>>5468560
Ricardo Ferreira, AKA: Ricardão. Brazil.

>>5468569
You are Ricardo Ferreira, but everybody call you Ricardão. You hail from the country of Brazil.

>What is your occupation?

>Plumber
>Professional NEET
>Middle-level manager

>>5468606
Professional NEET, trying and failing to hack out a living re-selling OnlyFans feet pics.

>>5468606
>Plumber

What have I stumbled upon this day?

Rolled 1 (1d2)

>>5468637
>>5468656
1: We are a Professional NEET with a bootleg footpick sidegig
2: We are a plumber

>>5468662
We are a professional NEET with failing sidegig in resold feet picks

>What is the method you will get isekai'd?

>Failed science experiment
>Magical portal
>Truck-kun

>>5468667
>Truck-kun
He works tirelessly

>>5468667
Truck-kun

Because Peterbilt and turns out Petersends too.

>>5468677
>>5468671
Truck-kun will be our Charon in this river of Styx.

The last and most important question:

>What is our Ugly Bastard superpower?

>Brain Power: Ugly Bastard is intelligent and crafty. He has the ability to make complicated plans and make people act against their interests, usually through blackmail. Also has filled his brains with seemingly useless trivia that might be useul in fantasy world.

>Retard Strength: What it says in the tin. If he puts his back into it, the Ugly Bastard can lift a car or bend rebar. Also has inhuman stamina when it comes to various physical activities.

>Devilish Charisma: By some quirk, the Ugly Bastard has uncanny ability to make others trust him and even become his friends. Also has ability to intimidate those of weaker character.

>>5468690
>Brain Power: Ugly Bastard is intelligent and crafty. He has the ability to make complicated plans and make people act against their interests, usually through blackmail. Also has filled his brains with seemingly useless trivia that might be useul in fantasy world.

This doesn't change the fact that our dear Ricardão is at heart a chauvinistic bastard.

>>5468690
>Brain Power: Ugly Bastard is intelligent and crafty. He has the ability to make complicated plans and make people act against their interests, usually through blackmail. Also has filled his brains with seemingly useless trivia that might be useul in fantasy world.

>>5468690
brain powah!

>>5468694
>>5468700
>>5468783
You wake up with a jolt. Is it past noon already? The sun spot on the opposite wall confirms your suspicion. No matter. You don't have anything scheduled for today. Well, that is most days, but who's counting. At least you had a reason to stay up. You studied how to use these newfangled computer Artificial Intelligences to generate photorealistic feet pics to sell. Turns out all the quality stuff is paywalled and your 10 years old stolen macbook doesn't have the hardware neccessary to make them either. Buggers. And you're out of cash again.

Life ain't been easy after your previous little scam came to an end. You know how much it costs to arrange three fake funerals just to cover up your trails? It's not the service that costs, it's the bribes to make it official.

This new sidegig was supposed to be your ticket out from this meager existence. But reselling old pictures in OnlyFans wasn't as profitable as you thought, even after pivoting to feet pics. Every old pervert these days knows how to reverse image search. You should know, you are one. Never understood the allure of toes and such, but the market is there. If you only had a reliable source.

Well, you do have a source, but it is far from reliable. Tourists. With some luck you could sneak up to some art hoe from california with head in clouds and gold mine under her knees and paparazzi the shit out of her moneymakers. Mostly her feet, but never let a good bodyshot go to waste. You never know.

Spending afternoon on the beach chasing skirts with a camera sounds like as good way to spend an afternoon as any. Granted it was more fun when you were younger, more fit and only did it as a hobby.

You encounter few obstacles as you wade through foot traffic of Rio de Janeiro towards Ipanema, as any local would. You know to avoid the bad parts of the town, where it's safe to take shortcut and when to look away. Furhthermore, you're Ricardão, who would have something against a man with connections like you?

Upon reaching Ipanema you notice that the beach is almost as full as it was before all this Kungflu bullshit. Good. More people means more commotion and more potential targets. You stop to catch your breath and look around. Too old. Too brown. Obviously a man. Good grief. Where are all the pretty white girls?

After walking around for minutes and catching more than a few angry looks from your fellow beachgoers, who must be equally intimidated by your macho looks and selfie stick you keep suspiciously aloft like a flagpole, you see a perfect victim. Young. Stunning. Chatting with her plain looking friend. Obviously a little tipsy.

CONT

>>5468842
You circle the group like a shark smelling blood. Never walk directly towards your target, every amateur knows that. But you're not an amateur. You're a pro. First a few discreet pictures from an odd angle. Luckily there is a dog nearby and you pretend to photograph that instead. After you're sure the coast is clear it's time to get bold. They're used to your presence by know, you only need a handful of second to take dozens of pics all over the place. They start to notice. Time to bolt.
You grin as you around and almost run straight ahead into a musclebound chest. Above that chest is an angry looking face, red as a beetroot and only turning redder by the second. On your left and right are two massive arms holding ice cream cones each. The face opens its mouth.

>WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU CREEP DOING WITH MY GIRLFRIEND? DELETE THOSE PICS NOW!

The fuck are you deleting anything, those pics are worth a fortune and it is unlikely you will hit similiar jackpot anytime soon. This guy looks strong, tho. Way too strong. You need diversion.

Without missing a beat you throw your hands up and manage to knock the ice creams down the ground. Mistake, you realize. Clearly this musclebrain is far too occupied to protect the honor of his lady to care and it only makes him even angrier. So angry, in fact, that for a second he almost suffocates from it. You use that second wisely and manage to gain a healthy head start before he manages to inhale.

>I FUCKING KILL YOU, YOU UGLY MONKEY

Good, the more he screams the more he breathes. You would smile if you weren't almost ouf of breath already. God in heaven, you're intellectual, not some brute only fit for physical work. It's been months, no, years, since you've had to run like this. No matter. *Wheeze* You run good on sand. Just gotta... gotta get off the beach and head back home. This addlebrained jockey can't surely follow you on your home turf, can he?

The guy is persistent, you give him that. You're already off the beach and he's still on your trail. Gotta lose him on the traffic, then. There, a light turning red. Just gotta use the final bit of energy to sprint accross the road before the cars...

HELLO! THIS IS TRUCK-KUN! YOUR ISEKAI DELIVERY SERVICE

You never saw him. Truck-kun was too fast. All you feel is time stopping and stretching into infinity. You feel a presence. Mother? God? You feel judged. The presence vanishes and you see nothing. Then, a form from nothingess. Like an orb. A snowglobe. It's coming closer. It's a whole new world. It looks like, like...

>Kingdoms of Crygon. Cookie-cutter fantasy world with elfs, dragons, the usual
>Bomarthia. Swords and sandals, endless badlands, evil sorcerers and busty princesses
>Planet Klamon Prime. Lightswords and rayguns. Evil space monsters, overlords and blue alien babes.

>>5468869
>Planet Klamon Prime. Lightswords and rayguns. Evil space monsters, overlords and blue alien babes.
Selling pics in S P A C E.

File: conan 2.0.jpg (228 KB, 1000x800)

228 KB JPG

>>5468869
>Bomarthia. Swords and sandals, endless badlands, evil sorcerers and busty princesses
It is time.

File: 1443447525625.jpg (313 KB, 983x1600)

313 KB JPG

>>5468869
>Bomarthia. Swords and sandals, endless badlands, evil sorcerers and busty princesses

So It Is Written. So Shall It Be.

>>5468869
>Kingdoms of Crygon. Cookie-cutter fantasy world with elfs, dragons, the usual

Acquire noble title and many servant women

>>5468869
>Planet Klamon Prime. Lightswords and rayguns. Evil space monsters, overlords and blue alien babes.

Rolled 1 (1d2)

>>5468870
>>5468872
>>5468904
>>5469028
>>5469328
1:Bomarthia
2: Planet Klamon Prime

>>5469432
>Bomarthia. Swords and sandals, endless badlands, evil sorcerers and busty princesses

The color of natural sienna fills your vision and lungs. After a minute long coughing fit, you climb out of a hole you found yourself and take the stock of your situation. Your body and clothes are mostly intact. You're still clutching your phone in your hand. Good. You didn't drop it. Were you drugged? Sure feels like it. Then what is this place? The region looks dry and flat and reminds you of the Death Valley more than anything. But that wouldn't make sense, why would somebody drug you and smuggle you to USA? Maybe you're still in Brazil, or this is lesser known part of Andes.

As you ponder this, you notice something on the Horizon. A second Sun is rising. Toto, I don't think we're in Kansas anymore.
You decide to climb on top of a nearby hill to take a better look of your surroundings. Rocky wilderness spreads around you as far as you can see. Only hints of vegetation are dead looking thorn bushes and strands of hay peeking under some of the larger rock formations. This is bad. You'll die from dehydration if you can't find a shelter or water source in a few hours. Still, panicking won't help, so you pick the least hostile looking direction and start to walk.

You've walked, what 30 minutes? There is no service anyway, so you decide to turn off your phone so save battery. It starts to get really hot, now that the second Sun has started to warm the already hot ground. You hope there is no third Sun.

Another short eternity later you finally spot something. The ground has become a downward slope, and there seems to be something you hope to be a river at the bottom. You'd run if you had the energy, but before you can reach it you see something else. The line you thought was just a river now looks like a canyon, which is being followed by a road of sorts. What's more important, a throng of people are walking on it. At least a few hundred heads are heading towards your direction. Few seem to be mounted on some kind of horses and you can also see spears or flags being carried. What should you do?

>Meet the group head on. You can't manage alone in this terrain, in this World, and they would still probably see you even if you did try to remain unseen. It's less suspicious.
>Try to hide, then quench your thirst if there still is a river at the bottom of the canyon, and follow the group (requires a check)

>>5469503
>Try to hide, then quench your thirst if there still is a river at the bottom of the canyon, and follow the group (requires a check)

Getting some serious Tamerlane vibes from the horde.

(BTW that intro was fucking hilarious, good work.)

>>5469503
>>Try to hide, then quench your thirst if there still is a river at the bottom of the canyon, and follow the group (requires a check)

>>5469503
>Try to hide, then quench your thirst if there still is a river at the bottom of the canyon, and follow the group (requires a check)

Rolled 2 (1d2)

>>5469520
>>5469527
>>5469529
>>Try to hide, then quench your thirst if there still is a river at the bottom of the canyon, and follow the group (requires a check)

1: You manage to stay hidden
2: They find you

>>5469552
>They find you

Gotta hide. The road is too open, they will see you for sure. You turn on your heels and sneak back up the slope you just descended, trying to keep low profile. It doesn't take you long to find a good enough hiding spot between two massive rocks. You lodge yourself in and wait.

After a few minutes the group reaches your vantage position, which lets you take a better look. You now see that only half a dozen warriors leading the group are mounted on horses. Behind them marches mixture of people, young and old, men and women. A cargo train consisting of dozens of massive bovines(?) tails the group, each carrying huge packages on its back. You notice that out of the roughly three hundred people on foot, only about third are armed. You also notice that the unarmed people look far worse for wear than the armed warriors forming the perimeter. Prisoners? Slaves? Maybe both.

You're just starting to get bored, when the foremost rider leading the group raises his hands, which causes the entire congregation to halt like the world's biggest slinky. You begin to retreat deeper into your rocky crevice, but it's of no use. The leader turns directly towards your direction and barks something. It takes only seconds for more than a few musclebound spearmen to circle your location and pull you out.

You're dragged in front of the leader with more than neccessary amount of force, then forced on your knees in front of him. Expect it's not him. Before you stands the largest horse you have ever seen, pitch black, wearing ornate barding. On its back sits eerily beautiful paleskinned woman with raven black hair, clad in black leather armour and red and black cape. The huge pauldrons and bare midriff makes you wonder if it's ceremonial in nature or if she is just a stripper. The way the men around obey her and her haughty mannerism dispel your latter theory immediately. She looks at you like one would a rat in their closet and states matter-of-factly:

>Ooh? What have we here? You don't look like the usual spy one finds in these part? Who sent you?

You don't recognize any of the words she says, but for some literal miracle you understand the meaning behind each of them. Hoping the same works in both directions you say:

>My name is Ricardo Ferreira, but everybody calls me Ricardão: I come from Brazil.
>I was sent by Providence. I am not here by my own choice.
>I don't know how I ended up here. It's my first day.
>Other

>>5469586
>>Other

>"I am of a land far from your eyes, its' name known not to your ears. You would comprehend it not were you to glimpse it. That you may know it as Brazil is of little import. But you may know me as the one they call, Ricardão."

>I came here with an assortment of goods to peddle, but I was attacked by violent ne'er do wells and now find myself lost and with little to nothing to my name

Rolled 2 (1d2)

1: >>5469596
2: >>5469818

>>5469596
>>5469818
Supporting both. We're an exotic foreign merchant. That's our story, and it's almost true!

>>5469865
+1

>>5469865
+1

>>5469596
>>5469818
>>5469865
>>5470311
>>5470314
1/3
>"I am of a land far from your eyes, its' name known not to your ears. You would comprehend it not were you to glimpse it. That you may know it as Brazil is of little import. But you may know me as the one they call, Ricardão."

