irinnile is
>Refute this desperate plea, and demand the humans to bring the children to you, so you may make them a deal [specify what you offer]
>Threaten to kill the children and feed them to the Dragonborn if the farmhand doesn’t fall back into line
>Write-in

‘Lispy,’ Irinnile whispers telepathically, ‘I, uh… Don’t know how to make the boytoy there big ‘n beefy, ‘n how are we s’posed ta’ make Milfy there barely-eighteen again or whatever?’

‘…Demonic magic?’ you suggest, vaguely.

‘I can shapeshift my HOST,’ Irinnile says, ‘not, like, random humans! Why do ya’ think Inky cycles through hosts like that, an’ only transforms the one he’s inside of?’

You consider this. If the humans realize they aren’t MAGICALLY bound by the pact, and you fail to FULFILL it… This could be disastrous. What do you do?
>Send your allies ahead to the hills, to deliver the Dragonborn and the relics, while you siphon power from these humans and figure out how to sue it to transform them
>All of you will stay here until you figure this out
>Bluff the humans, telling them that the process will take time—maybe you can figure it out later, or just return to slay them when they’re no longer useful
>Bring these humans with you, so Henzler can work her own chimeric magic on them to achieve the desired effects
>Write-in
>>
>>5197051
welp we tried
we'll get em next time guys

>kill em all and burn the place down
>>
>>5197035
Sorry if I annoyed you. At this point I'm just gonna give up on trying to understand the arbitrary rules of these pacts and instead try to find a way to put an end to his fuckery before he grows even more powerful. Apparently nothing is stopping us from doing so.

>>5197051
>Accept this condition
Sure, works for us, tell them to raise kids as pro-reptilian or they will both turn into ash. Boo.
>Create a ritual to make Irinnile possess each of the humans and change their bodies
Only if we know they will keep the changes after succubus leaves their bodies.
This shouldn't take more than a couple hours.

Otherwise just fucking
>>5197087 +1
>>
>>5197151
[I'm not annoyed, but I am a bit confused, as it isn't arbitrary and I've outlined specifically how The Incubus has weaselled out of compliance on a few occasions now. It's just a matter of specific phrasing and interpretation, like any IRL contract or negotiation.]
>>
>>5197311
Well it's not about how he weaselled his way out, it's about what keeps these pacts together, what prevents him from breaking the rules, you know?
And also why the FUCK would he both allegedly admire our aspirations, seemingly be an ally to us, and then try to trip us over the details? Is he really just that sadistic?
>>
>>5197051
>Accept this condition—though you’re under no obligation to do so, your first deal already having been struck—as the humans are Not magically-bound by this pact in the way Irinnile is

>Bluff the humans, telling them that the process will take time—maybe you can figure it out later, or just return to slay them when they’re no longer useful
>Bring these humans with you, so Henzler can work her own chimeric magic on them to achieve the desired effects

Henzler must have an idea that might work out. If it doesn't, we can always figure it out later, and we can just resort to cleaning house after we've dealt with the Dragonborn issue.
>>
>>5197051
>Accept this condition—though you’re under no obligation to do so, your first deal already having been struck—as the humans are Not magically-bound by this pact in the way Irinnile is

>Bluff the humans, telling them that the process will take time—maybe you can figure it out later, or just return to slay them when they’re no longer useful

>Ask Henzler to ponder the challenge

>Consult the Record to see if there is any spell or potion which could accomplish what we seek
>>
>>5197424
Support consulting the Records, that a good idea, and I can agree to Henzler's pondering. My main interest in including her was mostly to gain greater insight into the magical fleshsculpting aspect of her research.
>>
>>5197344
[Put simply, a demon cannot break a pact's literal wording, or any interpretation thereof that the mortal can make a strong enough case for having been implicit in the pact's phrasing. They are also obligated to make a good faith effort to accomplish their end of any given bargain, though timeframe and method may be very much up to interpretation if not stated. It's a monkey's paw, if the monkey's paw didn't ALWAYS necessarily seek to screw you over.]

[As for why The Incubus would try to catch you on technicalities, you'd have to ask, or infer, its motivations.]
>>
>Accept this condition—though you’re under no obligation to do so, your first deal already having been struck—as the humans are Not magically-bound by this pact in the way Irinnile is

> Ask Henzler to ponder the challenge. Also ask Irinnile to ponder the challenge and let us know what help she needs to possess the humans and reshape them as we promise.

Da man can read thoughts. We are not the proper weapon to wield against Incy. If our interests align, work with him. If not, don't. Try to achieve our goals without fighting Incy if possible, and leave any eventual conflict with this demon to future reptilians. After all, what's in it for us to fight Incy?
>>
>>5197528
>>5197431
>>5197424
>>5197414
>>5197151
>>5197087

“Accceptable,” you tell the worried mother. “But remember: it wass usss who brought you these boonss, who freed you both, and who let you all live these new, rich, FULL lives.”

The woman and the young man both nod rapidly.

“Enssure that the children remember that, too,” you say, with a smile and a wink.

“Will I really be young again?” the human female asks.

“Of courssse,” you half-bluff. You aren’t yet sure how you’ll accomplish this. “It may take ssome time… The effectsss wll not be immediate…”

You allow your form to shift, a ripple of scales across your body, the sprouting of horns and their almost-imemdiate recession back into your skull. The effect holds even your longtime allies’ attention—to the humans, it is shocking enough to a elicit a gasp.

“The changing of formsss iss a ssmall thing to usss,” you say.

The female practically bows before you prostrate; the young male backs away.

“What are you?” he asks.

“Your new Reptilian overlordsss,” you answer, cheerfully.

Your group departs, Roth bemoaning the continued survival of the ‘loose ends’, Alhazred quiet and contemplative. The chimeras fall in, though Alhazred has to devote some time to wrangling the Dragonborn back in; he is covered in blood wool when he return to you, and is picking similarly-gory wool and cotton from between his teeth with the claws of his functional arm.

‘Irinnile,’ you ask the succubus, ‘can you not jsust… Enetr into them and shift their shape?’

Irinnile sends you the telepathic equivalent of a shrug, saying ‘I got no idea, babe. I mean, yeah, I COULD… But then, would they stay that way when I exited stage left? Damned if I know! I don’t really have a lot of, uh, being-in-a-mortal’s-body practical experience, outside you.’

You have an idea who MIGHT be able to affect a more permanent change, though: your resident utterly-enthralled Fleshweaver.

“Head Chimericcissst Henzler,” you ask aloud, “I gather that you are much older than you appear. I’ve seen what you can do with living materials…”

“You wish to know if I can make good on your promises to the farmers.”

“Yesss,” you say, “or advise me on how to accomplish thiss with demonic magic.”

Henzler ponders the challenge as you traverse the dark hills and valleys, skirting clear of dangerous woodlands and well-patrolling roads alike. It makes your journey take considerably longer than it might otherwise, but that just give her more time to think.
>>
>>5197729
“It comes down to the three types of physical change one might affect,” the Chimercist blurts out, suddenly and without warning, when your party comes to a brief stop to rest and reorient around a settlement in your way.

“Ssay again?” you ask, startled by the outburst.

“A body can be shaped by genetics, biology—the generation of tissues from the inherited, intrinsic properties in a being’s bloodline,” she begins, speaking slowly and expounding carefully, as if to a dullard. “You inherited your scales and your skin, your eyes, and your limbs through these. I grew the dragon-chimera by mixing bloodlines via magic.”

You nod.

“The wings the chimera had were undersized, half-formed, troublesome. We removed them. This is the second means: surgical or alchemical modification, with tools or with concoctions which modify the appearance or workings of a being without affecting the growth of new tissue.”

“And what of…?” Alhazred interjects.

“Demonic transformations affect the morphic dimension,” Henzler interrupts his question with, you gather from his quiet, the answers he was seeking. “The ‘shape of the soul’ is a LAYPERSON’S way to put it. That shape affects the physical body, guiding and manipulating it to better match. A demonic transformation, such as you demonstrated earlier, makes less-permanent changes than surgery, alchemy, or bio-heredity… Unless the soul within enforces that shape, or demonic essence attached to it.”

“Sso Irinnile’ss changesss would leave when she left?” you ask.

Henzler nods, but with a frown and without great conviction. “Sometimes, a soul can be tainted, and a host or occult dabbler can retain evidence of demonic possession in the body as a result… But usually, it is nothing major, and certainly not a process one can guide with the precision of alchemy, surgery, or chimercism. I use a combination of all three disciplines, especially the surgical and alchemical, to make my body appear and function as it does.

You look her up and down, wondering what is going on underneath the baggy robes, the youthful face. You recall that you saw hands working with her implements earlier… But tentacles emerged from those same sleeves when you battled her beneath The Tower.

“So can you do it?” you press.

“Give the young man muscle mass, add to his height?” she scoffs. “Easily. Steroids, an exercise regimen… Maybe some stretching and setting. Easier, of course, fi he’s still growing at all…”

“And the woman?” you ask.
>>
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>>5197730

Henzler frowns. “I can’t make her blood and flesh forget her true age, but there are obviously means to alter the face and body through surgery and alchemy… And to extend lifespan. With the aid of your demon… I suspect I could do more, for she and I alike. It would take time, and concentrated effort, but perhaps if the BODY cannot be convinced that it is younger than it is, and to live longer, the semi-immortal SOUL may be more persuadable?”

Alhazred nods along, taking out a quill and a book and beginning to write and, by the looks of it, to draw diagrams. Roth pointedly ignores what he mutters about as a ‘pointless conversation about appeasing your worthless pet mammals’. You… Well, you aren’t sure you fully grasp all of it, but it sounds promising, and it makes you wonder what Henzler could do for YOU, and YOUR body…

‘Pfft, we don’t need her!’ Irinnile says. ‘You got me ta’ make ya’ all shiny ‘n new whenever you wanna’ change it up!’

Eventually, you arrive at the outskirts of Sparrowton. You are not hungry—the butchery of the animals provided you all ample rations—but you and your companions are growing tired. Well, you, Alhazred, and Henzler are. With only brief breaks to stretch his wings, Hrischel has remained preening himself upon your shoulder, and is well-rested. The other chimeras evince some weariness, but would dutifully press on if asked. Roth looks impatient at your halting progress, and as if he could keep going for another few hours.

“Come on!” he bellows. “We have already wasted too much time.”

What do you do?
>Descend into the earth, to meet with The Serpent priests and receive your well-earned accolades
>Camp on the outskirts of the woods, using the time to attend to personal matters, such as…
>>Experiment on one of the chimeras in your entourage with henzler and Irinnile, to test out her theories [specify which one]
>>Checking in on your Hawksong thralls [who?]
>>Catching up with Alhazred about his captivity, and his plans for his return to the subterranean Reptilian realm
>>To tease and/or flirt with Roth
>Rest here, and visit Sparrowton in the morning [specify if you have a particular stop-off in mind]
>Scout the surrounding area for any possible dangers or followers—just in case
>Write-in
>>
>>5197731
>Scout the surrounding area for any possible dangers or followers—just in case
I'll be damned if we don't make an initial sweep of the area, maybe grab a hunter to experiment on.
>Camp on the outskirts of the woods, using the time to attend to personal matters, such as…
>>Experiment on one of the chimeras in your entourage with henzler and Irinnile, to test out her theories [specify which one]
>>Checking in on your Hawksong thralls [Felman, the Cook]
>>Catching up with Alhazred about his captivity, and his plans for his return to the subterranean Reptilian realm
>>To tease and/or flirt with Roth
Our allies need some rest, and catching up on our projects in the meantime seems prudent.
>>
>>5197731
>Checking in on your Hawksong thralls
All of them

>Catching up with Alhazred about his captivity, and his plans for his return to the subterranean Reptilian realm

>Have Roth scout the surrounding area for any possible dangers or followers—just in case
>>
>>5197731
>Descend into the earth, to meet with The Serpent priests and receive your well-earned accolades
>>
>>5197731
>Descend into the earth, to meet with The Serpent priests and receive your well-earned accolades
>>
>>5197731
Uhm, is it too late to change vote..?
>>
>>5198121
[It isn't! I am a bit under the weather, so I slept in. Plus: we have a sort of tie between going straight underground and camping out.]
>>
>>5198127
Okay, so I'm (>>5198043) changing to:

>Scout the surrounding area for any possible dangers or followers—just in case
Definitely grab a hunter or some animal. I don't want to experiment on Hirschel and Owlbear is cute. Also would murder us if we tried.
>Camp on the outskirts of the woods, using the time to attend to personal matters, such as…
>>Experiment with Henzler and Irinnile, to test out her theories
See if we can we figure our how to remedy the aging process. Not to metagame, but this would require skin/fat surgery and restoring her DNA to full power, so that her body can fix itself internally like in her prime. I believe that the second part could be achieved with magic and alchemy instead of that weird soul magic we know nothing about.
I really want to nail this pact on the head both for our satisfaction and so that Irinnile doesn't get into trouble by breaking the rules.
>>Catching up with Alhazred about his captivity, and his plans for his return to the subterranean Reptilian realm
>>To tease and/or flirt with Roth
Maybe Henzler too, so that Foxanon has something to read before she inevitably disappears.

