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>>6139675
The not-so-identical twins coerced and cozied-up with an amateur band of wayward human teens and their eerie, talking dog—the so-called ‘Maladoo Gang—to secure their specimen of the strange salamander. Large though it was, the captive creature was not nearly big enough to be responsible for all the shredded nets and missing fish all on its own, and so they’d temporarily teamed up with the newt-nabbers and the stout, dwarven captain of one of the lake’s many vessels and hatched a plan: to transport the drake of the centre of the lake, to dose it with a trackable potion, and to let it loose so they could chase it home.

Cara-Zi had delivered the drake, but after a difficult night and an unspoken incident which had upset the boat’s captain, she had been curiously absent on the day of the hunt.

Pressing on nevertheless, Zith-Zi and company—including a Maladoo Gang oddly ALSO missing an eponymous, canine member—had stuck to the plan, and achieved some measure of success: they tracked down the TRUE Monster of Sunset lake to its subterranean, lakeside lair, uncovered a nest of nasty monsters-in-the-making, which they had promptly pounded into pulp to spare the Lake and its people dozens more of the mutant monsters being born and growing into ravenous, toxic beasts…

And then their mama had come crawling home.

After nearly losing a few members of their expedition, and suffering putrid indignity on top of injury, Zith-Zi and her party had beaten the beast and driven it back.. Which is to say, sadly, the Monster of Sunset Lake remains at large. Her nest is n more, though, and evidence of the good deed is even now making its way back to the Baron’s men, to exchange for award and/or aid.

But before we return to Zith-Zi and the reward for her hard work, another question remains as-yet unanswered: Maladoo, where are you? And where oh where, is Cara-Zi?

...


[Welcome, or welcome back! If you’re just joining us, the last thread can be read at https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2024/6114062/, and it strongly-recommended reading. Much less vital, but occasionally enlightening, are the previous quests in the same setting, found at https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=ReptoidQM]

…

>>6139676

You are Cara-Zi, and you are a CAMBION, apparently. This is a new term to you, honestly—you heard it for the first time this morning, from the mishappen maw of the demon-dog (or dog-looking demon? Hell-harrowed hound?) Maladoo. You’ve spent most of your short life and an independent entity—ever since being magically split-off from your ‘sister’ ZIth-Zi, thinking of yourself as a ‘demogoblin’. You know, because you’re sort of a goblin, but you’re also the product of magical (and sexual) shenanigans by a demon-possessed occultist? Anyway, Maladoo seems to be a much more knowledgeable kind of weird-demon-thing, and HE says a hybrid of your ilk is called a ‘cambion’. Who are you to argue?

The big, gangly black-and-brown hound currently leading you into the woods is called Maladoo. Earlier today, he found you sulking under a bridge, soggy with mud and tears after a night spent in the elements. You’d been beating yourself up over the savaging you’d just given Svanhilda—this really cute, thicc dwarf chick who you really like. She seemed to like you, too—enough to invite you back to her boat to fool around—but you’d predictably lost control the moment you tasted her lips, and her lust… And her pain and panic had, you’re a little ashamed to admit, been even sweeter.

(You’re, uh, not sure fi she still likes you anymore…)

“It is a rommon ralacy to rhink that a ruccubus is a resire remon,” Maladoo explains, as you settle in for a lecture by a copse of conifers.

(Maladoo has trouble talking, with his mouth being all canine and whatnow. Youv’e gotten good at translating his ‘accent’, though:,a nd you mentally do so now: “It is a common fallacy to think that a succubus is a desire demon”)

“Uhh… Aren’t they? Or, um, aren’t WE?”

Maladoo snorts as if in stifled laughter at our question, and answers (adjusted for that speech impediment): “Yes, but so are we ALL, little cambion.”

Maladoo holds up paw which, with upsetting popping sounds warps and twists that her might hold one ‘toe’ out like a finger to enumerate each point, and he continues:

“The desire for sex, for physical connection, for emotional control… These are associated most with succubi.”

Crack-POP

“But there is also the desire for realized dreams, recognition, and status, associated with incubi.”

Crack-POP

“The desire for food, drink, and fullness of sensory experience which is most associated with the slaad…”

Crack-POP

“And hellhounds are known for their desire for violence, for destruction, for the HUNT.”

>>6139681
There’s something skincrawling about the way Maladoo has to suck and gulp back saliva as he says those last words, and the dark twinkle n his doggy eyes. YOUR skin doesn’t crawl, though, and rather than shrinking back you elan forward, legs crossed as you listen attentively. You’ve long rejected what you are—your Hellish nature, and the warped, twisted form and uncontrollable urges with which this noxious nature has cursed you. Last night, though, you saw the limits of avoidance and denial, and the danger such half-measures pose to those you care for. Maladoo made you understand that, to be more than a monster, you need to understand yourself—to tame and direct the hellfire in your heart.

“Is that what YOU do, Maladoo?” you ask.

The demon-dog tilts his head, and waits for you to elaborate.

“Like, is that why you hang out with those humies—uh, the ‘Maladoo Gang’, I mean? Hunting down ghosts and ghoulies and evil people or whatever? ‘Cause you’re a hellhound, and ya like ta hunt?”

“None of us can escape our nature,” he answers indirectly,, as is his custom “but we can transform it, transcend it, master and direct it. Make ourselves its master. Become more than an embodiment of an urge… Tame the beast, like a wolf becoming a dog.”

You nod, not entirely understanding, but STARTINg to.

“Right, ‘cause dogs are useful, and friendly, an’ people like ‘em!”

Maladoo laughs at that, and your skin DOES crawl. You don’t really like his laugh. You laugh along anyway, though, so he doesn’t feel self-conscious and call off the lesson he promised to teach you—the lesson you skipped today’s hunt to learn.

“One thing’s buggin’ me , though,” you admit. “Dogs have masters, right? An’ I guess, like… So do I, kinda’, ‘cause ZZ’s the boss… But who’s YOURS? It’s not that Norville guy, is it?”

“No,” Maladoo chuckles. “I am, if anything, HIS master.”

“And it’s not that Freddie guy, or Cyrene, or Vel… So is it that eye-guy you were telling me about? The one you’re gonna introduce me to?”

Maladoo had invited you here, after all, on the premise of teaching you how to commune with some dark entity who he’d described as a source of ancient arcane secrets: the so-called ‘Master of the Insightful Eye’.

“Absolutely rot.”

(Rot? What’s rotting stuff have to do with…)

“Absolutely… Oh! ‘Absolutely NOT’,” you parse out.

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>>6139682
Maladoo nods, clarifying: “The Beholder of All is wise in any things, and powerful, but I do not serve him. He cannot be trusted, and he disdains demons even more than he disdains mortal beings.”

“Uhh… Then why am I s’psoed ta learn from this guy again?” you ask, puzzled anew.

“Because who knows more about becoming something greater than Demon, than a so-called Dark God?”

You wince a little at hearing the words, ‘Dark God’, aloud. You sort of figured that’s who this mysterious beholding-eye-master-guy was—you’re not STUPID, after all—but you were still clinging to the plausible deniability. Tips—the mage who made you, and who you love most dearly in the whole wide world besides your sis—told you those guys were bad news. But, well… What else are you supposed to do? Keep fucking up, losing control of yourself, and letting people down every time you catch a whiff of sex or violence? You’d been trying to sate that aching <WANT> within you with stolen snippets of rumours—whispers half-formed thoughts and urges, collected and catalogued like others might collect spoons, or pretty stones—but it wasn’t enough. If Maladoo and his not-master can help you ‘tame’ what’s inside you, or transcend it, or whatever…

“Alright,” you say firmly, with a decisive nod. “Then, like… Let’s get greatening, huh?”

Maladoo laughs again, and takes the lead, instructing you in the ways by which one can reach beyond the Prime Material Plane and into places Below and Beyond, to reach out and contact unholy forces and hidden wisdom kept secret from mortal minds.

Your first lesson is…
>to cover your tracks
[You learn the spell <Amnesia>, which can wipe out a recent memory in a target, and gain a rank in Mentalism]

>to blend in
[You learn the spell <Disguise Self>, but which you can change your physical form more dramatically and convincingly, and gain a point of Shapeshifting]

>to direct your urges
[You learn the spell <Claws of Darkness>, transforming your hands into truly wicked talons which count as magic weapons, increasing your damage and skill with Natural Weapons]

>to suppress your desires
[You learn the spell <Bind Spirit>, which lets you reduce your <WANT> roll DCs by 10 for an hour, as well as attempt to control other spiritual entities such as fellow demons, and increases your Occultism by one rank]

>>6139683
>to cover your tracks
I like Mentalism, though the others are tempting.

>>6139683
>to suppress your desires
Palademon

>>6139683
>to suppress your desires

>>6139683
>to blend in.

