You have your silvery mask, a set of razor sharp juggling knives, a pack of metal playing cards and a variety of strangely sturdy ribbons hidden in your baggy sleeves.
What will you do Vank of Valantis?
My wife, where is she?
What of the court wizards?
Investigate the crystal prisons?
Perhaps with the light of a few sad subjects will let you see out the windows if the throne room?
Write in.

>>5594688
>Look out of the windows at the city

>>5594716
>Look out of the windows at the city

Even your lightfooted step sounds too loud in the silence as, you make your way over to the closest window between the crystalline nobles and servants, a stained glass depiction of the slaying of the Seven Laments of Princes, a vile legendary hydra. You should be more disturbed by the window, as where once heroic Princes avenged their siblings death, the Hydra stands triumphant with grizzly remnants of nobles writhing in its jaws.

The many eyes of the hydra glitter as if alive, but your heart remains calm, as if encased in crystal itself. Looking through the windows of Valantis is always a tricky affair but with some effort your emerald eyes see...

Darkness.

Yet, in the castle grounds, you see little pinpricks of ghastly green glows, it is not enough to make any details out, save that the whole city, or perhaps the whole third realm is cast into darkness.

As you strain your eyes, it is sound, not sight that becomes assailed, the cracking sound of glass. You cartwheel back from the window, and not a moment too soon as with a meaty plop, a severed purple hydra head, part flesh, part glass falls before you. It raises itself upon severed stump, like a mockery of a serpent, to shadow above you, glaring with its glass eyes dying you in tainted verdant light.

What will you do, Vank of Valantis?
Roll 2d100 separately
>If it be flesh, it bleeds, dies (DC 60)
>If it be glass, it shatters, destroyed (DC 50)
>Bind with cloth, still forevermore (DC 80)
>Dance, thus lead it to crash upon walls (DC 55)
>Flee, coward evermore (no DC)
>Write in (DC depending on plan)

Souv?

Rolled 53 (1d100)

>>5594779
>If it be flesh, it bleeds, dies (DC 60)
We got blades. Is there an advantage to not picking the lowest DC option? If not, the choice seems kinda pointless. Also it seems with the current system if you get more, players can change their votes after rolls come by to one that passes, idk if you should be worried about that but I thought I should mention it.

>>5594851
Ah, I did indeed mess up, options then rolls are usually the way, with an update between option picked and rolls asked for. I'll ask for rolls at the end of the next update.

>>5594779
>sorry about mucking up the choices with the rolls
>If it be flesh, it bleeds, dies
A humble jester, yet fear does not consume you. You have no memories of fighting beast or fiend, but your body knows what your mind does not. You backflip just as the hydraling slams its body down, throwing a dagger into it's relatively softer underside while you are in mid-slip. The dagger strikes true and deep. You coldly note that while it bleeds not from it's severed neckstump, vile ichor weeps from the dagger you threw.

A twisted croak climbs out from the fiend's maw as it switches to lunge in effort to bite you in half, you simply move a halfstep to the side grabbing the dagger you threw as it rushes past. The wound opens further from the hydraling's own motion. More ichor splatters a floor that has not seen blood of any kind for generations. As the hydra tumbles it slaps wetly across crystallized victims, but the crystals move not, not even a shudder, not even a single shard of crystal breaks off. The hydraling however spilt more blood and shed glass scales from the exchange.

Your body feels more alien, more familiar. You begin to juggle your daggers as you circle the monster. It bleeds. You can kill it. Thoughts are for when the target is dead. Confusion when the performance is over.
>Rolling time, best of two 1d100

Rolled 73 (1d100)

>>5594934

>>5594938
>>5594851
In the interests of keeping the ball rolling, since things are early on, I'll take the old roll too. Writing update now.

>Rolled 73 (1d100) success 10 over DC 60
Though large and fierce the abilities of the hydrating cannot equal the hatred it looks at you with. A mere length of severed neck connected to the head, it cannot spit acid which comes forth from a true hydra's heart.

Slow.

Cumbersome.

As it frantically searches for your flesh you dodge as if it merely a pet you trained to mock strike you, but you would never harm the troupe's menagerie as you do this wretch. Dagger after dagger flies from your hands as the hydraling writhes around you, close yet never close enough. When the last dagger is in place you roll towards the fiend, spinning a leg out and slapping the side of its neck. The monster shudders and just before it explodes into ribbons as you intended, a sorrowful cry echoes from it.

Before your eyes, it fades into the darkness, only the clatter of your daggers telling you it was not all a waking nightmare.

As you mechanically collect your daggers you look at the window the creature came from. The scene is still wrong, but now a portion of the glass where your adversary came from is gone. You dumbly gaze at it, feeling that it is less a window and more a reflection of yourself and the Kingdom.

Changed, unfamiliar and... missing something.

Are you even still yourself?

You are not the only one with doubts, as you hear a slow methodical clap, followed by a man's voice sweeter than honey and poison.

"Who would have thought that the King's favourite jester could fight like his riskbreakers?"
1/2

>>5595062
Turning you see the source of the voice. If you could be said to be the elements of handsomeness just out of reach, then before you was a beautiful man spoiled by sheer aura.

Long silvery blue hair glamorous enough to rival your own fiery locks. A towering height. A body like a master sculptor's Magnum Opus. Golden armour clads his legs, ornate, with a crying face on one knee, a smiling on the other. His arms and chest are bare, showing unblemished skin like moonlight. A thick golden veil hides a face all claim must be charming.You know this man as Inquisitor Rozenstern.

There is no religion, no cult that does not fear the Inquisitor and his claws. If any belief does not conform to the divinity of the three rules, (Principle, Grace and Charm) it will be ripped out by the roots. The Ministry of Three is the other half of Url'Ryoness' glory.

"Lord Rozenstern, how is it that you still, move, no rather, what in the realms is going on?"
A disgusted snort blows Rozenstern's veil.
"I'll have no answers for one whose identity I so doubt, lest I find myself encased in crystal. But, on the rare chance you are some hidden pawn of the King, I'll warn you, do not cross me or my claws and on that chance, I'll let you keep your life"
That said, Rozenstern turns his back to you, as if to say you are no threat, but... a chill is on your back, and it does not vanish even as Rozenstern ascends to the throne to examine the King, seeming to give his whole focus to the task. If you disturb him, retribution is sure to be swift.

You live for now, but you are sure that Rozenstern or his claws will watch you from now on, whatever you do.

For that matter, what will you do, Vank, if that is who you are?
>Where is my wife?
>The Inquisitor and his claws yet move, what of the masonmages?
>Abandon responsibility, and wait for Rozenstern or someone else to command you
>Ask Rozenstern something DC 90
>Write In

>>5595067
>Where is my wife?

>>5595083
>>5595067
>Where is my wife?
A slight stir is formed in your cold heart, where is your wife? It is only natural you think of this, but yet, this late it is unnatural, should it not have been your first thought? Searching your memories confirms feelings of love... Yet a chill deeper than Rozenstern's threat of death suffuses your being. Why are your memories like a distant fog? It is not that you remember nothing... No, that would be far less disturbing.

Your very actions build your quiet unease, frantic worry for a loved one is common, yet you slowly stalk alert amid the crystalline occupants of the throne room. You see fellow troupe members, guardsmen, nobles, servants, princes and princesses, magicians and masonmages, clergy and some claws of Rozenstern. So not all his men remain, or perhaps Rozenstern was bluffing and only he remains?

However, many are missing, not unusual for normal day, but frustratingly not a sign to be seen of your Piplyn or the seventh princess Quiche. For that matter, it slipped your notice, but the newly crowned Queen, Dorrigan is missing too, an absence that is strange, as the young queen is like a belt on Teer XV. Your heart is heavy that you even have the mind to notice.

Rozenstern pays your search no mind, even as you, like a mouse trapped in a room with a cat, cannot shake his deadly presence from your consciousness. You have exhausted your options in the throne room, even the hounds, cats and smaller pets are crystallized.

You head towards princess Quiche's chambers, in hope that your Piplyn, even in crystal form, is with her. Your journey does not even begin however as you stop short at the exit you should take.
1/2

>>5595189
A curse directed at Rozenstern forms in your head even as you feel his piercing gaze upon your back. Where once was a normal passage, an opening leads to a forest of green scaled trees with fleshy grey leaves. It is not as dark as the throneroom, but that is scarce comfort.

Rozenstern said nothing of this queer change!

You quickly check the other passages.
>To the East the passage is obscured with an unpleasant black slime and deep darkness
>To the West the walls have become lined with bones, the dark feels not as deep here.
>To the South, the opposite of where you wish to go, it looks normal enough, aside from the everpresent disquieting darkness
>The North is as you saw now a passage into some strange forest, the dark has not the strange deepness there
Some instinct tells you that venturing into darkness without light like the glow of your crystallized companions will result in a grisly end. If the ways had not become so strange, you'd have confidence any path could eventually used to reach the princess quarter of the castle.

>Where will you go, Vank of Valantis?
>If your destination be deep dark, how will you light your way?

>>5595191
>The North
>Check if we can lift the crystals containing the palace pets in case we need a light later

>>5595191
>>5595375
>The North
>Check if we can lift the crystals containing the palace pets in case we need a light later
You decide that your instinctual misgivings about the darkness are worth listening to. You can't move the larger crystals, indeed from your fight with the hydraling, the people it crashed into move not even a little.

To your surprise a nobleman's hound proves quite easily mobile, but... Carrying around a dog or even cat sized chunk of crystal doesn't fill you with confidence. Just as you are about to strap a crystallized ferret using your ribbons, a particular pet comes to mind.

The owner, the fifteenth prince Candr, would never shut up about it, indeed the pet itself would not be silent, a curious rarity a sparrow that could speak and think like a human. Some supposed it was some cursed foreign royal, but the sparrow was never forthcoming. Given the sparrow, named Kettle for it's laugh, was still alive and not imprisoned, if it was a royal, then it was of some backwater tiny country.

You are in luck and amid piles of tankards and goblets and empty bottles you find the crystallized prince Candr and his posse of merrymakers. Candr notably has not a look of horror on his face, instead his face is frozen in mid-laugh at the surrounding people's panic.
There is no sign of Kettle, but a quick check of the nearby goblets and you find a small crystallized sparrow. The remaining alcohol and food on the table have undergone some disturbing transformation, liquids and solids both are utterly putrid. You feel no hunger or thirst however, a thankful boon and worrying fact.

Pushing the possible implications from you mind you make a small amulet with some of your ribbons and the unfortunate sparrow Kettle. Thus equipped, you head towards forest passage, noticing as you do so that Rozenstern has vanished from the throneroom. A feeling in the back of your head tells you that it is for the best that are leaving, that lingering too long would bring forth some ill consequence
1/2

>>5595884
As soon as you enter the dark forest of green scaled trees with fleshy grey leaves, you feel both relief and alarm. Relief, for the darkness has less of sinister weight here. Alarm for the silence is broken by an endless murmuring, as if the trees were communicating with each other.

Your destination is the princess quarter of the castle, but before you is a sprawling depth of forest.
>You'll need some way of not getting lost in the forest, what will you do to keep your way?
>To the North you can see a glittering red smoke work its way through the treetops
>To the West you cannot see, but smell the scent of human blood
>To the East you see, amongst the glow of crystal victims, vaguely humanoid shadows cavorting around
>Back south is were you came from, but now the thought of returning fills you with dread
>Risk exposing yourself to who knows what by climbing to the treetop canopies (DC 60)
>Write in
Now for a meta choice.
>Kettle the sparrow remains still, your journey will be cold grim and silent, death your only constant companion in this tale
>Kettle the sparrow manages to speak in spite of being crystallized, so you will have at least some company in the deep darkness that you travel in

>>5595887
>Go East.
Talk to the ghosts or something. Hope they don't attack us.
>Keep track of where we are by scratching marks on the trees, if possible.
>Kettle the sparrow manages to speak in spite of being crystallized, so you will have at least some company in the deep darkness that you travel in
Hello, little friend.

I'll try shilling in the qtg to see if we can get more players. Good quest so far, would be a shame if it was abandoned due to low participation.

>>5595887
>To the East you see, amongst the glow of crystal victims, vaguely humanoid shadows cavorting around
>Kettle the sparrow manages to speak in spite of being crystallized, so you will have at least some company in the deep darkness that you travel in

>>5595929
Glad you are enjoying it, I did consider shilling there myself, but I'm willing to keep going even with low numbers, so I didn't. That said, the semi-chaos of anons bickering is one of life's prime pleasures.

The choice of Kettle might not be a big story choice, it is a huge potential shift in tone, so more opinions would be great.

Thank you for enjoying, and shilling.

>>5595884
>>5595887
>>5595929
>Go East
As you ponder your options, a crackle from your amulet catches your attention, then, wonders of wonders you hear a voice come from it, lightening your heart and making your memories feel not as distant.

"AHH! Confound it! Is there any as unlucky as me? Twice cursed? I cannot move, and... Is this a man's chest? Thrice cursed! Bad enough to be made a sparrow, bad enough to be made an ornament, but what woe that I should lay on a boney plain than a deep valley?"

None knew Kettle's age, but in spite of his boyish twittering voice, his manner was of no child.

"Hullo, Kettle, tis I, Vank."
"Haah? That gloomy jester? No wonder the plains are bones! Why do you wear me boy? For that matter, why am I now a mere bauble? Actually, last I remember was... that cad Candr dunking me in mead, and the shaking and darkness, where is this queer forest, such foul trees!" Kettle babbles.
You feel compelled to tell Kettle what you know, though there is scant matter to that. He goes silent for a while after your tale.

"Are you fortunate or not, to have escaped enchanting crystal, jester?"
"I know not, but, to be able to move, but at least be better than to have no say in what becomes of me"
"Hmm, if what you told, be true, you've already become different from how you were. I'd say Rozenstern's actions are suspect, but if a man such as he is not worrying, he deserves not his post"
"For now, I don't believe he is the cause of this calamity."
"Loathe I am to cast aspersions and suspicion on beautiful women, but if we do not find the Queen, powerful enchantress that she is, encased in crystal..."
"Could it not be some outside enemy, than black treachery within?"
"You know as well as I how weak all are compared to Valantis' might, jester! Unless this is a plot between realms, who else has the power than one within Valantis?"
Who indeed? Perhaps some unknown being, but for all the power and prosperity of the land, isn't it a claim of the Ministry of Three that there is no end to the wickedness that lurks in the heart of all beings. For all the minions of depravity the claws rip out, who might still secretly worship a twisted being or hold vile precepts. The claws themselves might be infected, so often they deal with those named heretic.

Indeed, historically Valantis' greatest foes and calamities have come from corruption within!

"We may see the end of Valantis itself, Kettle" You morosely conclude.
"Pah! Spare me the front row seat to that play! Enough guesswork! Did you not have a wife to find? AHH the princess quarter! The sweet scent of the fair! Alas I can smell no more! Still, a worthy place for any man to seek out! Some might say the children's quarter to be more worthy of checking the safety of, but if one has a woman, more children can be made!"
As flippant as Kettle is about the fate of the royal children, the image of small little crystal children tucked in their beds gives you pause.
1/?

>>5596003
"Where'ver we go, let it not be that mystic smoke or those uncanny shadows!" Kettle chirps.
"I intend to see the nature of those shadows, I'm afraid"
"I'll be most inconvenienced if your head parts from your neck boy, seeing as I can't move myself. Even if those shadows be people, what loon would dance amid people trapped in crystal?"
"Be that as it may, we know little of what has happened, I must take the risk, can it be worse than the hydra head?"
"Don't tempt chance like that jester!" Kettle pleaded.

You spoke no more, readying your daggers between your fingers and a few ribbons, though you still don't know why you are so sure you can use them in combat, as you stalk towards the figures. You mark trees as you go, lest you cannot find your way back.

The darkness is chased away by the light from more trapped people, though what room this once was is not clear. What is clear however is the form of your mystery figures.
"What fiends are these, no comely nymphs, no lush dryads!" Kettle whispers.