Skipping on thralls to preserve my sanity.
>>
>>5198127
Understandable and hope you feel better soon, RQM!
Also yes, I did a 180° because my first vote was a bit of late panic vote without taking in the full picture. Shame on me.
>>
Rolled 1, 1, 10, 13 = 25 (4d20)

Post in progress
>>
>>5198198
Oh nooooo
>>
>>5198143
>>5198047
>>5197899
>>5197741
“Since you appear to have such a reserve of energy, perhaps you could scout the surrounding area to ensure we were not followed?” you suggest to Roth.

The Dragonblooded Reptilian scoffs at the notion of this delegation of duty, and at the delay. You ask that he bring back some living prey, as well, if possible.

“If you don’t like that option,” you suggest, “I know… OTHER ways we could burn off that excess energy.”

This sends the flustered old male scampering to scout the surrounding area, to your great amusement.

Next, you turn to the infiltrator known as ‘Alhazred’. You haven’t had much time to catch up with him since you escaped the Tower and… Embraced him. Certainly, not alone.

‘Oh shit, we gonna’ go for round two?!’ Irinnile asks eagerly.

Instead, you strike up a conversation, much to her disappointment.

“You were captive to The Incubus for some time,” you say, coming upon Alhazred as he gathers kindling for a fire. “Did you learn anything valuable?”

“The demon is knowledgeable of many arts,” Alahzred says. “However, it is sadly unwilling to share such knowledge freely. It required… Assurances. Pacts, such as you made with those humans at the farm.”

You narrow your eyes. “You didn’t make such a pact, did you?”

Alahazred meets your eyes, raising an eyebrow in curiosity at the venom in your vocie. After a moment, he looks away.

“No,” he answers. “May I borrow your feathered drake chimera?”

You gesture for Hirschel to attend to the male Degenerate Infiltrator, and with an obvious aptitude for communicating with your little pet, he is able to direct Hirschelto settle upon the kindling, and to set it ablaze with his self-immolating ability.

“Henzler tells me that this one is partially created through the manipulation of phoenix blood and life force,” Alahzred notes, voice and expression disapassionate even as he scratches little Hirschel under his chin.

Irrationally, you find that the sight serves to endear you, to temper your paranoia about him… Even if just a bit. Besides, Irinnile sensed no obvious demonic taint within him, and he is the only Degenerate you have ever known for any length of time. It’s a shame you know so little about him, you realize.

“The moment of our most glorious return is almost upon us,” you say aloud. “What do you plan to do when you return in triumph?”

“To leave again,” he says simply.
>>
>>5198224

You blink, quiet in your confusion. He does not mean to bask in the celebration and accolades? You have accomplished great things together, advancing and protecting the Grand Design against mammalian subversion even as you succeeded in infiltrating and undermining their institutions.

“We are tools,” he explains, when he sees you do not understand. “We are not destined to remain among our Reptilian kin for long. Our presence brings disgust and discomfort to… Superior ones. You know this. They will send us away again.”

You narrow your eyes, shaking your head. That can’t be right—not after all you’ve done, not with the <DIVINE FAVOUR> hovering about your soul like a protective cloak about your shoulders.

Alhazred watches the microexpressions of dismay and disbelief move across your face, then simply looks away.

“It is better that way,” he says, almost as if you reassure you (or himself). “We subvert the humans to take back the surface. We do this because, with all due respect to The Master Race, the surface is more interesting. It is better up here—there is more to see, to be, to learn. Do you not think so?”

You cannot help but…
>Agree, after your time in Hawksong
>Find Alhazred’s suggestions sacrilegious and treasonous
>Feel deeply conflicted about this
>Want to kiss this strange Degenerate male [+affection]
>Write-in
>>
>>5198226
You eventually part company with Alhazred, who is lightly cooking the livestock-flesh you acquired over his fire. You briefly consider experimenting on the owlbear or tentacle-dog with Henzler, but you have grown somewhat attached to their quiet presence. You feed them both some animal-organ, scratching the dog-chimera’s ears for a moment as you do so. It brings you some comfort, and the creature seems to be more naturally at ease around you for it. The owlbear… Well, you manage to look it in the eye briefly, longer and with less terror than you have managed previously, and you ALMOST manage to touch it. Ultimately, instinct takes hold of you and you abandon its scraps of meat and organ and flee before it draws too near to you.

“Some research implies that certain fears are deeply-embedded memories. Memories in the blood, or in the spirit, inherited from ancestors or from trauma inflicted upon the very soul of a race,” Henzler lectures, watching you. “What terrible fate befell your race, to make you so scared of an overgrown owl?”

“Silence,” you haughtily command her. “Do not forget who owns you.”

Henzler flinches only slightly, but complies. Not long thereafter, Roth arrives, reporting no signs of humans roaming the hills or woodlands after dark. However, he ahs brought with him a deer, struck with the bow and arrows of the Paladins you slew.

“Is this to feed the Dragonborn?” he asks.

That particular Great One is presently slumbering, or at least laying quite still and breathing easily, almost appearing to be one more green hill amongst all the others of this land in his stillness. At the use of his de facto name, it opens one bleary, orange eye, staring at the deer.

“Maybe,” you say, reassuring the dragon-heir, “but after we are done. Head Chimericist Henzler, to me.”
>>
>>5198227
The deer’s primary purpose is to serve as experimental fodder for Irinnile’s abilities, and for Henzler’s. You still intend to fulfill your half of the demon-pact you made with the farmers, both for the sake of mastering this new art and so that Irinnile doesn't get into trouble by breaking the rules of her peculiar race.

‘Hey, I resemble that remark!’ the succubus protests.

Together, you work to reshape the spirit and the flesh. Henzler lacks the necessary alchemical compounds and facilities to achieve the best results, she informs you, but still you press on. Your objective, after all, is not to make the deer into anything as novel as Hirschel or the owlbear, but simply to make it bigger, stronger, more youthful, more virile. If it can be done for this simple creature, perhaps it can be done for the humans, and from there… Well, the applications are endless!

At first, your results almost seem to be bearing fruit. You have Roth hold down the wounded, panicky beast while you soothe its mind with mesmerism. Then, you place your own hands upon it, insinuating Irinnile’s occult energies into the simple soul of the cervid. Henzler instructs you in how to enable ‘morphic plasticity’, freeing the mammal’s spiritual core to accept and enable changes of its form. Then, together with Henzler, you begin to work at using your magical energies to reshape flesh, to renew and replenish dermis and lipids, to swell and embiggen muscle tissue.

>>5198198

Perhaps it is your own inexperience with such magic, or Henzler’s aforementioned need for more professional equipment and environs to affect such deep changes in an adult organism, but it is here that things go deeply, deeply wrong.

>1

At first, the flesh seems to accept the changes… But then, they start to occur unevenly. The deer’s eye widens, and it begisn to kick and cry out, thrashing its head. Its skin spills off of it in great rolling waves, as if trying to crawl away while still anchored. Flesh and muscle swell unevenly, growing like great tumours or pustules which threaten to explode. You reel back, pulling your hands away…

>Another 1

However, neither Roth nor Henzler are so swift. Jutting calcium spikes explode across the creature—antlers sprouting up on every available surface, turning the by now enormous and swollen creature into a hedgehog-like abomination. One of these structs catches Roth, causing him to groan and curse in pain. He draws his favoured sword, only to catch a massive, malformed hoof to the face. You see his head snap back hard as he is thrown across the small clearing; for a moment, you fear he might be dead, but you see him shift and hear him groan again.
>>
>>5198230
Your accidental creation sheds its skin, crying out in horror and twisted exhilaration as demonic taint and chimeric strength fill its bloody, sinewy form. It looms, hunchbacked and hobbling, and advances towards you and Henzler with head held low and eyes aglow. You take a step back, reaching for the sword-cane you now keep at your hip…

But then it explodes. To your shame, you hear yourself scream at the sudden shower of viscera, shielding yourself with warding magic and with your arms against the accompanying rain of bone fragments and misshapen, twisted antlers. When you open your eyes, you see that Henzler has undone the deer-thing with a single gesture of her outstretched arm, wrapped and elongated by a great tentacle-like structure emerging from the same overwide sleeve.

It occurs to you that, had she not been so swiftly enthralled by you, she might well have been able to utterly ‘undo’ The Dragonborn in the same way, and his deep-rooted fear of this human fleshweaver begins to make a great deal of sense.

“Well,” Henzler says after a moment, “this provided some insight into what NOT to do with your farmers, I suppose. Sometimes, that can be just as important. I think I even see where we went wrong…”

You do not listen to her continued mutterings, instead rushing to Roth’s side. ALhazred, too, is shortly upon the scene, having heard the commotion.

“Is the Dragonblooded One alright?” he asks.

Roth’s face is swollen, neck kinked. He lives, but he has also been perforated by several antlers. You feel his body, ripping away his clothes and removing his amulet to do so more effectively… And nothing vital has been hit, nothing IMMEDIATELY lethal. Still… He is in bad shape.

‘Ah fuck…’ Irinnile says. ‘The old bastard, like, just can’t catch a break, can he?’

You’d planned to end your evening by diving into the minds of your Hawksong thralls, but these unexpected events throw your plans into disarray. Roth requires medical attention, and while Henzler could perhaps use her biological magic to help stabilize him… Well, waiting out the day with your best warrior in such a shape, so close to human settlement and surrounded by such conspicuous monsters, it presents its own problems.

What do you do?
>Stay the night anyway, and check in with your thralls while Alhazred and Henzler work to keep Roth stable, then depart before most of the humans are awake for your rendezvous point
>Seek out a hiding-place deeper in the woods before continuing your plans for the evening; it is nearly dawn, and you will not travel again until the next evening, for security’s sake
>You can check in with your thralls later—you must hurry, to bring Roth to proper Reptilian medical attention and to hide the Dragonborn and your other assets in the caves before the sun rises and the humans wake
>Write-in
>>
>>5198233
>Stay the night anyway, and check in with your thralls while Alhazred and Henzler work to keep Roth stable, then depart before most of the humans are awake for your rendezvous point

I see we're doing our very best to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory.
>>
>>5198226
>Agree, after your time in Hawksong
Both worlds have their charms. This has little to do with our degeneracy, though.
>>5198233
Dear dark fucking gods how does something like that even happen?! Bet you had fun writing this, lmao.
>Clean up the viscera using Henzler or Dragonborn's help
We certainly don't want anyone passing by and finding this demented horror scene and sperging about devils in the woods bringing Paladins' attention to our Reptilian route to Hawksong. Get rid of the flesh and parts to the best of our collective ability. The blood must stay I guess.
>Seek out a hiding-place deeper in the woods before continuing your plans for the evening; it is nearly dawn, and you will not travel again until the next evening, for security’s sake
If possible:
>Use Alhazred's help to perform a sleeping ritual to create a healing potion for Roth
What was the side effect again? Demonic taint?