>I came here with an assortment of goods to peddle, but I was attacked by violent ne'er do wells and now find myself lost and with little to nothing to my name

The spearmen around you look more puzzled now. Their female leader also looks more curious.

>Well, Ricardão from the land of Braa-zil, if that really is your name. Allow us to introduce ourselves in turn. I am Lady Thona, the foremost disciple of Lord Hiroshimoor, the future Emperor of all of Bomarthia, and this is our humble warparty carrying spoils of war from our latest conquest. Little city-state called Miralona. But that is of little importance, for such small cities were doomed from their founding. We would be... humbled, if you could allow us to escort you back to our base camp. Although Miralona is finished, deserters and other ruffians swarm its corpse like flies. No doubt one of these groups was behind your recent misfortune as well.

You know it's better not to argue and allow the men to take your meager possessions and escort you with the rest of their flock. You don't wear chains as some of the prisoners from Miralona, but it is clear that you are at their mercy, guest or not. You get a half empty water canteen to quench some of your thirst, which you empty with enthusiasm, and the mob starts its march once again.

You're not sure how long the walk will be and are afaraid to ask. Instead you look around you and try to absorb as much information as you can. Some of the spearmen protecting the flanks are murmuring among themselves, but you can't make out anywords. Nobody else is speaking. The prisoners look devastated up close, their clothes torn. Even in this state it's easy to tell person's social status by glance. Most of these people pass as commoners in these parts, you guess from their slightly malnourished frame and hunched posture. Those people look like soldiers or guards, still marching in more organised formation than the rest, head taller than most of their captors. And the group near front must be aristocrats or religious leaders. Well fed men and women wearing tattered remains of more colorful garments.

CONT.

>>5470410
2/3
Among these one person shines like a beacon, not just for her beauty, but also from the way she still carries herself in her situation. She is also shadowed by another of those soldier looking prisoners, no doubt her bodyguard, still protecting her to best of his ability. You decide to risk it and whisper a question to an old man sweating next to you.

>Psst. That lady walking in front of us. Who is she?

The man wheezes before answering:

>She...she is Princess Mirabel. Or maybe I should call her queen now that her father has been killed? Either way, she is the closest thing we have for a leader.

A princess? Kukuku... With a body like that, she could be crack whore and you would still do everything in your power to get a woman like that, but a member of royalty is fine as well. Your dirty eyes follow your dirtier thoughts and suddenly the walk isn't all that bad with her rear filling your sight. You imagine smelling those almost unnaturally red hair strands swaying past her shoulderblades, you imagine smacking those buttocks. You imagine...

Your daydream is cut short as the congregation stops again. You arrive at a camp of some kind. It is a deep valley whose both ends are shut with a strong looking palisade. Once again you bother the old man.

>Is this the base camp?

>This? Not a chance. It should be days ahead at least. More likely this is a temporary shelter. Even these barbarians aren't stupid enough to try and walk accross all this desert in one go. Surely it would mean death, not only for us, but for them as well.

The prisoners are walked into large pens and most of them collapse from exhaustion. Sucks to be them. Not that you're faring much better yourself, but you have only half a day's worth of walking behind you. But you are a modern man, dammit, and you have modern man's knees that are more fit for videogame marathons than actual marathons.

Unsure where you should go, you stand awkwardly and then sit on the ground, waiting. The guards look puzzled as well, but you try to keep confusion out from your face, trying to sell your cover story of a temporarily embarrassed merchant the best you can.

Before long a guard of higher rank approaches and addresses you.

>Well, mister Ricadona, or whatever your name was. The boss wants to talk to you in person. Consider it an honor, most of these poor sods will never see proper lady up close ever again.

>>5470411
3/4
You stand up with some difficulty and try to wipe some of the dust off from your sweat soaked hawaiian shirt and khaki pants. You have no idea what impact your outfit makes among the locals, them favouring loincloths, helmets, simple togas and armor, but you should at least try to make a good impression. The camp is simple in nature and it is clear this is a place of short rest and temporary storage and not a proper warcamp. You spot a well and a few small warehouses and little else. Apart from the slave pens, of course. A budding tent city is being built on previously empty parade ground. Your guide ushers you towars the biggest of the tents, rising in the middle of the encampment, big enough to to house at least two squads by your reckoning, but you doubt there will be more than one person sleeping in it.

The tarp closes behind you and find yourself in the most luxurious room you've been, well, ever, really. The wall rugs remind you the images of yurts you absorbed during your mongolian meme phase, but each is covered in complex symbols instead of repeating geometric patterns you'd usually find on carpets back on Earth. The floor is covered by animal skins and one corner is already littered by boxes and chests bursting from bottles, scrolls and other mystical looking goods.

Your host is sitting cross-legged inside a circle. Back towards you. You are still turned on from oogling the princess, and being alone with a beautiful woman turns your ugly bastard instincts up to an eleven. You almost lose it, but manage to reign in your lust for now. Timing. That is the difference between bona fide ugly bastard and your average village rapist that gets himself imprisoned or killed before he turns twenty. Acting now would lead to certain disaster. So you wait. Again.

After a while she gets up and turns around.

>Apologies, Mister Ricardão. It is so hard to concentrate on horseback sometimes and I simply must have my daily moment of meditation. But enough of that. I don't know how much of your tale is true, but your possessions, combined with your outlooks look stranger the more I look, and I don't like it when I can't find a reasonable explanation. So perhaps you could, with your own words, explain what these things are supposed to do.

She waves towards a small table that holds all the items you had on your person (besides the clothes on your back) when you were captured. Lined up are your novelty keychain, your wallet, your GIRO card for public transport, your smartphone (cheap chinese android model) and your bluetooth selfie stick.

CONT.

>>5470415
4/4
How much should you reveal?

>Make up some bullshit about most of them. Be more specific when it's meaningless stuff like your keys. What use does a key have with no lock.
>Be mostly honest, but lie by omission. Say your phone is a communication device, but it can't function without its sisters or without a power source.
>Be as open as you can. Explain everything to best of your ability. Because you filled your NEET days by learning all sorts of useless stuff instead of working and combined with your near genius level of intellect, you actually could go very in depth into it if you wanted.

File: personal.jpg (94 KB, 1023x508)

94 KB JPG

>>5470417
>Be as open as you can. Explain everything to best of your ability. Because you filled your NEET days by learning all sorts of useless stuff instead of working and combined with your near genius level of intellect, you actually could go very in depth into it if you wanted.

>Because you filled your NEET days by learning all sorts of useless stuff instead of working and combined with your near genius level of intellect, you actually could go very in depth into it if you wanted.

>>5470417
>Be as open as you can. Explain everything to best of your ability. Because you filled your NEET days by learning all sorts of useless stuff instead of working and combined with your near genius level of intellect, you actually could go very in depth into it if you wanted.

This can only end well.

>>5470417
>Be as open as you can. Explain everything to best of your ability. Because you filled your NEET days by learning all sorts of useless stuff instead of working and combined with your near genius level of intellect, you actually could go very in depth into it if you wanted.

>>5470417
>Be as open as you can. Explain everything to best of your ability. Because you filled your NEET days by learning all sorts of useless stuff instead of working and combined with your near genius level of intellect, you actually could go very in depth into it if you wanted.

>>5470417
>Be as open as you can. Explain everything to best of your ability. Because you filled your NEET days by learning all sorts of useless stuff instead of working and combined with your near genius level of intellect, you actually could go very in depth into it if you wanted.
Honesty is the best policy! R-right?

>>5470417
>>Be as open as you can. Explain everything to best of your ability. Because you filled your NEET days by learning all sorts of useless stuff instead of working and combined with your near genius level of intellect, you actually could go very in depth into it if you wanted.

>>5470417
>Be as open as you can. Explain everything to best of your ability. Because you filled your NEET days by learning all sorts of useless stuff instead of working and combined with your near genius level of intellect, you actually could go very in depth into it if you wanted.

>>5470453
>>5470483
>>5470502
>>5470519
>>5470535
>>5470540
>>5470961
Seems the choice is unanimous. Intended to write the follow-up today, but it has to wait until morning. Need sleep.

>>5471557
This sort of denial is exactly what I’d expect out of an ugly bastard.

File: Banknote_portrait_pattern(...).jpg (4.11 MB, 3110x2323)

4.11 MB JPG

>>5471557
More attractive bastards will be waiting, patiently. Sleep on, OP.

alright while im waiting for this to update im going to watch some ugly bastard hentai

>>5470453
>>5470483
>>5470502
>>5470519
>>5470535
>>5470540
>>5470961

>Be as open as you can. Explain everything to best of your ability. Because you filled your NEET days by learning all sorts of useless stuff instead of working and combined with your near genius level of intellect, you actually could go very in depth into it if you wanted.

Being honest it not your strong suit, but it's not like there is no obvious advantage to be gained by lying here. In fact, this remains you of your freelance tutoring days over a decade ago, back when they hadn't throw you out from uni yet. So many broken young couples...

Without service, most of the functions of your phone are offline, but it is still enough to make quite an impression. Especially the camera and saved pictures fill her with childlike wonder, though you'd wish you have had the opportunity to... clean up your filesystem beforehand. At least you had the foreknowledge to encrypt the most incriminating stuff years ago, but there are still plenty of... bothersome images in your main folder.

>Why do you have so many images of feet on your device, Mister Ricardão?

>Uhh... Back on Brazil, we have this nasty diesease, that starts from your toes. See how most of the feets have these odd-coloured toenails? That is one of the first symptoms. A friend of mine is a healer and I collect these images for him to track people with.

>I see.

You don't think she is buying it.

Even though you know way more trivia than most people, Lady Thona has an annoying habit of asking hard questions you don't know the answer for. Even though you can explain the operating principle of the lithium-ion battery inside your phone, you know very little about how they are manufactured. Still, you feel like you fared reasonably well given the circuminstances. As a reward of sorts, you're given your own small tent near the middle of the encampment.

It is your first evening in this strange new world you found yourself in, and your first meal as well. The rations are chewy and greasy, but you've eaten worse. You're mostly finished when you hear commotion from the outside.

>We're under attack! It's the Nomads! They're here! Man the walls!

>Where are they coming from?

>Up there! Bring light!

>Extra piece of silver for every desert rat you kill tonight, men!

>They've flanked us!

Wailing and shouting soon create an incromprehensible cacophony and you have hard time making out any more words. Hmm, this could be an opportunity to escape if you so wished. Or maybe do something else to improve your situation.

>Sneak out and try to escape. The nomads must be here to free the prisoners, and you feel like you've had enough of being a prisoner of sorts yourself.

>Go out and try to help the defenders instead. You're not a fighter, but you might still help them spot threats or relay messages or something.

>Hide under a blanket.

>>5471985
>>Sneak out and try to escape. The nomads must be here to free the prisoners, and you feel like you've had enough of being a prisoner of sorts yourself.

Yeah splitting seems like a sound plan. Could even lead the nomads back in via the path Rico escaped on and absolutely rout the encampment. Finish off with some princess freeing and Lady Thona harassing.

>>5471985
>Sneak out and try to escape. The nomads must be here to free the prisoners, and you feel like you've had enough of being a prisoner of sorts yourself.

>>5471985
>Sneak out and try to escape. The nomads must be here to free the prisoners, and you feel like you've had enough of being a prisoner of sorts yourself.

Macguyver an escape

>>5471985
>Hide under a blanket.

>>5471985
>Go out and try to help the defenders instead. You're not a fighter, but you might still help them spot threats or relay messages or something.

>>5471985
>Sneak out and try to escape. The nomads must be here to free the prisoners, and you feel like you've had enough of being a prisoner of sorts yourself.

>>5471985
>Go out and try to help the defenders instead. You're not a fighter, but you might still help them spot threats or relay messages or something

Escape fucking where. This is our best bet for civilization

>>5472042
>>5472083
>>5472100
>>5472139
>>5472469
>>5472596
>>5472672
You briefly consider hiding inside, as avoiding conflicts has been one of your principles. But given the situation, isn't it better to be proactive for once? If one side is clearly winning a fistfight, kicking the man already on ground is sometimes easy and more importantly riskless way to gain some clout among the winner. You decide to wait until the sounds coming outside become muffled and sneak out.

The sight outside is hard to make out due to twilight, but if the still bodies laying near the palisades and circling the valley perimeter are anything to draw conclusions by, it seems the defending side has won the first round. The encampment is bustling with activity. You see officers arranging spearmen into small squads, which gives you an idea. It is unlikely you could just walk out now even if you wanted to, but if you were accepted into a squad, yes... That could work. If the opportunity rises, you could then aid either side as you see fit. A shitty disguise is better than none and has saved your fat ass more than once in the past. You just hope it doesn't cost you an arrow into throat, but life is full of risks.

You creep around until you find a fresh corpse. A small man lies on the ground, still clutching an arrow potruding from his stomach. You take his helmet and crude spear.

>W-ha... h-help...

Ah, looks like the man wasn't quite as dead as you thought. Not your problem. Better leave him as is. You try the stinking helmet, and although small, it just about fits over your scalp. You must look ridiculous, but it is not like there is enough light to see properly anyway.