Indeed, nothing so pleasant is before you. Three dancers they are, bodies of twisted scaled root in mockery of a skeleton, fleshy grey leaves as a habit, and a pale blue bulbous fruit of a head, somewhat reminiscent of a bell pepper, but warty with weeping sores. Not one mouth or eye is to be seen on the heads.

They take no heed of your presence, but you suppose they merely have not noticed you. Your very being is filled with revulsion for them, and you suspect should they learn of you, they won't rest till your guts feed their roots.
>Sneak by them (DC 75)
>By blade and ribbon, suffer them not to live (DC 60)
>Hide and wait (DC 70)
>Write In

>>5596004
>Hide and wait (DC 70)
Let's see what the hell they're up to with this dance.

>>5596004
>By blade and ribbon, suffer them not to live (DC 60)

Rolled 1 (1d2)

>>5596010
>>5596017
In the interest of moving forward, tie breaker roll.

>>5596010
>>5596017
>>5596171
>Hide and wait (DC 70)
You back into the darkness, planning on watching the vile things dance. It is a word that can only be lightly used to describe their wretched motions.
"What are you doing, jester?" Kettle whispered nervously.
"Watching, to see if they have ought purpose"
"This is disgusting sport jester, what would your wife feel, that you would be entertained watching this"
You shush Kettle, lest the fruitmen discover you, that and you found his joke in ill taste.

It is one unfortunate crystal victim their dance is centred on, and as you watch, the light of that crystal flickers oddly, and earth of the forest floor around it shudders as if something desired to burst upward.
>Roll best of three 1d100

Rolled 92 (1d100)

>>5596192

Rolled 76 (1d100)

>>5596192

Rolled 1 (1d100)

>>5596192

>>5596343
I shouldn't have rolled

>>5596192
>>5596322
>>5596336
>>5596343

>20 over DC met, success.
The darkness coils around you like your wife's touch, an unwelcome feeling from one who is not she, still, it aids your efforts in hiding from the fruitmen. The jittering motions of the wretches, grows more frantic, and the light of the crystallized guardsman ever more fitful.

The fruitmen spasm in seeming agony as something pushes through the soil, at first you think it is roots or vines, but you can tell. It is nothing less than deep darkness itself taking physical form! As vines, it wraps and covers the crystal, obscuring its weak light. The fruitmen look drained from their efforts, their once bulbous heads withered and dry, with great effort, they drag their bodies to the east.

>A cyclopean serpent's eye! baleful roll!

Something between a animal's call and a child's malicious laugh echoes from the darkbound crystal and the fruitmen freeze in place. You sense fear from them. One final spasm takes their bodies, and they burst into motes of darkness, motes which pause but a moment before being sucked into the darkbound crystal. You haven't a moment to react as the transformation begins and ends, vines of dark changing to plates of metal, sprouting as limbs.
The crystal stands, no glow remains on it, the human inside has a look of utmost grief. Atop the crystal a round blank head forms, like that of a classic chess pawn. The pawn of darkness holds out a plates claw, and the darkness twists itself into a halberd for its' minion. The pawn wastes no time in lunging at you, intent on skewering your flesh!

>Previous check was a success, chaining victory!

"By the divine three, what is that?!" Kettle exclaims.
You do not know, but something tells you that newly formed, this is your only chance to defeat it as you are now.

You cartwheel away from its' lunge, throwing daggers into its' joints as you do, one at each elbow and one at each knee. It charges with increasing speed after you. You have not much time.

Memories as fog, your ribbons fly from your sleeves, wrapping around the handles of the daggers you threw. The strength of the pawn is greater than yours, but you need not overpower it, just a light pull is enough to distort its' movements, sending the halberd to your side than in your sides. You have full control for now, dancing as if it were a puppet and you the master, but you feel its' strength grow with each passing moment. some instinct tells you that anymore delay and its' limbs will be too sturdy for what you plan!

Four more daggers, each where the limbs connect to the crystal, more ribbons and then, almost pretzel like you twist you body and the ribbons, even kicking off into the air from a sweeping strike of the pawn to give your efforts more power. You are rewarded for your efforts by an inhuman shriek from the pawn as its' limbs are torn asunder!

"Hurra..." the cry of victory from Kettle is drawn short.

1/?

>>5596859
Your own breath is caught in your throat, as the crystal remains suspended in air and the limbs you tore off, the head you did not, and the halberd shatter into motes which cover the crystal once more, then the darkbound crystal's shape warps turning into a halberd of dark metal and wood. Yet, no sign of crystal, nor crystal's glow. It stands upright, as if beckoning you to take it.

"Have a care, jester, you can't just pick up any old thing that appears so ominously!" Kettle warns as you inch closer to the halberd.
You take no heed, and nothing changes as you draw near. Then you take hold of the weapon.

Pain assaults your mind, and your body rigidly, against your will completes a set of movements with the halberd!

>You have subsumed the art of wielding halberds

As the pain fades, the halberd transforms once more, leaving you with a small emerald-like gem, within which, a portrait like image of the guardsman inside, whose face is now in peaceful and serene repose. You know that with a thought you can turn it back into a halberd, and the essences of the weapon are clear to you.

>Acquired a Darkarm Halberd of Floralbane, +10 on rolls against plant life when used, -20 against beings of soil. -10 against the fleshless. Can harm spirits and darkbound crystal pawns and knights

"Jester? Have you been consumed by some spirit? Jester? Speak to me, though your breast is a man's and bony, I desire not to be carried by a stranger!" Kettle panicked.
A sigh left your lips.
"I am still myself, or so I hope, never I would have imagined daggers and ribbons I used to bring smiles and laughter would turn to such ends, or that I would have the talent to do so"
"Be of more cheer, I have never doubted I was once a man, even with my memories, clouded and my true name lost, if I can have such confidence, so can you boy!"
"Ah, twas I who lifted burdens from minds, now a bauble seeks to lighten mine, thank you good Kettle"
"Think nothing of it, though, my baubleness is merely temporary, remember it well!"
You shrug.
"In anycase, we should move afore something is drawn by the sound of my combat"

>To the West is where you came, but what man is so unconfident to tread a path already walked? (DC 80) if you wish to take a path you saw before but did not take >>5595887

>To the North you can almost see what looks like a larger tree... are those crystals on its' trunk?

>To the East, where the fruitmen intended to go, there is the shadows of fruits in the trees, but not a glow of crystal to be seen

>To the South, some bushes, tis hard to see without crystal's glow

>Risk exposing yourself by climbing to the treetop canopies (DC 75)

>You are currently in an overshadowed clearing with four crystallized citizens, it is not safe, you've recently fought here, the dark is weaker here

"I ill like the chances of encountering more of those fruitmen, a few might be fine to slay, but who knows how many lurk together, a mob and we can only flee" Kettle offers

>Write In

>>5596864
>To the North you can almost see what looks like a larger tree... are those crystals on its' trunk?

>>5596864
>To the North you can almost see what looks like a larger tree... are those crystals on its' trunk?

>>5596864
>>5596890
>>5596998
>To the North you can almost see what looks like a larger tree... are those crystals on its' trunk?
Kettle lets out a sigh of relief as you head north, instead of the fruit grove.
"Ah, good idea, where my more unfortunate comrades are, it is sure to have at least some connection to what the castle once was" Kettle chattered.
"Would that it is that simple, that there would be some connection that could guide my path somewhat"
"At the least, it'll keep us some deeper darkness" Kettle persuades.

You merely grunt in reply as you work your way through the gnarled scaly tree, finally arriving at the sight you saw after a long and uneasy trip.

Before you is a mighty tree, the trunk of which vanishes amid the leaves of its more hideous brethren. No, it is not the size you find most striking, but unlike the tree's lesser kind, instead of unnatural scales, beautiful white bark. Crystallized people are embedded in the trunk, naturally arising from it. These people are not like the other misshapen folk, instead, the crystal is close to the skin, as if they had been covered in emerald liquid.

All have a serene look to them, with hands clasped in prayer. For a moment the most prominent one looks like your wife, Piplyn, but it is a mere heart wrenching moment, instead you recognise her as Loros Halsquar, a rather high ranking place maid, and consequently a noblewoman. Clan Halsquar, they had a near run in with the Ministry's claws, didn't they?

"Shame that such a pretty lass be bound like that, though at least she'll not be harmed by those fruitmen" Kettle tutted.
"Aye, small mercies at that"
"This place almost feels like a sanctuary, except for those sad two"

The two Kettle referred to were a pair of dead men, each pierced with his own sword in the heart, slumped on their knees facing eachother in some mockery of comradeship

"Do you recognise their livery Kettle?"
"None that I have seen before, neither men with such reddish skin"
"Nor I"

They wore padded cloth beneath coppery looking chainmail, over which was a yellowish brown hooded tabard. Stitched in red thread on the tabards were four deer in each corner, horns tangling in the middle to form an obscure pattern. The hood was pointed atop and wholly obscured their faces, only mere circles for eyes. Kettle had a good eye to spot their skin, covered as their limbs were with plate of a similar metal to whatever their mail was made of. Small round shields of yet more coppery metal lay discarded by them, a grotesque leering face on each.

"The smell of blood is old and dry, death reached them some time ago"
"They can only be soldiers from a realm beyond ours!"
1/2

>>5597568
Ignoring Kettle, you felt compelled to complete the sense of sanctuary you feel here, and that means dealing with the corpses.

>Set them aflame by making sparks with your metal playing cards
>Bury them at the foot of the great tree
>Drag them away into the forest
>Sever their limbs, burying each part separately
>Shake off the compulsion to complete the sanctuary, simply loot them and leave this place (DC 75)
>Desperately search your memory for a rite of parting (DC 65)
>Write In

>>5597569
>Desperately search your memory for a rite of parting (DC 65)
We can always do the other options if this one fails.

>>5597569
>>5597773
>Desperately search your memory for a rite of parting (DC 65)

You've never been the most devout, not uncommon for Valantis. While the Ministry of three doesn't outright ban all religions, their what was one day orthodox could be Heresy the next. It is not the existence of deities that is in doubt, they exist, speak and lend their followers power, it is who they claim to be that is in doubt. Many gods claim to be the creator of all, a God of gods.

According to the logic of the three, such a claim means that the god can only be one of three things: the True creator, a liar or mistaken.

To be deemed mistaken, a religion can simply bend their knee to whatever the Ministry thinks of them, to be shown as a liar means a purge, and those who worshipped face constant pressure and scrutiny even after renouncing new heresy. Understandably the worship of so called Greater Gods is not popular, not when the claws wait ready to tear you down. Apart from the twenty religions that make lesser grand claims than creatorhood, only three Gods that claim to have made all remain in Valantis.

The Widow of Creation, or the Holy Mother

The Book of all, or the Grand Grimoire

The Jolly man, or the Allfather

The multitude of gods that make no grand claims but simply offer aid in exchange for worship are much more popular, especially those that claim to follow the Ministries three revelations. The world outside Valantis views these 'tame' gods with some contempt more often than not.

Could a rebel God be responsible for Url'Ryoness' current state?

These memories and thoughts rush through your head as you try to recall a rite of parting. You see dark motes gathering around the corpses, so you have not much time to dredge your distant foggy memories.
>Roll best of three 1d100

Rolled 66 (1d100)

>>5598641

Rolled 60, 31 = 91 (2d100)

>>5598647
I'll roll the last two myself.

>>5598647
>>5598900
>(DC 65) just met conditions
A peaceful memory, your wife, Piplyn sits upon a stool working on that classic of noblewomen hobbies, ornate embroidery. You for your part are twisting your body in the manner of the ancient flexibility art the royal troupemaster taught you. A discordant image of a maiden at peace and a skeletal man bending his body in ways most uncanny.

Piplyn begins to hum some bubbling melody, full of life, but some shade of sorrow, a tune fit to begin a journey to. It has such charm that you stopped your exercises, asking where she had picked up such a sound.

A funeral. At the time, you had teased her for so cheerfully a lightly humming a song from a sober affair. Now you struggled to remember it...

"Whatever you mean to do, you'd best do it quick, I don't like the look of the that darkness gathering!" Kettle panicked.

Your heart however was at peace as you began to hum. The dark motes stopped their invasion, and the darkness itself drew away from you, as if it found your very existence distasteful.

For a moment you almost thought it snarled at you.
>The next roll that requires the aid of darkness -10

A gentle light began to crawl over the dead foreign soldiers, expelling the darkness that had already taken root in them, motes of darkness turning into white butterflies that faded with each flap of wings. In time, as you hummed, the whole bodies turned into these ethereal sprites.

Only their equipment remains.

"What magic song was that jester?"
"I know not, I merely... overheard it once."
"Whatever power tis tied to is mighty indeed, more like that out of your skull and we'll have naught to fear of the dark." Kettle crowed.

>You have subsumed an incomplete funeral rite of unknown origin, can be used to purify corpses, -20 when trying to exorcise active dead

"One such as you passed by here" a woman's voice whispers to you, as the sanctuary completes. You whip your head around, seeking the source. The center crystal of the tree!

"Canst you speak?" You question.
"Your melody didn't muddle your senses did it?"
It appears that Kettle heard it not, and the statue remains silent, did you imagine it?

>It is safe here, a sanctuary perhaps you should rest a while? (You can choose this in addition to a direction to go)
>What will you do with the equipment the dead left behind? It would be unwise to wear unknown colours, but the mail, shield and sword shouldn't weigh you down, you did after all train to juggle three dwarves at once! Still you can't take everything with you and the limb armour has not a hope of fitting your frame.
>To the North you smell blood, and slumped forms cast their shadows from the glow of a few crystal prisoners
>To the East... Is that wooden flooring the crystal's light reveals?
>To the West you can see that odd smoke you saw before
>Write In

>>5598988
>It is safe here, a sanctuary perhaps you should rest a while?
>What will you do with the equipment the dead left behind?
Take the shield and sword
>To the West you can see that odd smoke you saw before

>>5598988
>Rest at the sanctuary
>Take the shield and sword
>Go West towards the smoke

>>5599030
>>5599078
>It is safe here, a sanctuary perhaps you should rest a while?
Though you have been instilled with the might of a riskbreaker, comfortingly you still tire, though... It is not your flesh that wanes, but your very mind. You've taken it disturbingly in your stride but within the part of you that you can only assume is still you, shaken. You are shaken.

"Wish to rest a while here, Kettle"
"I'll keep watch, and rouse you should aught approach"

With that you closed your eyes and collapsed at the foot of the tree. In mere moments oblivion took you, but in time, amid your repose you dreamed.

Bones.
Walls of spine and rib.
Ghostly blue light.

Beneath a chandelier of skulls, there was one, no two you recognized. Rozenstern, there were two of them! Both were bloodied and panting. No difference between the two except for wounds that rapidly healed. One was flanked by wounded claws, the other by shambling dead.

"For all your words, you draw from the same source as me, brother! As the risen dead do, we breathe in and fill lungs with air and darkness! A Microcosm of this city!"

Since when did Rozenstern have a twin? For how long was this hidden from the public?

"I may use the Dark and darkness is natural to the lungs, but your ambitions are an abberation!"

"You wish to put the egg back in its' shell, but why should we not partake of the feast laid out before us?"

"I'll rend your soul from flesh ere, I join the likes of you, it disgusts me to have shared blood!"

"A pity, I have not time to play with you"
One Rozenstern flicks his hands and joining the dead are skeletons bursting from the walls, flooding the other Rozenstern and his living companions.
"You seek to flee from me? Thou art a coward ANTONIO!!!"

Antonio Rozenstern chuckles as he slips away, the mob of dead preventing pursuit. Inquisitor Rozenstern's upper body becomes clad in armour of ice, his hands changed to mighty maces of the same and sends scores of dead flying at each swing, yet all he can do is preserve the lives of his men.

As you watched them, you become aware that you are not the only watcher, a women almost part of the darkness itself in black leathers and a blank mask, was hiding in the ceiling the whole time! You only noticed her because she moved to pursue Antonio, and in that moment where you concentrate too hard, she somehow notices you, and your dream is drowned in darkness.