After this post I changed my mind about Henzler. We should NOT bring her underground and instead keep her with us on the surface - both for learning purposes and her combat abilities.
Getting her down there is pointless anyway, she said herself that fixing Dragonborn will be more effort than it's worth.
>>
>>5198226
>Feel deeply conflicted about this

>Seek out a hiding-place deeper in the woods before continuing your plans for the evening; it is nearly dawn, and you will not travel again until the next evening, for security’s sake

Better safe than sorry
>>
>>5198226
>>Feel deeply conflicted about this
>>Want to kiss this strange Degenerate male [+affection]

>>5198233
>>Seek out a hiding-place deeper in the woods before continuing your plans for the evening; it is nearly dawn, and you will not travel again until the next evening, for security’s sake
>>
>>5198261
>>5198263
>>5198317
>>5198354
Roth needs medical attention… But Henzler, as a Chimericist or Fleshweaver or whatever you wish to designate her, she has applicable skills. She can keep his stable. And besides…

>“We are not destined to remain among our Reptilian kin for long. Our presence brings disgust and discomfort to… Superior ones. You know this. They will send us away again.”
>“We do this because, with all due respect to The Master Race, the surface is more interesting. It is better up here—there is more to see, to be, to learn.”

You glance at Alhazred, feeling a conflicting array of emotions well up within you as you reflect on his words. Maybe one more day and night on the surface wouldn’t be such a terrible thing? Besides, it’s one last opportunity to check in on your ‘holdings’ in Hawksong.

Your allies go about cleaning the site of your little experiment of occult evidence as best they can—a process whereby the Dragonborn joins owlbear and tentacle-dog in physically lapping the viscera from the grass in a manner that isn’t terribly dignified. Henzler attends to Roth, scooping him up in her tentacle-limbs and carrying him deeper into the woods and out of the sight of any passing humans. You cover up the site of your bonfire and, as dawn comes, you set Alhazred and Hirschel to patrolling land and sky for signs of spies or passing hunters.

First allowing yourself a brief torpor—you never did get to rest during the hectic night—you then return to business. With only some minor misdirection by Alhazred and Henzler, the sole pair of passing humans was steered away and made (or so you are told) unsuspicious. Roth has lapsed in and out of consciousness, and apparently had little to say but general curses for “that foolish female’s demon-meddling” and “the pathetic, flawed, volatile magic of the younger and lesser races”, which sounds about right, and makes you smile slightly. Thus reassured, and by your instruction left to your own devices, you set yourself to meditation and broadcast your mind across the unseen network of magic which binds Irinnile to her ectoplasm elsewhere, to check in on your Hawksong thralls.

Only… There don’t seem to be as many as there once were.

‘I… I don’t get it,” Irinnile whimpers.
>>
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>>5198481
Lithobathius, the fat mage you infected with Irinnile’s essence, remains in-place among the Tower Guardians, defensive wing of the Hawksong Mages’ Tower. However, perhaps most valuable Tower asset, Inquisitor Felman, is… Unreachable, or unresponsive.

‘Is Incelman… Dead?’ Irinnile asks.

‘I don’t know,’ you snap, ‘is he?! This is your magic!’

‘Babe, I ain’t never done this before, either! It’s, like, as new to me as you, okay?!’

You try to force your way through this curious blockage, or to work out the cause… But you cannot. Whether he is dead, or unconscious, or protected from you, you cannot reach him. The worst case scenario rears its ugly head: could he have been found out, and freed of your influence? He knows so much about your operations, your identities, your methods, your associates…

No. NonononoNO!

You scan across this network, seeking out the last Tower agent in your ectoplasmic ‘employ’: the highly-placed Magus Auctor Federigo. When you find him, it raises further alarms… And questions.

“We’re just asking these questions of everyone, sir,” says a man in a pointed hat whom you do no recognize.

“Really?” your man-on-the-inside replies with some hostility, “you are asking every man and woman of The Tower why they ordered an evacuation? This seems like a very SPECIFIC and SPURIOUS question applicable only to me, young man!”

“Well… Similar questions,” the younger mage across from Puppet Federigo admits. “But you DID order an evacuation left key points undefended…”

“To save lives!” Federigo protests, under your influence most utterly. “We were under attack, as you may recall.”

“Yes, well, we’re just asking questions,” the man across from him assures him. “Now, do you have any idea where the Head Chimericist may be? Or the Inquisitor, Felman?”

‘They don’t know where Incelman’s gone, either?’ Irinnile murmurs. ‘Or what we done with Henzler?’

Felman’s fate may remain unknown, but something ahs clearly raised alarm bells in The Tower’s leadership. With the Magus Auctor under suspicion, Felman vanished… How much might they know, or suspect? How long will it be until they think to check your puppet here more deeply for demonic taint? What happens when or if they FIND it?

What do you do?
>Instruct Federigo to bluff the questioning mage with misinformation [such as?]
>Have Federigo ask his own questions of the other mage [such as?]
>Order Federigo to attack this questioner with magic, flee this place, and go to ground until you can reclaim him
>Command Federigo to self-terminate before he is found out
>Federigo can handle himself for now, and you fear tipping them off any sooner than necessary—change focus to another thrall
>Open your eyes, abandon your thralls, and make with haste for the rendezvous point, even by daylight—there is no more time to waste!
>Write-in
>>
>>5198482
>Federigo can handle himself for now, and you fear tipping them off any sooner than necessary—change focus to another thrall
>>
>>5198490
>agreed
>>
>>5198482
>Open your eyes, abandon your thralls, and make with haste for the rendezvous point, even by daylight—there is no more time to waste!
>>
>>5198482
>Federigo can handle himself for now, and you fear tipping them off any sooner than necessary—change focus to another thrall

He doesn’t know anything and hasn’t done much.

Don’t do things hastily - if we panic then we’re more exposed.

Felman going missing is bad. He may be in like a magic-proof cell… if he pops back up we should make him self-terminate
>>
>>5198490
>>5198543
>>5198553
>>5198577

Federigo, you reason, was the most highly-placed and yet least-often useful of the three Tower-affiliated thralls. He knows relatively little about you, or your operations. No, it’s felman who is worrying in his absence…

As he his absent, though, you choose to focus your senses through the lens of another trhall. Specifically…

>Lithobathius, to use he beholder-spider and his magical connection thereto to do some spying on the Inquisition, and maybe locate Felman or learn about his status
>The halfling cook of your human grandfather/assassination target, Lord Yosef, to learn what has developed of the conversations between he and The Archmage
>>
>>5198587
>Lithobathius, to use he beholder-spider and his magical connection thereto to do some spying on the Inquisition, and maybe locate Felman or learn about his status
>>
>>5198587
>The halfling cook of your human grandfather/assassination target, Lord Yosef, to learn what has developed of the conversations between he and The Archmage
Really feels like Felman was captured by the Paladin maggots. They are independent of the Tower now and we just commited a brutal murder on 2 of them and 3 gryphons...

Ah well, I guess shit is falling apart. That's why not telling anyone anything ever is better than enthralling or ectoplasming everyone.
>>
>>5198797
>>5198617
[Awaiting a tie-breaker! Though my update make come late tonight or early tomorrow, as I have a D20 Modern campaign this evening.]
>>
>>5198587
>The halfling cook of your human grandfather/assassination target, Lord Yosef, to learn what has developed of the conversations between he and The Archmage

Here goes something!
>>
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>>5198617
>>5198797
>>5199089
You decide it is about time to check in on Lord Yosef. old, ennobled merchant is many things to you: the target of your Dark Gods’ eternal ire for his descent from the man who financed the crusade which toppled their champion; ‘V. Rilney’, the anonymous author who wrote a half-baked treatise about the very-real conspiracy of your Reptilian race to subvert and supplant surface society; your father’s father, driven to the precipice of madness by grief over your human parent’s untimely demise. Most relevant to your immediate situation, he is also a friend of the Archmage, and the one responsible for persuading him of the possibility of shapeshifting and inhuman agents in Hawksong… And, as you never got around to stealing or breaking them, he is still in possession of rare and valuable Glasses of True Sight.

You take possession of the halfling female who serves as cook to Lord Isaac Yosef: a Malalyn Warmfeet, she informs you when you take control and ask.

“Huh?” one of her fellow kitchen-staff asks.

“Pardon?” she replies, equally bewildered.

“You just stood up all stiff and said your name, like…” the other staffer, a fellow halfling female, imitates standing at attention, and says: “‘Malalyn Warmfeet’, like that. It was super weird.”

“Oh, I was… Just reminding myself to focus. Like when your parents say your full name, you know?”

You wait until the cook is able to make an excuse to exit to kitchen to ask her further questions: what has been happening, and what does she know about the events transpiring in Hawksong? And what ahs transpired between Yosef and Archmage?

“I’m not privy to all the little details,” she says, leaning forward to whisper despite your lack of actual physical presence in the bathroom with her. “I only know that some Paladins were murdered—PALADINS!—and another noble’s house bruned down, like that poor woman and the wererats that The Gray Press talked about. Oh, and that Master Yosef and The Archmage are meeting for breakfast RIGHT now!”
‘What?!’

“Well, more properly a second breakfast, given the requested food and timing, but you know how imprecise humans are about meal etiquette and terminology.”

‘He’ss there right now?’ you send, refocusing her attention on the salient details.

This halfling—Malalyn, you suppose, nods enthusiastically, causing your view through her eyes to bob up and down.

“How am I supposed to compete with MAGICAL cooking?” she demands. “I already know he’s going to be disappointed with my h'ordeuvres, I just KNOW it!”

You have bigger concerns than h'ordeuvres, to say the least. Still, this presents an opportunity.
>>
>>5199651

You instruct the halfling to personally present the two old human men with their meal, but to step quietly—something she proves adept at, being barefoot in her people’s tradition. By thus approaching so stealthily, she enables you to overhear the two elder mammal-men speaking plainly.

“It’s getting out of control, Isaac,” you hear The Archmage say with angst and weariness. “The Paladins have lost THREE good, elder members, a younger member, and this… Chase fellow is GRAVELY wounded, apparently. The head Chimericist is MISSING, and so too is her apprentice.”

“You really think that THEY are in your fortress? Your institutions?” Lord Isaac asks, grave in his tone.

“Someone has access,” The Archmage growls. “Someone with demonic influences.”

Lord Isaac seems taken aback at the other man’s certainty. “How can you know for sure?” he asks.

“I… Authorized an Inquisition operation, but our agents were beaten to the punch by an hour, perhaps two, and nearly all evidence was destroyed. However… What remained was damning. An agent, infected by some sort of demonic parasite.”

‘Oh shit oh SHIIIIIIIT,’ Irinnile wails. ‘They found it in Felman! Our gunk! Our ectoplasm!’

You feel your blood run cold—colder than usual, that is.

“What did he say?” Yosef asks urgently. “Who did it?”

“He’s still unconscious—destroying the demon required drastic measures.”

“It isn’t like them to make a move this bold,” Lord Isaac says. “Not unless…”

“Unless?” the Archmage presses, with altogether to much eagerness for your taste. Has he become better-convinced of Yosef’s theories, or is he just that desperate for any lead.