You wobble toward the nearest goup with your new getup. The men are anxious, but you must look familiar enough as nobody stops you.

Your plan works almost too well, as the officer takes one glance on your general direction and sends you and four men standing next to you to man the outer gate. This is getting a little bit too proactive.

You barely reach the gate before ululating warcries fill the night again. Worse still, there is a new sound, an inhuman roar, and it is coming closer. One man tries to climb on top of the wall to get a better vantage point and almost loses an eye from arrows scattering on the outer side. The dozen men with you start to bar the gate with planks as the roaring and growling comes ever closer. You pretend to help, but notice that you could sabotage their efforts simply by discreetly cutting a few ropes and knocking over a log or two. That would allow the attackers to breach the wall more easily, at which point you could just hide again and join the fleeing prisoners as they are being escorted out. You could instead sneak to the slave pens and free the prisoners yourself. Surely this would convince them and the attackers that you are on their side?

>>5472897

Or maybe it is better to just hide and do nothing? Wouldn't improve your status on anyone's eyes, but it seems like the least risky option.

>Sabotage the gate(requires check)
>Try to free slaves(requires check)
>Find a big enough hole to hide your fat ass.

>>5472899
>Find a big enough hole to hide your fat ass.
Why should we assume nomadic desert raiders aren't ALSO slavers, or cannibals or something? At least our current captor is a hot chick in a metal bikini.

>>5472899
>>Find a big enough hole to hide your fat ass.

>>5472899
>Find a big enough hole to hide your fat ass.

>>5472899
>Find a big enough hole to hide your fat ass.

>>5472899
>>Find a big enough hole to hide your fat ass.

>OH LAWD HE COMIN'

>>5472899
>Sabotage the gate(requires check)
Come on anons, we decided we'd escape but it's not certain yet, let's actually do something interesting.

>>5472899
>Sabotage the gate(requires check)

>>5472899
>Find a big enough hole to hide your fat ass.

>>5472947
>>5472961
>>5472965
>>5472979
>>5472997
>>5473081
>>5473119
>>5473385
>Find a big enough hole to hide your fat ass.

Yep, this monsterhunter business looks way more serious in real life than in videogames. You don't know what is coming through, but you don't care to find out. You slip away and look for place to hide. The women of this world would surely mourn your untimely demise, and you simply can't let them down.

The encampent doesn't have too many suitable hiding places. You briefly consider the vicinity of slave pens, but that will surely be a center of action. Storage houses are out of question as well for the same reason. Latrines? No, you're not that desperate, and it could leave who knows what sickness or worse. But there has to be something... Ha! The Stables! Of course. Even if somebody wanted to use or steal the mounts, they would be too occupied to make a thorough search?

The stables are defended, but somehow you manage to sneak in unnoticed. Guess the guards were distracted by the shouts coming from the outer perimeter. A tiny toolshack stands a bit apart from the bigger buildings, so you commandeer it as your personal bunker. You don't know what most of this stuff does, but you recognise an anvil and blacksmith's hammer. Makes sense. The technology you have seen thus far mostly looks like something from iron age, and this fits the picture. There isn't much else interesting inside, so you cover yourself with a heavy leather apron get down in the fartherst corner.

You decide to count seconds to keep track of time. The noise coming from the outside waxes and wanes. After roughly 15 minutes there is a huge crash and lots of shoutin. That is followed by... blue lightning? You decide to risk it and take a peek. A torrent of light shoots up into the sky somewhere from within the encampent. The light is almost blinding after spending so long in almost complete darkness. Crackle and wind torrents cover most of the shouting, until suddenly another pillar of light, this one red, shoots up from the desert and meets the blue one in the sky. For a few seconds they both twist around each others and then they both die off and the darkness returns.

What should you do next?

>Wait for the noises to die off and go check which side won, then try to join them
>Wait until morning. Surely someone will still be left alive, and if everybody is dead, well, you won't be. Probably
>Try to steal a horse

>>5473990

>Wait for the noises to die off and go check which side won, then try to join them

I have no confidence in our horse-riding abilities.
True cowardice and politics are how we will remake our home country of Brazil.

>>5473990
>>Wait for the noises to die off and go check which side won, then try to join them

>>5473990
>Wait for the noises to die off and go check which side won, then try to join them

>>5473990
>Wait for the noises to die off and go check which side won, then try to join them

>>5473990
>Try to steal a horse

File: sciencestudent.png (17 KB, 334x743)

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>>5473990
>>Wait for the noises to die off and go check which side won, then try to join them


Also I just realized this guy from that ancient meme is definitely my headcanon for our fat bastard.

>>5473990
>Wait for the noises to die off and go check which side won, then try to join them

>>5474307
Kek, seems about right.

>>5474307
Yeah, that's definitely him about ten years ago, before he lost his virginity and student status in not unrelated incidents.

Also got a cheap surgery to get rid of his glasses.

>>5473990
>Wait for the noises to die off and go check which side won, then try to join them

>Wait for the noises to die off and go check which side won, then try to join them

File: FW02ZgCacAIlHcS.jpg (67 KB, 567x619)

67 KB JPG

>>5474525
>lost virginity
>barred from campus

>totally unrelated


Top Kek

>>5468560
Can somebody help me to find the name of an hentai meme "having papa's dick inside me while mom watch"

>>5475473
No.

ugly bastard sorcerer would be so awesome.

>>5476242
Yes, that is definitely in the cards, in one way or another.

I would apologize for the delay, but I am Ugly bastard, so I won't. Couple of pages in, had to sort a couple of issues first. Try to finish the piece this evening after I get home.

>>5476799
Alright man, waiting warmly

>>5474022
>>5474024
>>5474025
>>5474028
>>5474147
>>5474307
>>5474396
>>5474575
>>5474579
1/3
>Wait for the noises to die off and go check which side won and try to join them

As the lightshow dies, the shouts, cries and clash of weapons return, but they are noticeable more quiet, as a siblings' squabble that continues for a few jabs after the father has already told them to shut up. After a while you wobble out from your hideout, your curiosity winning over your healthy self-preservation instinct.

The gate has been smashed and on front of it lies a corpse of an animal, that to you looks like a hairless bear that has skin like an elephant and that is about as big as one as well. Based on the blood trail that is all that's left of one of its limbs, the impact that killed it must have had tremendous amout of force behind it. You don't think you have seen firearms or cannons so far, perhaps it relates to those lights? Magic? You recall quote from Arthur C. Clarke. ”Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.” Maybe this is just technology you don't understand yet.

You stop yourself before the philosophical implications the scene take you too deep. Now is not the time nor place. There are plenty enough of smaller, humanoid and equally dead corpses all around you, and you don't intent to join them on their eternal rest of this plutonian shore. The darkness of the night is almost complete now, and only thing lighting up the landscape beside fires and torches at the distance, near the center of the encampment, are the countless stars above you. You consider yourself an avid amateur astronomer, but you don't recognize any of the stars or their contellations. Figures. It's not like the sky you're familiar with has two suns either. Still, now that your eyes have accustomed to the gloom, you see well enough to spot wandering figures moving through the ruined gate.

It looks like the battle ended in some kind of a stalemate. The prisoners are leaving, for what you can tell, but the occupying force is still present and seemingly keeping most of their loot to boot. You consider your options. You could stay in your previous hiding place for the rest of the night and return to your original captors come morning, or you could sneak along and leave. Neither option seems enticing, but after considering how your appearance mere hours before and then absence during the fight would look to your captors, the desert savages seem like a a marginally safer option. Even if Lady Thona still bought your more or less honest explanation, that wouldn't help if her underlings lynched you long before you even saw her again.

You ditch your helmet with relief, as it had started to get itchy and would only cause trouble. After considering it for a second you decide to let go of the spear as well.

CONT.

>>5478054
2/3
You only just manage to join the last final stragglers out of the gate. These people seem to be the ones least fit for travel due to age or other condition, and you easily keep the pace with them, first a bit further apart and then ever closer as they seemingly get used to your presecene.

After a while you notice that the original fairly even line of people has stretched further and further as each person walks their own pace instead of forced march. This seems unreasonably gentle choice given the situation, but you don't complain. It is not like marathon running has ever been your strong suit.

The line stretches and streches, until you only see a group of maybe dozen people around you, the rest having already walked accross the next hill or two. At first this concersn you, as you can barely see the faint footmarks on the ground left by the group ahead. What if you get lost? These worries leave you as you catch a glimpse of a pair of nomads shadowing your sup-group. Figures. Rescue party or slavers, they'd be fools if they didn't look after you after the trouble they went trough to get you out.

You walk like this for an hour, maybe two, until you stop for a short rest. Small and hidden cave entrance hides a small and hidden spring, which you use to quench your thirst. You feel sleepy and you doubt any of your new fellows feels energetic either, but nobody even suggests staying this close to the place you left. One of the nomads is now directly guiding you and leads your group deeper into the cave. This is a bit alarming, as even you can see the marks left by the previous group leading accross the next hill. You decide to voice your concerns.

>Uhh, Excuse me, sir, but aren't we following the rest? Why are we going underground?

The man looks back at you with tired eyes and mutters:

>Have to break up with the others... shortcut...

Acting like that is an sufficient answer, he then emotes more furiously for you to follow, which you begrudgingly do.

The cave passage is narrow and steep, especially for your rubenesque frame, but you just manage to keep up with the others. Just when you feel like the clammy air is starting to suffocate you, a breath of fresh air reveals the coming exit. As your group emerges from beneath the gound, you don't notice a huge difference in the surrounding landscape, other than it being more... sandy? Yes, there are proper dunes now.

CONT.

>>5478057
3/3
You continue your treck, led by your sour guide. Some of the escapees are in worse condition and require help from others. You of course won't offer help unless absolutely mandatory in order to not lose face, you have enough to carry with your titanic intellect. The others slow you down, especially an older gentleman who won't shut up about his hurting leg.

There are fewer landmarks now thanks to thesand, but you seem to head towards a particular mountain peak that has similiar silhouette to Sugarloaf mountain back home in Rio. Sure enough, after half-an hour of more walking you reach it. The Nomad guide leads you to a steep rockface and with a few words and gestures tell you to climb a series of narrow steps and handleholds, carved into gray granite who know how long ago. Your group is allowed to take a short powernap before continuing.

The steps are too narrow to allow more than a few people to climb at a time. By sheer chance you end up as the dead last in the line. Good thing the steps are divided into shorter series of stairs with wider ledges between them, so you can all stretch and rest your legs a bit between each climb in relative safety.

You've now climbed for what, an hour? What there even is at the top? While the darkness was almost opressive when you began your climb, the faint glow hints at the coming sunrise. The first of the two, you remind yourself. While more light makes climbing easier, you can't set the pace, as the guy in front of you, the very same who complained about his leg, moves so slowly that you fear he soon starts to move backwards. You haven't seen nor heard about the old woman who was next in the line for quite a while now. She is probably at the top now, with the others. If it weren't for this asshole, you would be as well. Maybe that can be arranged?

>Be the bastard you are and give the old man a helping hand. Shove him off the cliff. No one will ever know!

>Keep your decent person act up for now and show patience instead.

>>5478060
>Go a little beyond pretending to be a decent person and actively help the old man get up - legitimately, not as a ruse or anything. Later on, you'll squeeze him for all he's worth from doing him a favor. People being indebted to you is your most powerful tool, after all...
I hope this old geezer has a hot daughter and granddaughter we can relieve some stress with.

>>5478060
>Keep your decent person act up for now and show patience instead.

Those nomads could be anywhere, watching us from the sands. They kept us all alive for a reason, even this old man, if we were to push him off we might find ourselves with some angry sandpeople as company

>>5478060
>Go a little beyond pretending to be a decent person and actively help the old man get up - legitimately, not as a ruse or anything. Later on, you'll squeeze him for all he's worth from doing him a favor. People being indebted to you is your most powerful tool, after all...
Having a good reputation makes being a total bastard easier

>>5478060
>Go a little beyond pretending to be a decent person and actively help the old man get up - legitimately, not as a ruse or anything. Later on, you'll squeeze him for all he's worth from doing him a favor. People being indebted to you is your most powerful tool, after all...

>>5478088
+1

Let the long game be our specialty

>>5478060
>Go a little beyond pretending to be a decent person and actively help the old man get up - legitimately, not as a ruse or anything. Later on, you'll squeeze him for all he's worth from doing him a favor. People being indebted to you is your most powerful tool, after all...

>>5478060
>Go a little beyond pretending to be a decent person and actively help the old man get up - legitimately, not as a ruse or anything. Later on, you'll squeeze him for all he's worth from doing him a favor. People being indebted to you is your most powerful tool, after all...

>>5478060
>Go a little beyond pretending to be a decent person and actively help the old man get up - legitimately, not as a ruse or anything. Later on, you'll squeeze him for all he's worth from doing him a favor. People being indebted to you is your most powerful tool, after all...