This one sounds like its the most practical. Being able to change our form like the infiltrator did, sounds like a major boon. Also we wont have to walk around wearing baggy funeral wear to hide our face & body.

>>6139683
>to blend in
while I'd prefer the memeory wipe, this sounds better since we have to use an oversized monk garb that draws attention anyway

>to blend in
She's a creep, she's a wierdo. She wants to belong.

>>6139683
>to cover your tracks
This seems pretty useful

>>6140172
>>6140083
>>6140074
>>6139805
>>6139790
>>6139768
>>6139760
[Locked and writing!]

>>6140182

You’re tired of being a creep and a weirdo. You’re tired of having to cower inside your new hoodie—especially now that it’s all muddy and gross. A part of you still remembers what it was like to look like Zith-Zi-not the pinkish ZZ of today, but the OLD ZZ, when the two of you were one. You were green, and some might have thought you gross, but you got plenty of attention all the same—from gobs, from humies, from a certain half-elf…

“I wanna be normal,” you declare. “I wanna be able to blend in.”

“Normalcy is not on the menu, little cambion,” Maladoo replies, his tone bemused. “But blending in… I’m good at that, ree hee hee hee.”

In the end, though, it isn’t MALADOO who teaches you this new trick. Rather—and rather frustratingly—he teaches you something not unlike the ‘meditation’ you’ve seen Tips and his fellow mages playing at in the past. Sitting still without fidgeting has never been your strong-suit, for the same reason you’re here today trying to get engreatened: your <WANT>. Though luckily for you, if less so for Svanhilda…

<WANT: 9>

…It’s pretty manageable for now. Maybe that’s why you find yourself more focused on your physical form, on hiding your bodily disfigurements rather than your moral or spiritual ones.

“So WHY can’t ya jus’ teach me how ta be like you?” you ask, peeking through one eye at Maladoo.

Your ‘teacher’ is once more contorted into un-doggy dimensions and a posture no true pooch could assume, cross-legged like an Easterling, back straight, arms held semi-limp at his sides with paw-palms up.

“I ron’t row row.”

( ‘I… Don’t Know… Oh!’)

Wait, he can’t properly shapeshift?? Well… That kind of makes sense, the more you scrutinize him. Maladoo isn’t ‘humanoid’ in the way of a beastman’s body, not built for bipedalism or proportioned properly for his position. He’s simply forced his body into a shape it shouldn’t hold, for demonstration purposes.

“Then, like… What are ya teachin’ me, Teach?”

After some effort to ‘translate’ Maladoo’s talk, you get your answer:

“I told you that all demons are demons of desire, and that specific types of demon are associated with specific desires. That’s all true… To a point. Becoming more than you are means understanding something that mortals never have, though: that all demons are THE SAME.”

“H-huh?” Your head spins. “I ain’t no demonologist or nothin’, but you JUST said about, like, succubussies and inkies and salads and hellhounds!”

“…How did you only get one of those names right?”

You laugh nervously, and answer: “Dogs’re cute.”

Maladoo rolls his eyes.

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>>6140198
“The summoning shapes a demon, as they appear on the Prime Material Plane—on Earth. In the Realms of Hell, the distinctions are less precise. Demons are shaped by their time on Earth, if their egos are not broken before their return. But a demon with UNDERSTANDING can summon and shape themselves.”

“…So, like, that’s what we’re doin’?”

Maladoo nods, and explains: “We are teaching you to desire one thing above all others.. At least, for a moment.”

“…Acceptance?” you ask quietly.

Maladoo grins that sharp-toothed grin, the yellow-white canines barely peeking out from under his floppy lips and jowls.

“Wisdom.”

You’re a little confused by that, at first. Wisdom? It’s not like nerds aren’t cute sometimes, but it’s not really what you were thinking. Still, the demon-dog seems to know what he’s talking about, so you do what Maladoo do—hehe~—and meditate your ass off. It’s not easy, or intuitive, but you DO desire this—to understand and master your nature, to be beautiful again—or at least not ugly and gross and wrong.

You WANT to know how to change what you’ve become.

You <WANT> that knowledge!

“Oh!”

You open your eyes at the sudden realization—the crystallization of will and of <WANT>, the realignment of purposes, and the sense that this new, deeper desire has summoned something.

You know it’s worked, too, because when you open your eyes you’re no longer in the forest… or, well, you ARE, but the forest isn’t as it once was. Maladoo isn’t there, for one, and the trees are all different—wreathed in mist, faded and see-through like ghosts of their former selves. The sunlight was already a dying light the east few hours, but when you open your eyes it’s gone altogether, and no moon has replaced it. There ARE, however, twinkling glimemrs of distance stars, and one single, great sphere in the sky between you and them…

“That ain’t no moon,” you murmur to yourself, as the great white orb rolls over and reveals an iris, and pupil.

The big eye in the sky comes tumbling towards you, finally locking on. It is red as hellfire, focused as a ray-attack. The sinuous smoke around it coils and uncoils like tentacles, like snake-tails, until it twists and knots itself together into great, malformed wings—not quite like a bat’s, almost like those of the cave-drake that you bargained away from Maladoo and his gang. Wobbly, boneless black limbs support a body like a big egg with a craning neck; there’s no other face, though, only the eye, framed by horns.

“Ah, one of the twins…”

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>>6140200
The voice doesn’t enter through your ear-holes, but through your chest, through the base of your skull, through your groin, through your gut. It fills your body and crawls across your skin, seeping in through your pores. It feels kind of nice, but also deeply violating; you’re not sure what it says about you that those two sensations and reactions can so easily coexist.

“Uh, h-hey!” you greet the ghoulie. “Are you like, the ‘Master of the Inner Eyes’? or, uh… Somethin’ like that?”

“I am but a humble servant, sent to welcome you, and guide you, along the Dark path which my Master has long ago laid out,” comes the answer, from everywhere and nowhere and from deep inside yourself, as that expressionless eye remains fixed upon your face. “You may call me ‘The Nothic’, for it is what my creator called me.”

“Oh, cool!” you say, forcing some cheer. “I’m called—”

“A demon should shield its name,” the Nothic interrupts, “until it outgrows it.”

“That’s good ta know.” You frown. “I’ve been tellin’ everyone mine, though, so…”

“Carazzi is not your name, nor Cara-Zi, nor CZ.”

(H-huh?)

“Then, like… What is it?”

You see no smile, and the tone of the voice reverberating through your being does not change in tenor, yet you sense something almost—ALMOST—like a smile.

“That remains to be seen,” says the Nothic. “Let us begin your growth, and learn it together.”

And so, in the twilight of the Earth and in those dark places that exist just outside it, between Heavens and hells, Beyond the material and in the dark between the stars, you learn your first lesson on the Path of Darkness.

NEW SPELL: Disguise Self
You cannot change your size category or height, but you can hide your horns and tusks, reduce your claws to long nails, and change your skin, hair, and eye-colour, and texture. This requires you to have some MP remaining to maintain, and each change in form costs 1 MP and adds 1 point of <WANT>. You cannot remove your ‘hooves’, but you can shift their shape enough to fit into shoes.

…

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>>6140202
…

You are Zith-Zi. While your ‘soul-sister’ or ‘shadows-elf’ or ‘twin’ or ‘whatever-the-fuck’ has been farting around something doing who-knows-what, YOU have been hard at work. Today, that’s meant spending the better part of the day on a boat—The Pearl, named for its fat, greedy, dwarf-bitch helmswoman, who is at least willing to let goblin and women and goblin-women ride along and seems to know what she’s doing. What time you haven’t spent bemusedly watching Khorine the goat-girl try not to hurl has been spend under the lake, creeping through tunnels of wet earth and sodden stone to underground areas of Sunset Lake, seeking a monster.

Well, you found it. You came, you saw, you kicked its ASS! But then it, uh, kind of got away from you while you were all soaked in poisonous puke.

Now, you and your crew—and the Maladoo Gang—are all on your way back to port—to the Sunset Lake docks on the other side of the eponymous body of water, to turn in evidence of aforementioned ass-kicking and monster-culling to the Baron’s men.

But to what end?
>You want a meeting with the Baron, to discuss getting some formal aid from the nobleman as the OFFICIAL hunters in charge of this operation—cutting out competitors like Green Leif Company
>You’re seeking a payday, simple as that—you’re low on coin, you want to stock up before you run out, and you figure preventing an infestation of giant fuck-off salamander monsters deserves recompense
>You plan to bluff the bastard, claiming you slew the Lake Monster proper—it’s hiding out somewhere, so you figure you could spin this into the BIG score, then get out of dodge before it rears its ugly head again, if you play your cards right
>You want to warn them about the dark magic at play, and discuss possible causes of this unholy occult interference in the local ecology
>Write-in

>>6140204
Wait, isn't the throw knife Carazzi's? Didn't she hunted with those?