What do you do?
>Have the halfling cook hang back and listen in for a while longer—though, if she is detected, it risks tipping them off that there is a spy in Yosef’s home
>Have the halfling take up some of the cutlery on her plate and assassinate one (or both) of the old men [specify a primary target]
>Attempt to puppet the halfling to spin some misleading theories, directing these two codgers off-course
>Switch to Lithobathius, to seek out where Felman is being held and to plug that leak before he regains consciousness
>Write-in
>>
>>5199652
>Attempt to puppet the halfling to spin some misleading theories, directing these two codgers off-course
>Switch to Lithobathius, to seek out where Felman is being held and to plug that leak before he regains consciousness

This may not actually be Felman, but the Incubus’ agent. We should still take some precautions however.
>>
>>5199652
>Switch to Lithobathius, to seek out where Felman is being held and to plug that leak before he regains consciousness
>>
>>5199652
Welp, we are 100% fucked once Felman wakes up.
>Attempt to puppet the halfling to spin some misleading theories, directing these two codgers off-course
Just make sure she isn't weird about it. Ideally spin up a story that she will believe in wholeheartedly and then recite on her own.
>Switch to Lithobathius, to seek out where Felman is being held and to plug that leak before he regains consciousness
Let's not get Lithobathius compromised in his place, tho.

Politesse was always better than demon shit, prove me wrong.
>>
Rolled 10, 12, 3, 7, 13 = 45 (5d20)

>>5199664
>>5199697
>>5199970
You direct the halfling cook around the corner, where she begins to set down the food. Both men fall silent at once.

“Sorry, sirs,” you say in Malalyn’s voice, “I couldn’t help but overhear you…”

“Well pretend that you didn’t,” Lord Yosef snaps, incensed at the lack of propriety, and visibly on-edge from the topic of conversation. His hands are white at the knuckle, gripping his chair.

“Of course,” you have the halfling say. “I’ll go, so there’s no need to change topics on my account. But…”

Both human males look at one another, and then at your puppet, with obvious skepticism that she could have anything to add to this tense and high-minded meeting.

“What if that’s what they—the Southern Occultists, I guess?—what they want?”

“What if what is?” the Archmage blurts out, outraged. “You don’t even BEGIN to know what you’re talking about! Isaac, are you staff always so, so…”

“No,” Lord Yosef says, voice like a sledgehammer. “They are NOT.”

“Sorry, sorry!” your little puppet kowtows. “Only… This agent seemed to be infected—or whatever—AFTER going to that manor everyone’s talking about, that demons or wererats burned down, right? Maybe… Maybe they infected him THERE, and all these accidents are just excuses to get important folks where demons can get at them, rather than people getting infected before going in?”
>>
>>5200049
>13
Both old men look intensely skeptical, and Lord Yosef in particular looks quietly furious.

“Malalyn, you forget yourself,” he says seriously. “THANK you for breakfast—”

“Second breakfast, technically,” you add, for verisimilitude.

“GO!”

You direct this Malalyn Warmfeet to scurry out of the room most hurriedly. Then, you abandon her, at least for now. You can tell that no real headway has been made and muddling cause and effect in the Tower investigation, and that leaves you only one course of action: plug the leak directly.

You take control next of blue-batted, big-bellied, bearded Lithobathius, of the Tower Guardians. Until now, he has been operating on your default instructions: spreading xenophobic messages of division and suspicion, pitting the northerly, pinkish humans native to this region against their browner, more southerly cousins, and casting aspersions upon the more open-to-the-occult mages of their lands as likely culprits of your attack upon the Tower Gala and their basement facilities.

However, that isn’t ALL that Lithobathius has been doing—after all, it would be suspicious to suddenly stop doing his job. Luckily, his job includes the detaining and monitoring of prisoners and persons of suspicion. Less luckily, he is currently elsewhere, attending to other matters—what he describes as a recently ramped-up expansion of regular hallways and premises patrols.

“I know where the Inquisitor is, whom they brought in on suspicion of demonic influence,” he murmurs under his breath as he walks, his ‘bespider’ familiar upon his shoulder. “I can get to him.”

‘What’s the play, babe?’ Irinnile asks.
>You don’t wish to expose Lithobathius to suspicion as well—send in the bespider, just to check in on Felman’s status and location
>Lithobathius must liberate Felman from captivity and bring him to one of your contacts in town to imprison in some hidden place on your behalf [Incubus, or Albacete?]
>Felman is too dangerous—clever, knowledgeable about your operation, a skilled combatant besides. Lithobathius must ensure he is eliminated, lethally and immediately
>Write-in
>>
>>5200056
>Tell him to stop spreading the xenophobic messages to avoid bringing more attention to himself
>You don’t wish to expose Lithobathius to suspicion as well—send in the bespider, just to check in on Felman’s status and location
I bet they are monitoring Felman in case someone comes for him.
>Ask Lithobathius what would be the fastest and safest route to get Felman out of there. Does Tower know about it?
No other way, I don't trust him with assassinating Felman and leaving no trace.

>>5200049
Holy shit, we have to burn the bridges before the whole fucking capital city knows who Ismena and Irinnile are.
Felman, Lith and the halfling ALL know how we really look.
>>
>>5200060
Supporting
>>
>>5200056
>You don’t wish to expose Lithobathius to suspicion as well—send in the bespider, just to check in on Felman’s status and location

Scout first, we can take additional steps once we have more information
>>
>>5200060
>>5200355
>>5200447
Fearful of exposing another valuable pawn to scrutiny, you instruct Lithobathius to keep a lower profile—stick to the official story of the Tower, whatever it may be, and dial back on an inflammatory or controversial rhetoric which could draw attention of superiors or other city officials down upon him. He obliged, naturally, for he can do nothing else.

‘Good,’ you send him, ‘now tell me, where iss the Inquissitor named Felman being kept?’

“They are monitoring him at an off-site storage facility, under guard,” Lithobathius intimates, quietly and under his breath.

‘Do you know where it isss?’ you ask.

“Yes.”

Excellent! You send this Guardian, and his spider-beholder familiar, on a little fact-finding mission. Lithobathius requests temporary leave, for lunch and to attend to a ‘personal gastronomic difficulty’; the explanation draws a look of half-suppressed disgust from his colleague, but suffices, and dissuades further questioning. Then, the man and bespider head towards Felman’s last known location… Taking them towards the storage facilities located mid-way between the Initiates’ Village and the Smithing District.

‘No,’ Irinnile whispers. ‘Like, it couldn’t be, right?’
>>
>>5200516
But it is: Lithobathius draws up short, as you instruct, and sends his bespider the rest of the way. You hijack the mental connection between mage and chimera to peer through ITS one great central eye, but before the creeping creature is there you already know where it is going: The Engelson Storehouse Company’s rented space, provided by way of your own shrewd bargaining to The Tower at a great profit.

The storehouse has only narrow slits, but the bespiders is capable of curling up limbs or splaying itself quite flat to crawl through such openings, and it sees fine in the dim conditions inside. They are hardly completely dark, anyway: those inside have illuminated the space around them with silver-blue mage-torches. You see two, a male human and what you take for a half-elf or descendant thereof by his (?) cheekbones and built, both wearing the Tower Guardians’ pointed blue caps. Neither is paying great attention to the unconscious, haggard-looking Felman splayed out the table betwixt them like a corpse on a slab.

Inquisitor Felman looks bruised, battered, pale in some places and livid in others. You wonder if he was driven by your influence to fight back, or if he suffered these injuries and abuses in interrogation. Regardless, you would wager his unconsciousness has more to do with spiritual and mental affliction than with physical. You cannot detect his lifeforce or mana reserves through this chain of mental links, but you DO know that your succubus partner’s influence has been thoroughly purged from him—what else might the expulsion have cost him?

What do you do?
>Send Lithobathius into clean house in a lethal wizard battle
>Attempt a covert assassination using the bespider’s limited offensive capabilities
>Attempt to route your mentalism through this chain of mages and monsters to wipe Felman’s relevant memories [high DC, but the least conspicuous if you pull it off]
>Leave Felman to hid devices, but have Lithobathius knock and ask some questions of the guards, about the prisoner or otherwise [specify questions]
>Write-in
>>
>>5200518
>Attempt to route your mentalism through this chain of mages and monsters to wipe Felman’s relevant memories [high DC, but the least conspicuous if you pull it off]
>>
>>5200518
What the fuck is Fynn doing? Why is the Tower trusting Felman to ESC?
>Use Bespider to thoroughly examine the building
In case we fail, I'd like to know anything that could help in the infiltration of the building.
>Make sure the bespider is in a position from where it can escape easily
>Attempt to route your mentalism through this chain of mages and monsters to wipe Felman’s relevant memories [high DC, but the least conspicuous if you pull it off]

We should check on our halfling connection once we're done. I feel like Isaac and Archmage know enough to try and bluff us and then restrain the servant once she's not under demonic influence.
>>
>>5200518
>Send Lithobathius into clean house in a lethal wizard battle

He dies and Felman dies too. Loose ends cleaned up.
>>
Rolled 7, 9, 12, 3, 3 = 34 (5d20)

>>5200550
>>5200791
>>5201048

‘What is Fynn of Engel up to?’ you think to yourself. Why is he allowing his storehouses to be used as a sort of off-site prison for The Mages’ Tower? Or… Perhaps they have simply had the same clever thought that you once did: if they have access to the privacy and capacity of a storehouse, why not use it for whatever they wish to do out of the public eye, and away from their own facilities?

Regardless, you see only one clear path forward—well, aside from a mutual slaughter which would squander your remaining assets and further endanger you. You wait for the male mammals standing guard over your one-time puppet, Felman, to look away. Then, when the coast is clear, you instruct the bespider to descend from above on a silken thread, and to settle like a grotesque crown upon the unconscious Inquisitor’s brow. Through your connection to Lithobathius, and his connection to the bespider, you attempt to recreate your one-time connection to Felman in miniature, a temporary window to his dreaming mind…

DC 18
>>
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Rolled 6, 17, 2, 7 = 32 (4d20)

>>5201119
DC 15 Stealth
>>
>>5201121
>12 for mentalism
…But it’s no good. The connection is stretched too thin, is too distant and tenuous. It snaps back, your brain battered about your skull by the recoil. You shake your head in disoriented frustration and plunge back into your remaining puppet, Lithobathius, and command him to command the bespider to withdraw. It’s no good.

>17 for stealth
Luckily, the chimeric observer is able to retreat back to the ceiling, scaling and retrieving its silk moments before the guards turn around. There is no change in their demeanour, no indication that these two men—making meaningless small-talk, standing guard over an unconscious ally, are any the wiser to the attempted (and failed) attempt to plunder their informational asset.

‘But they still have Felman!’

‘Relax, babe, relax… We got this. Uh, we DO got this, right? What’s the gameplan now?’

>There’s nothing else for it: sed in Lithobathius to light these fools up with magic
>Have Lithobathius knock on the door and discuss a totally-legit prisoner transfer to a new locations [politesse]
>Attempt a covert assassination using the bespider’s limited offensive capabilities
>Switch to another puppet—you will leave Felman where he lies for now [specify which puppet, and what task you wish to set them to]
>Return to your own affairs—Hawksong is heating up, but you are out of the thick of that, and you still have a job to do
>Write-in
>>
>>5201127
Is Lithobathius a regular trall or did we ectoplasm him?
>>
>>5201166
[Ectoplasmed. You can't see through the eyes of regular thralls, nor given them instructions from so far away, nor can you control them so thoroughly against their own natures.]
>>
>>5201127
>There’s nothing else for it: sed in Lithobathius to light these fools up with magic
>>
>>5201241
Okay, I'd say...
>Get Bespider in position
>Knock on the door
>Make Lithobathius and his pet simultaneously attack both mages by surprise
Aim to knock them out asap, killing is optional.
If they succeed, follow up with
>Drag the mages near Felman and finish the job, lock the door on the way out.

Chaotic vote cause im going to sleep, gn anons, rqm.
>>
[d20 Modern ended up rescheduled to tonight, and seems to be going late. Plus, I'm a bit hungover. Will post tomorrow!]
>>
Rolled 7, 11, 4, 12, 6, 13 = 53 (6d20)

>>5201251
>>5201254
You suppose there is nothing else for it. There comes a time in every operation when subtlety must be forsaken, and foot soldiers expended in service to a Grander Design. However, that doesn’t mean you need to be DUMB about it.