You open your eyes and stand to your feet, doing a routine of stretches.
"Didst you sleep well, jester?"
"Not at all"
You keep your dream to yourself, unsure of its' truth.
>You can now dreamsight when resting at a sanctuary, perhaps in time you will gain more control over this power

"Where do we head now, jester?" Kettle chirped.
"Towards that odd smoke"
If a grimace had audible form, that would be the sound that Kettle had made.
1/2

>>5599806
Still, ignoring your companion's distress, you pick up a pair of sword and shield, tying both to your back with ribbon, checking that the scabbard doesn't interfere with your movements, you make your way through the forest towards the glittering red smoke.

What you reach is the shattered remains of a log hut, the stumps of four large legs can be seen sprouting from the house. The roof is utterly destroyed. From within is the source of the smoke, a mighty black metal stove crouched like a frog amid the ruins.

"I almost feel relieved that nobody is home, but that mystic stove is suspect, what say we just move on, you've seen what's here!" Kettle pleaded.

"What caused such devastation, and where did this queer abode come from?"
"Perhaps the same as those foreign soldiers"

The musings could continue no longer as when you got closer, the smoke billowed and coalesced into the nubile form of a woman covered by mere chains and strips of cloth, her face was obscured by a veil, but her eyes... did it add or subtract from her charm that they were as the frog's? She was all of one colour, just differing in shades of red.

"I'd be more pleased by this lady were she not a spirit of some kind, few things are as sorrowful as a beauty one cannot touch!" Kettle exclaimed.

The genie gave a deep bow.
"Welcome aspirant, by the one who claimed my name, I am bound to answer three questions to those that ask, the grander the question, the more obscure the answer"

What will you say, if anything Vank of Valantis? Beware for a being such as this to ask what befell Url'Ryoness is like to get an answer like "Betrayal" or "Tragedy". Though honest, it will lie by omissions. Good faith and mercy are not found in any of the stories you have heard of spirits such as these. Remember your goals, remember the mysteries that confound you, match your wits and gain the third greatest of treasures: Knowledge!

>Ask one question (write in)
>Ask two questions (write in)
>Ask three questions (write in)
>Hint, there is actually a way to get more than you might think possible.
>Roll best of two 1d100 for searching the hut for loot too, no way you'd not
>Speak not to the spirit instead, (write in action)

Rolled 41 (1d100)

>>5599808
>What is the location of my wife in relation to where I'm standing right now and the path to reach her?
>What way is there to reverse these transformations and crystallizations, from both a individual and the whole city?
>Why am I not crystallized and have skills I do not remember having before, like the bladework or dreamsight?
If adding an and does not get us more information, prioritize finding the wife and reversing the curse individually.

>>5599808
>>5599827
Tempting as it is to ask some meme questions like "how do I get you to answer more questions for me?", these sound good, but Steller, could you give a pause between each of them in case the information provided makes us want to change the remaining ones? Also to gauge how obscure the answers are.

>>5599879
Sure, since I'm not a genie myself mercy is within my grasp. I'll do it in stages, as much as I want to do an update sooner rather than later, I might wait on updating until tomorrow to give more timezones a chance to put their say in. I think the malformed first post may be keeping some people off from playing though

Theoretically even with low posters there's lurkers too. Don't think this situation is nearly juicy enough to break their vows of silence though.

>>5599827
>>5599879
You decide to ask the genie a few questions.
>What is the location of my wife in relation to where I'm standing right now and the path to reach her?
The genie gives you fairly comprehensive directions, clearly stated that Princess Quiche's wardrobe is where she is. She doesn't even give a deranged roundabout path. The route she outlines goes from where you are into the princess quarter.
>You have gained knowledge of a path towards Princess Quiche's Wardrobe.
It was almost like a gentle parent giving directions to child they were afraid would get lost, one thing marred this feeling. Not once did an expression of utmost malice leave the genie's face, she even took her veil off so you could better see her face. Within her eyes, is the sneer of one looking at a fool.

What does it mean? Is it related to your wife, the directions or did it count as two questions? The genie silently continues to bore her eyes into you. Is it bluffing, or have you utterly failed to outwit it?

"It should be the truth, but why do I feel no confidence in what she said" Kettle moaned.
"Even if it intends us mischief, some direction is better than none"
"I do not envy you asking this fiend another question"
The genie giggles at Kettle's words.

Do you ask another question? If so, what will it be? You had a question in mind, but has your mind changed?
>(Loot roll saved, looting will happen after dealing with the genie)

>>5600633
I hate mindgames. I am afraid we spent two questions right now, so we need to be careful what we ask next.
>What way is there to reverse these transformations and crystallizations that befell the city of Url'Ryoness?
This seems like the most important one. What does the other anon think?

>>5600715
Support.
When we find our wife, we will have to heal heal her. If she is still alive.

>>5600715
>>5602234
Putting aside your reservations, you ask what is either your third or second question.

>What way is there to reverse these transformations and crystallizations that befell the city of Url'Ryoness?

The malice melts from her face and the darkness closes in on you both.
"Time will never turn back, the truly dead remain so. For those that live, fill the cauldron with air and darkness, complete the unfinished work, and that which is greater will remain"

You see no exaggeration of malice this time, just a solemn mask of an expression before her veil appears on her face once more. Once again some instinct warns you, like many small voices whispering in your ear. As cryptic as what she said is, it is both true, and a trap. The nature of the truth and trap eludes you for the moment. Kettle does not even speak, as if his voice is stolen by some personal revelation unknown to you.

You decide to search the ruined hut for aught of use, while your thoughts are still in chaos.
>Roll of 41 loaded, minor poverty
It is clear that whatever destroyed the hut also ruined much of its contents, and whatever else was ransacked later. For your troubles you find what you can only consider to be a reagent of some sort, a piece of root or a mummified lizard, you honestly can't tell. You aren't even sure it is in good condition. It might even be nothing more than a small snack.
>Obtained mysterious object of doubtful properties
Just as you dust yourself off and prepare to leave, you hear the genie calmly call out to you.

"Aspirant you can still ask one question of me"

At first you praise your good fortune, but then your eyes narrow. Isn't that a little too forthcoming?

>Will you ask a final question? If so what?
>Unrelated to anything you choose, roll 1d100

Rolled 69 (1d100)

>>5602386
I have a feeling that asking the last question may free the genie, or that we should save the last one if we get stumped sometime in the future.
But fuck it
>Why am I not crystallized and have skills I do not remember having before, like the bladework or dreamsight?
Now I'm thinking whether or not to mention that she has been helpful before asking it, and should the last question does end up freeing her, we would be glad to pay back the favor she has done by revealing a way to save our wife. Even if she was forced to have done so.

Rolled 10 (1d100)

>>5602386
>Thank the genie for helping out, even if she was forced to do it
>Say we'll help if she ever needs the favour repaid
>Proceed to ask the final question: >>5602402

Is this an original setting or is it based on something?

>>5603051
It is an original setting, but it draws on the video game Vagrant Story for a lot of its themes and a few other things. It isn't the same world or even connected.

>>5602402
>>5603023

"Even if, O genie you were compelled to aid me by what magicks bind you, I thank you. In the future, should you, unlikely though it is, need my aid it is yours."

She heard you, but does not acknowledge your goodwill. You grit your teeth to ask one final question, whatever the cost may be.

>Why am I not crystallized and have skills I do not remember having before, like the bladework or dreamsight?

Mocking laughter, just as beautiful as it is cruel is the first response from the genie.
"Your face is in darkness, your being in darkness, who is to say you are who you think you are? As this fallen city is, so are you. As the Air and Darkness fills, so are you filled. The past runs thick in your veins, fit to burst them. Are you a perfect crux of fate, or is it the plans of man that you fit perfectly here, Aspirant?"

She laughs melodically once more, and this laughter grows but louder and louder as you and Kettle cry out from the pain of the volume, finally, the stove the genie was in ends the laughter with a mighty crack.

"Three requests were the hasty binding of my master, with three, I am free!"
Her body swells, legless smoke turning to shapely legs, her from fills your sight as she becomes giant, in moments, your vision is filled with her massive face leering at you, and you fear for a moment she means to devour you.
"Had two of your questions had naught to do with love, your end would be now, mortal. But love of any kind is the only virtue we genii cleave to. Your wretched fate will continue and since you have pleased me with your words, I shall give you one solitary piece of advice "

Her face, huge as it is goes solemn once more.
"Till all is said and done, do not remove your mask"
She drew her face back from yours and she rose into the dark, rolling her shoulders.
"Ah, what joy to be free and in such rich air, I go now to destroy she who would have called herself my master, when next we meet, be prepared, lest you end at my hands"
With that said, she turns into a strand of smoke and vanishes from your sight.

>Roll, 69 conditions did not activate

A sigh is loosed from Kettle.
"Even had I asked, it would have availed me not" he muttered forlornly.
You however have not time consider what he means. The words of the genie have shaken your very being. The darkness rushes in. Your sight is obscured. The wordless whispers and grudges of the dead fill your ears. You call out, but no sound comes out. You grasp at your chest, but Kettle is not there.

All is darkness, and sensing weakness, it wishes to claim you now.

1/2

>>5603362
You are not the Dark, you are Vank of Valantis are you not? You have a loving wife, Piplyn. It is no lie. You are a royal jester to the King! Part of the Royal Amusement Troupe! The troupemaster trained you specifically... but... what was the troupemaster's name?

>The darkness grows deep! The Trial of Darkness is upon you. One pillar of dark resides within you.

>Choose an unfulfilled aspect, and place your hopes within, confirm your existence by those without you!

The Higher Five
>The Crown, the seat of the mind. A path to folly, a route to wisdom

>Vision, the window of the soul, untrustworthy, but all that can be trusted.

>Aura, the first instinct, heed its warnings, the great seeker.

>Harmony, the passage of Air to mind, doors of good and ill omen

>Maw, the gates of self, spews forth folly and wisdom both, consumes all.

The Middle Five
>Vessel, the receptical of Air and Darkness, ever filled, ever emptied.

>Love, the source of motion, endless wickedness, but when tamed, a font of joy. Yours is filled with your wife, Piplyn, a sturdy pillar of Dark to keep it within. (Cannot be chosen)

>Gut, the second instinct, often true, rarely false, those consumed by desception cannot hear its voice.

>Cauldron, the origin of life, emotion is brewed within. Inheritor of ages, harbour of sickness. Once tainted, death comes.

>Destroyer, the purifier, mighty protector, but even such might will be laid low once abused and overwhelmed.

The Lower Three
>Root, the self, it lives to pass on to others, it lives to be loved, always present, yet many cannot see it.

>Shame, the final instinct, protector and oppressor of the self, when should it be heeded, when ignored?

>Shadow, the echo of the self. A constant companion, an adversary one fights till death. Fail to acknowledge it at your peril, but to accept it is death.

>Choose but one of these, and choose something, some person, place or memory, whatever in your desperation you believe will make the difference.

>>5603363
Hmmm
>"Time will never turn back, the truly dead remain so. For those that live, fill the cauldron with air and darkness, complete the unfinished work, and that which is greater will remain"
Ok, so we have to make sure that air and darkness get to the cauldron.
Since we already have one pillar of dark in, I'm thinking we go Harmony to get some air in, then later on Vessel to gather both up together in one place and eventually Cauldron when we are ready to end this.
>Harmony, the passage of Air to mind, doors of good and ill omen
Think of the court, our acrobatics, that allowed us to become royal jester and marry our wife. What greater harmony is there then when the kingdom was at peace, and we balanced objects to entertain the nobles?

Ok, so I was right about the genie getting free, but that last information was important. I'm beginning to think that the descriptions of our body looking like a puppet may be something more literal.

>>5603374
I shall be merciful remind you, this is a Trial of Darkness. Though Air and Darkness go hand in hand, there's no way you'd get a pillar of Air from this. As for other matters, well that's for you and the other anon to puzzle out.

>>5603401
In that case I guess
>Root, the self, it lives to pass on to others, it lives to be loved, always present, yet many cannot see it.
As for what to think of, probably the day of our marriage. Did we have any plans on having children with Piplyn eventually? If we ever talked about it, that could help. Family should be a strong pillar of a loved identityUnless one of us are infertile and it's a sad memory

>>5603362
>"Had two of your questions had naught to do with love, your end would be now, mortal.
So if Vank had not asked about his wife, the quest would have ended?
>>5603401
>As for other matters, well that's for you and the other anon to puzzle out.
>tfw I am a retard that'll vote because "haha I like these words"
fug :DDDDD

I won't delay if you'd like to push another update today, QM, the other anon seems to know what he's doing, but I'll vote tomorrow if this is still open by then.

>>5603491
>the other anon seems to know what he's doing
I have no idea what I'm doing, just voting for what I feel is right and hoping for the best.

>>5603491
>So if Vank had not asked about his wife, the quest would have ended?
Maybe, more likely your already terrible position would have gotten even worse. You'd have likely gotten at least one chance to escape a terrible fate, genii like to play with their food after all.

>tfw I am a retard that'll vote because "haha I like these words"
Smart people are often just retards with extra steps.

>Not delaying and pushing
It is honestly pretty late on my end, and I'd prefer to sleep when a big choice is up rather than 'how to fight this bloody hell chicken?' or something like that.

Now, getting multiple updates in tomorrow might be nice, even with the genie's directions you've a bit of distance to cover. You might even be tempted by things off your path too...

>>5603495
In life or in games, that's how most people act isn't it?

>>5603363
>Destroyer, the purifier, mighty protector, but even such might will be laid low once abused and overwhelmed.
>Memory of a close encounter that nearly left us dead
Not too much to work with regarding memories, honestly, though I guess that'll change as QM introduces more, so I'm going with a more abstract memory than something the other anon suggested, hope that's okay. I wonder what we'll get out of this trial, some new ability maybe? Or is it just narrative?

>>5604138

On the brink of losing it all, your struggles attune you to the Destroyer aspect, memories of your past, shrouded in fog envelope you, near death, so near to death. But the near past is strongest, you have been stalked by death, by worse since you opened your eyes in the fallen city.

Robbed of breath, you try to cry out in the darkness, but nothing comes. Just as you try to fill that protector with your fears, you hear the rage of many from your own being. The Destroyer aspect is filled to bursting with grudges!

As hounds they tear at your being, cold lancing pains sending your memories deeper into fog. Just as you are ready to give up and be consumed, a bright shining memory falls through the darkness like an unmoored star.

>>5603414

"You want to name your child after me?"
A memory of you and the troupemaster.
"Yes, if you don't mind, Piplyn already agreed"
"Hahh, what if its a girl though? I may look like this, but Wolkin is a man's name"
Wolkin was born with fair features, and on top of that, an accident at a young age almost destroyed his lower body. It was already a miracle his legs and hips worked, his manhood was not so fortunate. Many ladies of the court envied his face and slender form, along with his hair, like a streak of midnight it was.

Yet, a drunken Wolkin had one night confessed to you he'd accept being as ugly as a rotting maggoty pig, if it could mean he could sire children. No, Wolkin did not mind his beautiful form at all. What he could not stand were the realities of being a cripple. Perhaps that is why he had trained you so well, showered you with affection.

To Wolkin, were you the son he couldn't have?

You cannot recall what expression Wolkin had at your request, not how his golden eyes were either. All you remember is your reply.

"If the child is a girl, then a Lamkin to your wolf"
Did he laugh at that sad wordplay?
The grudges peel away from you. It is not because of the memory of Wolkin, sorrowful Troupemaster of the Royal Amusement Troupe.

The memory, like a link of a chain led to something else.

You Wife was with child. With twins. A boy and a girl. Wolkin and Lamkin.

It was not only one life precious to you that you braved the darkness.

"You'll find us father"
"Trust nobody father"

The Root aspect fills up with memories of your unborn children. Family.

Another link, further beyond. A small chapel of... what religion was it? To what deity did the priest before you and your blushing bride belong to? The guests wear cloaks and masks, no more than twenty of them. No lavish ceremony is this. Wolkin is there, and even the King himself, the man is enjoying attending such a ceremony in disguise.