>You’re seeking a payday, simple as that—you’re low on coin, you want to stock up before you run out, and you figure preventing an infestation of giant fuck-off salamander monsters deserves recompense
For us and the Mala-gang, giving us titles as propper Newtslayers.

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>>6140235
>Wait, isn't the throw knife Carazzi's? Didn't she hunted with those?
[Nope, they've been on ZZ's sheet since day 1. CZ started without a weapon besides her spells and claws, and voters bought her a dagger. She can throw it, too, admittedly. She and Yeb-Uit did some bow-hunting for a snipe, but failed.]

>>6140204
>You plan to bluff the bastard, claiming you slew the Lake Monster proper—it’s hiding out somewhere, so you figure you could spin this into the BIG score.
+
>You’re seeking a payday, simple as that

I figure the best idea is to claim we slew the lake drake mother, and once we have the money go back and finish the job in secret.

And if anyone questions why were going back to the lake, we can just claim that we making sure we thoroughly wiped out her eggs.

>>6140204
>You’re seeking a payday, simple as that—you’re low on coin, you want to stock up before you run out, and you figure preventing an infestation of giant fuck-off salamander monsters deserves recompense
Good morale buffer as well

>>6140204
>You want a meeting with the Baron, to discuss getting some formal aid from the nobleman as the OFFICIAL hunters in charge of this operation—cutting out competitors like Green Leif Company

>>6140204
>You want a meeting with the Baron, to discuss getting some formal aid from the nobleman as the OFFICIAL hunters in charge of this operation—cutting out competitors like Green Leif Company
>You’re seeking a payday, simple as that—you’re low on coin, you want to stock up before you run out, and you figure preventing an infestation of giant fuck-off salamander monsters deserves recompense
Do both- the synergy maaaan!

>>6140310
>>6140262
>>6140257
>>6140235
>>6140343

Your priority is getting paid. Always has been, always will. Guys like that (handsome) asshole Leif might get their rocks off on reputation. Marks like the Maladoos might ride a moral high horse. You, though? You might be a ‘nilbog’ now, but you didn’t just forget the lessons Mama Zi taught you out eat, or the far harsher ones of the Wastes where you first made your name and got your gold: money CAN buy happiness, or at least stave off suffering.

Besides, what are you going to do, live out in these backwater baronies forever? Fuck THAT.

“Right,” agrees Yeb-Uit when you share this sentiment, “but what about the humans?

You shrug your shoulders, jostling an already-irate Hershy. The little feathered chimera-drake has been rather jumpy ever since you encountered his distant kindred in that cavern. You suppose you can relate, the more you think about it—the last time YOU encountered ‘country cousin’ a dozen times your size was when you and the crew ran into a pack of bull-trolls out in the Wastes, and almost got your asses ate—and NOT in the fun way. You pat the little guy’s head until, with a squawk you interpret as a ‘yeah yeah, okay, I’ll chill’, he calms down and settles in on his pauldron-perch. Only then do you turn your attention to the haggard-looking Maladoo Gang, and to Yeb’s question.

“We’ll put in a word, get ‘em some accolades.”

“…Accolades?”

“Credit,” you clarify.

“Credit? Or credit and coin?”

You give Yeb-Uit a look. The old male has a good face for cards, never giving too much away, but he doesn’t need to. A gob is a gob is a gob, after all, and no ex-slave adventurer of greenish complexion is going to be eager to split his payday with some namby-pamby humie kids like Frederich Johannes, Cyrene Blake, Norville Rogers the Third (yes, that’s the kid’s real fucking name, you asked) or Vel Dinh.

“We’ll leave that up ta the Baron,” you say carefully, with an air of ‘don’t fucking start’. “We’ll jus’ make sure it don’t eat inta ours, ey?”

Yeb-Uit nods slowly, and looks back out the water, scratching his ass idly. You snort, and do likewise—the water-watching, not the ass-scratching. Maybe you SHOULD have taken the grey-bearded bastard up on that post-battle fuck he was angling for—might have put the codger in a better mood to get his rocks off.

(Shit, mighta’ done You some good, too…)

You shake off the passing fancy. This last year’s been a bit of a ‘cold spell’ for you, sure, but again: you’re here to get paid, not to get fucked. A Goblin Boss—or Nilbog Professional Adventure—has to get her priorities straight!

(Besides, there’s still James Efron, your not-so-old flame, to hash shit out with… Maybe…)

>>6140353
You shake THAT thought off, too. That nobleborn son-of-a-bitch is down South dealing with raiders and border disputes for the Crown, with ENID. Whereas you’re stuck here. Just another reason to hurry the fuck up, right?

When you get to the docks, you do exactly that: you hop over the bulwark and onto the dock before the gangplank’s even down, and the others have to hustle after you to catch up. You shoot them a look and wave them off, though; Khorine and the Maladoos are a bunch of brats, and there’s no way on this or any other plane that bringing GOBLINS to a negotiation with human authorities gets you taken MORE seriously.

(Yes, it’s good to be a nilbog, and that is a fuckin’ fact.)

The guards around Sunset lake are a good sight shittier—or, well, more ‘provincial’ if you’re being diplomatic—than those in the royal capital of Hawksong. There are fewer of them, wearing less and worse armour from a variety of eras and obviously self-maintained. They’re older, or younger, but far fewer of them are in what you’d call ‘prime fighting years’, and their physical conditioning and general bearing are far from what you’ve gotten used to during your time in the big city. Still, each wears the tabard of Sunset Lake: three white fish stacked on a field of blue, separated by a wavy line from the yellow field above representing the golden sunsets. That means authority—including, you hope, authority to pay up.

“Hey boys!” you greet them, abandoning your natural inflection and raising your voice an octave automatically as you wave them down. “Got time to talk? We’ve got big news about your little ‘monster problem’!”

This gets their attention, but also that of a few others on the docks. Sunset lake ahs been gripped in a monster MANIA, after all. You get it, really: this is a bustling mountain trading port, but a bustling port in these mountains is still KIDN OF a small town, without a lot going on. Those few things that HAVE been going on these last few years have all been monster-related, from rumours of kobold raids and black-skinned elves to dragonfire in the plains and Dragon Kings in the mountains. Now, their principle source of local food is being threatened by huge newts? Yeah, you’d be a bit of a maniac, too… And eager to see the problem solved. That, of course, is what you’re counting on.

“Are you with the Delvers?” they ask, mistaking you for one of the little-folk—gnomes, halflings, and dwarves—with a certain technologically-savvy rival adventuring party.

“Me?” you ask. “Uh, no. I’m… Independent. But I’ve got something THEY don’t…”

>>6140354
You take the guards aside, trying to ignore or block the lookie-loos who gather ‘round to murmur and mutter, as you show off your vials of scooped-up drake-spawn, and explain what you found, and what you did about it.

“…So, long story short, your monster problem’s pretty much handled! And I was thinking, well, a bit of a reward’s in store, right? Isn’t that what all the posters around the area have been advertising?”

You grin, hands on hips, as they survey the evidence. The two guards you’d flagged down have gathered several more who were milling about to inspect your evidence and to discuss what to do about it. Even now, they seem unsure—a problem only exacerbated when all the attention you’ve acquired draws in an unfortunately-familiar voice attached to a certain square-jawed mug.

“Doesn’t seem too handled to me!”

You groan and look over your shoulder to cast a dour glower at Leif Last-Name-Never-Asked, of Green Leif Company. Technically, it was him and HIS party (now gathered behind him in all their ‘glory’) who first identified the monster, lured out one of the ‘small’ specimens, and hauled it out of the water. They promptly lost it to the Maladoos, which is where you came in.

(You also maybe, sort of, kind of seduced him for info and almost boned down…)

“I didn’t ask for opinions from the peanut gallery,” you growl, “especially not the especially SALTY nuts. Just because You lost the thing…”

“Lost -A- thing,” Leif interjects, striding closer with a (sort of sexy) swagger of (utterly unearned) self-assuredness. “A thing that I remember YOU, Zena, saying very LOUDLY and PUBLICLY was NOT the actual Monster, because it was too small.”

>>6140356
You manage to avoid saying ‘who the fuck is Zena?’, remembering at the last moment that this was the less-goblinoid pseudonym you’d offered up in lieu of the name your mother gave you. Besides, that’s hardly the point, is it?

“The point,” you say instead, stepping right up to Leif and jabbing a finger into his washboard abs, “is we wrecked up the whole gods-damned nest of the ‘actual Monster’, so the lake and its fish—and fisherMEN--are safe again!”

A cheer and some scattered applause greets this from the less salty nuts in aforementioned audience, though it is subdued and brief as Leif raises his own voice again to undermine you:

“Says who? What, the monster can’t lay anymore eggs? The other ones can’t grow bigger?”