>Go a little beyond pretending to be a decent person and actively help the old man get up - legitimately, not as a ruse or anything. Later on, you'll squeeze him for all he's worth from doing him a favor. People being indebted to you is your most powerful tool, after all...

>>5478088
>+1

>>5478088
+1

>>5478088
>>5478090
>>5478092
>>5478204
>>5478275
>>5478303
>>5478309
>>5478317
>>5478458
>>5478626
>>5479032
1/3
>Go a little beyond pretending to be a decent person and actively help the old man get up - legitimately, not as a ruse or anything. Later on, you'll squeeze him for all he's worth from doing him a favor. People being indebted to you is your most powerful tool, after all...

You look at the old man catching his breath, considering how easy it would be to just knock him over the edge. Then again, maybe the old fool is more useful alive than dead. Patience is one of your few virtues, after all. You decide to encourage him instead.

>Easy there, grandfather. Take all the time you need.

>*wheeze* Thankyou, young man. This rotten leg of mine is making it so much worse. *pant *

>Say, why don't I take a look?

The man agrees and you feel it up. The ankle is hot and swollen, but nothing seems to be broken. Probably strained.

>Hey, you're that man we picked up on the way. What are you even doing in these parts? Never seen a man of your complexion before.

>I come from Brazil, but my ancestors (at least 75% of them) hail from Germania. They are lands far, far away and I don't know how I got here or the way home.

>Such a sad fate. Such a sad fate. A decade ago the lands of Miralona would have shown more hospitality for a weary traveller, but now it, like all of Bomarthia, are headed towards turmoil.

Bomarthia? That was the name of this World? Sounds like something out from shitty Isekai. You'd love to pump more information out from the old geezers, but he is tired enough already and there are lots of steps to climb. You help him up one flight of steps at a time and keep exhanging a few words each time you rest between them. You learn some things, such that his name is Ormo and he was a tax collector. The late king was killed in a duel with a neighboring head of state shortly before the army led by Lord Hiroshimoor attacked the city. And that the city itself, while housing the royal house and administration, only housed a faction of the population under its control, as most people lived either in nomadic tribes living from their herds, or in small agricultural communities scattered along the riverbanks. Each tribe and community is led by a chieftain, or earl, who only answers to the royal crown.

CONT.

>>5479718
2/3
The first sun finally comes up and shortly after you reach the end of the steps. The way leads inside the mountain, and after short tunnel you come into a sizable gallery. A few openings higher up let in enough light that you can make out a group of people, around double of that which climbed with you. They are divided into smaller groups, some resting, some conversing quietly. Bags of equipment and gear lie in the corners. Few people seem to notice your arrival, them being asleep or too focused in some task or conversation. The two of you stand awkwardly, not knowing whether to announce something or just lay down with the rest. Seconds later someone breaks the silence.

>Ey, Ania! Two more! That's 12 in total, right? You two are the last, right? The last one was rather unclear how many were still coming.

A young woman in cream-coloured desert robes emerges from the back.

>Pipe it down Rolan! People are sleeping...

She pauses mid-sentence.

>Uncle?

She strides towards you and embraces Ormo.

>You're alive! I thought you were dead for sure!

>Ah, Ania! I knew it had to be your brother who rescued us!

His expression becomes grimmer.

>Although he wasn't entirely succesful...

>What happened? I've heard rumours, but nothing solid...

>Well, as you know, the city was ransacked. Many were killed. Too many. But we were lucky enough to gain the honor of enslavement. Three days they marched us like pack animals!

CONT.

>>5479720
Ormo spits on the ground.

>But then your borther and his forces attacked the slave camp that held us! They had even unleashed a wild stonebear at them, you should have seen the gate! But then that witch of theirs came forth and killed it with a few words and gestures! The battle would have been lost then and there, had our side brought such support of their own. Don't know who or what, it came from too far. But it seemed to end in a stalemate. At this point our dear princess had seen enough and pleaded the fighting to end. She agreed to remain hostage with all the loot as long as the rest of the prisoners were released. The Witch was too occupied with the duel to parley, so the next in command agreed instead. Guess our attack had taken its toll on them as well! Our boys from the desert were too tough for these Western devils!

The man that had been called Rolan before steps up.

>Not just ”your boys from the desert”! My men took part as well and expect payment in full! That's 12 people in this batch alone we helped to save! It was copper bar per person, remember, Ania?

>Yes, yes. You mercenaries will get their blood money when this is over.

She turns at you.

>But... this is not one of ours! Did you brought a spy with you?

Ormo steps in.

>No, not spy. This is a traveller named Ricadão from a far away country called Braa-zil. He was imprisoned along us when we travelled. Why, wihout his help I would still be stuck on those blasted steps with this lousy leg of mine. Been years since I have walked past the city walls and this trek was more than these old bones can manage.

>Even then, he is not ours. Eleven persons, Rolan.

>Now, wait a moment! We did not agree on such a condition! A person saved is a person saved!

Rolan must be a miser, being ready to argue in such a situation.

>Wouldn't you agree, stranger?

How should you answer?

>Side with Rolan the Mercenary: A person saved is person saved and Ania's people should pay for your rescue.

>Side with Ania: You just happened to be there. Technically they didn't even rescue you, you just happened to escape with them, but you keep such minor details to yourself.

>Suggest you pay the fee yourself. How much is copper bar worth anyway?

>>5479722
>Side with Ania: You just happened to be there. Technically they didn't even rescue you, you just happened to escape with them, but you keep such minor details to yourself.

>>5479722
>Side with Ania: You just happened to be there. Technically they didn't even rescue you, you just happened to escape with them, but you keep such minor details to yourself.

I think we should have stayed with the witch, but if we're traveling with these folks, it looks like Ania is top dog around here. Mercenary-man can fuck off.

>>5479722
Holy shit, buttering up the old man is already paying off. He has a hot neice...
>Side with Ania: You just happened to be there. Technically they didn't even rescue you, you just happened to escape with them, but you keep such minor details to yourself.
>"Eleven is fair no matter how you look at it. I'm not one of her people, and Ormo wouldn't have made it this far if I didn't help him along, so you're lucky to get more than Ten. I'm a stranger in even stranger lands, so I was taking a gamble when I decided to follow your trails instead of going a different way. In the end I'm here by my own choices, no?"

>>5479722
>Side with Ania

>>5479722
>Side with Ania: You just happened to be there. Technically they didn't even rescue you, you just happened to escape with them, but you keep such minor details to yourself.

>>5479782
+1

>>5479722
>Side with Ania: You just happened to be there. Technically they didn't even rescue you, you just happened to escape with them, but you keep such minor details to yourself.

>>5479722
>Other: Tell the mercenary you can teach him how to make a trebuchet
Surely our nerd brains absorbed how those function, I assume since the world is in the early Iron Age they wont have knowledge of the late medieval siege weapons

>>5479722
>>Side with Ania: You just happened to be there. Technically they didn't even rescue you, you just happened to escape with them, but you keep such minor details to yourself.

>>5480817
i think we should save that kind of knowledge for ourself.

>>5479722
>But then that witch of theirs came forth and killed it with a few words and gestures!
damn i knew we should have stayed with the lady. there goes the magic. plus she has all our stuff.

I'm very interested in this quest, I'm gonna draw some of your stuff if you don't mind, OP.

File: thona.png (32 KB, 239x329)

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>>5480897
What am I even doing, asking for consent? Here's Thona.
Although I'm thinking your vague descriptions are for everyone to make their own versions of the characters, putting one design as the go-to for a character that will look like however the reader wants to would be stupid

>>5480897
>>5480940
Sure, go ahead. I was considering to make a few sketches of the cast myself between threads when it wouldn't eat up my writing time, but it is not like I have solidified the visuals yet ( or great artistic ability).

File: tegaki.png (7 KB, 400x400)

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>>5481028
here's us

>>5481032
Drop the beard. Mustache can be negotiated.

>>5481036
Can the mustache be twirly?

>>5481028
Did you have a specific vision for the characters we've known yet? Thanos, Rico, Mirabel, Ania, old Man Ormo?

>>5481159
Overall I've think it is something along the lines of "what is Conan was 80's anime".

As per character:
Thona has changed quite a lot, at first I envisioned her to look younger, but I think slightly older look (by anime standards is more fitting). Pale skin and some curves, but overall pretty thin.

Ricardão is an ugly bastard. The same bodytype as the OP pic, but more hair, maybe enough to have a hair knot, and olive skin tone. Maybe some pockmarks and thin mustache.

People in Miralona have medium white to light brown skin and red and brown hairs are the most common ones.

Mirabel has long, reddish orange hair and curvy if somewhat short body, but there is something fragile in her outlook.

Ania has lived more active life and her body is more toned thanks to that, but her robes hide most of it. I think Natalie Portman from Star Wars Episode II is pretty close.

Old man Ormo is, well, old. In his fifties, not very fit. Bushy mustashe that show some gray.

Rolan looks somewhat like the MC in Prince of Persia (2008).

Hope this helps.

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>>5481225
I just got free time now, and here's what I got for Thona, you choose OP, or you could go true /qst/ and leave it to the dice

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>>5481225
And here's her armor (or what I came up with)

>>5481810
Based drawfun. Middle column is best, methinks, especially top middle.

>>5480940
>>5481810
Bottom middle is sex.
>>5481818
Very cool that we got a drawfag in the thread. Nice art.

>>5481810
left bottom for me

>>5482029
Agreed

>>5482128
cultured OP

>>5481225
I have a question about Ricardão. Will he ever pull off some batshit insane big-brain powermoves or will he remain a gross nerdy failure?
>>5481810
Top middle
>>5481818
Sex
>>5481048
No

>>5482291
Well, it's entirely up to your choices (with dice having their say as well). Hard to pull powermoves if you don't have any leverage or foreknowledge, unless you happen to get really, really lucky and the opportunity falls into your lap.

>>5482309
Yeah but who needs realism when you could have the power of anime on your side?

>>5482324
That is a tough balancing act, as I can't hide hacky writing behind flashy animations.

>>5482330
just post D-cups with an update and you'll be fine

>>5479723
>>5479742
>>5479782
>>5479833
>>5479978
>>5480074
>>5480659
>>5480817
>>5480883
1/5
>Side with Ania: You just happened to be there. Technically they didn't even rescue you, you just happened to escape with them, but you keep such minor details to yourself.
>"Eleven is fair no matter how you look at it. I'm not one of her people, and Ormo wouldn't have made it this far if I didn't help him along, so you're lucky to get more than Ten. I'm a stranger in even stranger lands, so I was taking a gamble when I decided to follow your trails instead of going a different way. In the end I'm here by my own choices, no?"

You consider your options for a second before answering. Ania is clearly some sort of authority here, despite looking so young. Pretty little thing, with her short red hair tied back like that, and you like girls with some spunk. Rolan in comparison looks closer to your age, and while he also has command of some sort, his rugged good looks are wasted on your heteronormative preferences. So guided as much by your dick as your brain, you side with Ania.

>Eleven is surely a fair number. And if it weren't for me, it could be only ten, as Ormo here wouldn't have made it up here all by himself. I am a stranger in these strange lands and chose to follow your trails on my own.

Rolan has a look like he's about to argue, but then gives up.

>Psh. Have it your way. But don't expect me to help freeloaders in the future!

With the matter settled, you're finally given a seat and something to eat. Jerky has never been you favourite, but it will do for now. You listen absentmindedly as you chew. Clearly this is not a permanent settlement, maybe some kind of watch tower or depot? People talk about their lost friends and families. Good you get rid of yours years ago. Useless baggage once you pump out their wallets dry.

You see now the difference between the locals and the mercenaries. Locals favor light and earthly colors in their robes, while the mercenaries have more bright colours and tend to wear more armor over their clothes. The latter also tend to be taller, although there is more variety in their lot.

The morning chores come to a halt when a messenger climbs up the steps.

>Greetings! Good to see you all in good health! Ah, Ania! Your brother wanted to see you, he should still be at the Standing stones. You too, Rolan.

Rolan jumps up and stretches his arms.

>It's about time we left this stinking hole! Lets go, men!

As they prepare to leave, he suggests:

>Yo! Fatman? Why don't you come with us? Gotta get something out of your ”rescue”, and you might be of help. Your choice! Don't worry about walking, we should have a spare steed on hand that can handle your weight!

CONT.

>>5482415
2/5
Your legs ache and you've slept maybe three hours last night combined, so leaving right now sounds painful, but it's not like you have anything to do here either. Better stick to those that have power around these parts, right? So reluctantly you agree and start the long and painful descent with the others.

Their horses are hidden inside a nearby outcrop fromation. The mercenary steeds are proper warhorses, big and stocky, while the nomadic counterparts are more nimble and skittish. Your mount looks like an overgrown mule and is about as stubborn as well. Nevertheless, a mount is a mount, and you are thankful for not having to walk for a change.