Why can you not recall the priest's face, their words? Then the eyes pierce through the fog. Red as blood, shining with a terrifying vitality!

1/2

>>5604289
The foundation of the Root almost cracks apart, your memories almost banished once more to fog. Yet, the cries of two children mend it all. A pillar of Dark builds upon the foundation of family.

The Dark recedes, satisfied in the results of the trial.

>Your existence is proven. Root Aspect filled with memories of family. The unborn will aid you so long as you remain faithful.

Once more, you see the queer forest, once more, Kettle lies against your breast.

"Are you that bothered by that genie's mumbo jumbo jester? You've been silent for some time. You shouldn't let her words seep too deep, beings such as her speak in snares!"

You have the inexplicable feeling that your experience with the Dark is too personal to tell Kettle about and besides, not much time has actually passed.

"I was just considering a few things"
"Well, there's plenty to muse about, I'll grant you that, but this doesn't seem the safest place to ponder"
"Aye"

You take a quick look at the stove the genie was trapped in, and commit the damaged runes to mind. Distant howls like those of a wolf's echo in the distance.

>Knowledge of damaged binding runes subsumed.

"I'm not eager to find out what creatures are making those howls, jester!"

Heeding Kettle, you start the first leg of the directions the genie gave you. In short order, you also encounter your first obstacle.

A band of fruitmen and three undead foreign soldiers are locked in combat. They have yet to spot your presence. The howls in the distance grow in number. It doesn't disturb the undead, but the fruitmen cannot fully concentrate on the battle before them.

How will you deal with them, Vank of Valantis?
>You have throwing daggers, a pack of trick metal cards, strangely strong ribbons, a shield, sword and a Darkarm Halberd of Floralbane (+10 on rolls against plant life when used, -20 against beings of soil. -10 against the fleshless. Can harm spirits and darkbound crystal pawns and knights)
>Just attack them all (DC 70), specify which weapons to use.
>Wait for one side to gain the upper hand, then strike (DC 55)
>Hide and sneak by (DC 60) Dark related roll, -10 to all rolls.
>Write in

>>5604291
>Wait for one side to gain the upper hand, then strike (DC 55)
Start with the throw daggers. If the undead win, use the sword and shield. If the fruitmen win, use the halberd
Ok, so now we have the name of the troupemaster, and two new family members to harden our resolve.

File: 1605735373332.png (58 KB, 280x320)

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>>5604289
>mfw I nearly killed Vank with my write-in
I thought a memory of some trial that we overcame using the Destroyer would work, but alas, it has proven too much.
>>5604302
>Hide and sneak by (DC 60) Dark related roll, -10 to all rolls.
I want to burn that disadvantage.

>>5604345
To be fair, you learned that your Destroyer aspect is stuffed full of grudges, I'd call that worth.

>>5604302
So shall we wait(say until after my evening meal) for a possible third player or is rolling a tie breaker roll preferred?

>>5604353
>So shall we wait(say until after my evening meal) for a possible third player or is rolling a tie breaker roll preferred?
idk, Steller, you're the boss. Do you want to wait or get writing sooner? Unless that question wasn't meant for me as well.

>>5604353
Is the -10 already counted on the DC, our would we have to roll a 70?

>>5604366
You'd have to roll a 70, but that -10 could be a lot bigger of an issue on a more critical roll.

>>5604365
It was meant for you both. As for how I feel about it. I'm fairly torn on the matter.

>>5604374
I guess I'll change to burn the debuff
Put keep the sword and shield at the ready, just to be safe

>>5604345
>>5604378

Ok, locked in, give me some 1d100-10 rolls, best of three.

On a side note, is it normal on this board for a thread to not bump at our post count?

Rolled 1 - 10 (1d100 - 10)

>>5604386
It stops bumping after some times passes as well.
But /qst/ is slow, so we still have plenty of time

Rolled 69 - 10 (1d100 - 10)

>>5604386
Yes, it stops bumping after 5 or 7 days, I don't remember exactly. We've still got plenty of time before it falls off the board though since threads are created so slowly. They last a month or so.
>>5604392
Oh no.

>>5604392
I would like to point out that's my fourth roll and my second one in this quest.
Spooky

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>>5604392
>>5604394
The horrors! The swellings and undulations of the Dark!

>>5604393
Thank you both for the info on the bumps.

One last roll could salvage this.

Rolled 100 - 10 (1d100 - 10)

>>5604400
I guess I'll bite the bullet.

>>5604506
>1
>69
>100
lmao. This thread is a fucking meme.

>>5604506
Oh wow, from one extreme to the other

>>5604521
The dice is memeing on us

>>5604521
>>5604522
Well, I guess you'll be finding out why climbing up into the canopy required a skill check after all.

>>5604291
>>5604345

You have a bad feeling about those howls you are hearing, so you decide to sneak past the battling abberations. Your own acrobatic abilities are more than enough for such a task, but the Dark coils around you once again as you try to hide. This time however...

>>5604392
>Rolled -11

The Dark holds a grudge from when you used a dirge of Light. Darkness instead of obscuring you boils wildly, as if to announce boldly to all, look at what wretch wanders hither!

>>5604393
>Rolled 59

The fruitmen and undead both notice you, and the prospect of one with living blood is evidently more attractive to them than continuing their fight. Your troubles do not end there however, howls and hooting cackles echo behind you and greedy gluttonous eyes burn forth from the darkness.

They have come to hunt you.

They will hunt even the other beings.

The insdistinct forms of hounds, countless in number stalk forwards. There will be no escape. Your scent is known to them. There is no end to their hunger. Some are small, and some tower above you, smaller ones riding on the backs of larger ones, you'd almost find the towers if hound amusing, if they were not so intent on devouring you.

The head beastmaster would have still loved them though, is the thought that passes through your head as you prepare to fight to the bitter end. Kettle for his part since things went off so badly is spluttering noises halfway between words and panicked twittering.

Hooting laughter fills your ears, but with awful suddenness, it stops. The hounds raise their heads skyward just in time for it to arrive.

>>5604506
>rolled 90

You didn't get a good look at it. You fled as soon as the trees snapped from the force of its descent. A blur of scale, fur and feather. It made not sound itself. Nothing paid your flight any attention, the hounds were focused on preventing it from consuming too many of their number. The fruitmen and undead were crushed when it landed.

You ran.

You ran.

You ran, till you could no more.

Almost as amazing as your encounter, was the fact that you did not get lost. You are at the next stop of your genie directions. A grand stone scarred with many crags is circled by many crystallized people.

"Was that...?" Kettle inquired, having regained a tiny amount of composure.
"It was."
You have never seen one before, indeed in your realm, they long since passed into myth. You could not fool the pounding blood in your veins.

You witnessed the hunt of a dragon.

Where now, Vank of Valantis
>To the North is off the path the genie told you, more stones stand amid crystal there.

>To the West is where the genie bid you go, it is too dark to see.

>To the East, the trees are too tightly woven to pass through

>Back the way you came, no dragon cries sound, but crashes and the wail of hounds can be heard.

>Now that the Dragon has landed, in theory it should be safe to climb a tree and see what can be seen above the canopy, but do you dare to do so?

>>5604598
>To the East, the trees are too tightly woven to pass through
I'm thinking of using the halberd to get some wood, so we can light up the path to the west
A bit odd to use the weapon like that, but it has bonus against plants and is the closest thing to a lumber axe we have

>>5604598
>Climb a tree, see around our position

>>5604598
>>5604615
>Attempt to cut wood.
Is Kettle enough light guard your way on the darkened path you intend to take? Looking at such thick darkness, doubts creep into your heart. Perhaps some trees from the East, could be burned for light. You take out the Halberd gem and change it into its namesake. You know not the art of lumberjacking, but you swing a fine chop.

What travels up your arms is not the sensation of blade striking wood. It is that of blade on flesh.

"That is not sap!" Kettle cries out "The tree bleeds!"

Beneath the scales of the trees is bleached bone-white flesh. It looks wholly unsuited to burning. That is not the only problem, the tree you cut lets loose a keening wail that grates on your mind.

"Whatever you wished to do by cutting these trees, cease Jester, the sound cannot be borne!"
You agree, and flee from the tree you wounded.

"There's still one think I am curious about, before I dare to brave that dark path" You say.
"I only hope the results are less painful than your pervious course!"
"What exactly is above the trees?"
"Going by what we've seen, it cannot be anything auspicious, Jester. Take care."

>>5604803
>Climb a tree, see around our position

You adroitly clamber up a nearby tree brushing the disgusting fleshy grey leaves as you ascend. Finally, you reach the treetops, but before you can take in your surroundings, you are transfixed. As you climbed, your head was pointing upwards. The first thing you saw should have been sky or ceiling. What was above was Dark itself.

It doesn't look at you, but you are lost in its gaze. It has no form, thus no eyes. Your eyes are captured by this grand abyss, the mind conjures all manner of absurdities when looking into the Dark itself.

Your mortal mind is not equipped to deal with encompassing a Primal. Madness claws from within. You know, if you continue to look, your mind will be lost. You can still move your body, but your head is fixed as if nailed in place.

>How will you break your gaze from the Dark, thus preserving your mind?

>>5606264
Close your eyes, quick! Summon all of our will to do so! Our wife, our unborn children, they still need us!

>>5606264
>>5606285
Support

>>5606264
>>5606285
>>5607543
>Close your eyes, quick! Summon all of our will to do so! Our wife, our unborn children, they still need us!

It is the simplest of actions. People do it unconsciously, countless times each and every day. You've summoned more will that is ever necessary to close them, but they move slowly. It feels as if Time has been caught between you and the Dark. How long have you been trying to close your eyes, how long, staring into roiling Dark?

Your frayed and engorged mind wanders from its task of one simple action. A memory of failure.

"There's two paths of dominating an animal, but whichever you take, you can't show fear and you have to show strength. Normally looking animals directly is risky, but with my grand gazer method, you should have been fine, did you loose some fear or weakness?"

It is the voice of young girl, something like a sister. The beastmaster. Her name escapes you. She always had to wear ridiculous costumes due to her plain mousey look. She didn't see the point, saw the animals as the real stars, but the royal seamstresses thought differently, it was amazing how much feminine appeal and wildness they managed to drag out of a small body that lacked so much of both. She didn't like it, but one aspect appealed to her.

Her mask was a collection, a blending of animal heads, painted eyes that stared fiercely and soullessly. Small wonder the animals feared her, greater wonder that they loved her.

You recognise this memory. It was your first time involving animals into your performance, well, first time practicing it. A kind of bear lightly mauled you. You got off easy, considering how much strength that mighty maned creature had. Claws like cleavers.

The beastmaster thumped you right on the bandaged wounds.
"Well, which was it? Fear or weakness?"
What did you tell her? It wasn't what you actually felt. At the time, you had felt a malicious envy towards the beast that even tamed still held such wildness in its eyes and heart. The malice was what got you slashed.
"Don't give me the silent treatment, I have to know so we get things right next time"
"Next time?"
"Of course, next time, you don't want to give up here do you?"
Letting down the Troupemaster and King would be unbearable. What did you tell her?
"Weakness"
Well, it wasn't a complete lie. Envy was a weakness after all. It went smoothly after that.

After all, never again did you tell an animal the truth of your feelings with your eyes.

>Subsumed Grand Gazer of Noble Heritage, mainly effective for making beasts submit, but generally works on beings of a lesser form of existence. Strengthens your gaze.

>Continue trying to close your eyes

>Try something else (what?)

>Gaze back into the Dark. Your will is clear, the Dark may live, but it is not a person (DC Unknown)

>>5607702
>Gaze back into the Dark. Your will is clear, the Dark may live, but it is not a person (DC Unknown)
Ok fine, closing our eyes isn't working.
If the abyss wants to stares back so much, then let's just have a stare down

>>5607702
>Try something else (what?)
>Try to position ourselves behind a bunch of leaves
>If that doesn't work, let go until the canopy obscures our vision, then madly grab at passing branches to soften our fall
idk man, I'm afraid of what will become of us if we lose the staredown. Injury is preferable to losing our mind.

>>5607794
I guess I'll change to this, since we still have control of our limbs, just our eyes, head and mind that are obsessed

>>5607702
If nothing else, the stimulation of the pressure the Dark was giving you was working wonders for shaking the fog that clung to your memories.

As you gambled on your next attempt to preserve your self, an even more indistinct memories surfaced. You couldn't make any details out. You were young, and someone was telling you a story.

Once upon a time, there was a great wizard who loved to make puppets, but he loved especially to breathe life into the puppets, however, all the puppets would wander out into the world and meet a sorrowful end.

One such puppet was called Vainglory. A beautiful puppet of coloured glass. One day, by chance Vainglory was snatched up by the great crow, Misfortune. She had thought to add a pretty bauble to her nest, but hearing Vainglory babble on and on about itself, instead she stranded him, atop a grand and mighty wall.

Vainglory loved the wall, because from the top, everyone looked small and pitiful. Not even Air could blow around the top. It took to taunting those who passed beneath the wall's shadow. It would always claim that it had climbed the wall itself, and would laugh at those who got angry at its taunts and tried to scale the wall.

One more day, a mighty army led by a hot headed warrior king passed by. Vainglory taunted them as it usually did. Air however was sick of hearing Vainglory above, so it blew into the King's Shame, and so for thirteen days the army fruitlessly tried to scale the wall, going so far as to stand on each others shoulders again and again. Vainglory was stricken with laughter at all their attempts.

At the end of the thirteenth day, they gave up. Just as they turned to leave, they heard a shrill scream a a grand crash. Vainglory had laughed so hard it lost its footing and fell off the wall. In spite of its boasts of might, saying that great strength enabled it to climb the wall, it was little more than dust now.

Air then, in a bout of wickedness, swept the dust of Vainglory up and blew it into the Love, Vision and Crown of all men.

>>5607794
>>5607812

You simply let go. Falling as Vainglory once did. Your body slapped against branches, but you did not fall far, certainly not enough to turn you into dust. No as soon as the line of sight is broken between you and the Dark is broken you grab some branches to stabilise yourself. The leaves of the trees burst like rotten apples in your hands, but the destruction produces no wailing from the tree.

"What in the realm happened there? You become stiff as a log, then you suddenly let go as if to plummet to your death!"
"I saw the Dark"
"What?"
"The Dark itself is above us"
"We may live under the Light during the day, but it is Moon who shines on us at night, where are we that Dark is not asleep beneath Light and Moon? Has some calamity happened to the Celestial Brides?"
1/2

>>5609320
"It may be so, but it is also said that Dark can be found deep underground. Some even say that some of the realms are not graced by Light and Moon"
"Just once, it would be nice to encounter something that bodes well."
You agree.

Now that you know what lurks above, you poke your head above the canopy without looking directly at Dark. Not much can be seen, due to lack of light, but , a grand shadow dotted with pinpricks of light can be seen. Distantly you think you see the flashes of a magical battle too. Truly you've gained more from your deadly brush with Dark more than anything else.

You come back to the forest floor, and head in the direction the genie told you. The darkness of your path no longer perturbs you after having seen the origin itself. The glow of Kettle soon reveals to you that what you thought was a path was actually a tunnel. The roots of trees pierce through the walls and wriggle like living tentacles, but apart from looking disturbing, they don't react to your passage.
"I miss the tops of the freaky trees already" Kettle whined.

You soon have further cause to wish yourself to be above ground. You narrowly stop before the latest obstacle in your path.

A Ruby red web, and looking beyond more cobwebs beyond. A few crystallized people are also cocooned in gem-like silk of red. It is only the glow of green from cracks that you even knew that was what they were.

"I'd bet my feathers that it was something fouler than a large spider that made those webs" Kettle observes.

>How will you deal with the ruby red webs that block your path, Vank of Valantis?
You have: Halberd-gem, sword and shield of a foreign soldier, throwing daggers, a pack of metal trick cards and a collection of strangely sturdy ribbons.