You order your pieces into position: the bespider crawls across the storehouse roof, weaving and swinging between support beams and rafters in order to position itself above the two mages; Lithobathius takes up station at the door. Then, on your signal, Lithobathius knocks.

“Who in all the Hells would be knocking on a storehouse door?” one asks.

“I’ll get it,” the other says. “Obviously, it must be someone from The Tower. Who else would know we’re here, right?”

As the two mage-guardians part company, the bespider positions itself above the one who remains in place. Then, when the door opens, both your pawns move to strike as one!

[1 die for bespider, 3 for Lithobathius, two dice for enemy actions]
>>
>>5202236
You’d hoped for an easy ambush and a swift defeat, but what you get is… Considerably less tidy. You observe what happens next through the eyes of Lithobathius, for his pitiful human mind cannot spare the focus to allow you direct access to the bespider’s senses. What you CAN see is not terribly encouraging, however.

Lithobathius throws his not-insubstantial girth into battering open the door, which catches the mage behind it by surprise. However, the charge is perhaps too effective: the man on the other side of the door is bowled over and the door offers little resistance, such that Lithobathius himself stumbles and falls and is tangled in his robe.

“What is—AUGH!”

That’s the other mage who was guardian Felman in this place, now struggling to remove a bespider which has dropped down upon his head. Both mage and chimera are ineffectual in their attempts: the man can only smack at it, trying to flee and tripping over some of the storehouse’s contents to roll about fruitlessly on the ground.

Both Lithobathius and the mage he knocked over watch the spectacle for a moment, before you push your puppet to focus. He frees himself from his robe and begins to gesture with his hand, but before he can cast his spell he is interrupted by the spell of another: the man he had knocked prone hurls a small fireball at where Lithobathius’ hand had just been, forcing him to recoil. Your thrall rises to his feet, but under the watchful eye of his opponent, wo is also already up.

“What is the meaning of this, Guardian Lithobathius?!” he demands. “What are you DOING?!”

‘Well this is a clusterfuck,’ Irinnile notes, watching over your mental equivalent to a shoulder. You get the mental impression of her ‘assets’ pressed against you, a sensation you know she must be sending you in a effort to cheer you up. You can ill-afford a distraction, though: it’s now or never.

What do you do?
>Command Lithobathius to set the whole storehouse ablaze, and to prevent any escape—you will kill Felman no matter the cost or the attention it draws
>Focus on battling the mage before him—you can deal with the other, and with Felman, afterwards
>Send Lithobathius on a suicidal charge to assassinate Felman at any cost, and have him turn his magic on himself before he can be captured as Felman was
>Attempt to negotiate [specify your approach and terms]
>Write-in
>>
>>5202247
>Send Lithobathius on a suicidal charge to assassinate Felman at any cost, and have him turn his magic on himself before he can be captured as Felman was
It's over anyway. They will know who is the second puppet no matter what's the outcome of this.

A sad day indeed.
>>
>>5202247
>Command Lithobathius to set the whole storehouse ablaze, and to prevent any escape—you will kill Felman no matter the cost or the attention it draws
>>
>>5202694
Fire can be put out rather quickly and we need to ensure our subjects are dead as fuck.
>>
>>5202707
>Fire can be put out rather quickly
this isn't a candle my dude
if building fires were so easy to deal with we wouldn't need fire departments
>>
>>5202368
>>5202694
[Seems we have a tie for now. I'll check in again later!]
>>
[Alas, I must get some sleep soon, and I have an early staff meeting tomorrow, but if the tie remains unbroken by tomorrow evening I'll roll for it and post anyway.]
>>
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>>5202798
Anon, these are mages (>>5185432, picrel) and they are already aware of our presence. You can't compare trying to set a place aflame with two mages ready to stop you inside to an already burning building.

>>5203044
Good luck, RQM o7
>>
>>5202247
>Attempt to negotiate [Surrender and you'll live, demon collaborators! By order of the Tower!]
When that inevitably fails
>Focus on battling the mage before him—you can deal with the other, and with Felman, afterwards

Play it off as an order from high up, maybe even add in the Paladins. Even if he fails to kill them both, it'll create confusion among the rank and file.
>>
>>5202247
>Attempt to negotiate [Surrender and you'll live, demon collaborators! By order of the Tower!]

This should help distract them and when it fails

>Send Lithobathius on a suicidal charge to assassinate Felman at any cost, and have him turn his magic on himself before he can be captured as Felman was

Make sure the bespider suicide attacks before he kills himself
>>
Rolled 9, 17, 3, 19, 10, 3, 18, 9, 19, 20 = 127 (10d20)

[6 for politesse/intimidation, 3 for Lithobathius' combat, 1 for the bespider]
>>
>>5203317
>>5203258
>>5203203
>>5202368
>>5202694

A devious notion bubbles up from the depths of your training and your shadowy soul, a lesson well-learned: sometimes, it is less important what the target of your subversion believes than what THEY believe You believe.

“Surrender and you'll live, demon collaborators! By order of the Tower!” you cry out in Lithobathius’ righteous voice.

>19 vs. DC 18

“What?!” his opponent demands, half-lowering his hand and ceasing his spellcraft for a moment. “This… This is a misunderstanding. I don’t know what in all the Gods’ names is going on with the Headmages, but we are here with the blessings of the Head Inquisitor, Hedad of the Tower Guard, and even the Achmage hims—”

“AAAGH! MY EYES!”

>20 for the Bespider

Lithobathius’ adversary looks towards his part-elven companion, whose symmetrical and angular face has been bitten and punctured repeatedly by the small fangs which now sink into his eyes.

It’s then that you make your move. Unlike with regular glamour and mentalism, your command of your ectoplasmic puppets is utter and complete, deep-seated and nigh-unbreakable. You could not command a glamoured human to turn away from a deadly foe and to focus on assassinating an ally at the probably cost of their own life…

But Lithobathius, you can, and you do. You move his legs and arms, sending the slightly-rotund man wheezing as he charges forward towards the table playing prisoner-cot to Inquisitor Felman. With only the slightest mental resistance to your urging, Felman performs the necessary gestures to call down a terrible bolt of lighting, sending it straight into the heart of unconscious Felman—that long-standing thorn in your side turned tutor and agent—and ceasing its beating.

>19 and 18 vs. DC 12 (to kill Felman in a banzai charge)…

But what was intended as a suicidal charge with an abrupt end is more successful even than you had dreamed, for the uninjured mage is not paying close attention. He, in his sentimental, mammalian foolishness, has run over to help his friend dislodge Lithobathius’ chimera. Together, they have managed to pull it loose; the wounded mage grips at his face as the chimeric creature scrambles away from his grasp. Only when the crack of lightning sounds does the uninjured mage look again to your puppet, in shame and horror.

>…and DC 18 (to take out the other mages at the same time)
>both DCs reduced by 2 by dint of distracting and confusing the foe
>>
>>5203339

“W-wait—”

Lithobathius, guided by your superior Reptilian resolve and thoroughly compromised by your succubus’ demonic taint, does no such thing. He raises his hands and, with a gesture, he lights himself ablaze. Then, screaming in self-realization and agony even as you force him forward regardless, the possessed Tower Guardian smashes bodily into both his erstwhile allies, pinning them under his burning body. And firing off another fire spell to thoroughly incinerate the lot of them, and likely to set the warehouse ablaze…

Or so you assume. It is at that point that your connection goes hazy, and then as dark as the grave. Like Felman before, but for darker reason, you have lost your connection to another puppet.

‘Well, we still have Federigo, right?’ Irinnile chimes in. ‘An’ that little Cozytoes halfling chick or whatever.’

‘Indeed,’ you acknowledge. It’s still a great reduction in your surveillance and infiltration capabilities, to lose two such operatives.

‘An’ this means that, when we rest an’ I get my strength back, I can prob’ly gunk up a couple NEW toys for ya’ to lay with, with that ectoplasm trick of ours!’

Hm. Interesting notion…

‘Speaking of lackeys, though,’ Irinnile says, a little cheekily, ‘I think Alhazred is trying to get your attention. We’ve been at this whole puppeteering thing a while… At least a few hours.’

What do you do?
>Take a pause from remote-controlling your minions, have some food, and see what Alhazred wants
>Alhazred and the others can wait—you need to deal with your one remaining Tower liability: Federigo
>Before you return to your body proper, you still have matters to attend to in the Yosef residence, in possession of the chef Malalyn Warmfoot
>Write-in
>>
>>5203340
>Alhazred and the others can wait—you need to deal with your one remaining Tower liability: Federigo
Well, since we have to get rid of him...
>Order him to send all the compromising knowledge about Tower to Grey Press and other news publications, then throw himself under a carriage.
Might as well throw their dirty laundry out of the window and make Hawksong pissed at cucktower.

>>5203317
Blessed be Dark Godss for the dice...
>>
>>5203340
>Take a pause from remote-controlling your minions, have some food, and see what Alhazred wants

might be important
>>
>>5203340
Would be nice if we could do both >>5203419 (my vote) and >>5203503.
>>
>>5203340
>Take a pause from remote-controlling your minions, have some food, and see what Alhazred wants
>>
>>5203340
>Take a pause from remote-controlling your minions, have some food, and see what Alhazred wants

Could be important
>>
>>5203419
>>5203503
>>5203580
>>5203583
Federigo remains a sticking point—he’s still infected with Irinnile’s will-warping ectoplasm, but since The Tower is obviously aware of the possibility given what they did with Felman, that might not remain the case for long. Still, of all the puppets they could have access to, he knows the least about your other identities and activities… And whatever Alhazred is bothering you with must be important. You let the matter of the Magus Auctor lie for now, and open your eyes.

“What is it?” you ask your fellow Degenerate Infiltrator.

“There are some humans in the area,” he says, speaking quietly as if afraid they might be near.

“Surely they are not SO close,” you tease him.

Alhazred hesitates, then shrugs and speaks a bit more loudly. “No. But they are a hunting party, I would wager. Three males, armed with bows and knives, unarmoured. I caught sight of them on watch.”

The others of your party are assembled near where you still sit, cross-legged, looking to you like students to a guru. It occurs to you that. Between the way they look at you and the fact that they woke you up, they clearly see you as something of a leadership figure in this excursion—even wounded, hastily-bandaged Roth, who stands there sullen, arms crossed, once more in his human guise.
>>
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>>5203956
“We should kill them,” he says, matter-of-factly, as well he might. “We can easily take them, and they will be a danger to us otherwise.

“Their disappearance could attract attention,” Alahzred points out. “We are near the rendezvous point, where it would be… An unfortunate thing, to have humans searching for a lost hunting party. Besides which, Superior One, you are still injured, and they have canids accompanying them.”

“Degenerate,” Roth says to him, “If I wanted your sorry, SYMPATHETIC opinion of how to handle humans, I would have requested it. I am not soem weakling who cannot best simple foragers and DOGS.”

Alhazred says nothing—notably, no apology or deference, but admittedly also no defiance. You suppose you were not so different, once… But now, you are. Whether it is your many triumphs in this campaign of infiltration, or Irinnile’s influence, or the smug knowledge of Roth’s unseasonable desirousness for you, you have been feeling less anxious and deferentiala round the old dragonblood.

“Hrrr… Hrruungarrh,” The Dragonborn rumbles, causing Roth to flinch away slightly. “Eyeeaat ummm.”

So you suppose that’s HIS vote. Not that it’s a democracy, but you see Roth nod appreciatingly at his larger kin’s suggestion.

“We have rations which can feed you,” Henzler says quietly, and The DRAGONBORN flinches this time.

You look to her with surprise, yourself. How much Reptilian True Speech does this ape-woman understand?

The Head Chimericist looks to you, and adds: “They would be perfect for further bio-spiritual experimentation, to test out our theories as advanced by our prior experiment.”