You frown mightily at that, but Leif’s beautiful blue-green eyes just sparkle with self-assuredness as he smirks down at you. Your pointed pink ears twitch a little as you pick of some whispers of worried agreement from the crowd. The guards might have tiny, round little humie ears, but you can see that THEY’RE hearing it, too, or else coming to the same conclusion all on their own.

What will you do?
>Angle for a smaller reward for your work so far—get your bag while you can
>Pledge to eliminate the threat entirely—though you’ll need a reward AND an advance to get it done
>Lie and say you mortally wounded the main monster—after all, you very NEARLY did!
>Write-in

[A 1d20 social role will be required regardless, though the DC will be lower the humbler you are. I’d also like to take this opportunity to ask…]

What is you plan moving forward?
>You still plan to finish this monster hunt before you go [Continue the Sunset Lake arc]
>As soon as CZ comes back and you have your money, you’re out of here [Move onto a new arc, leave Sunset Lake’s monster for someone else]

[This may seem a tad redundant, but the last vote seemed to include a few who waned to score a payday but still handle the matter privately before leaving, so I wanted to verify what your actual long-term plans are. You can also consider it a 'meta' vote on whether to continue the adventures here or change locales. Just keep in mind that especially if you lie and leave, you might not be welcome back.]

>>6140358
>Lie and say you mortally wounded the main monster—after all, you very NEARLY did!

>You still plan to finish this monster hunt before you go [Continue the Sunset Lake arc]

If we kill the mother drake first before anyone else whose gonna catch the white lie?

>>6140358
>Pledge to eliminate the threat entirely—though you’ll need a reward AND an advance to get it done

>You still plan to finish this monster hunt before you go [Continue the Sunset Lake arc]
would the 2nd option be getting payed and ditching the monster problem ?

>>6140488
>would the 2nd option be getting payed and ditching the monster problem ?
[Yes. if you opt to take a full reward, claim the problem is solved, and leave, then even if you succeed the Lake Monster will eventually breed again and produce more monsters, and Sunset lake will know you lied and cheated them. But you'll be, one assumes long gone. Neither ZZ nor CZ have been established yet as too moral to pull such a trick for money.]

>>6140358
>Pledge to eliminate the threat entirely—though you’ll need a reward AND an advance to get it done
We've gotten actual results, unlike the other groups. It's only fitting we get some investment to finish the job.

>>6140358
>Pledge to eliminate the threat entirely—though you’ll need a reward AND an advance to get it done
I think we probably are the only grouo equipped for cave fighting so I think this can turn out well for us

>You still plan to finish this monster hunt before you go [Continue the Sunset Lake arc]

>>6140358
>Lie and say you mortally wounded the main monster—after all, you very NEARLY did!
Fuck you Leif, we jumped her bones first!

>You still plan to finish this monster hunt before you go [Continue the Sunset Lake arc]

>>6140358
>>Angle for a smaller reward for your work so far—get your bag while you can
Without us, our legwork and our information, the boyzband and the delver would still try to catch a slighty bigger than usual Newt and call it a day after saying the Maladoo gang got only one of two siblings.

>>6140658
>>You still plan to finish this monster hunt before you go [Continue the Sunset Lake arc]

>>6140358
>Pledge to eliminate the threat entirely—though you’ll need a reward AND an advance to get it done
>You still plan to finish this monster hunt before you go [Continue the Sunset Lake arc]
It’s useful to have some renown. Also we might never know when we need to come back here.

>>6140172

Rolled 13 (1d20)

>>6140488
>>6140556
>>6140581
>>6140626
>>6140658
>>6140660
>>6140799
“LISTEN,” you say raising your voice above the murmurs of the crowd and preempting Leif’s next asshole objection, “This is a BATTLE, in a larger WAR. Wasn’t I just sayin’ that, Pearl?”

Svanhilda Pearl’s eyes widen as many more eyes turn towards her. The dwarf had only just arrived at the edges of the crowd, but suddenly she’s centre-stage.

“Ach… I’d rather ye leave me out of this… But aye, ye did.”

“Exactly right!” you continue, smirking smarmily at Leif. “A war WE’RE winning. US. WE’RE the ones getting results—”

“It was us who lured and captured the first lake monster,” objects the male half-elf from Leif’s party, ‘Tri’ or something if you remember right.

“Only counts if you keep it,” you quick quip. “Every fisherman worth his fuckin’ BOAT knows that, isn’t that right boys?”

There is a chorus of agreement on general principle, which drives the half-elf’s head down and turns his face flush with embarrassment.

“It was the MALADOO GANG here that actually CAUGHT the damn thing, and it was US who, with a few coins and some gobli—Uh, some good, old fashioned GRIT got down and dirty to eliminate the threat. I don’t see anyone else here sending seasoned fighters down into the caves to root around and save the local fishing industry. Do YOU?”

There are a few whispers, but the docks are mostly quiet now. You have everyone’s attention, and enough respectful recognition o keep them from interrupting. Sure, calling your crew ‘seasoned’ is a bit of a fib, but you’ve at least got goblin It’s just like you were saying, though: you need to land the ‘fish’ before it counts.

“Without us, OUR legwork, OUR info, OUR cave-fighters, OUR plan, you all’d have caught yourself one or two of those monsters and totally missed out on their mama, AND a whole nest more of ‘em that would have eaten their way through the whole lake next season!”

You turn to the guards, mustering up for the final blow. You resist the urge to stand on tip-toe to get closer to eye-level, since (you’ve long since learned) that only make you look LESS imposing to human males. Instead, you spread your stance wider, square your shoulders, tilt your head back and puff out your chest—a surefire way to snag some eyes, without makes you look like a little girl.

“And that’s all on a shoestring budget, mind you, from the goodness of our hearts. Now imagine—IMAGINE, will ya’—what we can do with a bit more moolah. Give us our proper reward, advance us a bit more capital, and we’ll have this whole lake crystal clear and monster free. That’s a promise!”

[Base DC was a graduated 10/15/20. Thanks to the quality on the write-in arguments, that's reduced to 7/12/17.]

>>6141001
“Alright, alright!”

13: Two degrees of success!

The guards can’t argue with that, especially with the cheer of the crowd at your back. You allow yourself a quiet breath of relief. You’re not used to a mob of humies being your back-up like this, as opposed to more of an ANGRY kind of mob situation.

It’s… Actually kind of nice.

You throw a look and a gesture to the gang—the Maladoos AND your own gob-and-goat-gang, that is—to take off and leave the rest to you. They seem eager enough to oblige, exhausted by your efforts and warier around the locals than you in the case of your own crew. Only Cyrene Black insists on tagging along a you tail the local constabulary to their HQ, presumably to see that you don’t screw she and her friends out of their slice of the pie. You can respect that, you suppose.

No, you save your shade and your mocking hip-shimmy for those Green Leif pricks—and one prick in particular, natch. You give a little to the Delvers on your way by their tech-heavy set-up, which seems to have secured one of the middling ‘manders, but considerably less respect and little reward in light of your own announcement. Hey, that’s just business!

The guardhouse isn’t exactly the best you’ve ever seen, honestly resembling an upside boat of unusual size more than anything else. It’s old and patchwork, clearly retrofitted with fresh wood from many a mismatched tree over the long years, and slathered with a thick coat of blue-grey paint to protect (poorly) against the vagaries of harsh northwestern winters. Still, shit, it’s a nicer building than anything in New Goblintown, so what the fuck are YOU going to say about it?

Best of all, it’s good money inside—YOUR money, once the guards have dipped into their kitty and doled it out.

The coin and support on offer is the equivalent of 60 points, with 40 of it an advance. You are promised an additional 40 if you can produce proof of the monster threat being definitively eliminated.

>>6141014
You try to keep your cool at the profit proffered to you and your party, but the truth is that this might be the most money you’ve ever handled at once, as a Boss rather than a minion or a hireling. Even when you were running a gang of bandits out in the Goblin Wastes, you rarely saw so much coin, as opposed to barterable goods—rich merchants usually don’t get that way by being stupid, and only stupid merchants or especially desperate sorts passed through known goblin raider territory. You see Cyrene sizing up her share with considerably less reverence, but then again that makes sense—she has a bearing that screams ‘rich bitch’, even if she and the Malamutts don’t exactly seem to be rolling in dough these days.

Though speaking of the Maladoos…
>You’ll share the credit—and reward—with the Maladoo gang, offering them up a half-share to keep them around and on retained
[Reduces your own party’s morale, but scores you two inexperienced fighters (Cyrene and Fred, who have 2 ranks in melee combat and 2 ranks each in trapmaking and in negotiation respectively) two hirelings (Norville and Vel, who have no combat aptitudes but 2 ranks in athleticism and in scholaticism), and Maladoo (demonic beast of unknown stats, at least knows the spell <Power Word: Stun>), plus use of their equipment until the end of the arc.]