Your cavalcade walks for about two hours, which is almost enough time for you to fall asleep. Nobody seems to be interested to drill you with questions yet, so you think about your situation instead. This place, Bomarthia, seems rather underdeveloped by modern standard. As it looks like you're here for good, it wouldn't hurt to... uplift it a litte? Maybe that is why you were sent here in the first place. To kickstart the civilization and maybe score some nice benefits inthe process? You almost wish you had watched more anime back home, as these kinds of scenarios were very popular in it before you left. Then again, based on what little you've seen, they might have just filled your head with unrealistic tropes instead of useful knowledge. Like going to a warzone after learning your skills from military shooters. Yes, maybe it is best to keep an open mind and trying to find ways to exploit your situation with your modern knowledge instead. If anime-rules do apply in this universe, it's not like you have to struggle to game them.

The Standing stones look like the local version of Stonehenge. Ancient and unlegible runes and scriptures cover these ochre colored megaliths, of which few are in their original configuration, most having toppled over time and are now laying half-buried in sand. A few hundred men, some mounted, most on foot, are camping nearby. You also see some of the prisoners who escaped with you, probably the fittest ones, as they must have walked most of the night to reach this far. You dismount and walk the rest of the way.

A group of people, mostly men, discuss in the middle of the ruined circle of stones. You, Ania and Rolan approach them. The man standing in the middle must be Ania's brother. He is older than his sister, but looks fairly young. Still, he has air of authority around him most men twice his age fail to match. His outfit looks a bit like a mix between the ones nomads and mercenaries wear, although it is more ornate. His light-brown hair is fairly long and is tied to back in a ponytail. Right now he is listening intently to a report, keeping his green eyes keenly on messenger kneeling before him.

>...given those factors, there is no doubt they will travel via Canyon of Eagles, arriving there shortly before nightfall.
CONT.

>>5482419
3/5
Your entourage enter the circle as the messenger ends his report. Ania's brother raises his eyes and his grim facial expression softens as he spots his sister.

>Dame Ania, I see you arrive in good health. I've already met mister Rolan, but I'm afraid I can't say the same about the other gentleman in your presence.

>Hello, big brother. This here is mister Ricadão. He is a traveller from the far away country of Braa-zil, who was captured and then released among the other prisoners. Rolan insisted we drag him along in case he is of some use. The sky knows we can use all the help we can. Mister Ricadão, this is Felion, my brother and Earl of Eastern Miralon.

Felion aknowledge you with a single nod before continuing his inquiry.

>And what about those prisoners, what of them?

>Eleven in total. EXCLUDING mister Ricadão, who is obviously an outsider and shouldn't be counted. Among them was our dear uncle Ormo, who by some miracle managed to survive through it all.

>Eleven... That makes 187 people we saved last night in total. We lost seventeen men and eight horses. I'd say that was a fair trade. From what I saw, the enemy lost twice as many.

>Is it true what they say, that the Princess negotiated a ceasefire in order to save more people?

>It is indeed so, although the cost was her freedom. Time will tell whether it was a wise move from her part. We must do everything in our power to save her and the lost heirlooms of our people, especially the crown.

These words cause a small uproar among those gathered. ”Last night was already too bold and you want to strike the enemy again?” ”My men and their horses need rest, you can't expect us to ride behind them to reach the canyon in time and then fight on even terms, it would mean suicide!” ”That witch is going to kill us all now that she knows to prepare in advance!” ”Who is going to pay for all of this?”

Felion raises his hand and those in presence shut their traps immediately.

>Do you have any suggestions, master Lionel?

CONT.

>>5482420
4/5
A man you hadn't noticed before steps from the back. He is wearing red robes and has his head covered by a cowl. Despite his hunched posture, many wrinkles and more than a few strands of gray in his otherwise brown beard, he radiates power. He taps the staff in his right had with his long bony finger before answering.

>It is true that Lady Thona is far more dangerous now that she knows what she's up against. An attack like last night would lead to disaster and we simply don't have time to even attract another stonebear to fight for us. Then again, if we don't act now, Lady Thona will surely forced march her troops through the night until they reach their base camp and after that I fear the Princess and the crown may be beyond our reach forevermore. A rescue mission inside enemy territory would be outright suicidal against such a powerful opponent as Lord Hiroshimoor. Knowing this, our only remaining option is to device a plan that our enemy haven't anticipated or can't outmanoeuvre. A rockfall in the canyon could do, but I fear the collateral damage would cost the Princess her life. Indeed, her guards may be under orders to take her life themself in such a situation.

The congreagation starts to murmur upon hearing this. You listen intently, logical probelms like this being your forte. You decide to interject.

>So, what if we manage to incapacitate the witch, then what?

Lionel twitches, clearly not used to interruptions.

>Then we still would have a hundred strong war party against us, but yes, that would raise our odds tremendously. But if it was a simple matter, we wouldn't be having this discussion. I could construct a magical trap for the job in time, but for such a device to work one would need to get close enough to touch her. And I doubt she has presence of mind to let anyone that near.

CONT.

>>5482424
5/5

Still...

>Suggest that you could be able to smuggle the trap device through the enemy lines if you pretend that you were captured by the nomads who just happen to cross the roads with the invading warparty
>This is not your fight, observe and try to gain leverage from the situation
>come up with a crazy isekai-anime-plan(writeup)

>>5482426
>In my homeland, we have perfected an art known as Guerilla Warfare. A warband, especially one on the move through hostile territories with no reliable resources, can be broken through random skirmishes - quick battles that end just as quickly as they start, enough to badly wound just a few of them before you retreat, maybe set a few of their goods on fire. Alarms will raise, but by the time anyone can do anything about it we'll be gone. Then we repeat that over...and over...and over, for days. Their morale will have reached a breaking point, with casualties amassing and tiredness seeping in. They'll be paranoid, but they'll start getting sloppy. That's when you hit them for real, and we'll be as fresh as ever. We just need to make sure this happens in a place with plenty of places to fall back to and hide - lots of cover.

Friendly reminder that wounded soldiers consume WAY more resources than dead soldiers do. Bleed them dry...

>>5482426
>>5482485
+1
a great idea, but how would we deal with the witch?

>>5482488
The hourly alarms are going to leave her just as tired as the rest of the soldiers. A tired witch is an ineffective witch.
When your powers rely on occultism and possible mental concentration, you need to be well rested to be effective.
Of course, if we wanted to develop a specific countermeasure for her? Tell them how to make bolos.
If you can restrain her arms and legs in an instant, she'd only be able to cast spells that require strictly verbal components. Which is kind of rare in most sword and sorcery settings, but not entirely rare.
And managing to take her alive makes for good stress relief.

>>5482493
If we know how to make bolos, this is a wonderful option. I just feel we don't know enough about the witch's capacity to know how she will take exhaustion, or how easily she can be taken down. We should be very cautious with her, but otherwise hit and run guerilla tactics should work magic.

>>5482519
Oh, it's hella easy. Pretty much anyone can make one.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aJk8CvaSYz4

>>5482426
>>5482485
>>5482488
>>5482493
>>5482519
do we have enough time to make the bolas and carry out the guerilla warfare plan into action before they reach their camp?

>>5482485
+1

File: Screenshot 2022-11-28 212549.png (272 KB, 661x732)

272 KB PNG

>>5482488
>>5482493
I like it!

>>5482485
Supporting.

>>5482485
+1
i don't even know where choices are desu

>>5482799
choices are at >>5482426

>>5482485
>>5482488
>>5482633
>>5482683
>>5482703
>>5482799
1/4
>In my homeland, we have perfected an art known as Guerilla Warfare. A warband, especially one on the move through hostile territories with no reliable resources, can be broken through random skirmishes - quick battles that end just as quickly as they start, enough to badly wound just a few of them before you retreat, maybe set a few of their goods on fire. Alarms will raise, but by the time anyone can do anything about it we'll be gone. Then we repeat that over...and over...and over, for days. Their morale will have reached a breaking point, with casualties amassing and tiredness seeping in. They'll be paranoid, but they'll start getting sloppy. That's when you hit them for real, and we'll be as fresh as ever. We just need to make sure this happens in a place with plenty of places to fall back to and hide - lots of cover.

The congregation listens to your suggestion before the murmur begins anew. Hit and run attacks? Well, that would slow the invaders down if nothing else and give them more time. With nothing better coming up, Felion immediately gives orders to several of his lieutenants to arrange riding parties to harrass and wound enemy soldiers without killing them. If they can prevent the enemy from entering the canyon before nightfall, it would give ”your” side time to lay traps and barricades inside while the enemy would be forced to camp outside. That gives you another idea, one that might help you deal with Tona.

As those with missions depart, Lionel approaches you.

>Not a perfect plan, but a faulty plan executed now is better than a perfect plan executed next week, mister Ricardão. But where are my manners? Lionel Farwurth, Magister of arts, peddler of artifacts and a Wizard for hire, at your service!

He gives a slight bow. He doesn't look like any of the local you're seen, nor does he resemble any of the mercenaries either. His skin doesn't seem to have a hint of pigmentation, and his features are outright hawkish and gaunt. His clothes don't match with the others either, his embroidered robes more fit to royal court than desert campaign. You are unsure whether his staff is made from bone or wood so white it resembles chalk. It was probably him who thwarted Thona's outburst last night. Without a doubt a powerful magic user himself and someone you'd better to keep on your side, especially if you have now burned some bridges leading towards Lord Hiroshimoor and his sexy witch.

>Bom dia! Am I wrong to assume it was you behind that red tornado last night?

>Ah! Well, you could say that, yes. I am afaraid the details are a trade secret, though.

>I have some secrets of my own, perhaps we can trade?

>Hohoo, perhaps, perhaps. But right now I have more urgent business with my current employer.

>Yes, I was actually coming to that. Say, you mentioned something about those traps. I have an idea regading the design, and a plan...

CONT.

>>5484950
2/4
Many hours later you lay on your stomach on a dune. The Canyon of Eagles is on your left, and you can just make out some of the nomads hiding nearby. Many of their squads were sent into the canyon to make it harder to traverse by creating rock slides, traps and such, but if everything goes to plan, that was not neccessary. The second sun sets and there is still no sign of the enemy cargo train. That makes only sense, as the guerilla tactics you suggested should slow it down considerably, but you can't help but feel anxious. What if they took different route? No point to worry about it now, it's out form your hands.

After another hour or two of waiting later you finally see them. The cargo train is considerably smaller now, even discounting the prisoners freed last night. You estimate there are less than fifty of them now and the bowine beasts of burden seem to been halved in numbers as well. But the remaining force would be still dangerous, even without the hostage.

You watch in silence as the company marches, more than a few limping, towards the canyon. It doesn't surprise you when they stop and start to build a camp instead of marching through the canyon in total darkness. In fact you were counting on that.

The tents are pitched and wounds tended . You see a figures that must be Thona with two goons dragging something towards the outer rim of the campsite. Your suspicion is confirmed as they stop at the closest thing the encampment has for an entrance. Unnatural blue light illuminates the group and you now see the thing the soldiers were dragging was Princess Mirabel, bounded and gagged.

You almost have a heart attack when you hear Thona's voice whispering right behind your ear, but after a second of panic you calm down as rationalize it must be ”just” her voice amplified by magical means. Still, the effect is ghastly in the darkness of the night.

>I know you are there, for I can see and feel every one of you clearly as you were standing on my palm. I also know you want to continue your wasteful attacks against my men through the night. But know this. From now on, each time you attack, I cut one finger from your precious princess. After I run out of fingers, I cut her ears, nose, breasts, eyes. After I've mutilated her thusly, I start to capture your skirmishers and torture them to death instead. I can do this for days. If you instead let us go in peace, I can guarantee your precious princess survives this unharmed and ends up in a position more fitting for her status than a mere rural head of a dying microstate.

>>5484951
3/4
You check where she is standing and flee a tinge of joy. This is going better than you anticipated. The two goons on the back are standing in awe, their eyes fixated to their leader. Too occupied to notice the shifting sands to their right. It is only fitting that they ended up camping on the top of the hiding hole of Bruto, Princess Mirabel's bodyguard. He was one of the many who volunteered for this crazy plan of yours after the details were confirmed and one of the few that had the ability to pull it off. He and those few others were then buried alive on spots you saw as most likely campsites for the night, protected by sheets that protected them and hid them from magical scrying. Lionel grumbled, but complied after negotiating his prices.

Well, you've done all you could and it's all up to Bruto to make the finishing move of your master plan. He moves slowly but steadily. Thona is still too occupied with her speech to notice either. Bruto creeps within ten paces of Thona before pulling his arm back. Each of the volunteers were armed with simple weapons for self defense, but they also carry a bola of special design you managed to create with Lionel in a couple of hours. It is a bit unwieldy as a throwing weapon, but each men buried were able to hit stationary targets with one after short practice. You wait with baited breath, and Thona must also have been sensing the changing athmosphere, for she pauses mid sentence.

You not only see but also feel the bola hitting Thona on her ankle, as the psychic scream jolts you to the core. Every man and woman on sight are trashing as well, as inhuman wailing fills everyone's skull, like icepicks through temples. After 10-15 seconds of painful eternity later the wailing ceases and you find yourself in fetal position, holding your head and grasping for air. Some people must have recovered quicker, as you can hear the first ululating warcries before you've managed to make the full stock of your condition.