“The one which nearly killed me?!” Roth practically roars. “First Degenerates, and now HUMAN FEMALES speaking out of turn… What sort of assembly am I privy to?”

What do you do?
>Gather your things and leave this place, deeper into the woods until nightfall, and use glamour and illusion to cloak your party if need be
>Pack up camp and hurry, closer to the rendezvous point and away from human settlement
>Set upon the humans with your forces, and slaughter the human hunters
>Seduce and lure the human males to your party, then capture them for experimentation
>Write-in
>>
>>5203959
>Seduce and lure the human males to your party, then capture them for experimentation

We can ectoplasm one, have them say that they encountered a bear or something that killed the rest if needed. I'm feeling good about this human experimentation though.
>>
>>5203959
>Set upon the humans with your forces, and slaughter the human hunters

We'll have plenty of time for experimentation once our accolades are in hand.
>>
>>5203959
>Seduce and lure the human males to your party, then capture them for experimentation
Yeah baby. But Roth has a point... he and Alhazred should stay away for their safety in case we cause those humans to shed skin and bones.

Or, alternatively, we could just
>Shapeshift, seduce and suck them (almost) dry
To annoy Roth and make Alhazred blush.

>>5204002
>feeling good about this human experimentation though
umm, based?
>>
>>5203959
>>Seduce and lure the human males to your party, then capture them for experimentation
>>
>>5203959
>Seduce and lure the human males to your party, then capture them for experimentation

Damsel in distress in the mountains
>>
>>5204002
>>5204042
>>5204198
>>5204310
>>5204321
You reflect on your one-time friend, the fox-woman, and her race’s traditional and stereotypical habit of luring in human men to consume their hearts. Well, you may have never fully mastered illusion in the same way that she did, but with Irinnile’s abilities at your disposal, you see no reason why you cannot play at the same gambit.

“Infiltrators, you should stay back,” you suggest to Roth and Alhazred, in deference to how your last experiment went, and especially in deference to the swelling and the unconscious tilt of Roth’s head.

Alhazred nods, but Roth scoffs.

“And trust our entire operation to your abilities to outfight and apprehend three larger males at once?”

You smile indulgently as you shift your shape to that of a mussy-haired ingenue, and tell him: “I won’t be alone.”

When you leave the others ad seek out these hunters, you are careful to scan the area around them for any stragglers behind them or scouts ahead before you approach. Finding none, you spring your rap, staggering forward in a pantomime of a damsel in distress, gasping and whimpering.

“Woah!” one of the men tells the hound at his feet, which yelps and snarls. He pulls it back, looking you up and down. “What… Who are you?”

You hide a smirk behind a mask of fake terror turning to false relief, and you tell him and his companions of how you and your dear, beloved sister were traveling through the woods collecting berries when you were set upon by a terrible beast—a bear, of course, nothing supernatural—which treed your sibling and sent you fleeing to find help.

“And now I have!” you gush, grabbing hold of the arm of one of the men, the one who stared the most, and sandwiching his elbow between your breasts. “Please, please can you help?”

The three men look uncertain, at first. Perhaps a bear was a bad choice—they are hardly outfitted to battle an ursine menace of any size. You sweeten the pot:

“Please,” you say, “my sister and I will be ever so grateful. I’ll do ANYTHING!”

You cast your eyes downward, pretending not to notice the hunger and excitement in their eyes, the looks they exchange as if mentally debating who will get you, or your fictitious ‘sister’. By the time they have agreed, you are already planning how to dispose of them and their dogs.
>>
Rolled 19, 14, 13, 19 = 65 (4d20)

>>5204352
‘Alright, so I say we start with, like, a blowbang, then we tie ‘em up when they get tired and we—’

You shush your excited-now-disappointed succubus. Your shared WANT isn’t so bad…

<WANT: 13>

…And you have other plans for how to deal with them. Along the way, though, you DO make use of her influence: you touch them on their arms and backs as you thank them. You season your words with sprinkles of succubus seduction. You keep their eyes on you until you are close to your allies—close enough to send the signal to your owlbear to rustle through the foliage in the way its fully-ursine counterpart might. The three men draw up their bows with hand which, by now, hardly even tremor. Their hounds whimper, knowing better than to be here, and pull at their leads.

It is too late.

The Dragonborn roars, and a great green head and neck smashes through the cover of trees and shrubs and snatches up one of the dogs while bowling over the men. You frown—you suspect more test subjects would be better. At least he did not consume one of the humans.

“WHAT THE FUCK?!” one of the humans demands.

“Th-that’s… That’s not a…”

“Not a bear,” you acknowledge, your disguise melting away as you step towards him. “No. No it isssn’t.”

Before any of them, dog or man, can dream of escape, their route is cut off by a tentacled dog which swiftly seizes one of their hounds and slams it into a tree, dazing it. The owlbear, now emerging from its hiding place, shrieks and rears up, , drawing their attention as they raise their bows. A wave of your hand and a flash of light later, both shots fly wide. A moment later, their weapons are swatted away by Henzler’s own tentacular augmentations and she joins you at your side.

“Sedate them,” she says, a bit too close to a command fro your liking.

Nevertheless, with your glamour and your mesmer, you oblige.

“Now,” Henzler says, neither smiling nor visibly disturbed by the capture of these three innocents of her kind, “we begin.”
>>
>>5204359
God this is the good stuff. Foxxy might've brought us some luck from behind the grave.
>>
>>5204359
>19, and 19 again, for Arcane Study

Henzler’s magic differs from yours in several key ways, wielding the manipulation of form with greater subtlety and intricacy than you do through Irinnile, and with greater personal control. However, it is Not beyond your grasp. You watch as she takes the two surviving dogs and amalgamates them, turning one to organic grist to augment the muscle mass of the other. It looks somewhat grotesque by the time she is done, but much less-so than whatever became of the deer. It whimpers, bones bowing under its own weight, and Henzler frowns.

“Perhaps I went overboard,” she mutters. “We won’t DOUBEL the mass, then…”

“She waves her hands about the creature, helpless to resist even as your influence over it flickers and wanes—it is in too much pain. Eventually, it is slimmed down to a point—taller, leggier, bulkier that before it was merged with its companion, but able to move. It attempts to retreat, but the tentacle-dog seizes it and holds it in place for your later scrutiny.

The humans are a more familiar subject—resembling you, after all, in at least 50% of your entirety. You observed as Henzler applied the principles to the hounds, but now you and she work together to tear the flesh, bone, blood, and sinew from one man with her magic and to insinuate it into his fellow. You build a man of swollen, admittedly not yet quite statuesque musculature.

“Now,” the head Chimericist instructs, “manipulate his morphic identity, his soul-shape.”

You shut your eyes and, with Irinnile your loyal aid, you work your way deeper into his mind and spirit and you begin to alter his self-perception. Henzler continues her flesh-weaving as well, or perhaps ‘sculpting’ is the better word. When you open your eyes again, the man—naked by necessity—is a twisted, stricken-faced titan… But a shapely one, one whose muscular form sets Irinnile to salivating, and your own body squirming and warming with your inner demon’s radiating desire.

You have more pressing concerns. Henzler and yourself both turn your dark attentiosn to the third man, stared panic-stricken at his human brethren but unable to flee.

“Let uss ssee if we can crack the riddle of eternal youth, shall we?” you suggest.

“Yes,” Henzler agrees, “let’s.”
>>
>>5204367
You muffle the man’s screams as Henzler and you work, together again with Irinnile, to alter this thirty-something man’s physiology, ripping away years, reshaping skin and fat deposits, modifying his very tissues.

>You gain a rank in [Biological Manipulation]

“I need more!” Henzler cries out in frustration, looking up from her bloody business with a face wreathed in glorious, high-minded madness. She casts her eyes about, settling upon Roth and Ahazred, who are watching from a safe distance with a mix of fascination and (especially true of Roth) distaste.

“Them!” Henzler shouts, pointing. “If I could work in some of them, not enough to harm them, but just enough to alter the senescence of the human body with the slower-aging bloodline of a reptilian entity…”

Roth steps back, staggering slightly from his injuries. You can already tell eh won’t agree.

Alhazred flinches only slightly, but nor does he step forward. His reptilian bloodline, like yours, would be diluted in its capacity for reduced senescence anyway… You think.

“It is abomination,” Roth growls. “Heresy! Impudence! I should kill you, human WITCH.”

What do you do?
>Agree—the Chimericist must work with what she has available
>Summon Alhazred to aid you—he seems easier to convince
>Use mentalist coercion to summon Roth—his blood will be most useful, and this is IMPORTANT [-affection]
>Offer up your own blood, for what good it may do, skipping the middlemen
>End this experiment now and punish Henzler for her indecent proposal
>Write-in
>>
>>5204368
>Offer up your own blood, for what good it may do, skipping the middlemen

I guess if we're doing this
>>
>>5204368
>Tell Henzler to keep it down
It's not like she can break out of our ectoplasmic control, it's just her eccentric behavior.
>Offer up your own blood, for what good it may do, skipping the middlemen
We have the ability to regenerate.
>Tease Roth about being so sensitive about some animals getting hurt
>>
>>5204380
Supporting
>>
>>5204380
Supporting
>>
>>5204378
>>5204380
>>5204713
>>5204734

“Head Chimericcissst Henzler, mind your mannersss.”

The mage-woman gives a start, as if struck by a sudden jolt of electricity. It is almost as if she forgot she was under your control, merely a puppet rather than the eccentric mastermind of her own little dungeon and the monsters therein. Still, she does not disobey, falling quite silent as she awaits your judgement on the matter of her experiment.

You look to the terrified human male who remains in your clutches, bound by your terrible will, and at the writhing, half-mad muscle-man polymerized of his companions. They are animals, of course, and enemies of your race. You remind yourself of that, shaking off whatever aversion might exist within you for what you have wrought here. You note that Alhazred,d espite his similar human heritage, has only muted curiosity on his face. Roth, though, still looks disgusted by the proceedings.

“Superior One, you are so sensitive to see some animals getting hurt!” you taunt him in True Speech. “What has happened to the fierce hoarder of tooth-trophies?”

“Silence yourself!” he snaps back, then looks away. “If one sees companions and minions playing with filth, one can feel disgust without sympathy. My work is professional, efficient. This is…”

“Necessary to advance out understanding,” you chide. “Steel yourself.”

The Dragonblooded Infiltrator snorts, but he cannot bring himself to fix his gaze upon your experiment again. You laugh softly, and turn back to Henzler.

“Ussse my blood,” you tell her, extending an arm. “It iss not purely Reptilian, but it shall ssufficcce.”

“I suppose it must,” she mutters.

She then reaches out to you, placing her thin and dainty fingers upon your wrist and extending a protrusion like a chitinous claw from one tip. It slices your wrist, spilling some of your blood. You flinch unconsciously, but her grip is like iron, holding you in-place, and her tentacle slithers up your arm and with strange, worm-like toothed maw it suctions itself to the wound. A curious sensation travels up your limb, numbness accompanying a gentle suction. Leech-like, Henzler’s tendril feeds upon you, gathering your blood. Then, when she has what she requires, she releases you. You rub your wrist as Irinnile mends it, and Henzler turns back to the remaining human captive.
>>
Rolled 17, 2, 7, 9, 3, 13, 12, 13, 1 = 77 (9d20)

>>5205017
oops, meant to roll

[5d20 for Henzler's work, DC 17 for poor facilities and materials. 4d20 for Arcane Study, to understand it.]
>>
>>5205021
>>5205017
>17

Henzler leans over the man, tendril ensnaring and encircling him, their toothy tips opening and affixing to him. With her hands, she muffles his screams, forcing him down to the leaf-litter and grass. He trhashes, slailing helplessly, as she does her terrible work, weaving somatic gestures above him while your blood (and Dark Gods know what else) pumps into him. His body shifts and changes… But not, you must say, for the worse.