>Take the lion’s share of loot and emphasize your own team’s importance, then go your separate ways
[Reduces relations with the Maladoo gain, bolsters your own party’s morale, gives you more points to work with to secure equipment and outside hires, possibly longer-term, as well as to pay for Svanhilda Pearl’s services.]

Now is also a good time to start specifying what strategies you have in mind, if any and brainstorming equipment or allies you might want to seek out before your next hunt. One thing to determine in particular...

Do you plan to retain Svanhilda Pearl's services?
>Yes, you'll keep using the Pearl
[Current rate is 4 points a day, though there will be chance to try and lower that, NOT guaranteed]
>No, you don't need her or her boat anymore
[Specify you're getting another captain to take you out or don't think you need a boat anymore.]
>Actually, she's been pretty useful... You might see about hiring her onto your crew full time
[Costs 15 points, but comes with a boa and related equipment. Has ranks in piloting, navigation, mercantilism, and [REDACTED]]

>>6141015
>Take the lion’s share of loot and emphasize your own team’s importance, then go your separate ways
Later virgins
Norville almost died, shouldn't they be staying out of this on their own initiative?

>Yes, you'll keep using the Pearl
Open to replacing her, but I'm holding off until we figure out how the heck we're gonna get this thing.

>>6141015
>You’ll share the credit—and reward—with the Maladoo gang, offering them up a half-share to keep them around and on retained

I really really like having Mystery Inc here, it's a fun element of the adventure

>Yes, you'll keep using the Pearl
It doesn't seem like a huge sum of money anymore, especially if we work quick

>>6141068
+1

I like having Maladoo around. As for the ship, sure. For now. We don’t know if a ship will be useful in the future, but right now, yeah

>>6141076

Am>>6140799

>>6141015
>You’ll share the credit—and reward—with the Maladoo gang, offering them up a half-share to keep them around and on retained

>Yes, you'll keep using the Pearl

The plan is simple : Get Norville to level up.
He can turn decently into a Rogue(Scout) with skills in Stealth, Survival, Acrobatics, Deception, Perception. Heck, He should also get the "Mobile" feat to bait and run the monsters around without losing a leg.

>>6141001
>Sure, calling your crew ‘seasoned’ is a bit of a fib, but you’ve at least got goblin
*at least got goblin night-eyes.

>a surefire way to snag some eyes, without makes you look like a little girl.
*without making you look like

>>6141015
>Take the lion’s share of loot and emphasize your own team’s importance, then go your separate ways
you snooze you lose

>Yes, you'll keep using the Pearl

>>6141436
>>6141137
>>6141126
>>6141077
>>6141076
>>6141068
>>6141033
[This is a close one, so I'm using a judgement call and treating >>6141077 as valid, since SfBWiEu4 is a multipost ID. Remember, backlink 1post votes to ensure they are counted.]

Rolled 11, 14 = 25 (2d20)

>>6141548
“…Really?”

“Really,” you answer.

“…And this isn’t a trick?”

“Wh—Look, Black, if you don’t want it…”

“No, no, I’m not saying THAT, ti’s just…”

“Just WHAT?”

“I sort of got the impression that you didn’t really much care for us.”

“Yeah, well, maybe beggars can’t be choosers,” you snap, and then sigh and soften your tone as you continue: “And maybe you all proved yourselves better than I gave you credit for.”

“Wow, really?” Cyrene Black asks, violet eyes wide and a smile starting to form on her face. “Because actually, I really respect your whole ‘take no guff’ attitude, and your—”

“Easy there,” you chuckle. “Ass-kissin’ won’t get you extra, and I’d prefer it from Joens if it comes down to it.”

You can’t keep a straight face at the deathly pall that falls across Cyrene Black’s pretty little mug at that one.

“I’m messin’ with ya’, Black. Thanks for the help and, hey, if Norville’s not too freaked out for you lot to help us out…”

“Oh, him? Norville’s ALWAYS freaked out. We’ll just buy him some snacks and he’ll be right as rain.”

“Good,” you conclude, glancing over at the guards to make sure they’re listening as well. “‘Cause we couldn’t have done it without you.”

You retain 36 points, and the services of the Maladoo Gang for the remainder of the arc, plus improved relations with them moving forward.

Honestly, you see a lot of potential in that bunch of brats—even that Norville, who DID after all return to chase down the drake which nearly ate him. It took some time, but you hoenstly feel better with them at your back…

“You gave up HALF our reward??”

An-Yii, evidently, feels otherwise.

“And to a bunch of children, no less,” Khorine sniffs, without a hint of irony despite being (you guesstimate) like half the age of the youngest Maladoo.

“Look, they earned it,” you say reasonably. “Do YOU wanna’ go toe-ta-toe with Mama Monster with only the six of us?”

“…Six?” Yeb-Uit asks, confused.

“She’s counting my blight,” Khorine says with unsubstantiated confidence.

“I’m COUNTIN’ CZ and Hershy,” you correct her. “Hey, is she back yet? Anyone seen CZ?"

“If this is half the reward, we coulda’ just taken off already, and fuck the rest of it,” An-Yii grouses, clearly sick of Sunset lake and its little lake-drake problem.

“Come on, Yeb, back me up?” you petition the old Wasteland warrior.

He remains silent. You guess he really didn’t like being covered in monster-barf. Well, shit, who DOES? But that’s just life in this line of work, right?

[Leadership roll, DC 12 because you achieved a notable success with no casualties and have more reward to offer.]

>>6141555

You’re not sure if it’s a testament to the reliance of your party, to your leadership, or simply to how much a goblin will put up with for material reward, but nobody defects or objects too vociferously. It takes a bit of Bossing, carrot-and-stick style, but all three of your lackies lay down and accept their lot…

Yeb-Uit’s Morale: Stable
Khorine’s Morale: Stable
An-Yii’s Morale: Low

…Which, come on, ain’t half bad? 36 points ain’t nothing—and that’s just SO FAR!

“Now we just need ta’ figure out how to score the rest.”

“Wait,” An-Yii asks, startled and outraged anew, “you eman you don’t got no PLAN?”

Before you can lose your patience with your nurse—or yourself for letting that little tidbit slip out of your gob-hole out-loud—the door to your room slams open. You all jump, scrambling for weapons. You needn’t have bothered, though, because…

“Guys! You guys! I met, like, the COOLEST dog and… Uhh…”

>>6141563
You breath a sigh of relief at seeing it’s just Cara-Zi, back and apparent safe-and-sound, though a little dirty and dishevelled. And… Wait, no, she actually looks a little different, now that you squint. Her face is smoothed over, her teeth less fucked-up, and… Are her hands actually kind of normal-looking, without those long-ass knives on the end of them?

“Do I even wanna’ know?” you ask.

CZ titters nervously, fidgeting in place and flushed-of-face, yet clearly quite pleased with her changed appearance. Ultimately, seeing her so happy makes it tough to stay mad at your ‘other half’, and so you spare her the lecture—for now—and instead tell her the good-and-neutral news.

“You mean I get to keep hangin’ out with Maladoo??” she asks.

“Uh… I guess?”

(Why is she so excited about that? Wait, were her and that weird, evil fuckin’ dog-thing ‘hanging out’ all day? Is THAT where she learned how to—)

“A-and the Maladoo Gang, too, I mean,” CZ quickly, and unconvincingly, amends her exclamation.

“…Uh huh.” One thing at a time, ZZ, one thing at a time. “Yeah, we do. At elast ‘tilw e sort out the ‘big fish’.”

“An’ since we’re back on THAT subject,” An-Yii interjects, “how exactly we gonna’ do that, Boss?”

All eyes are back on you again, which is to be expected but still presents a problem. After all, your plan to find, fish out, and filet the Monster of Sunset Lake is still a bit of a work-in-progress.

You gotta say SOMETHING though, right?
>Green Leif Company had some trick they used to lure out a smaller monster… You just need to finesse some of his lackeys into sharing the special sauce
>You figure if you can get all the fishermen to pool their catches and lay it out, you can maybe lure out a hungry Mama Monster for a bite to eat
>You have to spend money to make money—and that means looking into options for diving deep and breathing underwater for you and the crew
>Actually, now that your resident shapeshifter’s back, maybe CZ can be bait, swimming down and finding the Lake Monster herself?
>Write-in

>>6141564
>>Actually, now that your resident shapeshifter’s back, maybe CZ can be bait, swimming down and finding the Lake Monster herself?

If Norville's fine, send him walking somewhere unrelated to the bottom of the lake, like the shore where the cave were and the monster, like, possibly can't be anymore, right?