The ensuing battle is brief and chaotic. What few fires are lit only manage to blind people, but after the psychic shock and loss of their leader and greatest asset the invading force fails to muster meaningful resistance. Before long every enemy soldiers either dies, flees or surrenders.

You approach the victors, expecting congratulations for your own not insignificant part, but people are more interested to celebrate Earl Felion and Bruto. This is just like back home. Even in University, many a time you were playing the part of a brain in a group assigment only for some schmuck with prettier face than yours to gain all the fame. Still, a victory party is a victory party, and people make good use of the rations and retrieved stolen goods. More than a few amphoras of wine and other beverages are found and opened and a small bonfire is erected from material available.
CONT.

>>5484956
4/4
You sit alone with your thoughts and a mug of not entirely terrible wine in your hand. The fire starts to die out due to lack of material to burn. Feeling the need to relief yourself, you exit the camp. After completing your business you're about to turn back, when you notice something from the corner of your eyes. A pair of people, laying on a side of the dune facing away from the camp. Feeling curious, you creep closer.

You hear the two and recognize the two voices. Rolan and Ania! Well well well. This is interesting. From what you saw earlier, the two seemed to hate each other, but now they have hidden away from the others to do who knows what.

You listen the two and Ania sounds more than a little inebriated, while Rolan, well, he sounds brash like always.

>...No, I said... no... I...

>C'mon, I know you wanted this when you said you had something to say, a girl like you...*hic*

Hmm, it doesn't seem entirely consensual. Maybe you should intervene and hope it pays off later.

>Interrupt in non-confrontational manner: ”Ania, is that you? Your brother wanted to see you. Now!”

>Go full white-knight mode: ”UNHAND THE LADY!”

>Remain where you are and observe. Perhaps you can use this for blackmail later.

>Try to gain leverage in other way (write up)

>>5484963
>Interrupt in non-confrontational manner: ”Ania, is that you? Your brother wanted to see you. Now!”

Oh boy, I don't like where this is going.

>>5484963
>Interrupt in non-confrontational manner: ”Ania, is that you? Your brother wanted to see you. Now!”

>>5484963
>Remain where you are and observe. Perhaps you can use this for blackmail later.
Seems bastardly.

Sorry for the lack of art, lads, been very busy. Though I have something in the works for our fat bastard and some ideas for the world (I'm pretty sure we're in a Bronze Age world of sorts, but I want to ask OP >>5484963 for clarification before drawing since I'd rather not fuck up and waste hours drawing wrong designs)

>>5485224
No problems. "Bronze age" is in the right ballpark, though iron tools and weapons do exist.

>>5484963
>Interrupt in non-confrontational manner: ”Ania, is that you? Your brother wanted to see you. Now!”

>>5484963
>Interrupt in non-confrontational manner: ”Ania, is that you? Your brother wanted to see you. Now!”

File: FEfMXkXUcA0YETP.jpg (103 KB, 1600x900)

103 KB JPG

>>5484963
>It's time for you to reveal your full power level. Step in and rape Rolan right then and there for daring to make a move against your next target. A true ugly bastard isn't picky with their justice.
A young man in the prime of his life, drunk off his ass and in the middle of undressing?
Sounds like a prime time for some goosh goosh.

>>5485633
Professionals have standards.
Also he'll probably kick our fat ass. Remember he's a battle-hardened mercenary and we're a NEET.

>>5485654
You say that like you've never raped a man with his pants down before.

>>5485666
You say that like you've never tried to rape a trained mercenary twice your size and strength before.

>>5484963
>>Interrupt in non-confrontational manner: ”Ania, is that you? Your brother wanted to see you. Now!”

>>5485668
Listen buddy, one of us got the satan trips and it wasn't you.
I think I know my rape, sir.

>>5485683
nice trick, satan, but now that you have grown too cocky we now realize you just want to ruin the quest while it's still young, huh? Think again. We're not getting out of here until Thona's smug cheeks are clapped on both sides

>>5485694
Cheeky little brat. I'll get you next time.
Probably with a tazer, because the doujins taught me that one of those can instantly defeat anyone.

File: Mirabel.png (589 KB, 1307x1111)

589 KB PNG

>>5485704
Come and get me, motherfucker
>>5485527
>>5481225
After a fucking busy morning I finally scrapped enough designs for Mirabel. You choose, OP and anons.

File: Mirabel2.png (1.46 MB, 1302x1080)

1.46 MB PNG

>>5481225
>>5485813
I truly hope this world is callipygian in its tastes. Since Miralona is surely hot I made sure to make her clothes a bit baggy and sheer for the 'imagine' angle. Unless you guys want to reroll of course

>>5485813
I like the top row

>>5486055
Or to put it in another words, I think the three on the top row and the three in the left column give me the same vibes as the image in my head.

>>5485813
A3,B2,C1

>>5485813
For Mirabel, I like top left.

>>5485850
Va va VOOM.

>>5484950
>>Bom dia! Am I wrong to assume it was you behind that red tornado last night?
>>5484963
>>Interrupt in non-confrontational manner: ”Ania, is that you? Your brother wanted to see you. Now!”

>>5485813
Top middle and mid right are cool, I'm mostly judging faces though. Most hair designs are excellent as well.
Also bottom left looks like she's taking in some fat ugly bastard dick.

>>5484965
>>5485114
>>5485195
>>5485536
>>5485575
>>5485633
>>5485678
>>5486437
1/2
>Interrupt in non-confrontational manner: ”Ania, is that you? Your brother wanted to see you. Now!”

After a moment of consideration, you get up. You're THE Ugly Bastard here, damit, and this amateur hour bullshit ends now. Still, it's better to not get too agressive, as Rolan could still probably beat your ass. Furthermore, you don't know all the details of the situation, nor local customs, so a less confrontational approach is on order. So you walk to them as by accident.

>Oh, sorry, didn't see you. Oh, Ania, is that you? You brother was looking for you and wanted to see you immediately.

Rolan is the first to notice.

>Hey, hey... The lady is busy right now, come back later, preferably next morning.

>Sorry, mister, but can't disobey the Earl's orders like that, she has to go now.

With this you help Ania to stand up and clumsily fix her wardrobe malfunction. Rolan is pissed, but too drunk himself to offer meaningful resistance past calling you a cocksucker. Instead he starts to drink more from a hip flask.

You support Ania's surprisingly light body as the two of you stumble towards the camp. It would be easy to overpower her now and do as you please, but intoxication has been a mood killer for you ever since you tried to buy services from a drunk prostitute and ended up being covered in vomit. Besides, when you're taking a woman, you don't want to simply overpower her like a brute, you want to dominate! You want her to comply due to pressure, trade or blackmail! Ania is too out of it to choose dessert from a restaurant menu.

>Wha... Who...?

>Hey, easy there! It's me, Ricardão! Remember?

>Rica...Ricard...Ric...

You find Felion sitting besides the embers of the fading bonfire, sober and straightlaced as ever. He seems less than amused to find his sister in such a sorry state.

>Where did you... Nevermind. Get her in there.

You help Ania with one of the warriors to lay down inside one of the tents. With that done, you join Felion back on the fireside.

CONT.

>>5487182

>It seems my family needs to thank you the second time today, mister Ricardão.

>Oh, it was nothing. Found her out there on the dunes, figured it would be better for her to wake up somewhere warm instead.

>I have to strenghten the perimeter security if anyone can just wander off as they please. Lionel said it will take at least two days to secure the witch and her artifacts for transport.

>You plan to stay on this dune for two days?

>Oh, not us. Most of is, including me and the Princess will leave tomorrow. The City of Miralona lies in ruins and according to the reports the enemy left a garrison force to loot the place. But we have other places, garrisons and forts and such.

You nod. Maybe Felion isn't trusting you enough to reveal all of his plans to you yet. You sure wouldn't and decide to not inquire further. Instead you ask:

>So, all this trouble to secure the witch. Wouldn't it just be easier to kill her? Seems there is little love for her here and keeping her alive is a terrible risk.

Felion grimaces.

>You are right on both accounts and nothing would soothe my soul like cutting her head off for all the crimes she has committed against my people. But she is the highest ranking enemy commander on the area, perhaps anywhere, and we can't afford to lose this chance to learn more about our enemy and their plans. Few people have even seen Hiroshimoor in flesh and we know very little from him. Besides, Lionel fears the witch might have put spells and hexes on herself that would trigger upon her death and cause untold destruction. No, we have to do this properly.

>Excuse me for asking, but where does that leave me?

>Mister Ricardão, you have proven yourself valuable this night and you are welcome to travel with us. But Master Lionel seems to like you enough to tolerate you around, which, I might add, doesn't happen very often. His services are well worth their price, but he is a bit... eccentric for most of my men. So I leave the choice to you. You can come with us or stay here in case there is something you can help with. You are free to continue your travels as free man, of course.

Hmm, a choice. Leaving now on your own would be foolish

>Travel with Felion, Miralon and the others to whatever their new destion is.

>Stay with Lionel and small company of defenders to see through Thona's processing.

>>5487184
This is actually unironically a hard one. We could travel with Felion and keep racking up 'favors' to cash in for an absolutely sloppy time with Ania, or we can help with Thona and probably trick her into an equally sloppy time by lying to her about trying to free her in exchange for a fun time.
In the end, the temptation of trading 'trade secrets' with Lionel is going to sway me here. He's a wizard, and magic is of grave use to a brainy man like us.
>Stay with Lionel and small company of defenders to see through Thona's processing.

>>5487184
>>Stay with Lionel and small company of defenders to see through Thona's processing.

>>5487184
>Stay with Lionel and small company of defenders to see through Thona's processing.

>>5487184
>Stay with Lionel and small company of defenders to see through Thona's processing.

>>5487184
>>Stay with Lionel and small company of defenders to see through Thona's processing.

>>5487193
>>5487194
>>5487339
>>5487428
>>5487455
1/2
>Stay with Lionel and a small company of defenders to see through Thona's processing.

After pondering the proposition for a while you answer. Both have their perks. Rubbing elbows with the rich and powerful sounds fun, but right now you are more interested in what you might learn from Lionel. Even if he decided to remain tight lipped about the specifics, you should be able to glean something from just witnessing the process. And maybe you could gain something from Thona as well, hehheheh.

>I would prefer to stay. Although I am humbled by the opportunity to join your expedition, I am simply too interested about the local customs regarding magic and such. I must witness it first hand.

>Then it is settled. I inform the remaining troops about my approval of your presence.

The next morining arrives and more than a few of your fellows look gray and nauseated. Ania in particular looks like a ghost. You flash her a smile, but she turns away, perhaps for her nausea, perhaps for embarrassment. You don't see Rolan, but maybe that's for the better. After a short speech and ceremony, most of the people bag their belongings, recovered loot and fresh prisoners of war and set out on their journey.

The encampment looks much smaller with most of the people gone. Thona's yurt, a little bit trashed but still impressive nevertheless, sits in the middle. Lionel had a new burgundy colored tent erected right besides it for the ”processing”. Besides these there are only a few humble tents for the few dozen guards, mostly nomads.

Lionel is in his tent and you have better sense than going to Thona's old tent to fumble her belongings with all those possible hexes and wards in place, so you go looking for him. You find him standing next to a medium sized table, filled with all kinds of apparatuses and artifacts.

>Ah, Felion mentioned you decided to hang around. You're welcome to do so as long as you don't interrupt my rituals.

>I have no such intentions. What are you doing anyway?

>Well, I have approximately oxcart or two's worth of magical baubles I need to make safe enough for transport. This place isn't well defended, so time is of the essence. To put it bluntly I run basic tests on every item and everything that pings as potentially dangerous gets either drained, shorted, trashed or buried here.

CONT.

>>5487885
2/2
>What about the witch?

>Oh, she's mostly stable already, but she has lots of accumulated power in her I need to drain out before my enchantments are enough to contain her safely.

You can hear silent humm coming from the center of the tent that's sectioned off by heavy curtains.

>She's in there?

>Yep, should be ready tomorrow.

>Does she need anything?

>Oh, the wards will alert me if she manages to break something.

>I meant to eat or drink?

>Drink? Hah! She's as tough as they come! A couple days of solitude and fasting should be nothing!

Soft moaning manages to momentarily overcome the magical humminng.

>...Though I do hope she would take her situation with more stoic dignity. It's hard to concentrate with that crying and sobbing sometimes.

You're not empathetic guy yourself, but that seems a bit cold. Though maybe Lionel is right and that is all an act. You don't know enough about magic users to make the call. Suddenly you remember your belongings that were confiscated by Thona.

>That reminds me, she took some things from me when I was imprisoned. Have you perhaps seen them? One is black and rectangular...

>I've seen dozen such objects already. I've put all the objects that have already been proven mundane enough in those boxes over there.

One of the apparatuses on his stable starts to chime.

>...Oh, for the love of... Go look yourself! I need to concentrate on this!

You look for the boxes and find that there are half a dozen of them, Lionel must have been busy. After rummaging through them you find most of your items. The travel card has been lost, but it is not like you will ever need it again. The phone battery is low, only 15% left. Thona must have left it on. That's a shame, you think and turn it off.