His wrinkles smooth. His blemishes recede. Where he was wounded by the vagaries of early-middle age, he is youthful again…

And scaley.


“By the Dark Gods,” Alhazred murmurs.

“It’s… It’s heresy! It’s MONSTROUS!” Roth balks.

Head Chimericist Henzler has indeed made this man—this HUMAN man—youthful anew. It takes some time, but you can already see that eh looks more vital, more boyish than he did a half-hour ago. She has also left him with traces of golden-brown scales, and greenish flecks about his eyes, and a strange blue-green tint about his lips and tongue. He stares at her, wide-eyed as if dazed, trembling and sweating.

This human hunter is, for all intents and purposes, a Degenerate… Just like you, or Alhazred.

“There!” Henzler declares, flinging the captive hunter down to the ground and wiping her hands ‘clean’ on her robes before tucking them once more into her great sleeves. “I present to you: a man of twenty!”

“Destroy it,” Roth rumbles, smoke billowing from his maw, his illusion faltering. He cringes against the pain—he is not well-enough yet to breath flames, though he wants to.

“This is… Miraculous,” Alhazred murmurs, stroking his thin beard.

“It is LITERALLY an affront to our race and our Gods!” Roth roars.

>1
You can only stare. You were too utterly astonished by the sheer… SIMILARITY… To even pay attention. Even now, it is difficult to tear your eyes away from this half-man half-Reptilian, created by magical manipulation and born to human parents and yet so… FAMILIAR.

What do you do?
>Destroy your experiments—they are too beautiful and terrible to live, and they make you uncomfortable
>Use ectoplasm to enthrall one [or both?] of these human chimeras for now, and bring them with you [please specify]
> Ask Henzler if she can do this to OTHER humanoids as well [specify if you have anyone in mind]
>Write-in
>>
>>5205034
>Use ectoplasm to enthrall one [or both?] of these human chimeras for now, and bring them with you [please specify]
At least the hulk, I don't know if y'all want to keep the pet degenerate, I think he may be useful contact to keeping our pact victims in line.
> Ask Henzler if she can do this to OTHER humanoids as well
Just curious, can you not scalify them?
>>
>>5205034
>Use ectoplasm to enthrall one [or both?] of these human chimeras for now, and bring them with you [please specify]
Keep the false degen, I want a serpent priest to weigh in on the level of affrontery before disposing of him. Perhaps it could be seen as a way to uplift our most valuable collaborators. Perhaps we could become a full reptilian?
>>
>>5205062
Supporting

I like the strategic implications
>>
>>5205062
I don't know about that, it may just be heretical to fuck with the natural order like that. If the Serpent Priests and Dark Gods are good with it, I'll go along with it.

We should keep beefy boi as disposable muscle, undoubtedly we'll need him to assist in the current cleanup of this mess. That, or we we can summon that savage loyal brute demon from the Record, and bind it to Muscles here for maximum combat effectiveness.
>>
>>5205034
>Use ectoplasm to enthrall Degenetate for now, and bring them with you.
Agreeing with >>5205062
>Let Roth Slay the rest
So he can blow off some smoke.
>Ask Henzler if she can do this to OTHER humanoids as well
The woman. Do we just need a 20yo human? Also ask her if sex matters at all, he seems pretty intact still, despite Ismena being a female.

I would like to know if we can remove ectoplasm remotely. This is important since we're dealing with limited amount of demonic thralls and we might lose the access to this one.

>>5205049
>Just curious, can you not scalify them?
Considering we barely hit the DC, I bet Henzler would succeed in making him a pure human if we hit 19/20. Seems like we need some more practice to refine her skill. We need more practice to grasp this stuff anways.

Also:
We should keep Henzler with us on the surface. She will serve the Reptilian cause better under our guidance than she would in the underground prison, harassed by serpents even worse than Roth... who already wants to burn her.
>>
>>5205049
>>5205062
>>5205345
>>5205226
You manage to tear your gaze away from Henzler’s—YOUR—creation, looking to Roth.

“We should ask a Serpent Priest to weigh in on the level of affrontery before disposing of him,” you suggest, hopefully.

“It takes no theological expert to know that mixing our genes into humans is a heretical, REVOLTING prospect!”

You look to Alhazred, who arches an eyebrow, and then you both look to Roth: evidence that such admixture can be permissible, looking him in the eye. You pauses in his ranting, inferring your implication.

“Perhaps it could be seen as a way to uplift our most valuable collaborators?” you suggest.

Perhaps… Perhaps you could become a full-blooded Reptilian? You feel hope for the future and shame in your ow contaminated bloodline well up inside you.

‘Aww, Lispy, how you gonna’ be HOTstuff when you’re cold-blooded?’ Irinnile asks. ‘An’ heat cycles? Like, whaaat? That’s no fun! Come on, you don’t hafta’ change for those stodgy ol’… Uhh, I mean, venerable ‘n respectable Serpent Priests. You’re fine jus’ the way you are.’

You feel the succubus’ embrace around you, like a full-body hug of love and reassurance. You savor the feeling of love—a deeper, fuller love than anyone whose lover is not bound to their very soul could ever feel. Ultimately, though, you shrug her off, shake your head clear, and return to the matter at hand.

Alhazred and Roth are fiercely debating the matter in True Speech (or, well, as fiercely as they can with Roth pulling hereditary rank and shouting down the more soft-spoken but strategic and incisive Alhazred. Henzler is looking at you, though, with expectation. She knows who will make this decision, ultimately. You begin to feel, perversely, like the only adult on this road-trip.

You sigh, draw a deep breath, and clear your throat to catch the attention of the others.

“Fellow Infiltrators,” you say, “we should dispose of the evidence of our presence… And our experimentation.”

Henzler seems to understand enough of this to WANT to contradict you, her eyes widening and nostrils flaring… But your ectoplasm binds her true, preventing her from speaking out-of-turn again.

“…As you say, Lead Infiltrator, “Alhazred says.

“She is NOT the Lead Infiltrator!” Roth balks, before nodding to you. “She sees sense, though, which is… Appreciated.”

You smirk and tilt your head. “We’re keeping the hybridized human, though.”

Alhazred chuckles slightly, and Roth bellows in frustration, but you ignore his bluster. You figure that he work out his frustrations by eliminating the hulking muscle-man and the likewise-amalgamated dog.
>>
>>5205404
While your allies attend to such matters, you beckon your newest thrall to you: the False Degenerate. You lift him from the forest floor and take him into your arms, kissing him and allowing a portion of Irinnile’s essence to slide up from your gut and out your lips, squirming and burrowing deep into him and making him—as with the late Felman and Lithobathius—your creature, for good or ill.

<WANT: 14>

When you break the kiss and turn away, you meet Henzler’s approving eyes. She nods slightly, with the faintest hint of a smile. Not for the first time, you wonder how much of the inhuman activity to which you are applying her is actually entirely in keeping with her own free will…

“Can you not do sssomething about hisss sscaless?” you ask.

Henzler looks down at the ground as if thinking, and then back at you, countering: “Can you?”

“With oil,” you say truthfully, “or more permanently, with my sssuccubuss.”

Henzler blinks a couple times, considering this. She obviously hadn’t expected that answer. You’d think it would be apparent from your body… But then, you suppose she might have assumed you scaly patches were hidden under your clothes, as with Alahzred’s more overt and thickly-coated areas.

“That… Implies a greater degree of compatibility than I’d realized was the case,” the Head Chimericist says. “maybe, with more time, better equipment, better conditions…”

“Doess my ssexxx create difficulty?” you ask, curious. “Would a female human be a better match?”

Henzler scoffs at this. “An overrated difference. A slight modification to the alchemical formula of the blood, some hormonal adjustments… Sex, or at least the expression thereof, is actually very fluid and malleable. If I were to need him to bear or carry to term a CHILD, that might prove difficult to achieve, but controlling for how sexual traits manifest is simple.”

You want to argue—it is not what your upbringing and education among Reptilians taught you of the deep-rooted nature of sexual differences between males and female—but then you pause. You remember how easily Irinnile manipulated your form to make you more ‘compatible’ with Zi the Goblin. You say nothing, simply nodding.

When you return your attention to the others, you find the owlbear digging a deep hole to bury the bodies, which have been quite violently dispatched. The Dragonborn looms over proceedings, sending Roth comically skittering to the side, both Henzler speaks up in admonishment of The Great One:

“No! Bad! No eating these!”

The Dragonborn recoils, and Roth glowers at your pet fleshweaver, but Henzler appeals to you, saying: “I had to. Eating these modified organisms could have unpredictable effects on the dragon-chimera. You still want to bring it back intact, correct?”

You nod.
>>
>>5205406
You’re almost ‘home’ now, almost back at the rendezvous point and the entrance into the darkness where you were born and raised: among your mother’s people, YOUR people, for the first time in months. That raises a few questions, though…

Do you bring Henzler?
>Yes, she, her biological mastery, and her knowledge will be invaluable in fixing the Dragonborn, creating a successor, or otherwise
>No, she will be more useful in Hawksong, with her full laboratory and equipment and the ability to keep an eye on proceedings
>No, she has done what you required of her, and humans are a liability—you will dispose of her now
>Write-in

What will you do about Federigo, the enthralled Magus Auctor?
>Leave him for now—you will check in with him later
>Give him instructions to expose the Tower’s secrets and then to commit suicide
>Have him sabotage the Tower in some other way [specify how]
>Write-in

It also occurs to you that you do not know what to call The False Degenerate—does he have a name? Should you even bother to ask?
>He doesn’t deserve or need a name
>Let him retain his human name
>Assign him a new name, as he is YOUR creature [suggest a name]
>>
>>5205345
>I would like to know if we can remove ectoplasm remotely. This is important since we're dealing with limited amount of demonic thralls and we might lose the access to this one.

[You can't, sadly. You could perhaps see about ordering a human thrall to purge themselves of the Irinnile essence... But it will not survive long independent of a host or Irinnile herself.]

This post, or the enxt post, will also likely be the last of the thread, with next thread picking up with your return to the underground.
>>
>>5205408
>Yes, she, her biological mastery, and her knowledge will be invaluable in fixing the Dragonborn, creating a successor, or otherwise

>Give him instructions to expose the Tower’s secrets and then to commit suicide

>He doesn’t deserve or need a name
Maybe if he's ruled as not deeply heretical he'll get a name
>>
>>5205408
>No, she will be more useful in Hawksong, with her full laboratory and equipment and the ability to keep an eye on proceedings
>Give him instructions to expose the Tower’s secrets and then to commit suicide
Leaving things for later has proven very dangerous...
>Assign him a new name, as he is YOUR creature
Isaac.

>>5205462
We can make a perfect dragonborn ourselves and still need her to fix the woman we made a pact with. Leaving her there is probably a death sentence as well once one of our snake ancestors gets fed up with her remarks.

>>5205410
I was asking in case we get forced to leave this Degenerate underground. If that is the case, the we will have to purge him before departure.
>>
>>5205408
>Yes, she, her biological mastery, and her knowledge will be invaluable in fixing the Dragonborn, creating a successor, or otherwise

>Give him instructions to expose the Tower’s secrets and then to commit suicide

Leak the information anonymously- but on like Tower parchment so it’s legit

Then write a suicide note claiming that he ‘can’t accept being blackmailed by the Paladins any longer and that he’s sorry’

Should stir up trouble

>He doesn’t deserve or need a name
Not yet

Also, we should instruct our pet cook to poison our grandfather - fulfilling our promise to the Dark Gods - and then steal & destroy the glasses
>>
>>5205408
>No, she will be more useful in Hawksong, with her full laboratory and equipment and the ability to keep an eye on proceedings

>Have him sabotage the Tower in some other way [Proceed to spread the rumor of a Paladin spy among the mages, and promote the idea that this was a covert political attack by the Paladins to usurp the Authority of the Tower. Give him standing orders to self-terminate if he's ambushed by the mages, shouting that it was the Head Inquisitor all along, masterminding this whole affair]

Better he die playing mind games than simply releasing secrets to the public. After all, the demon parasite was found under the Inquisition, right?