>>6141564
>Actually, now that your resident shapeshifter’s back, maybe CZ can be bait, swimming down and finding the Lake Monster herself?

>>6141564
>Actually, now that your resident shapeshifter’s back, maybe CZ can be bait, swimming down and finding the Lake Monster herself?
Time to make up for missing the first encounter
We might have been able to finish it if she had been there

>>6141564
>Actually, now that your resident shapeshifter’s back, maybe CZ can be bait, swimming down and finding the Lake Monster herself?
Can we spend money on stuff that could help her on that? Like traps? Am willing to support this if so

Am >>6141076

>>6141694
>>6141812
>>6141827
>>6141854
“Well come on,” you say, “why do ya think we were waiting for Cara-Zi ta come back.

“H-huh?” stammers the demogoblin in question.

“AND she’s more shifty than ever, ain’t that right?”

You give CZ a look, which she quickly clocks. She responds with an (over)eager nod, and a goofy little twirl and flex.

“Right! Yeah, I, uh, I actually spent all day workin’ on it,f or out… Plan… Which is to, uh…”

“Ta send CZ down inta the lake after that cowardly Monster!

“…Wait, what?”

Undaunted, you press on, hitting your stride as the ideas came fast and hard.

“Yeah! She can grow, like, fins ‘n stuff—”

“Well, yeah, I can—”

“Shit, she can prob’ly grow GILLS!”

“H-hey, waittaminute, no, ZZ—”

“Or, well, hold her breath a while, or maybe we can get her all kitted out with some magci shit, now that we’re flush with gold.”

“You mean our REWARD?” An-Yii points out skeptically. “We gonna spend all our money before we even make it?”

“There’s more comin’,” you say dismissively. “Lots more, if we play our cards right. And THIS card?”

You slap CZ on the back so hard she yelps, then sling an arm around her with a wide grin.

“We’re goin’ ALL IN on this one. this is the winnin’ hand, mark my word!”

“You need more than one card for a hand,” An points out. “Yeb-Uit, you buyin’ this?”

Yeb-Uit sizes the two of you up. You don’t so much as sweat, though, even under his steely scrutiny. When he shrugs and half-nods, you keep your fist-pump of triumph imaginary, saving the sentiment for later.

“Well, -I- think it sounds like goblin madness,” Khorine announces, “and I’m going to bed.”

In truth, and as lame and old as it makes you feel, the same is true for you: you’re bagged after a hard day’s hustle, and eager to hit the hay. Of course, CZ being back means you sharing a bed again… And damn, she kind of smells like stagnant water and wet dog. Where WAS she?

“Strip,” you order.

>>6142260
CZ laughs nervously, and turns around, but she does so, down her skinnies. Nobody here is squeamish enough to make an issue of it, yet she keeps on her underwear down below, and crosses her legs just so. You frown a little, knowing what’s down there ad still not sure how you feel knowing that THAT was a part of you, too. Not that you weren’t always a bit of tomboy or whatever, but even so…

“Hey, why didn’t ya get rid of the schlong while you were shiftin’ yourself all over?”

Cara-Zi laughs a strange, brittle laugh and shrugs. “Uh, still workin’ on it? This is kinda’ new.”

You frown, because you can tell when your ‘soul-sister’ is lying to you, but you don’t push. Partly, it’s because you don’t care—at least, not enough to make a whole thing of it here and now. Partly, you worry the answer will perturb you further, and make you question your own self. It’s a bit of old goblin wisdom, that: never start an argument right before a fight. And if CZ isn’t down to argue, well, shit—she might CRY, and that’s even worse. You’re never sure whether to smack her own and tell her to stop sniveling—proper goblin discipline—or whether you try to do like Tips would’ve done, and pat her and tell her she’s pretty or whatever.

“Whatever,” you say. “As long as you’re good ta’ do swimmin’ tomorrow.”

Cara-Zi frowns, but nods, and you think you can just about ‘sense’ her determination, in that weird way you sometimes pick up on her feelings. That there’s uncertainty beneath it is fine: bravado’s an old goblin tradition, too.

…

…

You lay awake long after ZZ has fallen asleep—and all the others, as well, as far as you can tell. Maybe it’s the excitement of all you learned today, and all you might still learn now that you pretty much have official permission from your sis to learn more Maladoo magic. Maybe it’s nerves about tomorrow—after all, you’re not even sure exactly what you’re up against, but it’s clearly a big deal by the way everyone else is talking about this monster.

Maybe it’s Zith-Zi’s question, right before bed.

…

Yeah, okay, it’s definitely at least mostly that last one.

>>6142261

You shrunk down your horns to nothing, made your claws into nails, squashed your toe-claws together into proper, dainty little hooves to just about fit in a shoe. You crowded all your hair together to where it’s supposed to be, and turned your legs the right way ‘round so you don’t walk around all weird and goat-y like Khorine.

And yet you still have a big swinging dick. WHY? Why didn’t you get rid of it? Why can’t you now, even when you squeeze your eyes shut and wish really super duper fucking HARD?

Because of the first vote of the quest, CZ cannot shift her sexual characteristics entirely male or female yet. She is inherently intersex/hermaphroditic/androgynous. Because she didn’t follow the knight’s path of chivalry and repression or learn to suppress your urges and desires, she also cannot abolish those characteristics entirely.

In the end you give up trying. Wasn’t that Maladoo’s lesson, and that of that ‘Nothic’ guy, too? You can’t help or change what you are and, shit, maybe you don’t NEED t. You just need to understand it, and work with it, and change what you CAN.

You smile a little at that thought, banishing your lingering aesthetic angst. You shut your eyes again, but this time you don’t try to picture yourself like the Zith-Zi you were, or that your ‘other half’ now is. No, you picture you—yourself, fully CZ, but the CZ that you want to be.

File: the full team.png (13 KB, 1733x174)

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>>6142264
When you wake up, you are…
>Essentially a dwarf—peachy-skinned, with some hair on your hands and feet and a ‘demihuman’ nose and mouth and whatnot, and a bit of a fuller body, like Svanhilda
>Like a little mini-elf—an elf kid, even!—with pointy ears and fine features, and shiny-bright eyes and full lips, like Tips
>A goblin—a proper goblin, though, not exactly like you or ZZ used to be, but still a little green ‘girl’ like An-Yii (and, admittedly, a bit like Yeb-Uit, too
>A beastie-folk! Now that you can make them less freakish, you kind of like your hooves—or Khorine’s hooves, rather, which you can emulate—and having hair everywhere, and maybe now you can have a little doggy snout a bit like Maladoo…
>Essentially unchanged apart from being more proportional and less ‘scaly’
>Write-in

You also wake up with some ideas about how to properly realize Zith-Zi’s big plan. You figure that what you need is…
>Something magical to make up for not being able to breath underwater
[Specify if you want a one-off solution (5 points) or something more permanent (15 points)]
>A better weapon for underwater fighting—maybe something like a fishing spear?
[Due to Monkey Grip, CZ can wield a medium-sized 1d8 fishing-spear with reach, but it would cost 4 points]
>A bit more back-up
[Specify who you want to bring down with you; if you plan to equip them with anything special; if you want to recruit anyone else, specify that as well,a nd what you’re looking for]
>Write-in
>Nothing; you got this as-is, and you don’t want to make more trouble by asking your sister to spend the reward

>>6142266
>Essentially unchanged apart from being more proportional and less ‘scaly’

>Something magical to make up for not being able to breath underwater
One off

>A better weapon for underwater fighting—maybe something like a fishing spear?
Tie a rope to the end with plenty of slack so we can reel in the body

>>6142266
>A goblin—a proper goblin, though, not exactly like you or ZZ used to be, but still a little green ‘girl’ like An-Yii (and, admittedly, a bit like Yeb-Uit, too

>Something magical to make up for not being able to breath underwater

>>6142266
>A goblin—a proper goblin, though, not exactly like you or ZZ used to be, but still a little green ‘girl’ like An-Yii (and, admittedly, a bit like Yeb-Uit, too
let's test drive more forms
>Something magical to make up for not being able to breath underwater (1 off)
>A better weapon for underwater fighting—maybe something like a fishing spear?

>>6142266
Does transformation affect our hands? If so, I want elf hands
If not,
>write in
Add or take away anything that interferes with how hydrodynamic we are

>Something magical to make up for not being able to breath underwater
>A better weapon for underwater fighting—maybe something like a fishing spear?