>>5609326
See if the sword can cut it, then do it one at a time. Keep the shield at the ready
Be sure to cut all of them as we go along and to stay aware in case something tries to flank us.

>>5609326
>>5609330
>Sword and shield, cut carefully, high alertness.

You unsling the grotesque faced shield from your back and draw the sword you picked up. A small feeling of security threatens to grow within you, but your familiarity with the sword and shield bring back that sense of alienation that has helped keep you alert. You had used shields and swords in your acts before, but the way you held them now was that of a fighter.

Not quite the expertise you felt with your daggers, ribbons or halberd though.

With care, not even one tremble, you bring your blade to bear, edge against the thread of the ruby web before you. To your surprise, with only a little resistance, it cuts well, the thread does not even cling to your blade.

"Eurgh! More freakish bleeding, is the darkness not enough? Why must everything bleed?"
"The blood runs black"

Black ichor drips from your cut. Yet the web moves not, no ghastly sounds come from it, and nothing rushes from the darkness bent on feasting on your flesh. You do not relax as you unmoor the cobweb from the surrounding walls. You tense as it falls to the ground in a heap of red and oozing black, yet apart from the thread losing its luster, turning black before liquifying naught happens.

Kettle breathes a sigh of relief, but you are not so appeased as you cut the webs in your way. Where there are webs, there must be webmakers. Yet, web after web ruined, no angry artisan bursts forth. You soon find a candidate for your web weaver though.

A crunch beneath your feet breaks the silence. Casting Kettle's light below, you seen the ground is littered with hollow brown spider carapaces, each about the size of your head, each missing their own head, which is how you saw that they were hollow.

"Should I feel relieved you won't have to fight these or worried about what left these monsters this way?" Kettle mused.
"I expected something like spiders, now who knows what lurks ahead?"
You've at least made progress though, a fork in the passage reveals itself to you, even though the crystals around you are bound in ruby cocoons, some light still fitfully escapes.

>To the North you can barely see a tunnel that looks almost like a corridor of the castle, the indistinct forms of ornamental armour line the walls. This is the path the genie gave you.

>To the West... is that a stained glass window?

There's sure to be danger wherever you go, but the state of the dead spiders is particularly alarming.

>You could do something else before taking your path, but what?

>>5610164
>To the West... is that a stained glass window?
Perhaps a chapel. Don't know if Vank is religious, but if there's a time for prayer is during the end of the world

>>5610164
>>To the North you can barely see a tunnel that looks almost like a corridor of the castle, the indistinct forms of ornamental armour line the walls. This is the path the genie gave you.

Also, that story about puppets with life doesn't help with my puppet theory.

>>5610164
>To the West... is that a stained glass window?
Another fight, like the hydra?
>You could do something else before taking your path, but what?
>Are all the spiders empty or is there something inside one of them after all? Do the webs hold any properties that makes them worth taking with us?
Just thinking if we can loot anything from this.
>Let's also cut loose and examine the crystals inside the cocoons. The spiders made them for some malicious reason, most likely, so it'd be best to free these people.
Maybe it's a misguiding option, but Steller put it in there for some reason, so I'm trying to discern what meaningful things we could do before moving on, haha.

>>5611037
>cut loose the crystals

Just as you intend to go on your way, a nagging feeling claws into your Gut. You could have just left the crystals around you as they were, but you remember when the fruitmen danced around one, and the being that resulted from that. Your sword flicks and shortly the crystals are uncovered, you squint, as the crystals grow brighter than they usually are.

A series of shrieks come from the hallway with armour, and with the improved light, you see threads of red slip into the depths of the decorative armours.

"I wasn't the only one to see something loathsome there was I? Kettle inquiries.
"You were not"
"Is that the path we must take?"
"That it is"
"Yes, of course, the more sinister path is the one we must travel. Genii are all horrid creatures!"

With the improved light, you could see the path with the stained glass window more easily. A clear dead end. The spider husks are far clearer, but their barrenness brings little comfort. The remaining cobwebs shine like jewel under the brighter light.

>>5610339
>>5611037
>To the West...

You find yourself strangely drawn to the window, and before you know it, you are before it.

"Is this, a cloister?"
"Aye, the it is"

There isn't the sense of sanctuary you felt at the grand tree, but there is a thick peace. The castle had a number of these strange nooks, each with a stained glass portrait of a person in unknown to myth and history. They were said to be the oldest of the stained glass windows that filled Url'Ryoness.

People called them cloisters because there was the tradition of meditating on the Three Divines or the Four Merits beneath the gazes of the windows, not that anyone knew where the tradition came from.

"The gentle stranger?"
"Looks like, but not quite the same"
"He was more comforting before"

An indistinct green robed figure, a man with hood pulled low over eyes, and hands out as if to show he meant no ill. A subtle smile was on his mouth that somehow conveyed goodwill. It was a curious and charming mix of attributes.

A stranger was a source of danger, and while The Gentle Stranger was quite disarming, his hood was not raised. As if to say "This is the best I can do to alay your worries"

Yet, the stained glass window was changed.

It was not a reversal, the the Hydra had been, no sickness poured forth. There was but two changes.

The Gentle Stranger no longer smiled, a slight downward curve had taken its place.

Across the cheeks of the Stranger were two streaks of blue. The image of tears.

It was more fitting to call it the Weeping Stranger now.

Your Gut tells you that you could safely meditate here, in spite of danger being near. You also spot seven tiny jars with lids on the sill of the window. Normally scented oils are poured in and set alight in these, but each is empty, save for air and darkness. Perhaps you could fill it with ichor from spider webs or something?

1/2

>>5611459
>Before you brave the hallway of armour, will you meditate on something? There is some power in the window's portrait.

The Three Divines (no immediate results)
>Principal
>Grace
>Charm

The Four Merits (immediate gains)
>Prudence
>Justice
>Temperance
>Fortitude

>Pick one, and then state how you'll meditate on it
>Will you take the jars, and if you do, how many will you fill with thread ichor?
>How will you deal with whatever lurks within the hallway you must pass through? Something lurks within the armours!

>>5611037
Red herrings will appear in text, not options. The worst that options will be is high risk, take the example of climbing the trees, it had a DC check until the dragon landed, had you attempted and failed, you'd have gained its attention, but barring grim failure, you'd still have gained information, and even in the worst case, well you'd certainly know a dragon was about.

>>5611466
>Fortitude
Meditate on the nature of enduring hardship. What drives a man to to not break under suffering? Some do because that's all they know, some do it for themselves, and some do it for others. Ignorance, pride or love.

>>5611466
>>5611537
I'll support this.
>Take the jars, fill 1 with thread ichor
>Disassemble the armours using our sword to see what's inside

Rolled 40 (1d100)

>>5611537
>>5612060
Rolling for direction of meditation, there is no failure.

Also, sorry for not having an update yesterday, I'll have one up later today

>>5611537
>>5612060
>Meditate on Fortitude
>Rolled 40: minor Dusk realization

You close your eyes and meditate. The only kind of meditation you know of is that promoted by the Ministry of Three. One focuses on one object in the mind, a representation of something, then sweeps all else away.

The stained glass window of the Weeping Stranger appears vividly in your mind.

Fortitude by the Ministry's reckoning is to face fear, despair and not submit to either.

As for your own understanding... isn't it about enduring and not breaking under suffering? Love, pride or the sheer ignorance of stubbornness. To never give up.

>Minor Dusk realisation
So long as one struggles, fear and despair cannot win. Indeed, why give such the satisfaction of your submission? Spite fills your being. Just to spite this calamity, you'd continue. Even if you had not your wife and unborn child to give strength, simple spite would drive your Fortitude.

A change comes over the Stranger, he weeps no more, armour made from a lion's pelt covers his clothes, and his hands are empty no longer, a mighty club, the head of which is an open palm, rests in his hand. His eyes still shadowed by hood, but his mouth is set in a spiteful smirk.

A sound like a Lion's roar rips from your mouth, and your meditation comes to an end.

The changes in your mind have appeared in reality, before you can fully take in the changed window, it glows with a golden light that forms into a mighty lion and leaps into your body!

Pain wracks your form, but you stubbornly endure.

>Subsumed the Minor Monarch's Mane of Spite. Even when weak and starving, a lion can hold its head high. Once per combat, when you take a fatal strike or dismembering strike, you endure also preventing limb loss. Gain +5 to later rolls in that combat and will heal to merely injured upon victory.

You hear a noble voice within your mind.
"Forget not the difference between recklessness and courage!"

The window dims until it blackens completely, then crumbling into dust, brickwork replaces where it once was, whatever power it had is now spent.

"What was that? What mighty power have you gained, can you shoot beams from your eyes now" Kettle chattered.
"No beams, but I feel I can endure the grasp of death somewhat."
"How esoteric, a real man kills with his eyes!"
"Any power is of aid in this darkness"
"True, but smiting ones foes is the best, you need not face Death if he has already claimed your foes"

Deciding not to argue with Kettle you gather up the small jars, and returning to the previous room, you bleed a few webs to fill a jar with ichor.

"Why do you collect so distasteful a fluid?"
"Perhaps it will have some use, I have a few jars in any case"

1/2

>>5613677
Now for the hallway of armour, you carefully advance towards one of the suits, steel gilt with gold, patterned with soldiers slaying beasts, but as you come closer, you note the patterns have switched, the beasts now devour hapless soldiers. The plume of the helmet, once a feathery fluffy blue, is now a ragged black tail of a thing.

Just as you bring your sword to take the armour apart, a screech comes from within, and red threads shoot up into the darkness, you are prepared, and raise your shield as an arm brings a mace down on you.

The impact is not heavy, but, it should still wound if it strikes you. You kick the armour and it crashes away from you into segments. Before you can follow up, the other armours, like puppets manipulated by red threads, put themselves between you and their comrade.

The fallen parts of armour are dragged together by ruby threads extended from the breastplate, and in sort order, the armour stands once more, save for the helmet, it forgot that for some reason.

It looks like the threads fix themselves not onto the ceil, but suspend in darkness itself. In spite of being armour, the foes and their attacks are quite light, lacking the weight of flesh and bone within the armour. All are armed with maces or hammers, every second one has a shield. There are roughly a dozen. You true foes must be the source of the threads within the breastplates.

Now, how will you fight these beings?
>You have a sword and shield currently equipped, in your possession you have a gem-halberd, trick metal cards and strangely sturdy ribbons.
>Just attack them head on
>You heard them screech when the crystals brightened, perhaps you could use Kettle somehow? (DC 80)
>Your strength is greater, how about a bit of puppetry of your own using your ribbons. (DC 75)
>What other cunning plan could you decide? (Write In)

>>5613679
>Your strength is greater, how about a bit of puppetry of your own using your ribbons. (DC 75)

>>5613690
Well if there isn't anyone else, we'll be needing 1d100, best of three. You can roll a 3d100 if you want.

Rolled 93 (1d100)

>>5614418

>>5614434
Well, that is the puppetry covered, last two rolls are just for a crit or a Dark surge.

Rolled 56, 96 = 152 (2d100)

>>5614442
I guess I'll roll the other two if that's alright with you QM, just to keep things rolling.
Quest seems nice btw. Will give it a read.

>>5614446
Thanks I'll get to writing. I'm confident in everything but the start of the Quest. It could have been much snappier. Probably shouldn't be so hard on myself considering how many years it's been since I wrote.

>>5613690
>>5614434
>>5614446

>Puppetry time
>Rolled 90+ twice!

Once more a foreign familiar feeling writhes within your very being, following the instinct riding that disturbing experience, ribbons fly from your billowing sleeves, twirling around your fingers, crossing the darkness and wrapping firmly around the limbs of the two armours nearest to you.

Your dance, in turn thiers begin, distressed wails come from the armours as the beings within find thier control over what was surely a safe metal shell stripped from them. Even as the other armours tried to save their kin by cutting your ribbons, elegant twirls just left maces and hammers sliding off the ribbons. Even had they blades, your movements would have preserved the ribbons. Evasion was not your only movement, for each strike the armours made, you made your puppets return a blow.

Metal bent and broke, the weapons proving stronger than the ornamental armour. It took two of the creatures falling for them to focus their attention back to you. The first took a particularly bad blow to the breastplate, crushing whatever being lurked within. The second had its breastplate wrenched open, giving you your first look at the loathsome beings. It looked little more than a pile of guts, twisted ruby threads twirling into themselves. Under the shine of Kettle, it screeched and boiled into ichor.

You blocked the others assault on you with your puppets, and as you found your third victory, crushing the armour of one threadfiend and leaving it to retreat with only a helmet to shield its form, something clicked and one of your hands let loose the ribbons, which of thier own accord twisted and danced in the darkness as if you still held them with your flesh. You sensed you could do this trick with but one puppet, but that left your hand free to gain control of another puppet! Now three armours held their occupants prisoner!

"What crazed way of fighting is this?"
You merely laughed, exulting in the showmanship of this manner of battle.

>You have subsumed a minor puppet art

The remaining six armours and one helmet now viewed you warily, the gathered together, forming a unified front against your three puppets, it is not all they do...

1/2

>>5614467
Threads slip out between gaps, breastplates shift, and before you can fully accept the evidence of your eyes, a multi legged, armed and headed knight stands before you. The threads weave together and you sense that each of its limbs wield more power than before. To make matters worse, your art of puppetry is not without cost. Your Vessel aches, and with it, your lungs.

How will you face this newly formed foe, Vank of Valantis?

>Just continue fighting as before (DC 90, gain minor puppet mastery if successful, effect: +10 to puppet rolls)

>Sacrifice two puppets to make an opening for a decisive strike (DC 70, end combat if successful)

>Sacrifice three puppets to make a decisive strike (DC 60, end combat if successful)

>Sacrifice one puppet and fight with one free hand (DC 65, may not end combat)

>Some other cunning plan (write in, DC depending on clear logic)

>>5614468
>Sacrifice two puppets to make an opening for a decisive strike (DC 70, end combat if successful)
I tried, but I can't think of anything.

>>5614468
>Sacrifice one puppet and fight with one free hand (DC 65, may not end combat)

>>5614468
>Sacrifice two puppets to make an opening for a decisive strike (DC 70, end combat if successful)

>>5614481
>>5614582

Gimme best of three 1d100 and I'll write up in the morning after I've slept

Rolled 66 (1d100)

>>5615207

Rolled 44 (1d100)

>>5615207

Rolled 6 (1d100)

>>5615207

>>5615209
>>5615224
>>5615315
>Sacrifice two puppets, then strike
>Rolled 66, minor failure

One puppet takes the center, one the left, the other the right. None of that matters, as you have to do a frantic cartwheel to get out of the way of the multi-armour's charge. The stomping of multiple feet, the flailing of many arms.

"How do you even fight that?"

It has no openings. It can move in any direction from any position. You try to contain it with your puppets, but the monster is too frenzied and strong. At this point it is doing more damage to itself than you to it. In a panic, what was once a plan becomes a mess.

You fling two of the puppets into the monster's legs in an attempt to slow it down for a decisive strike. Your puppets are stomped to bits, the creature heedless of the cry of its kin beneath it's heels. You and your last puppet strike as one, it with hammer, you with your gem-halberd which you took out for this moment.

The helmets are crushed by your puppet, you pierce through two breastplates, pull out and sweep its legs severing half, you quickly direct your puppet to crush the stray legs. This distraction is enough for you to be struck by all the arms of the multi-armour, only barely getting your shield on front of you. The force of the blows fling you into the wall, it is only your acrobatic prowess that saves you broken bones as you expertly tumble. Kettle's cry of dismay dies as you stand upright. A jester who cannot fall well is a poor one.

Your shield was wrenched from your grasp and lies utterly mangled. The blow you received thoroughly winded you, control of your remaining puppet was not lost, but any more antics with puppetry arts are beyond you, the puppet has become slow to move too. Should you take another blow like that or worse, it will surely be freed.

The multi-armour is in bad shape, the red threads try to cover the exposed innards with metal scraps, but it has not completed the task. It can only move lopsidedly, shambling on legs and hands.