>Let him retain his human name
>>
>>5205462
>>5205500
>>5205674
>>5205957

We have a tie between bringing Henzler and sending her back to Hawksong. I will await a tie-break by anything other than a 1post ID, please. Locking for...

>Sabotage the Tower by spilling secrets, spreading rumours, then killing Federigo
>No name for the False Degenerate, but he may yet earn one.
>>
Send the mutator back to Hawksong. She's pretty useful, and besides, I'm sure that the Dark Gods can fix the Dragonblooded once in their place of power.
>>
and if the Dark Gods don't do it, then that's a sign that Dragonblooded wasn't favored by them after all.
>>
>>5205966
I think Henzler would be more useful as an asset in Hawksong. Beside, we need proper equipment in order to create a true successor to the Green Dragon, and if Henzer were to try and create a second dragonborn there, it might LESSEN suspicion in her direction.

>>5205972
>>5205974
Preaching some logic there son.
>>
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>>5205972
>>5205462
>>5205500
>>5205674
>>5205957
Night falls in the woodlands, broken only by the patches of dim firelight which signify the hearths of small agricultural communities. You and yorur companions finish your repast, and the cover-up of your murders and monstrous mutations, and set out once more. At the edge of the hilly woodlands, you pause to look to survey the landscape with dark-piercing demon eyes. You gaze down upon the spotted human farmsteads and villages—at Sparrowton, Agatha Johan’s hometown, and where your entire saga as an Infiltrator began. It has been a wild ride, and it is surprisingly bittersweet to return to this place, and to your true home underground. So much has happened—and so much has changed, especially YOU!

‘Aww, you’re all grown up!’ Irinnile teases, cackling and leaving the sensation of a spectral kiss upon your cheek and her finger sin your hair.

It really DOES feel like you have matured and grown into yourself—discovered who you really are. Who would have thought, a few short months ago, that you would have done and become what you did and became? A businesswoman, a prostitute; a demonologist, an illusionist; a terrorist, a whistleblower; an assassin, a warrior; a lover, a predator.

‘And we ain’t done yet!’

Irinnile is exactly right. In the intervening time between your little experiment and the present, you were busy at work. You left Henzler to her poking and prodding at the nameless False Degenerate—the creature can EARN his name privileges back, if indeed the Serpent Priests do not order his summary execution—and returned to your remaining mage-thrall in Hawksong instead.
>>
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>>5206006
Federigo had been instructed to continue his indignant ‘cooperation’ with the investigation and, highly-ranked Magus Auctor that he is, they did not see fit to torture or jail him. Foolish humans! In a rolled scroll of parchment bearing the official, magically-identifiable and extremely-distinctive seal of a Hawksong mages’ Tower official, he writes of everything you (and he!) know of the Tower’s dark dealings. He writes of the Chimericists’ attempts to use dragon-matter to recreate the menace which once nearly annihilated their people, of the human experimentation which Henzler all-but-admitted to. He tells of the late Head Demonologist Pavlov, and the horrors he kept in his crypt, and how the killings and curfews which have horrified Hawksong’s human public spilled forth from his vault. He tells of mages who covered up affairs and bastard children of others, even while banishing students of lesser families for minor infidelities.

You embellish the tale, insinuating a connection between the Mages’ Tower and the wererat infestation. You sew discord between already-fractious allies and insinuate distrust into the future readers by suggesting that the Paladins and their Paladin King, who procure their gryphons through the Tower’s programs, must have known of some of this… And suggesting that there are still other secrets the Tower keeps from them, and vice versa, and that both agencies are working against one another. You even make a martyr of Felman: you call him a hero, paint him as incorruptible, and insinuate that he was tortured and disappeared for trying to tell the truth which Federigo now writes—you even write a modified and editorialized tale of how he died, and where, KNOWING that the Tower is bound to cover up the truth of the storehouse fire you started, and to be caught in this lie and thus implicate themselves in further half-truths and deceptions which will lend credence to this manifesto!

“I cannot take it any longer,” you murmured, as Federigo wrote the words, “the lying, the corruption, the threasts and interrogationss, the murderss and monsstrouss abominationss unto the Godsss of Light and Virtue!”

“Wait… What am I…?” Federigo muttered, as if sleep-talking.

“By the time you read this,” you spoke, and he continued to write, “I will already be dead. May these Gods see what I have done—what I am attempting to do in publishing these accounts—and have mercy on my damnable soul.”

“But… I don’t wish to…” Federigo struggled to speak up.

“Now roll it up, sseal it, and deliver it to The Gray Pressss,” you told him, “then, climb the Tower, and jump to your death.”
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>>5206007
You watched the Magus Auctor through his own eyes as he did what you commanded, micromanaging his actions when necessary, ensuring that the screed was delivered, and that no inopportune Guard or Inquisition patrol interfered in his mission. Several times, you caught his reflection in polished surfaces, in glass, in puddles on the street. You saw his hollow eyes, his aghast expression. Somewhere, on the edge of his demonically-influenced perception, he knew what was coming… But he was powerless to stop it.

You left his mind just before he hit the ground.

‘Oof,’ Irinnile comments, albeit with a devilish amusement far greater than her feigned sympathy-pain. ‘What next?’

You call Henzler to her and, thanking her smirkingly for her ‘loyal service’, you send her back to her Tower with a falsified tale of hard-won and opportunistic escape from a mysterious and demonic shapeshifter who had been holding her captive.

‘That’ll explain her vanishing act,’ Irinnile notes, but she still seems confused. ‘Why’d you spill about her little build-an-owlbear factory and the other shit she did, though, if you’re sendin’ her back home?’

‘If she was the only head official NOT implicated and slandered, the others would inevitably suspect her and target her. This way, they will think she MUST be free of will.’

‘Ooo, sneaky snek! And why not straight up say “it wasn’t no reptoids?”’

‘Reptoids?’ you repeat.

‘Like… Reptilian humanoids, ya’ know?’

You ignore the strange portmanteau, explaining: ‘If they suspect us, such a denial will expose her as a liar—a plant. If they don’t, there is no reason to draw their attention to us.’

‘I love that beautiful big brain of yours, babe,’ Irinnile coos, transmitting the uncanny feeling of a satisfyingly-intimate shoulder-massage.
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>>5206008
Once Henzler has departed, you, your fellow Infiltrators, and the mad mage’s chimeric creations carry on. You feel almost a reverence as you approach the mouth of the dark cavern which practically birthed you into the surface world—or, well, Ismena Rosgard, at least.

“It will be good to return, to be among civilized beings again,” Roth announces with genuine, audible pleasure and relief—the only time you think you have heard such a tone in his voice, even INCLUDING after an orgasm. “To shed this horrible, ugly mask and walk about as myself, SPEAK as myself!”

“Hm,” Alhazred vocalized, less committed to this emotional catharsis.

“Smmmraall,” the Dragonborn notes, as you step inside. “Haauw gunn get mee inn?”

“Never fear, Great One,” you reassure him. “It is deceptively deep in its distance downwards, if you but know the way, and there are great caverns below, with entry-points for even a magnificent one such as your noble self.”

“Hurrr,” he exhales, more open to speak and bolder in his (still lopsided) carriage with Henzler gone. “Gudd.”

You look down into the Reptilian-smoothed walls of the deep darkness, unbothered by the lack of light for the first time since you ever began to travel the subterranean realm of your mother’s great Master Race. You reflect on how much more comfortable it feels, descending into a realm which opens up to welcome you, rather than manoeuvring in feeble blindness for the weakness of your father’s genes—as Alhazred, now, must do. You see Roth remove his amulet and reveal his true self, red and scaley, handsome and draconic and almost peaceful (for him). This must be what it feels like to truly belong in this world, you think.

You smile broadly, imagining how much BETTER it will feel like when you are given the champion’s celebration which you have earned in your pious and pitiless performance of your dark duties.

And so, you return once more to the bosom of the world—a world which will soon once more belong to the Reptilians.

This thread is archived at https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2022/5174490/! Thanks for playing, and please feel free to provide feedback, and to discuss ideas for what you would like to see and do in the FINAL chapter: Volume 13. I'll do another post either tomorrow or Saturday, starting a new thread.
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>>5206008
Jesus we really sent Henzler back to the Tower? I understand not bringing her underground, but after Felman the first thing they're gonna do is look for demonic influence. Hope we can call her back before she gets too far.

>>5206012
Thanks for running!

I'd like a big celebration where the serpent priests tell us we always were their favorite degenerate.

Also finish off the Yosefs through remote halfling drone strike while they sleep.
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>>5206012
As always, thanks for running RQM! It's kinda sad to see the ride coming to an end.

I don't have much feedback proceeds to raise a textwall, but just feel a tiny bit conflicted on you announcing the end a couple threads ago. On one hand it made me change the approach to quest in an unfun way (constantly think of the fact that we have limited time and whatever we do/obtain now will have a limited impact and is essentially worthless), but on the other I see its pros in making players wrap things up and not throwing "THE END" at us out of nowhere.
I think that if the quest had a bit more linear structure, we'd deal with tasks better than in this open worldesque structure, where every random NPC throws something big at us, and we forget the three big things we were doing before, because this is more important in the moment and so on and so forth.

>>5206048
>favorite degenerate
Kek, you're in for a surprise
>Jesus we really sent Henzler back to the Tower?
I feel that. Thought we'd keep her around us, not send her straight back into the wasps' nest. Let's just hope our social engineering fools Dumbledore enough to let her slip if she manages to get back there before we can call her off.

Another point of concern: Auctor wrote about her. Both the public and Paladins will know about her existence now, and that might result in outraged public demanding a punishment for her and/or Tower using her as a scapegoat and/or Paladins trying to get her just to upgrade gryphons...
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>>5206170
>whatever we do/obtain now will have a limited impact and is essentially worthless

[If it helps, anything you do or obtain now is actually arguably MORE impactful, because you can directly apply it to some of the biggest and most permanent/irreversible changes in the quest, affecting the <ULTIMATE DESTINY> of The Infiltrator.]
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>>5206012
My secret wish is to get back together with Edwin. Would that be possible?
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Someone forgot about Paula lol
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>>5206710
People can mysteriously disappear these days.
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You seem to like Edwin and yet treat him like a possession, some NPC with no life of his own. We made the dude fall in love with Paula and got lucky he had enough compassion to only just dump Ismena after learning she was a terrorist and you now want to murder his girlfriend with no consideration for his feelings or intellect and expect him to simply fall back into Ismena's exploitative embrace without hesitation instead of trying to look for Paula and then coping with the loss? Ouch.
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>>5206739
Maybe we can ectoplasm Paula and have her act slightly more annoying, and then just keep going bit by bit until Edwin breaks up with her.
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Sunk cost. Move on. Today's no day for a broken heart.
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>>5207193
New thread is up
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>>5206761
Since we're on the last thread, I'd rather focus on solving our various pressing matters instead of using one of our finite superthrall slots to gaslight Edwin out of a relationship with someone he actually likes and will probably be happy with.
>>5206764
Also this.

>>5206290
Epilogue is nowhere as impactful as getting to spend a couple months interacting with the object, skill, character or just a comfy situation we find ourselves in. That's why people generally want to see stories and characters from interactive fiction return rather than remain buried forever. Correct me if I'm wrong.
If anything, the permanence of the things we do now can be detrimental if different anons start pushing for their desires big time and end up just causing more chaos before the end. Myself included, of course.
That's the way I see it. I hope I'm not making it all sound too negative. I'm still enjoying the quest a lot, just want to put my autistic analysis out there.
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>>5207525
I rather would have seen star wars buried forever than what they've done to it.
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>>5207992
>star wars
>interactive fiction
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