One off solution

Am >>6141076

>>6142266
>Essentially a dwarf—peachy-skinned, with some hair on your hands and feet and a ‘demihuman’ nose and mouth and whatnot, and a bit of a fuller body, like Svanhilda
or
>Like a little mini-elf—an elf kid, even!—with pointy ears and fine features, and shiny-bright eyes and full lips, like Tips
A fuller body would be great- just the thing to pump and dump Leif for intel for a second time. Just imagine the look on his face when he realizes he could’ve had twin sisters(ish)!
>Something magical to make up for not being able to breath underwater (Permanent)
Long term investment- I want our Sloggoth-sword back bros

>>6142266
>>Essentially unchanged apart from being more proportional and less ‘scaly’
For basic appeareance, But supportin' >>6142382

>Something magical to make up for not being able to breath underwater
One-off
>A better weapon for underwater fighting—maybe something like a fishing spear?
Harpoon time

>>6142382
>Does transformation affect our hands? If so, I want elf hands
[Yes, though if you're looking to take advantage of Monkey Grip, they'll need to be big when you're swimming with that spear.]

>>6142479
I’d rather the dexterity of five normal fingers, then. Elf + one off item + weapon

>>6142492
[I have company tonight, so orobably won't update until tomorrow.]

>>6142408
I'll support this.

>>6142781
alright, take care OP

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>>6142786
>>6142492
>>6142413
>>6142408
>>6142382
>>6142375
>>6142365
>>6142346
[Locked and writing! Though the update may be tonight depending how the morning goes. My company stayed later than expected.]

>>6143152
You can’t quiet get over the transformation. The totality of it is so striking, and how it makes you feel… Well, it’s a game-changer. Well into your morning routine, long after a respectable gobbo would have been done with their simple and utilitarian washing-up, you’re still staring into the basin at your finely-formed features: your little, upturned elfin nose your rosy pink cheeks, your dark brown hair no longer so haphazard, your cat-yeellow eeys now confining their colour to smaller, humanoid-style irises. You’re still small and all, enough that nobody’s going to be mistaking you for a full-grown elf, but between your skinny limbs and long, pointed ears—and a notable shift towards a thinner, more androgynous shape, with subtler curves—you might just about pass for a wee elfling.

“I’m glad YOU’RE pleased,” Zith-Zi grumbles as she yanks on her spats. “I’m glad SOMEONE’S havin’ a good morning…”

Your sis is still sour, you suspect, because of the start you gave her at dawn’s first light. You suppose you can’t blame her for that—it’s not every day, after all, that one wakes up with a stranger in their bed. You feel a mix of guilt and, admittedly, amusement at the especially girlish shriek your ‘other half’ had emitted at first seeing you. At the time, you’d been confused, for the transformation was not a wholly conscious one, and you’d LITERALLY been unconscious when it took hold. Now, though…

“I’m jus’ like Tips…”

You run your fine fingers over your full lips, and flutter your eyelashed. You trace nails—still sharp, still a little greenish beneath the cuticles, but otherwise quite elegant and shapely—across your jawline. Can this really be you?

It feels… Wrong. It Feel RIGHT, GOOD, yet… Who is this stranger in the reflection.

“Hey, CZ, hurry your fancy new ass up!”

You splash the water and shatter your frowning face’s wet reflection. Turning about, you shake off the doubt like a dog drying off. Yes, this is you! Of course it is! Why shouldn’t it be? You are whatever you want to be! That’s the point!

>>6143174
With your party mustered—well, your core group, you’re meeting the Maladoos later—you head out to the market. Following ZZ’s lead, you trail her to a little emporium on the edges of town. Its widow-shutters pulled up, and in lieu of any sort of glass-encased window displays you might see in the nicer districts of the big city, you instead find hanging charms and dangling doodads that your supernatural senses recognize, with a squint, as magical. A sign above the door depicts curly-cues of calligraphy, spelling out ‘Willow & Water: Charms & Tonique Shoppe’.

“This where ya’ got the tracking charm?” asks An-Yii as your group enters.

“That’s right,” Zith-Zi answers, with a boastful voice as if she made it herself.

“Crude work… HUMAN work,” pronounces Khorine as she in runs her blunt-tipped, grey-nailed fingers over them.

“Yeah, well who asked you?!”

You all look over and see a (human) woman with flaxen hair, somewhat disheveled and mid-length for a girl, peeking out from beneath a wide-brimmed, pointy-topped ‘wizard chat’. It has a belt, as is the style in the city among graduates of Hawksong’s Mages Tower, but even you can instantly identify it as literally a regular, around-the-waist belt repurposed to keep the floppy hat atop its owner. In lieu of academic robes, the apparent owner of Willow & Water wears a heavy, striped jacket over a simple knee-length dress, and very practical (but unfashionable) boots. It’s not a BAD look, necessarily, but its very mismatched and not especially arcane; you strongly suspect Tips wouldn’t be caught dead looking like this, fi he could help it.

“No pets an’ no summons in the shoppe!” the mage/shopkeep says, reaching out to slap a nearby sign that says much the same thing with the back of her knuckles.

“My twig blight is not a ‘summon’,” Khorine protests.

“It’s fine, it’s fine. Wait outside, kid.”

ZZ waves it off, and pats down Hershy’s hackles before handing him off to you. The feathered chimera-drake settles immediately, recognizing you—as few others do, ESPECIALLY now—as the same Zith-Zi whom he watched grow up. You smile, stroking his golden-turning-grey feathers and staying just outside the door so you can listen in.

>>6143175
“What do you need now? A re-enchantment of your divining rod, and a potion to dose a drake?”

“Oh? You heard about that?” ZZ asks.

“Everyone’s heard about THAT,” the proprietress answers plainly, “but it will cost you dearly. The ingredients for such a spell don’t grow on trees! Well… Some do, but realigning the orichalcum in the alloy takes time, and effort, and the alchemical ingredients for THAT—”

“Forget it,” your sister interrupts, “what we need’s something for swimming… And breathing underwater.”

“Ha! Right, and where am I going to get mermaid gill this time of year, at this altitude.”

“Some on, you’ve gotta’ have SOMETHIN’…”

“Well… What if you could do without breathing altogether, for an hour or so? Would that serve your purposes?”

“Shit, an hour? It’s a big lake…”

“You could buy MULTIPLE, if you’d like, but it will—"

“—cost me dearly, yeah yeah, I get it. Fuck. Alright, an hour’ll do. Say, you know where I can get, I dunno’, a harpoon or spear o soemthin’?”

“…For a gnome?”

“Human-size is fine.”

“Hmm…”

As the two are bartering and bantering, your own eye wanders until it settles across the broad, flat corridor of stamped-down mud and hither-tither cobblestones that denotes a street in Sunset Lake. There, another shop is opening up, and the finely-attired individuals—well, ‘fine’ by the standards hereabouts—are unspooling colourful fabric across odd wooden racks and setting up displays of dangling tunics and jackets, coats and dresses, and pleated trousers in imitation of the modern city styles. You look down at your own more-oversized-than-ever attire, a funerary cloak that looks more dead and done than ever after sleeping under that bridge.

New you, new outfit… Hey, that’s an idea!

Do you go buy new attire?
>Yes [costs 1 point]
>Yes, and… [costs 2 points, and you can specify something fancy or request specific (nonmagical) features]
>No, you’ll keep wearing what you’ve got.
[If you opt for a new clothes, specify if you have a style or anything in mind. Pictures are appreciated. This will inform an art commission sometime soonish, after all.]

>>6143152
>My company stayed later than expected.
Looks like one of my fav QM got some booty.
Congrats sports.

>>6143176
>>No, you’ll keep wearing what you’ve got.
We're a responsible tips-demon. We'll buy some fancy clothes AFTER defeating the drake and getting a proper reward

>>6143176
>No, you’ll keep wearing what you’ve got.

>>6143176
>Yes [costs 1 point]
since we want colorful stuff, let's go for a Landsknecht style
>>6143181
silly anons, qms don't fuck

>>6143176
>No, you’ll keep wearing what you’ve got.
Do we really need to? I guess we could find garters to tighten the sleeves or pants so it doesn’t bunch up in water but other than that? Not really.

Am >>6142382

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>>6143184
>>6143236
>>6143368
>>6143482
You shake your head at your own silyl notion. You’re a RESPONSIBLE demogoblin-cambion-elf-whateverthefuck, after all! You’ll buy some fancy clothes AFTER defeating the Monster of Sunset lake and earning your reward. Then, and only THEN, will you get yourself all dolled-up… Maybe something with some garters? Ooo, maybe something all colourful and frilly with a big hat, like Tips’ dad, Rudolfo?

“Come on, we’re going!”

That’s ZZ, issuing marching orders, and so you march. As you and the others follow her to your next destination, you catch your pinker-half looking at your hands a few times. Resisting the urge to pull them up into your oversized sleeves, you instead ask her what’s up.

“You can still make those all big ‘n grabby, right?”

“H-huh?”