"Jester, you can throw well, just toss me into the armour, tis light they fear!" Kettle suggests.

Do you do as Kettle asks, Vank of Valantis?
>Toss Kettle into the armour (DC 45), a failure of 10 or below will have dire consequences.
>Just fight it straight, it is greatly hampered (DC 60)
>Sacrifice your last puppet to ensure victory, no roll needed, material for a new puppet is unlikely to remain
>Pull apart the armour with ribbons (DC 70)
>Write In

>>5615637
>Just fight it straight, it is greatly hampered (DC 60)

>>5615637
>Just fight it straight, it is greatly hampered (DC 60)

>>5615798
>>5615887
Gimme best of three 1d100, I'll write it up after the my evening meal

Rolled 56 (1d100)

>>5615911
Go Vank, kick their shiny metal asses!

Rolled 34 (1d100)

>>5615911

Rolled 1 (1d100)

>>5615911

>>5615919
>>5615997
>>5616010
>Minor failure with a 1 on top
This thing really has it out for you, feel a bit bad you are getting a mini-boss like fight so close to the boss I had planned, but I guess this threadfiend gets a third form.

>>5615798
>>5615887
>>5615919
>>5615997
>>5616010
>Just fight it straight
>Rolled 56, minor failure. Rolled 1 Dark Surge

You aren't going to give it time to recover, together with your puppet you close in at hack at it while it's still prone. Its limbs flail around, but avoiding it is far easier now. Just as you feel victory is within your grasp, it happens.

The darkness boils.

A burst of murderous intent from the armour freezes you in place. Kettle screams as if something is torturing him.

The armour clatters to the ground, revealing a twisted lump of ruby threads pulsating and pumping like a heart. Each undulation seems like words to you.

Murder.

Murder you. Murder you. Murder you. Murder you. Murder you. Murder you. Murder you. Murder you. Murder you. Murder you.

The heart of murder weaves itself into humanoid form, but... this androgynous form.

Where a face should be, Hollow.

Where a chest should be, Hollow.

The moment is over. It wishes to murder you. Kettle has not stopped his tortured cries. The murderous intent has found form, you can move once more, no longer pinned by it. Move you do, a slide along the floor. You did not even see it move, it pulls its arm out from the ground. You could only dodge because of how murderous it was, like a blood red lamp. You do not stop moving, tumbling and spinning your way out of fatal death.

In your frantic rush to avoid impalement, you notice something. It is getting slower. No not just that, it is dying, you can feel it, and the glimpses you catch show that ruby threads are fraying and turning into black ichor.

If it was left alone, death would claim it soon.
Kettle is still in pain.

>Just dodge, it will expire soon (DC 40)
>Use your puppet to punch it with Kettle (no chance of failure, but roll a single 1d100 to see if your puppet is destroyed, above 50 it isn't trashed. A roll of 1 or 100 will have a distinct effect.
>Write In

>>5616188
>Just dodge, it will expire soon (DC 40)
DODGE

>>5616188
>Just dodge, it will expire soon (DC 40)
At least this taught us never to trust the dice.

>>5616188
>Just dodge, it will expire soon (DC 40)
On one hand I don't want the roll to fail again. On the other I fear what might to our boy Kettle.

>>5616192
>>5616429
>>5616585
Gimme best of three 1d100, I'll get round to writing after lunch

Rolled 29 (1d100)

>>5616709

Rolled 41 (1d100)

>>5616709

Rolled 7 (1d100)

>>5616709
A roll was requested, I came to deliver.

>>5616840
>>5616841
>>5616845
>Dodge
>rolled 41 skin of the teeth success

There is still some uncanny feeling to your movements, but simply dodging, rolls, tumbles, cartwheels and the like fit your foggy memories more. Unlike your combat skills, the acrobatics are something that Vank of Valantis understandably has.

Yet, you cannot slip into the comfort of familiar movements. Kettle's screams, the darkness, the sensation of remotely controlling a puppet, and the thick murderous aura of your foe. All of it banishes any hope of serenity, and without it, your Cauldron churns, emotion s disturbed. Even as the murder monster slows, your dodges are near misses.

You are yourself spent, but dancing with Death, again and again... The claws of the fiend never reach you. Each lunge, grab and charge bears no bloody fruit.

Again.

Again.

Again.

Thought leaves you completely. You cannot even wonder when it will end, you cannot understand defeat or victory, your body just moves.

"Jester, jester! It has fallen, I am pained by its corruption no more, come to your senses Jester!"

Under the realization that you've been dodging a phantom in your mind towards the end, strength leaves your legs. Before your mind collapses, you manage one final task. Calling your puppet over, you have it remove its helmet as so as you can shine Kettle at your final foe, there is a final wailing screech from it as it is reduced to ichor. You vaguely hear Kettle complaining about being so close to such a grotesquery but, the oblivion of unconsciousness takes you.

In the depths of forced sleep, outside of a sanctuary, you dream...

>Choose someone or something you remember, a nightmare awaits, any memories cleared of fog here will only be distorted or unpleasant ones
>Your wife Piplyn and your unborn children
>Princess Quiche, who she serves
>King Teer XV
>The young Enchantress Queen he recently married, Dorrigan
>Kettle
>Troupemaster Wolkin
>The Royal Amusement Troupe
>The Beastmaster
>A court mage you were on good terms with
>Something or someone else (write in)

>>5616908
>Your parents.
Mostly doing this out of curiosity.

>>5616908
>Kettle

>>5616908
>Your parents

In case my id changed I'm >>5616429

>>5616908
>>5616918
Support.
Finally caught an update not at night.

>>5616918
>>5616991
>>5617039
>Your parents

As waking, so sleeping, darkness obscured all, concealed all. Comforter and oppressor, Jailer and protector. Yet formless and thoughtless in void, you heard a lullaby. A funeral dirge to keep one sleeping. Some things should not wake.

A table covered in white cloth. Misshapen form obscured. Shadows took council around it. Did one weep? The others were cold, accusatory.

Only a fragmented word remains.

"Discard"

Shadows feasted on a shadow, consumed the table whole, you felt their gluttonous gazes. Just as they began to pull at your flesh, a mighty roar came.

A shaggy beast killed them all. Smaller beasts fed on the shadows. They all left after their meal. You followed. You became a small shaggy beast yourself.

The wordless lullaby dirge continued on. The shaggy beasts vanished one by one. You became fatter and fatter, then the beasts were no more.

You burst. You were a snake from the stomach of the beast. You hungered. You found no food. You shrivelled, shed your skin. You too were a shadow.

The lullaby paused, and you heard someone tell a story, wasn't it to you this story was told?

Once upon a time there was a great wizard who loved to make puppets, but he loved especially to breathe life into the puppets, however, all the puppets would wander out into the world and meet a sorrowful end.

One such puppet loved to be with people more than anything. A handsome puppet of filagree ruby metal. It loved to watch them live their lives. When man and woman became husband and wife, it was filled with delight. When wife gave birth to child, it was filled with love. When child lived, joy. When child died, joy. When they lived happily ever after, the puppet would smile. When everything became twisted, and the end was grim, the puppet would smile. The puppet thought that it loved people, it believed that there was not one who walked the land that loved as much as it did. It loved to tell others of this love.

One day, it met a stranger who called herself Misunderstanding. After the puppet told her of its great love, she had but one thing to say.
"If you love them so, why not become like them?"
The puppet thought this was a wonderful idea. So one dark night, it took the skin of a husband it had seen. When it got home, it was not welcomed as it thought it would be, so it wore the wife, and welcomed the son as mother. It was still not welcomed. Perhaps it should have worn the wife first. It tried many different things. Sometimes a lover, sometimes a foe, but none would accept it as it wished.

As it committed these deeds, one day it crossed paths with Misunderstanding again, and told her of his woes. She put on a knowing smile and advised it;

"Why, isn't it just that you love killing them? How could you be accepted when you never wished to be?"

1/?

>>5617158
The puppet was enlightened. So it no longer wore others, it simply murdered them instead. In time, the puppet was caught by a mob of widows, widowers and orphans. They tore it apart, the puppet died.

All that was left was the name of the puppet.

Murder was its name. Misunderstanding took its remains and boiled it in her cauldron, and the smoke filled everyone's Cauldron, Vessel and Shadow. She thought it would help.

The story doesn't feel quite right, but hands pawing over you prevent you wondering. They whisper.
"Another failure"

They tear apart your body of shadow.

The hands form you out of darkness, declare you a failure and tear you apart. Your mind drifts as they repeat this.

In time, it stops and you feel a gentle hand on your head. It is Wolkin. The closest thing you had ever known. The Royal Amusement Troupe found you in a village when they toured the Kingdom once. An orphan living in the woods. Perhaps the child of the hunter couple in the woods that died. Many hunter huts had their occupants die without anyone knowing. True forests are just that deadly. The village had been hit with a plague, so perhaps your parents had been from the village.

Or perhaps you had escaped from a slaver by accident, the village was on the outskirts of Valantis after all. Regardless, the troupe took you in and raised you. Yes. That is all that happened.

"You haven't forgotten anything, only the fog remains and all is strange to you. Is the fog in your mind really from the darkness?"

An ugly hunchback, you could not see his face. You feel you know this wretched man.

"Pretending, merely pretending. Is the fog from within or without? Strange or familiar, is everything yours, or some someone else's? Are you who you claim to be?"

>How will you answer the hunchback, Vank of Valantis?

The Fog of Memories
>Within
>Without
>Both
>Unknown
>Other(write in)

The memories themselves
>Within
>Without
>Both
>Unknown
>Other(write in)

Who do you claim to be?
>Vank of Valantis
>Not Vank of Valantis
>You don't know
>Other(write in)

Even if all is not as it seems, even though the truth might be more than what you know...

Is your Love true?
You will not tell the hunchback this. It will rest within you, ready to bloom or wither when the time is right.
>Yes, I have faith there is truth to my memories.
>No, I have no faith there is truth in my memories.

>>5617159
>Unknown
>Both
>Vank of Valantis
>Yes, I have faith there is truth to my memories.
Well, uh, that was interesting.

>>5617159
The puppet theory strengthens. I still think we might be the "perfect" one
>Both
>Unknown
>Vank of Valantis
>Yes, I have faith there is truth to my memories.

>>5617159
cryptic.
The Fog of Memories
>Unknown
The memories themselves
>Unknown
Who do you claim to be?
>Vank of Valantis
Is your Love true?
>Yes, I have faith there is truth to my memories.

I almost forgot, give me a single 1d100 for loot when Vank wakes.

Rolled 46 (1d100)

>>5617298

>>5617174
>>5617234
>>5617239
>Unknown
>Unknown
>Vank of Valantis
>Yes, I have faith there is truth to my memories.

"Within or without, I do not know the truth of the fog or my memories, but I'll hold firm to one thing. I am Vank of Valantis"

A twisted grimace forms on the face of the hunchback. A hideous smile or an expression of displeasure, which it could be, one cannot see.

"Bravery or cowardice to say one knows not, but even when one knows, the whole ever escapes. Just who is Vank of Valantis? As you are now, would the weight of Principle crush you? Would it poison you?"

The gargoyle of a man turns to stone. Flesh of rock is chiseled off, revealing bones of metal and where a ribcage should be, a mirror. You move not, but your reflection takes his mask off, revealing a head with two faces.

The Rozenstern brothers.

"Perfect, you shall be perfected. The Vessel thou shalt be" One praised.
"Defiled, you shall be defiler. The Vessel thou art" One condemned.

The mirror went black, and several people crawl out from it, your comrades, the Royal Amusement Troupe.

They pin you down and reach their hands to your mask.

"Time to see who you really are, time to take the mask off" They chant, and each one of them has no face, in place, the Dark stares eagerly.

You wake just as your mask is torn from your face, but the sensation was not of a mask being removed, but your very skin being ripped off.

You frantically touch your face, and feel the cool texture of your silvery mask. Relief.

"Awake? Good, you have no idea of the terror of wondering if something was going to come by"
"Sorry Kettle, I'll be more careful in the future"
"You had best, I may have a grim fate if you die, but it would be your death, not mine"

>>5617330
>Rolled 46 for looting

Aware that many trials still await, you search the ruined armours for anything you can still use. Your puppet is still intact, ribbons standing upright into the dark like strings. The armours however are mere scrap. The hammers and maces are still intact, so you take a hammer. Sadly not one shield is whole. You could try to make a new shield with ribbons and scrap, but it wouldn't stand up to much. Your puppet still has a shield you could use anyway.

You go deeper into the hallway, and as you go, a warm air begins to hit your face. You come to an opening. A large space filled with darkness, not a single crystallized person can be seen. The only light is from Kettle. By this light, you can see you are on a narrow path and either side is gaping void.

One miss-step and you would fall to your doom.

>To the East you cannot see, but a warm air blows, this sign the genie did tell you to follow
>To the North you cannot see anything, so thick the dark
>To the West you cannot see anything, but is that distant chittering?

>>5617851
>To the East you cannot see, but a warm air blows, this sign the genie did tell you to follow
Don't want to get lost here.

>>5617851
>To the East you cannot see, but a warm air blows, this sign the genie did tell you to follow
The other paths doesn't seem interesting enough to justify a quick detour

>>5617897
>>5617933
>To the East

You follow the wind, tapping the ground with your halberd to ensure you do not step right into an abyss. The path is long and winding, but rather than mazelike, it feels more labyrinthine. A path that confuses and befuddles, but ultimately leads to one place. Spiralling downwards you reach your destination.

The air is hot. It was not wind.

A grand gallery overlooks it.

The nest of a dragon.

"Another one? Are we cursed?"

It isn't the same dragon you glimpsed before. This one can no longer fly, wings being mere tattered stubs upon the verdant hide if the dragon. One the whole, it looked somewhat ill, its snores wheezy, beard and whiskers scraggly. Yet it was majestic all the same. A living legend. Some claimed that all the dragons of Valantis had been hunted long ago. The might, wit and skill of words was said to have failed them, but now, you wonder if it was boasting.

The hoard of this dragon was both meagre and brilliant. It was many of one item. Beneath the dragon's resting body was a throne of crystallized victims.

Beyond the dragon bathed in the green glow of its bed was a grand staircase. The genie told you this would lead to the princess quarter. She did not of course tell you a dragon would bar the way.

For a moment, you think you hear childish voices from the crystal throne.

"Whatever you do, don't despair"

How will you deal with this, Vank of Valantis?
>Sneak by the Dragon (DC 80)

>Surprise attack, and fight to the death, perhaps by some miracle, victory will be yours (DC 90)

>If you perform your jester's arts, perhaps you could please the dragon? (Effectiveness unknown, write in a show using what tools you have on you)

>Wake the dragon and match your wits to it. (You need a good opening to catch its attention)

>Give into despair

>What if you crawled inside the dragon as it slept? (DC Unknown)

>Some other cunning plan (write in)

You have in your possession;
Items
Kettle, a Gem-halberd, a pack of metal trick cards, strangely strong ribbons, a foreign soldier's sword, a ceremonial warhammer, juggling daggers, a suit of decorative armour made into a ribbon puppet, six empty jars, a jar filled with ichor from a living cobweb.

Techniques
Halberd Arts

Jester Acrobatics

Jokes so bad as to kill (sealed)


Grand Gazer of Noble Heritage (ineffective against greater beings, will lessen the strain of looking into the dragon's eyes.)

Minor Puppet Arts

Minor Monarch's Mane of Spite. Even when weak and starving, a lion can hold its head high. Once per combat, when you take a fatal strike or dismembering strike, you endure also preventing limb loss. Gain +5 to later rolls in that combat and will heal to merely injured upon victory.