Besides your belongings you also find other interesting objects. A small silver(?) dagger of high quality and bird skull sitting on its pommel. A small box of precious looking stones. A pergament that has a map drawn on it (whether it's a local area map, treasure map or something else you don't know). Metal puzzle ball made from bronze. Most of the other items are junk like pieces of wood that look worthless to you.

Should you, eh, ”commandeer” something for yourself? You could probably fit one of the items in your pocket without it looking too suspicious.

>No, stealing is wrong. Besides, even if Lionel called these items ”mundane enough”, it doesn't mean they're not potentially dangerous.
>Take the dagger
>take the box of precious looking stones
>take the map
>take the puzzle ball made from bronze
>go the whole hog and try to take everything. Fashion a bag from spare cloth (requires a check)

>>5487887
>No, stealing is wrong. Besides, even if Lionel called these items ”mundane enough”, it doesn't mean they're not potentially dangerous.
Don't get fucked by magic while you are trying to fuck someone else

>>5487887
>take the map

>>5487887
>take the map

>>5487887
>take the map

>>5487887
>take the map

>>5487887
>take the map

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294 KB PNG

>>5487992
>>5487995
>>5488042
>>5488083
>>5488542
>>5488607
1/2
>take the map

You retrieve your phone, keychain, wallet and the selfie stick. The map looks interesting. Not very detailed, and it was clearly done quickly, but it has some intriguing markings on it. You fold the piece of leather and put it into your pocket. You never know. Might help you find your bearings if nothing else.

You return to Lionel and watch him working. He moves in a pattern, one time concentrating on his apparatuses, then on the item on the table, then throwing it onto one of the piles next to him before moving on to the next item. He moves quikly for someone that looks so old.

>If you have spare time, could you help retrieving more objects from the witch's tent? I could use a spare hand.

Having nothing better to do and wanting to stay on Lionel's good side, you agree, though reluctantly. There are hundreds of artefacts, large and smalle, and each one could explode for all you know. The work is equal part hauling and bomb disposal. Only one of the guards agrees to help your efforts, the other ones being too superstitious (or careful) to go even near the yurt.

Afternoon comes and the three of you have labored almost constantly, only taking small breaks to nourish yourself. Once in a while some of the objects lets out noise or light as it's disturbed, which causes great alarm in the two of you and you run out of the tent before returning with Lionel to take care of it himself. More often than not it is harmless, but once or twice he has to spend considerable effort to stabilize the situation.

As you continute your work, you try to not think about Thona, whose wailing you can hear every time you return items to Lionel. She didn't commit great crimes against you, did she? It would be shame to kill her for nothing, good looking broad like that. Just block it out. It is not your business.

The evening comes and the guard that was helping you quits for the day. You don't want to finish yet for the day, as there are still so much to sort. You don't fancy the thought of spending even more time on this makeshift camp. You lift another box of potentially dangerous gizmos when you hear a whisper.

>come closer

You snap up and spin around. The oil lamp casts deep shadows, but even straining your eyes you see nobody. You're about to chalk it up as a trick of the mind, when the whisper returns.

>I know what you want. You want power. Dominance. And women.

That was no imagination. The sound came inside your skull.

>Who are you?

>Just somebody who is willing to trade. I'm up here. To your right. No, my right, so your left. Too left. Now up. Higher. Higher. There.

CONT.

>>5490178
2/2
A small chest is resting near the top of the highest pile. You grasp it carefully and it lift it up. It's lighter than you expected.

>Good. Now, open it up.

You hesitate before undoing the latch and raising the lid. You're met with the empty eyesockets of a human skull. You slame the chest shut and put it down.

>Hey, hey! No need for that! I'm inside the darn skull, it is my prison! Here's the deal. Smash the skull and I'm free. I will grant some of my power to you as a boon.

What are you?

>I am a... spirit, you could say. 15 years ago the witch sealed me in this skull, along it's previous owner. You can't hear him, but I sure can. A decade and a half of limited incorporeal existence is enough to drive a mortal mind mad. You would do both of us a favour, two freed restless spirits for the price of one, eh, eh?

>What is your name?

>You know, I've had so many names and I've spent so much time here that I've forgotten. Call me what you want.

>Okay, I think I call you... Saul.

>Good name as any. Now, I know what work you are doing. If you take us to the wizard, he will either bury us or take my powers to himself. I'd rather make a deal with more equal terms.

>What kind of boon are you offering?

>You know it simply as magic. I am not that powerful and I can't offer much, but I can see you're as dry as they come in that department. Even if you studied and meditated the rest of your life, you wouldn't improve much, if any. You need an external source to get you started. Namely, me. If you release me, I impart you with enough magic to make the difference, no strings attached. I give you my word.

>And you promise to not hurt me or others near me, right?

>Sure, sure. I promise. I have no beef with you anyway. Now, can you open this damn chest and smash that skull or not?

A tempting offer. A deal with the Devil, as they say. Should I trust Saul?

>Smash the skull

>Take the chest to Lionel instead for processing

>>5490181
>Take the chest to Lionel instead for processing
By his power alone, Ricardo shall dominate.

>>5490181
>Smash the skull
Better call saul

>>5490181
>Smash the skull
Easy way is best and most bastardly way.

>>5490181
>Smash the skull
Hihihi, levamos vantagem

>>5490181
>Smash the skull
Tough choice.

>>5490181
>>Smash the skull

>>5490181
>Smash the skull, but try to do it privately so people don't know you're doing it.

>>5490851
Or play it off as clumsiness, at least!

>>5490183
>>5490234
>>5490345
>>5490435
>>5490657
>>5490757
>>5490851
>>5490855
1/3
>Smash the skull

You consider the offer. A part of you just wants to tell Saul to go to Hell and take it straight to Lionel. If you are to succeed, it should be by your superior intellect! Though you are also a bastard, and isn't the most bastardly intelligent thing to exploit every opportunity to its fullest? Certainly there is danger involved, but you doubt such a small pixie small enough to be contained by a skull could pose a big threat to you or Lionel. Yeah, why not?

>I have made my decision.

>I could feel it. Now, just smash the skull. The method doesn't matter, just that that it's broken for good.

You glance around to make sure you're alone. Just in case someone is watching or scrying, you decide to make it look like an accident. Lift the chest as to put it with your other items... Oopsie. You dropped it! A terrible accident! And another misfortune! You ”loose your balance” and ”accidentally” crush the chest under your sole! It and the skull inside instantly shatter into pieces under your considerable weight.

>FreeEEeeEEEe!

>Okay, I did it. Now do your end of the bargain.

>Sure, sure. Just let me get my bearings... there! Now, just let me... wait.... wait... aaand we're done!

You don't feel different. Or maybe you feel more... minty?

>Is it really working?

>I said I wouldn't give you much. Don't expect to be throwing fireballs next week. Or the one after that. Think of it as an acorn. On poor and dry earth the acorn will wither and die, but given time and right conditions it will grow into a mighty oak! Keep practicing and you will see results before long! Well, it was nice doing business with you! See you around!

And then there is silence and the spirit or whatever it was is gone. You try to access your new powers and fail to do so. Were you fooled? You need to learn more about this magic business to even know for sure. Right now it is getting late and you feel like this was the last haul anyway. Better call it the day.

As you deliver the last items for the day to Lionel, he pauses for a moment?

>You feeling alright, Mister Ricardão?

>Yes, I guess? Why are you asking?

>Something seems different about you.

>Maybe it's all this dust and magical mumbo jumbo that's starting to rub onto me? Or something I ate for lunch.

>Yeah... maybe... Just leave them there and go to sleep. We have more than enough work left for tomorrow. I just finish these first.

You do so and head for the guard tents, falling onto makeshift bunkbed you claimed for yourself yesterday. During night you see dreams for the first time in a long while. Strange dreams with hidden messages and clouded symbolism. You wake up tired after a restless night.

CONT.

>>5491546
2/3

After a rather spartan breakfast the work continues and the three of you return to your task. You must be roughly halfway through by now, but it sure doesn't feel like that. Even if the loads aren't typically heavy, the constant pacing back and forth between the two tents and the constant stress wear you down. Lionel must have enchanted his stamina through magical means, as you and the lone guard helping struggle to keep up despite his high age and much more complex task. When he suggests a break after merely two hours of working he seems to do it more for you than himself.

The three of you enjoy some herbal tea from his personal stash. You've always been more of a coffee guy, but it tastes excellent and you feel strength returning to your fatigued limbs. Your enjoyment is only hampered by Thona's wailing. Lionel is having none of it.

>Shaddup!

>Is she really okay?

>Yes! Of course! Look at me! This is the first refreshment I've had in two days and I could have easily lasted two days more! The bindings and enchantments only sap her magical strength, her physical self is more or less unharmed!

>But doesn't she need the that magical strength to support her physical body?

>That is a factor, yes, but I've calculated that by the end of the process she should still have enough energy left to survive through it. After that she needs food and drink like any normal person, but not before.

You ponder this, when one of the nomad scouts sprints inside, catching his breath.

>*wheeze * Horsemen! At least fifty! Coming from the Canyon!

You all jump up and sprint out. The message was correct. The horsemen trot towards your encampment and raise dust clouds in the process. The steeds are black and large and the men look heavily armored. The guards from your side scramble into their positions in order to defend the camp. You guess these guys are not friendly.

No arrow flies yet, but it can't take surely take long before they're in the shooting distance. But before that happens the foremost rider gives a sign and the whole formation stops on their tracks. He is head taller than the others and wears entirely black, thorny armor that covers his entire body, save his face. He removes his helmet, revealing his handsome jawline and blonde hair, and even without magic you can hear his booming voice across the distance.

>I AM ASTOR, SON OF THONA, AND I KNOW YOU HOLD MY MOTHER HOSTAGE AGAINST HER WILL! RELEASE HER IMMEDIATELY AND WE WILL TREAT YOU FAIRLY! OTHERWISE PREPARE TO DIE!

The guard captain from your side answers, his voice sounding hoarse.

>The witch is our rightful prisoner of war and will be tried for her crimes which are many! If you attack us, we will be forced to defend ourselves and even commit a summary execution if necessary!

CONT.

>>5491550
3/3
The man on black steed laughs.

>YOUR PATHETIC WEAPONS CAN DO NO REAL HARM TO HER IN TIME IT TAKES US TO KILL EVERY LAST OF YOU! BUT I AM AS MERCIFUL AS I AM STRONG AND WILL GIVE EACH OF YOU A CHANCE TO WALK OUT AND LEAVE BEFORE I COME! ON COUNT OF 300 WE ATTACK! 1...2...3...

You glance around and more than a few of your compatriots seem to consider the offer from the shifty eyes they have. From your position the situation doesn't look too dire. This Astor guy looks like a sort of a bonehead from the way he talks and acts. A cavalry charge against defended position, on sandy uphill, looks a tad foolish. The arrows alone should diminish their effectiveness and waste manpower. Then again, if he is Thona's bloodline, he may have tricks up his sleeve. You look at Lionel quizzically, but he is too busy negotiating with the guard captain.

>20...21...

Time passes and you feel a tiny bit of panic raising up from the back of your mind and covering it like a blanket. But with panic comes something else. Something new. If you were into New Age hippy bullshit you'd probably say that your third eye is opening, but as a man of Science, you call it a new sense. Something between feeling, tasting and smelling? You mostly feel the musky aura of Lionel with it, most others leaving a faint trace of cinnamon. You also feel, even from back here the metallic tasting swirling energy vortex inside the tent that has Thona in the middle. You focus this new sense in front of you. The men feel mostly the same as the nomads near you. Except Astor. He feels different. He tastes like rotten meat? Or maybe it is his armor that has this taste, the man inside feels cold and saffron. The more you try to feel it, the more you can make out the difference. This man may be near physical perfection and wear some kind of special armor, but he is no mage, you're almost certain of it.

>73...74...

And now that you look around, you see sharpened poles laying around from the earlier battle. They were probably intended to be used for a palisade at some point, but were forgotten after the battle. If they were to be lifted up and held at an angle, they might help to even the odds further. A spikewall like that was how the ancients stopped cavalry charges, you thnk. Roughly 3 and a half minutes... You might have just enough time to explain your idea to the others and rouse these additional defenses. With them, the terrain advantage, the arrow fire and whatever Lionel is able to cook up you might have a path to victory.

>Help with the defense

>Fuck this, You're a bastard, not a warrior! Gather supplies and flee before time runs out!

>Make up a crazy anime plan (write up)

>>5491552
>They're heavily armored men trying to ascend a sand dune on horseback. Either wound or terrify their horses (possibly through magical means via Lionel or just through enough loud noises and fire sent their way) and you can force them to abandon their steeds. From there it's just a matter of picking them off while they try to traverse terrain their armor clearly isn't meant for. Actually, now that you think about it, you should still have some of those Bolas, which were originally designed for taking down large four legged creatures...

>>5491674
+1, anon did the think.

>>5491552
>Help with the defense
Also this >>5491674

>>5491552
>>Help with the defense
>>5491674
+1

>>5491674
Supporting this.