Incomplete binding rune knowledge

Incomplete funeral rite of unknown origin, can be used to purify corpses, -20 when trying to exorcise active dead

>>5617963
>If you perform your jester's arts, perhaps you could please the dragon? (Effectiveness unknown, write in a show using what tools you have on you)
>Oh great dragon, I beseech the passage into the grand staircase. I seek not to cause any harm upon thee or to pilfer thy treasures. I seek only to be reunited with mine family, the love of mine life and our unborn children.
>Alas, I'm but a jester, and have naught to offer thee but the skills that entertained the royals and nobles of the city.
Perform a show mixing puppetry, acrobatics and juggling.
Have us and the armor juggle the daggers and the metal trick cards. Every so often we will switch the juggling with the armor. Also we will do pirouette, somersaults and all sort of feats.

>>5617963
>>5617964
I'll support this.
I thought of proposing a duel of riddles for >match your wits to it, I have a couple remaining from my old quest, but I don't want to force other anons to come up with their own if mine don't work. Not to mention with Steller's cryptic storytelling we may be outmatched here.

File: 17594dcf9c22f2a2450127a43(...).jpg (72 KB, 759x1053)

72 KB JPG

>>5617963
>>5617964
>>5617964
Recite this rhyme to the dragon (whilst secretly needling the wingless wyrm, hehe)

Be thy thoughts imperious, O Dragon, like thy Name.
Is the sun dimm'd, when fleas do fly in it?
The eagle suffers little birds to sing,
And is not careful what they mean thereby,
Knowing that with the shadow of his wings
He can at pleasure stint their melody.
Then cheer thy spirit - for know, O Dragon
I will enchant thy moulten husk with words
Sweet in bait, rotted in deliciousness;
That all may proclaim thy Name, in wonderment!

Also observe the wingless dragon carefully, its mannerisms and movements, just in case it is the Princess transformed or some similar trickery etc.

>>5618130
Please post em, I'm pretty curious (even if we don't use them).

>>5618368
>>5617964
These are interesting, I'll cautiously support them both.

>>5617964
>>5618130
>>5618368
>>5618451

My head hurts and I want to do the encounter justice, thus it will be tomorrow. Sorry about this delay.

>>5619190
No problem.
Hopefully the dragon is impressed by our antics

>>5619190
Take your time man. I'm looking forward to whatever happens.

>>5617964
>>5618130
>>5618368
>>5618451

>Perform for the dragon
A notion takes you, to entertain the dragon as you did lesser nobles and the King. You can always struggle in a fight to avoid your death later.

"Kettle, panic not, I shall cajole this dragon"
"It was nice joining with you in this darkness, Jester. Ah, I poorly jest... one may as well dance as fight such a mighty being. I'll pray to all the gods I know that this dragon has enough mind to be intertwined."
"Let us Hope your prayers are heard, your company has given some comfort, should the dragon slay me, I hope it has mind enough to enjoy your company and keep you as a treasure"

Your farewells stated, you jump from the gallery to the ground, striding before the dragon. Not one part of yourself is hidden, and your exposed presence rouses the dragon. Ponderously it raises its head, eyes slowly opening.

You are stunned for a moment, not from the beauty of its diamond-like eyes, nor from dragon-might. What freezes you, is the dullness of the eyes, as if they have never had the spark of joy in them. The dragon is not dead, its vitality can be felt, the force of its blood, but those eyes are those of one who has metaphorically died while alive. Such is the depth of despair this being has fallen that even it's pride fails to drive it to hide its melancholy. Even in this state, should you fail to speak death will be your lot.

It begins with a low, sweeping bow. You maintain the lowered position and speak.

"O' grand Dragon, I beseech passage beyond you, your hoard I covet not, ill I wish not on you. I seek but one thing, reunion with my beloved kin, my wife and unborn children. Alas, humble jester I am, little remains to me but art to amuse royals and nobles. It is all I can do to please the."

Raising your head, you observe the dragon. It does not nod in approval. Yet, it makes no move against you. Silent sorrowful observation is all it does.

Since you have awoken to a castle and city shrouded in darkness you have relied upon mysterious skills to keep your life, slaughtering all abnormalities that stood before you. You have spoken with but three people. Now, you rely on the profession that kept you in the castle before all fell.

1/?

>>5619991
A simple enough beginning, juggling three daggers. More than anything else, it is to contrast what you will do later. The number of daggers increase, weaving in patterns, as if they were birds you had trained to flit about you instead of deadly blades that could sever your fingers.

Normally you had but one body when you performed. Sometimes your act crossed with others from your troupe, but the highest level of your juggling was too much even for the second best at juggling to follow. As you made faster and slower complex patterns, a solo act was all that remained.

Yet, even in the loss of the darkness, you have gained.

Your puppet joins you, the blades are now juggled between you and above you. Throughout this, you and the puppet stand in place. Now you move, the puppet remaining still.

You jump and spin around the armour, heel to toe, knee to thigh at times continuing the juggle with your hands, at times with your feet or other body parts. You are part of the pattern now, a piece of the art.

As you begin to have the puppet mirror your movements, a chill stabs into your spine, almost scattering your performance. Unbidden your mouth opens and you recite as you juggle and leap.

"Be thy thoughts imperious, O Dragon, like thy Name.
Is the sun dimm'd, when fleas do fly in it?
The eagle suffers little birds to sing,
And is not careful what they mean thereby,
Knowing that with the shadow of his wings
He can at pleasure stint their melody.
Then cheer thy spirit - for know, O Dragon
I will enchant thy moulten husk with words
Sweet in bait, rotted in deliciousness;
That all may proclaim thy Name, in wonderment!"

The sensation leaves your body as abruptly as it arrived. For a moment, your lips and tongue were not your own, as if someone else had stolen them to inflict their will on the world. Unlike the familiar unfamiliarity you felt before, a twisted foreign bundle lurks in your being.

>You have subsumed a curse of unknown poetry (it is one thing to bear the memories of weapons, but the art of words is lesser magic. Future poetic write ins must be done with a 1d100 roll, the higher the result, the more effective it is on those that hear it, the lower the more you are corrupted by the poet's will, such is the cost of drawing on things so far removed from oneself)
>Current corruption by an unknown poet, 5/200

As rattled as you are, and as much as your performance is taking your attention, you watch the reaction the dragon has to your words. A narrowing of its eyes almost stop your heart.

Still, putting aside dragon and poetry, the show must go on.

Up to now, you have had something in your possession that you had not used. A pack of metal trick cards. The cards fly from your fingers, and the fog of your memories fade away reminding you of their uses.

2/?

>>5619992
The tricks become clear when they ricochet off your daggers. Four suits, spades producing sounds, hearts producing flame, diamonds lights of various colours and the clubs change in shape between small balls, pins and cards. All the cards, in spite of being metal, bounce quite well on the ground.

Touching the cards directly is not something you tend to do, manipulating them with the juggled blades instead. The exception is the club cards. In ball form they crawl about your body before being flung into the air.

Music is formed from the spades dancing betwixt you and your puppet. Gouts of flame and flashes of light join the patterns you weave. Both you and the puppet are in full motion now.

The speed of the act increases, the music reaching joyous crescendo, one by one, the daggers vanish into your sleeves, birds returning to roost. One by one, the cards return to their pack. The spades are the last to return and you bow, panting breaking the silence of you finished act.

Your performance at an end, the dragon deigns to speak, lowering head to better stare at you with one eye. A rich and noble man's voice, like the toll of a bell and rumble of an earthquake.

"By my name, Yothrundalyouse Mountain Hiding Breath, my thoughts have not even dignity in death!
Even the moon is dark, not even dogs howl!
Song is slaughtered, eaten by vulture!
All is as noise, unceasing, unrelenting!
Indignity that one cannot face!
What can a prisoner do but weep!
Despair as you should, O worm!
In deeds your body will break!
As the sour sorrow fills the ripe taste of blood!
None shall know of us, should we die, fuel to others' work!
But enough words, We bid thee perform again!"

Wide do the dragons eyes open and some trace of light enters into them once more, and then you feel it. A massive pressure fit to split your bones, boil your blood and tear your spirit asunder.

"Again!" He roars.

You have not earned the favour of the dragon. All you have gained is a chance to be tested beneath the dragon's might.

>Roll best of four 1d100 regardless of what is chosen, should your fortune be ill, you can even cowardly change your actions(as in do an action other than performance), but cowardice has a cost most dire!
>Just repeat the act you did before
>Repeat it but push yourself further, squeeze what you can out of yourself with no regard for consequences
>Add more to the existing act (Ribbons? Kettle? What?)
>Write in a new routine

Finally;
>If you should stumble, continue the show, no matter how wretched, no matter how flawed!
>Submit to cowardice and attack the dragon at the first mistake you make, his eye is close!

Rolled 69 (1d100)

>>5619994
>Add more to the existing act
Maybe Kettle and us can have a comedy routine? He as the straight man and we as the fool
As for the ribbons, tie it to us and the puppets, so it leaves a flowing trail as we move

>>5620012
>If you should stumble, continue the show, no matter how wretched, no matter how flawed!

>>5620012
Your ability to tell jokes is magically sealed, as you almost killed a court mage , so bad was the joke you uttered. It was early in the thread, can't blame you for not remembering.

>>5620025
Well, then maybe only kettle can tell the jokes I guess

Rolled 47 (1d100)

>>5619994
>>5620012
I will support this with adding ribbons to our act.
>If you should stumble, continue the show, no matter how wretched, no matter how flawed!

Rolled 87 (1d100)

>>5619994
>Add more to the existing act (Ribbons? Kettle? What?)
>Ribbons and songs (if we know of any).
>If you should stumble, continue the show, no matter how wretched, no matter how flawed!

Also Souv cursed us with poetry, it seems.
>>5618451
>Please post em, I'm pretty curious (even if we don't use them).
I'll save them for the time when we need them. If Steller ever sees it fit to request riddles from us, that is.

Rolled 58 (1d100)

>>5619994
Time to write

>>5620012
>>5620045
>>5620071
>Rolled 87
>Add ribbons and song
>Kettle tell jokes

You can barely move. Time. If you could buy yourself some time, you'd be a little more used to the pressure of the dragon's might! A racing thought desperately forms.

"Kettle, tell a joke!"
"H-huh what? Okay!"
As Kettle begins you start to work your body with a simple fools act with your puppet, jumping over each other, falling into each others arms, kicking the behind, various and assorted tomfoolery. As for Kettle's joke that was spoken as you did this, it went like this:

"I heard a story about two peasants. One owned cows, we'll call him cowman. The other owned pigs, we'll call him pigman. Now, pigman was jealous of cowman's cheese and butter, so he begged and begged to cowman to show him how to make cheese and butter from his pigs milk. Cowman agreed, but he said he'd need to look after the pigs himself first. Now, cowman had always wanted some pigs, so he painted a few of his cows pink and gave them back instead of the pigs, teaching pigman how to make cheese and butter

Pigman was delighted with his new milk pigs, and Cowman with his pigs. One day however, he washed his milk pigs, and the paint came off. He rushed to cowman, broke down his door and shouted loudly 'someone's gone and cursed my milk pigs! Just washed them and they turned into cows!'

Cowman nearly had a heart attack, but was relieved that pigman was still dumb as a cow. I heard to this day, pigman can be seen bitterly milking his cows, lamenting the loss of his milk pigs'

You heard not a sound from the dragon. For your part you couldn't tell if it was funny or not. Slapstick was your field, and you've never been able to tell a good joke. You had however gotten somewhat used to the dragon's might. Not wanting to take any chances, you called out to Kettle.

"Thanks, you don't need to tell another one!"
"I've heard a good one about a wizard and a goat, much better than cowman and pigman, I was just a little flustered!"
Kettle was now strangely eager to tell another joke.
"No, tis fine, I'm going to sing a song"
1/2

>>5621094
It was a little troublesome remembering a song, and very troublesome to sing while performing acrobatics and juggling, but you have done it before. Your singing could only ever be said to be passable, combined with your performance, passable was already quite good. It was quite a deep singing voice.

Ribbons flew from your sleeves attaching to your puppet as you began, daggers soon bounced out along the ribbons too.

Neither a happy or sad song. A kind of ballad that had more lows than highs, a journey in song form. It was about a fisherman who got lost in a storm. He crashed upon a foreign shore, and slew a roc. From rags to riches, marrying a princess even, but he never saw his homeland again. It ended with him as an old man, peacefully going out to fish in a storm, embraced by the sea, content.

Your daggers and cards were fish, lightening, wings, soldiers and all else in the simple tale. Not happy or sad, perhaps a little melancholy, but surely the fisherman had lived a life full.

"At last, I join the sea, connected to my homes, old and new..."

You finished, the waves falling over you, returning to your sleeves.

>You recalled the Ballad of the Fisherking

A single clap from the dragon. Yothrun looked... somehow more alive, but also smaller. You had the curious sense that the increased liveliness had paradoxically brought him closer to death.

"We are pleased, and thus, we question you. Why should we not keep you here, adding you to our pitiful hoard?"

Some progress, to be seen as a treasure instead of a worm.

Apart from if he could imprison you or not, strange. The question is strange. The asking of it is strange. A dragon would just do or not. Why did he ask? The circumstances of the dragon swirl about your head. You, the city, the dragon...

Just what answer does Yothrun wish for?
Just what answer will you give?

>>5621095
>"As with the fisherman lost in storm, a life to be lived in full will is one best lived. I do not deign you, noble dragon, when I say that more joy or sorrow to you I can bring next time we meet, if we ever do meet again. For as forlorn as any might be, time and distance give memories their sweetness."
>"Whether I leave or remain, there is joy to be had. Moreso, if I now stay, then the future becomes little and more immediate. Sorrow and joy are of different cloths, yet alike in many ways, and the saccharine wishes of the future can only be lathered by hope."
>"Forgive me, O great Dragon, if my words are folly or delusion or madness. Such is the fate of this humble jester, especially one who finds both happiness and misery as he treads along, seeking to make his life fulfilled once more."
Maybe this is the wrong thing to say or the wrong way to say it, but it's the best I can write while in a bit of a hurry.
Man I love this quest.

>>5621095
>Like I hope to have done to you, I seek to reinvigorate this place and turn back the dark transformations that occurred to it. I hope such a goal is noble enough to let me go.
I thought about saying something like "favour for a favour" but the dragon likely wouldn't see us as an equal to accept such a trade.
May as well throw something like this in >>5621311, though I don't fully understand what the second > means and the overall message. Something like: we seek to live a full, eventful life, so please let us go? Pleading won't really work, I think, and without a clear reason he's unlikely to let us go.

>>5621395
>"Like I hope to have done to you, I seek to reinvigorate this place and turn back the dark transformations that occurred to it. I hope such a goal is noble enough to let me go."

"You seek to put the egg back in its shell, more of madness than nobility, but such lofty insanity is what prompts people to work mighty magicks. Know this, Jester your goal is not enough to move me, We care not for noblesse oblige, but in honour of your will, We shall advise you. The egg is cracked, shell lost, but even exposed, yolk may form into a phoenix" Yothrun shudders after saying this, as if some mighty power struck him a deathly blow.

>>5621311
>"As with the fisherman lost in storm, a life to be lived in full will is one best lived. I do not deign you, noble dragon, when I say that more joy or sorrow to you I can bring next time we meet, if we ever do meet again. For as forlorn as any might be, time and distance give memories their sweetness."

"In a place such as this, thou see life lived in this place. Thou understand not, or thou turn your eyes from the truth. What lives once it enters a cauldron?, only boiling agony awaits before death. When we meet again, we shall be one and none." As the dragon speaks, its flesh begins to wither.

>"Whether I leave or remain, there is joy to be had. Moreso, if I now stay, then the future becomes little and more immediate. Sorrow and joy are of different cloths, yet alike in many ways, and the saccharine wishes of the future can only be lathered by hope."

"Daring to hope now, but hope is still open to you, though you are in the cauldron, you are more like tool than ingredient. Your hope lies elsewhere, but you should aspire to be the hand gripping the ladle, even tools will be cast away in this great and terrible work." Yothrun's eyes cloud and cracks of age take his horns, claws and scales. His hide is a dull green compared to the verdant shimmer it had before.

>"Forgive me, O great Dragon, if my words are folly or delusion or madness. Such is the fate of this humble jester, especially one who finds both happiness and misery as he treads along, seeking to make his life fulfilled once more."

A long sigh of despair makes its way out of Yothrun's maw.

"Madness can be forgiven, even we are gripped by the embrace of this darkness, Our fate, should you fall, will be the same. A shared misery. To think we decried noblesse oblige, yet we shall give you a final chance."

A horrid transformation is upon the dragon, his flesh is utterly starved, Yothrun now looks like hide draped over a skeleton, but his eyes, the dullness and cloudiness has left them.

Those diamond eyes now burn with a deep fury alongside their despair.

"We ask you, Aspirant, above all else, what do we desire?"

You understand now that it will be in death that you will be made to stay here should you fail to intuit the will of Yothrundalyouse Mountain Hiding Breath.
1/2

>>5622204
The first desire of dragons is treasure, but rather than truly keep you captive, Yothrun intends to kill you should you not understand him.

The second desire of dragons is to inspire awe, for dragons are vain, and cannot bear to be unknown, but Yothrun cried out that none shall know your names.

The third desire is repose, for dragons are beings of dream, born to dream grand centuries long dream, there is even tell that the dreams of the most powerful dragons become living worlds. Some even claim the thirteen realms are the dream of a god dragon, or thirteen dragons. Yet, can Yothrun truly find the peace to dream here?

Three desires are closed.

What desire above these is within those eyes?
>Speak his desire, and should you fail, worry not, you need only slay that which you do not understand. Slay or be slain.

I've got nothing, but for the sake of saying something

>>5622205
>"It is death that you wish."
If this is what he wants, good. But if not, then we can just attack.

>>5622205
>"It is death that you desire."
Where is third anon's insight when we need it?

>>5622664
I couldn't think of anything to say to the dragon, or what he wants.

>>5622670
Oh my ID changed
I'm WL/1mCu3

>>5622443
>>5622664
>>5622670
Do you all want me to throw you a bone in the form of a hint?

>>5622699
It would be nice.
No promises on my smooth brain getting it right though

>>5622726
Death is, well, it is on the right track, but wrong direction? For what it is worth, if I explained anymore, it'd become painfully obvious.

>>5622733
He wants to be reborn, be resurrected? To become a new life?
The whole thing about phoenixes, becoming one and none, being an ingredient inside a cauldron. But he doesn't want to be gone fully after the rebirth? It can't be stopped, but it can be directed?
Wait, the genie mentioned a cauldron as well, and the cauldron is also something internal. Is what is happening on Valantis some sort of cosmic egg, birth of a god thing?

I guess maybe the answer would be freedom, or a second chance
Weren't all the dragons in Valanits killed? How is he alive? Is he a survivor, or has he been brought back to be one more part of this mass ritual?

>>5622733
Ah I see, I think I understand?

>>5622205
>>5622443
I'll change my vote then to:
>"Life is that which you wish."
Unless I'm getting this completely wrong.

>>5622733
>>5622746
>>5622747
>>5622664
Very nice observations. The plot thickens. Alright, let's go with
>"You want to be reborn and feel alive again."

>>5622746
>>5622747
>>5622748
The spirit of a hint is not to misdirect, so I'll be clearer. Death is correct, not life, not rebirth. At risk of making it far too clear, it cannot be his own death, for he lives and it cannot be your death, for you live.

For the record, I'd not be giving hints if you were completely off the ball from the start.

As it is, it is painful how close you are.

Apart from that, unrelated to the dragon's desire, the question of how he stands before is indeed important to the larger picture, and he did indeed refer to himself as an ingredient. Him, a prideful dragon.

>>5622205
>>5622748
Alright, with what Steller has now said and what the anons are saying I'll change my vote once again:
>"The death of that which would turn you into an ingredient, that who dares to try and humble thee."
And I'm not at all certain what exactly that is (the birth of a god, a demon, some other creation, or just to increase the power of something/someone? I can't entirely say).

>>5622909
He wants to kill the person who is doing all of this?
Or to maybe he just want to kill the Valantis dragon hunters or their descendants

>>5622949
>>5623145
Well, Steller did say "because he lives", "because you live", so it could be something that cannot die. It could indeed be the person behind this, say if it were a god they cannot be killed. But maybe we need to think more abstractly. Somthing like the death of the world? Or the death, as in the end, of what is happening? Or the death of his suffering? I am just speaking nonsense probably, haha.

>>5623438
I think Steller meant that if he wanted to kill us or himself, he would have attacked us already.
But maybe you are right and it's a puzzle? I don't know.

>>5623451
You are probably right, I am overthinking this. Unless I come up with something, I'll change my vote in a couple hours to match the other anon's and hope for the best, I guess. I think Steller won't be giving us any further hints since we're all a merry band of retards missing something obvious, haha.

>>5623438
Hm, once again I don't really know. It might just be something right in front of us, but I can't really tell what it is.

>>5622903
>>5622909
>"You wish for the death of one who has started all this madness."

>>5622443
>>5622664
>>5622670
>Death
"What you desire, O dragon, is death"

Raucous laughter that shook one's bones. Yothrun lowered his head to face you even as the flesh burned away, exposing pale bone.

"Sweet death! How we long for it, but not enough, not enough, death now would deny our desire, our burning flame!"

Time stopped.

The maw of the flaming skull was open, ready to receive its unwilling guest. A battle to the death, you would slay this warped dragon or be slain. Yet you are not satisfied. As whisper from within sneaks around, promising hope. It is not his own death that he truly desires. That is the voice of despair. Fury speaks of another desire.

>>5622949
>>5623145
>>5623646
>Hint solved in spirit

"Not merely death, what you desire is the death of that which would turn you into an ingredient, that who dares to try and humble thee, the death of the cause of this madness"

The flames on the skull die out.

"Even now we are bound. For daring to speak, the dissolution advances, but if we are to be rendered down, whoever wished this work to be..."

Yothrun's eyes shun like stars, you wished to avert your gaze, but their brilliance kept you prisoner.

"Death is not enough for the source of my misfortune. Let their wishes come to ruin. Plans scattered to the Air. Desires cut off as ours are! Vengeance. We desire vengeance. Oh if only you were a being filled with anger, from Crown to Shadow! Would that such an avatar had known our will!"

Grief and wrath poured out in equal measures. Yothrun's body blackened, crumbling into ashes that swirled 'round his skull.

"Enough, We lay our curse, become curse itself. Carry us, Jester who still hopes, whose desires remain. Bear my remains and should you see the object of my vengeance... cast grudge forth. In this moment We are unbound. Our name is lost, Revenge is all that remains."

The ash covers the skull and both shrink, and a small amulet clatters to the ground. A dragon skull of compacted ash. Dragon Revenge Ashskull.

No sign of Yothrun's might remains, and life is utterly gone. As for you, mind bleary, you stumble past Yothrun's solidified grudge. The crystal throne beckons your weakened mind and spirit, you curl upon it, feeling that sense of sanctuary you felt once before. Kettle is chittering about something, but you are so tired, your eye-lids so heavy. The exertion of two performances and standing against the dragon-might lull you into sleep.

In sleep you dream...
1/2

>>5623910
Of the present...
>Choose who your dreamsight attunes to;
>Antonio Rozenstern
>Rozenstern
>The genie
>The masked woman you saw in another dream
>A lower rank Claw of Rozenstern
>Let the unknown become known a chance to see one you have no knowledge of

Of the past...
>What memory will you recall?
>Lies
>Malice
>Anarchy
>Prejury
>Discord
>Charm
>Grace
>Principle
>Prudence
>Justice
>Temperance
>Fortitude
>Something less abstract(write in)

Of the future...
>Thus far, your goal had been to find your wife and unborn children, but will that be all that drives you?
>Take up Yothrun's grudge, gain possession of Dragon Revenge Ashskull ( item of unknown usage, had you known his desire was vengeance, it would have other powers, as it is now it will only be of use against one you believe to be the root of misfortune)
>You need not take up his burden, leave behind the item. Deny the dragon his final wish, all that matters is your missing love.

>>5623911
>Let the unknown become known a chance to see one you have no knowledge of
>Charm
>Take up Yothrun's grudge, gain possession of Dragon Revenge Ashskull

>>5623910
>Vengeance
Ah, I see now. Don't think we would've solved that unless you spelt it out for us (and we didn't). No max power from the skull is sad, but we'll get other opportunities.

>>5623911
The Present
>Let the unknown become known a chance to see one you have no knowledge of
The Past
>Justice
The Future
>You need not take up his burden, leave behind the item. Deny the dragon his final wish, all that matters is your missing love.

>>5623911
>Let the unknown become known a chance to see one you have no knowledge of
>Grace
>Take up Yothrun's grudge, gain possession of Dragon Revenge Ashskull ( item of unknown usage, had you known his desire was vengeance, it would have other powers, as it is now it will only be of use against one you believe to be the root of misfortune)
We know that our destroyer aspect is full of grudges, so taking his own would mix well with ours

>>5623911
>A lower rank Claw of Rozenstern
>Justice
>Take up Yothrun's grudge, gain possession of Dragon Revenge Ashskull ( item of unknown usage, had you known his desire was vengeance, it would have other powers, as it is now it will only be of use against one you believe to be the root of misfortune)

>>5624205
>>5624239
>>5624297
>>5624323
>Let the unknown become known a chance to see one you have no knowledge of
>Justice
>Take up Yothrun's grudge

You dream, and in your dream, you see truth. You see others who struggle against the knowledge of, but mere fragments flow.

A knight clad in armour of darkness strides between pillars of falling sand. What a void that greets your senses!

A foreign soldier, like the dead ones you saw, out of breath, panicked, his surroundings are a swirl of colour and laughter. Only one arm remains to him. What deep fear you sense!

A figure in a grey robe, the robe of an apprentice masonmage? But around this novice is a collection of gargoyles worthy of a master. Yet, around those living statues are masses of distorted dead. What lust for power you sense!

A black hound in red hood slowly stalks twisted corridors, the walls are like brickwork brambles. An orange glow sparks form this hound's eyes. What iron will you sense!

Something crawls amid a corridor of mirrors, it's abhorrent form reflected endlessly. Was this once a woman? It bears the tattered remains of a maid's livery. Reflections come out from the mirrors, but it strikes first, tearing, devouring. What hunger you sense!

In the end, your vision settles. There is darkness of course, but the glow of crystal illuminates red.

Of blood.

Of corpses.

Of a woman in a jester's suit of crimson.

Her mask is golden, her short hair a black blue. The mask is a laughing one. You do not remember anyone in the Royal Amusement Troupe dressed like so.

"Just my fortune, a day before retirement and this mess happens."

She places a hand against her mask.

"Well, had it not been for that, I'd not be moving about"

A man's voice, cracked and wizened by age echoed from the shadows.

"Have you not played around enough riskbreaker? Will you heed my commands now?"

The riskbreaker tilted her head this way and that.
"Url'Ryoness has fallen into Dark, but you do technically have the right to command me, speak your will, until one of higher rank commands me, I'll play what plot you plan. Something to kill time would be good."

"As much as I could have hoped for, I'll just make sure that no prying eyes nor eavesdropping ears catch aught"

With those words, the shadow billowed and you saw and heard no more, returning to lighter dream. You heard a story once told, but you cannot place who told you.
1/?

>>5625613
Once upon a time there was an arch-wizard. He did many great works and among them were seven golems. Some even say the golems walk the realms still.

One golem's name was Justice.

It wandered the land and all feared it, for it had no mercy, nor eyes to turn in blindness. It had but one punishment for all injustice. Cleansing flame. Though none wished to encounter the golem in person, many were the masses who praised the arch-wizard for creating such a judge that no lord who took more than he was owed was left alone.

Yet the arch-wizard laughed and bid the golem remain in one kingdom. In time, not one person lived there, so many fell to the golem's flame, that all else fled.

Terrified, all the realms begged the arch-wizard to dismantle his creation. He simply sighed and taking up the ashes of the ruined kingdom made a black dove he named Mercy and set it on the shoulder of Justice.

Giving no comfort to the realms, he loosed the golem once more. Many thought that by the dove's virtue they could escape punishment, but once the dove flew away, all that would remain is flame.

A memory came to mind. You once took the blame for another...

"I don't get it! You are usually so careful, how could you ruin my precious Neesa like this!"

You stood with head hanged before a massive drum and what one would call a dwarf. A wide stocky man, belly like a barrel and biceps like melons. A tomato of a nose stood proudly below jade-like eyes and above a wild black bush of a beard. If it were not for that nose and eyes, he'd have looked for all the world like some monster with a plant for a head. The Percussion Master of the Royal Amusement Troupe's orchestra. Togh Drumalong.

It was not just his hair that made this dwarf strange. He was also a giant. As a giant dwarf, he didn't tower as much as a giant human, but the width made up for that, and he was still taller than a tall human.

You silently endured his lecture until he send you away so that he could mourn the loss of one of his girls in peace. There were only a few who you'd be willing to take the blame for.

In this case, a spritely figure jumped out from behind a pillar. If Wolkin could be said to be like a father to you, then this unreliable figure was like a brother. A man in baggy jester's clothes like your own, though his limbs had no unnaturalness to them like your body did. He hid however need a silvery mask like yours. Nobody wanted to stare at a face so ruined by flame. His mask was a bit darker than yours.

Bault, the second best acrobat and juggler in the troupe. He could just barely keep up with you. He felt no jealousy before you, but his efforts to chase your shadow had a habit of going awry. He was actually just good at getting in trouble generally.
2/?

>>5625617
As a non-blood brother he left a lot to be desired, but somehow you were unwilling to leave him to his fate. In spite of being a full grown man, Bault was uncannily similar to a small blue-eyed puppy when distressed. It would be too cruel to let such a helpless being fend for itself. The whole troupe was in agreement.

"Sorry bro! I'll give you my dessert next time!"
Ah, his go-to option. Clearly he forgot that he owes that to the beastmaster, only that cooled her anger somewhat. You wouldn't remind him now. No, it was best to remind him when dinner comes around. His sheer panic would be reward enough, that and everyone's laughter at his panic.

Your memory was covered with fog once more as Bault stumbled around you and you went forwards... where did you go that day?

For a time, your mind is still, deep in restful sleep, no visions or memories.

Then you wake, greeting Kettle you take the remains of Yothrun, Dragon Revenge Ashskull. It vanishes as you take it, and you feel its presence within your Destroyer aspect. A lord among grudges.

You leave the forest and tunnels behind, your shadow twists for a moment as you climb the stairs to the princess quarter. It almost looks like a dragon.

You pause as you hear a deep reverberating musical note. So, even as warped as the structure of the castle has become, the glorious castle gong still rings true. For a moment, you wonder if it is Tugh who struck it, but you shake your head and climb upward.

Within the princess quarter, your family hopefully remains...

...


...


With that, we've reached the end of the first act, so to speak. I suppose we can continue in this thread till it falls off, but apart from that, how are you all finding it thus far? Any criticism, hopes or so on?

>>5625621
Unless someone wishes otherwise, I'll take a break from this current quest and do a goblin thing I've had kicking around in my head

>>5626523
I was enjoying this weird journey, but do what you think is best

>>5625621
It's all pretty good. Sorry I can't provide much criticism.

>>5626523
I hope you come back to this again sometime, it's pretty fun.
But goblin things are always interesting.

Finally got around to reading the lengthy update.
>>5625617
Is Neesa the name of the drum?
>>5625621
I love the worldbuilding. It is cryptic and there's a lot of unclear things, but they get revealed gradually, slowly building into our picture of the world.
I'd like to learn the beastmaster's name eventually.
I also had a lot of fun with puzzling together the dragon's desire. Please make more intelligence checks, though I think we'll fail them a lot, haha.
Criticism... I suppose sometimes it wouldn't hurt to be clearer, but only sometimes. I still have only a vague understanding of the 13 aspects, and if I'm choosing or interpreting something, I'd like to know how exactly they tie into it. Then again, mystery has its perks as well.

>>5626523
Alright, I'll be waiting. You can link it here if you'd like. Don't forget to archive the thread.