>>5491552

>>5491674
>+1

>Help with the defense
>>5491674
+1

We ded?

when next update?

>>5496416
>>5497463
Had to take a short break thanks to birthday and shit. Try to update next evening.

>>5497675
awesome. c u then man

>>5497675
Happy belated b-day, bud!

>>5491674
>>5491680
>>5491838
>>5492185
>>5493534
>>5494022
>>5494722
1/4
>They're heavily armored men trying to ascend a sand dune on horseback. Either wound or terrify their horses (possibly through magical means via Lionel or just through enough loud noises and fire sent their way) and you can force them to abandon their steeds. From there it's just a matter of picking them off while they try to traverse terrain their armor clearly isn't meant for. Actually, now that you think about it, you should still have some of those Bolas, which were originally designed for taking down large four legged creatures...

You spring int action. After explaining the importance of horses and the terrain advantage you have to couple of the guards, they spread the word. Lionel is having an argument with the captain about arrows or something. No time for something like that!

>Lionel, can you make noise? To scare the horses?

>What? Noise? I guess, though I'd prefer to have more time... Wait, I think I have something in my tent! Forget those arrows, Captain, they should suffice after all!

The plan is becoming clear to everyone. Hurt or scare the horses, then shoot the demounted infantry as the clamber up sandy hill. Morale is rising. Astor is still counting.

>261...262...

You remember those bolas you helped to make earlier. They should still be around... you glance around and sneak back to the tents. The bolas are still there, three in all. You didn't get good at throwing them yourself, just the basics, but they're better than nothing.

As you turn back, a thunderous warcry from the attacking force makes you stop. Oh, they're coming already. No point trying to hide now, they probably saw you among the defenders already and you doubt you could lie your way out of this in case your side looses. You sprint back.

Lionel is dragging a large urn towards the lines. You decide to join him and together you manage to arrive at the same time as the first arrows are let loose. Lionel draws a dagger from his robes and hastily breaks the seal covering the urn. The moment the lid comes loose, a hellish scream fills the air. The sound resembles a train carrying a pack of elephants crashing into accordion factory, only louder. You cover your ears, but that does little to dampen the sound. The sound lasts only 10 seconds or so, but those must be the longest 10 seconds you've ever experienced.

When the sweet silence finally descends, you drag yourself to the vantage point. By your estimation up to half of your attackers lost the control of their steeds and are either fighting for their survival under their trashing mounts, trying to get their panicking horses to move or outright fleeing back towards the canyon. The rest are trotting towards you, their movement steady though increasingly laborious in loose sand.
CONT.

>>5498799
2/4
>...im....oold...shoot!

Your hearing is slowly returning as you can almost make out what the captain was yelling to his men. A fresh volley of arrows hit the flanks of several horses. Five either panic and flees or collapses on the sand. Another volley, 8 more horses are out. Still a dozen more, and they're getting close now. You draw your hand back in anticipation. As the next and final volley goes off, you throw one of the bolas as your contribution to the fight. You feel a tinge of satisfaction as it snaps around the legs of one of the final horses and makes it fall, injuring its rider in the process. There is no time to gloat, though, as Astor himself among three of the surviving riders jump over your formation. Lionel makes a complicated hand gesture and a serpent made from flames lashes one of the three, decapitating the man mid leap. A nomadic scimitar disembowels another horse and it sprays gore everywhere as it starts to trash wildly. The man riding it gets quickly skewered in turn.
Discounting the twenty-odd dismounted warriors still slowly clambering up the hill, only Astor himself is left, protected by some miracle or magic. The carnage don't seem to faze him. His horse, black as night and twice as large as an ordinary one, snorts like a rumbling thunder. Astor laughs.

>AMUSING, MOST AMUSING! MASTER LIONEL, I ASSUME? FIGURES THE DESERT RATS WOULD HIRE SOME SECOND RATE SPELL SLINGER TO STAB MY DEAR MOTHER IN THE BACK! DON'T WORRY, YOUR END WILL BE QUICK. THE REST OF YOU, ON THE OTHER HAND...

This buffoon sure loves his own voice. Lionel snaps his hand and throws another fiery whip, this time towards Astor. To your dismay the result is far less effective this time, as the spell sparkles and dissipates as it strikes the armor and barding Astor and his horse are carrying.

>DO NOT MIX ME WITH COMMON RABBLE, SUCH TRICKS WILL NOT WORK ON ME!

By this time a nomad guard has sneaked to his rear and lunges at his mount, trying to stab it. The mount and the rider spin as if they were one creature and mace in Astor's hand crushes the guards head with a sickening crunch. Few arrows are shot as well, but these could be made from tissue paper, so small is their effectiveness. You squeeze the bolas in your hand. Maybe the paralyzing spell woven into them works against this spell as well? Granted, this is not a mage, but you never know...
CONT.

>>5498801
3/4
Astor turns his attention towards Lionel again.

>NOW, ANY LAST WORDS? CONSIDER THIS MERCY, FOR IF YOU WERE TO LIVE WHEN I RELEASE MY MOTHER, YOU WOULD WISH FOR DEATH A THOUSAND TIMES BEFORE SHE WAS DONE WITH YOU.

>Only this! Shakhaal!

Orb of darkness spawns out from nowhere and expands, covering everything. Blindess overtakes you for a moment. When your vision returns, everyone stands mostly as they were, looking as puzzled as you. Only Lionel is missing. You shake your head and focus on the task at hand. The bolas. The horse. You manage to miss the first one, but luckily nobody seemed to notice. You throw the third and final one and this time it snaps around your target. At first nothing happens, but then it it snorts again and falls down like a tree. Astor steps up.

>AAH, ROSY! MY BEAUTIFUL FRIEND! WHAT HAVE THEY DONE TO YOU!

He shakes the the now motionless horse for no effect. Then he turns towards you.

>WHAT DID YOU BROWN GOBLIN DO TO MY HORSE! ANSWER NOW OR PERISH!

He strides towards you full of anger and menace. You step back, unsure whether to run, or if that would just make things worse. For a brief moment you remember again that musclebound brute back on Ipanema. It's only been a few days, but Brazil feels like a lifetime ago. Strange how much few days of adventures feel after nearly a decade of inaction and procrastination. You'd rather live a little longer, the ladies here deserve to know Ricardão! Gotta play time.

>Ooh, mister, it wasn't me, it was poison! Poison on those arrows, believe me! A scrape is enough to kill a horse, yet alone a man!

>POISON? THESE SIMPLE FOLKS HAVE NO POISON!

>No, but they bought it from a far away land of Brazil, where I come from!

>THERE IS NO SUCH LAND, I WOULD KNOW!

>Your knowledge of geography is limited then, fine mister!

>ENOUGH OF THIS! POISON OR NOT, YOU PAY FOR THIS! PREP...AARGH!

He stops mid-sentence as the final bola, the one you missed with before, wraps around his neck. Lionel! To your surprise Astor doesn't fall immediately like Thona and the horse did before, but starts to swing around wildly. But he is badly stunned, and after a few more strikes from Lionel and liberal amount of kicking from the guards, he finally goes down.
CONT.

>>5498805
4/4
After seeing their seemingly invincible champion falling, the remaining attackers turn and flee. The few who hesitate are peppered with arrows. You're still feeling rather agitated after facing the concept of your own mortality again. The Guard Captain and Lionel are arguing once again.

>...This is the Bloody Astor we're talking about, I don't think he makes a good hostage. He's better off dead.

>But you said yourself that his mother is mostly harmless by now! This is a good chance to return to Felion with not only one, but two high ranking prisoners!

>For what? You heard the man, he is not some grand strategist.

>But can't you use his status to interrogate the witch?

>Maybe. I don't know their relationship. It would be a risk either way. You don't have enough manpower.

>What if we just dumb the remaining artefacts? That would surely free up some of my men!

>We can't “just dump” these kind of items, some might be priceless! Captain, are you looking for a promotion, perchance?

>Are you afraid of an unarmed man in shackles?

What's gotten into these two, bickering again? Maybe I should make the choice for them with my superior intellect.

>Suggest that Astor is too valuable as a hostage to be simply killed. In case he doesn't know much of importance, he could be used as leverage to convince Thona or used in prisoner exchange.

>Lionel knows best. Astor should be executed.

>>5498806
>>Lionel knows best. Astor should be executed.

>>5498806
>Lionel knows best. Astor should be executed.

>>5498806
>Lionel knows best. Astor should be executed.
Astor was a fool relying on magic items that either his mother or someone else enchanted. His forces were pitiable in strength and number. He's nobody important.

>>5497675
happy birthday man! thought you were at somebody else's there. my mistake.

>Suggest that Astor is too valuable as a hostage to be simply killed. In case he doesn't know much of importance, he could be used as leverage to convince Thona or used in prisoner exchange.
i dont know. i dont want to completely burn all bridges with thona. she could still potentially be useful. tie him up in such a way that he can bring his strength to bear.

>>5498806
>Lionel knows best. Astor should be executed

Let's get in good with our magic mentor.

>>5498806
>Suggest that Astor is too valuable as a hostage to be simply killed. In case he doesn't know much of importance, he could be used as leverage to convince Thona or used in prisoner exchange.

>>5498806
>Lionel knows best. Astor should be executed.

>>5498806
>Suggest that Astor is too valuable as a hostage to be simply killed. In case he doesn't know much of importance, he could be used as leverage to convince Thona or used in prisoner exchange
If he dies then i cant do his mom and then taunt him about it

>>5498806
I'm going to swap from
>>5499130
to
>Suggest that Astor is too valuable as a hostage to be simply killed. In case he doesn't know much of importance, he could be used as leverage to convince Thona or used in prisoner exchange.
because
>>5499698
this anon convinced me.
I kneel, bastard-sama

>>5499698
Fair point.

>>5498806
changing >>5499495 (my vote) to
>Suggest that Astor is too valuable as a hostage to be simply killed. In case he doesn't know much of importance, he could be used as leverage to convince Thona or used in prisoner exchange.

>>5499698
I'm backing up this one. Yup, yup.

Going to call it

>>5498845
>>5498908
>>5499583
for execution

>>5499471
>>5499561
>>5499698
>>5499934
>>5499951
>>5500084
against

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781 KB PNG

when are we gonna assemble the team?

>>5500641
Aww, man, don't give me more ideas!

>>5500641
>>5500653
fellowship of the rizz

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>>5500641

I'm visiting family for the Holidays, so I think the next update will be the last for this thread. Should post it late today or early tomorrow. I intend to make the next thread early January.

>>5503400
Happy Holidays, UB!

>>5498908
>>5498845
>>5499951
>>5499471
>>5499561
>>5499583
>>5499698
>>5499934
>>5500084
>suggest that Astor is too valuable as a hostage to be simply killed. In case he doesn't know much of importance, he could be used as leverage to convince Thona or used in prisoner exchange.

You look at the bound form of Astor and feel the urge of getting rid of him. But then your rational mind takes over. Was that really a sound conclusion? Or was your lizard-brain taking over, the sens of fear? The more you think about it, the less the execution makes logical sense. Astor, for all you know, looks and sounds like a man of action, not an escape artist or schemer. And he must field some kind of power to command a force of his own. And then there are his family relations. You couldn't have guessed Thona was a mother from her looks, but she could have had an early pregnancy, or some kind of magical age extension. Then again, milf. The thought of taunting Astor after doing various dirty deeds to his mother excites you. You know fully well that this reasoning is as much based on feelings than your earlier fear, but you don't care. If only you could convince Lionel to agree...

>Excuse, master Lionel, but I couldn't help but overhear you two talking. In my humble opinion we should capture this enemy champion. You saw how he fought. He is a brute, terribly strong, but too straightforward and boorish to plan an escape. And his simple nature might make it easier to interrogate him when we have the time. Surely we can't ignore his relationship with our other captive either. I am no expert when it comes to spells, but his equipment seemed to make him an equal match even against you. No doubt a gift from his mother? Either way, after removing it, he should be simple enough to shackle for transportation.

The guard captain looks grateful.

>Right? Sometimes you need an outsider perspective to see things clearly, don't you?

Lionel is about to answer, when Astor's horse (did he really call it “Rosy”?) starts to move suddenly. After a few kicks, it rears its muscular body, glances around and gallops away before anyone has time to react. Lionel mutters to himself.

>An ill omen. That was no ordinary horse.

Then he addresses you both.

>I have changed my mind. Your reasoning is sound, but more importantly we must depart as soon as possible. New threats might approach us as we speak. A fresh captive won't change the time table all that much. I entrust the necessary procedures to you, captain. Mr. Ricardão, would you kindly assist me with something?

Of course you agree. Lionel then instructs you how to bury the artifacts he had already processed. You and the rest of men work fast and sloppily and finally manage to grab and pack everything valuable and leave the site behind you. What new adventures wait you in your next location?

>>5503927
Sorry for the bit abrupt stop, but some irl shit hit the fan and I can't afford distractions tomorrow.

I plan to start the next thread January.

>>5503932
take care man, hope christmas goes well for you
See you until then!

>>5503932
I hope things improve, and Merry Christmas, QM. Thanks for running. Don't forget to archive!