By that point, you’re at a shop that seems to specialize in marine—uh, or whatever the freshwater lake equivalent is—equipment, mostly fishing and boating stuff. What Zith-Zi is eyeing up, however, is a pronged, pitchfork-looking thing, about eight feet long and ending in three wickedly-barbed spikes. You eye it up, and laugh a little.

“Isn’t a demon with a pitchfork a little, ya’ know…”

“Shh!” ZZ hisses.

You shut your gob-hole as she glances round nervously, checking to see that nobody heard you.

“Can you do it, or what?” she demands.

You squeeze your eyes shut thinking hard about your big gross hairy, jagged-nailed demogoblin hands-the hands you’ve had since ‘partition’ from your ‘sister’, every day until yesterday. Just thinking about those meathooks makes you feel all weird and sad and gross, and so you stop—even though you know it’s what ZZ wants, and instead just start picturing hands more like Svanhilda’s—strong, and thick-fingered, and capable, but still sort of femme and pretty in spite of the callouses. No, their beautiful BECAUSE of the callouses. You remember how those hands felt on your face, on your body…

<WANT: 10>

When you open your eyes, ZZ’s face is contorted, and her eyes are staring down—not at your hands, but lower.

“Hey, uh, yer packin’ half-chub.”

You gulp and cross your legs, tucking the embarrassing implement of your incomplete and spoiled femininity away. Zith-Zi grimaces and provides some cover while you do so. When she looks back, you hold up bigger, more spear-ready hands.

“Good,” ZZ says, though she still looks faintly disturbed. “That’s great. Good shit.”

You have 25 unspent points left.

>>6143514
Clutching your new spear awkwardly—but with an adequate grip to wrap ‘round the full, human-sized haft—you join the others in Zith-Zi’s explanation of the small, white stone which she holds up like some miraculous marvel of modern magic. You’re gathered upon the docks, with the rather-tired Maladoos—including THE Maladoo—all in attendance, also. You wave to the hellhound, who graces you with a glance but doesn’t rear up on his hind feet to wave back. Well, he IS in public, after all; you get it.

(Still hurts, though…)

“This,” ZZ explains, “is not just some rock. This is a…. Well, I didn’t get the name or nothin’, but it’s a rock that’s got enchantments on it, made outta’ coral from the sea or some shit, an’ all enchanted. It holds enough air in it that if you keep it under yer tongue an’ suck on it, it’ll keep ya’ breathin’ underwater for a full hour. Jus’ don’t swallow it, or you’ll be swallowin’ water, next.”

“What about the pressure?” asks Vel, narrowing her already-narrow eyes. “Anyone diving down there would be crushed by—”

“Listen, nerd,” ZZ sighs, “you see that bad bitch there?”

All eyes turn to the ‘bad bitch’ in question: you. You jolt at the realization, flushing, and attempt a nervous smile as you recoil into your soiled monk hoodie, kind of wishing you could disappear. Which, like, you KIND of can, actually, almost, in a way… But you can tell that wouldn’t be a good idea right now.

“That’s Cara. You ‘member her, right? She’s the oen who asked for the drake we ‘borrowed’.”

There’s a chorus of gasps and murmurs from the humans. Everyone in your own crew had got it out of their systems this morning, but to the Maladoo Gang, it’s a whole new revelation. You squirm under their scrutiny; can they see the ‘real’ you, in the imperfections beneath the shifted shape?

“She’s got magic comin’ out her ass,” ZZ asserts on your behalf. “She can handle a little water, aight, Dinh?”

“y-yeah,” you mumble. “I can handle a little pressure.”

“It’s not just about water, and it’s not just a little—”

“All aboooaaard!”

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>>6143515
Vel Dinh’s attempted explanation is abruptly interrupted by a familiar, feminine boom: that of Svanhilda’ Pearl’s voice, her dwarven constitution carrying her powerful voice and charming brogue far further than even your sister’s confident cadence can. ZZ seems to take this as the end of he argument, heading straight towards The Pearl—Svanhilda’s fishing vessel—and the others follow. Vel sighs, mumbling to herself about ‘atmospheres’ or some other nerd stuff that you’re sure Tips would understand; unfortunately, you only LOOK like him, and even then just barely.

Looking so much more like an elf must be why Svanhilda doesn’t immediately recognize you, as she greets the others—some cheerily, some brusquely. They pile onto the Pearl, and you…

>Hide among them and keep your hood up and your head down—maybe she wont’ recognize you?
>Approach her and apologize for the ‘incident’ the other night, explaining that…
>>You were afflicted with a terrible curse that has since been lifted [lie]
>>You are a ‘cambion’, but that you’re working on controlling it [truth]
>Write-in

She’s still beautiful as ever, of course—full-figured, big-breasted, suntanned and sultry, with a full, heart-shaped face and strong, muscly arms, and a gleaming hold tooth that only adds to her nautically-naughty charm, and with her brown tucked under a bandana and braided. There are still-healing scratches on her face and arms, though, telltale toothmarks on her throat, and bruises on her bosom—all your handiwork. You swallow your shame and, still more shamefully, your arousal.

Will you attempt to pursue further romance or ‘romance’ with Svanhilda Pearl?
>Yes
>No

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>>6143181
>>6143368
>RQM's personal life
I do alright for a middle-aged, divorced businessman who spends all his leisure-time on 4chan. Make of that what you will.

>>6143516
>Hide among them and keep your hood up and your head down—maybe she wont’ recognize you?
Haha how embarrassing

>No

>>6143516
>Approach her and apologize for the ‘incident’ the other night, explaining that…
>>You are a ‘cambion’, but that you’re working on controlling it [truth]

>>6143518
dat's my mean go-getter.

>>6143562
[You missed the second part of the vote]

>>6143563
Nice catch, thx
>>No

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>>6143184
Yeah and after we're going to buy a LEISURE SUIT

>>6143516
>Approach her and apologize for the ‘incident’ the other night, explaining that…
>>You are a ‘cambion’, but that you’re working on controlling it [truth]
>No

Rolled 16 (1d20)

>>6143696
>>6143562
>>6143542
You hover at the bottom of the gangplank, tapping your ‘hooves’ anxiously against the sodden timber until everyone else is aboard and willing yourself to be beneath notice. Only when everyone else is aboard, and Svanhilda is preparing to pull up the plank, does she truly see you. Her expression is questioning—as if trying to work out who you are wand why you’re lingering there at the same time. Only when you offer her a nervous wave and greet her does she recognize you.

“Hi. It’s me, Cara. Permission ta come aboard?”

And boy does she fucking recognize you, and remember your last ‘encounter’. Her eyes widen and she takes a step back. You cringe, and scamper up the walkway before she can pull it up and abandon you at the dock. The dwarf takes another step in retreat, eyes scanning around as if to scramble for a weapon. Your heart aches to see it, even as the whiff of fear on the lakeside breeze stirs your baser instincts up a little.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” you hasten to assure her. “I’m, like… Under control now.”

“…Aye?” the Pearl’s captain asks, sounding completely unconvinced.

(At least she’s not running and screaming…)

“Aye aye!” you say, snapping a salute and giggling.

(She doesn’t laugh…)

“Uh, s-so,” you stutter out as swiftly as you an, “I bet yer, like… Wonderingw hat happened, uh, that night?”

“Aye,” Svanhilda agrees hestitantly, “and how ye came to be as ye are now…”

She gestures to the ‘new you’. A part of you had hoped, childishly, that she would see your new form and all would be forgiven: that your clean, fresh features and elfin aesthetic would be so beauteous as to wipe away that little misunderstanding (or, uh, almost-rape) and renew the easy, casual closeness which you and she had earlier captured in your last voyage aboard her vessel. Now, with heavy heart, you recognize just how impossible that is. You really, really fucked this up.

“Yeah, about that…” You gulp. “I’m, uh, not really a beastwoman. Or… Like, a goblin. Not EXACTLY, anyway. See, thing is…”

Svanhilda listens as you explain your ‘condition’. You don’t get into every nitty-gritty detail of your genesis or history, but you tell her more than you’ve told almost anyone else, who didn’t already know what you are: that you’re a demogoblin—

“Or ‘cambion’, I guess?”

—and that you are heir to instincts and urges beyond your control, but that you’re working to change that.

“I mean, just look at me, right??”

You hold your arms out and do a little twirl. When you spin back around, though, Svanhilda’s eyes are hard, dark, and unmoving, like a still lake’s surface by dead of moonless night.

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>>6143719
16: successful diplomacy! CZ is allowed aboard, and for no extra expense.
You have 21 points left unspent

“Ye can come aboard me Pearl,” Svanhilda says, voice calm but stern, “but I want ye to keep your distance, ye ken? I dinnae know much about demons, or half-demons, but I ken enough to know they’re nae to be trusted.”

You shrink down in your robe—maybe literally? probably not, though, right?—and nod. You wonder why she’s even giving you this level of benefit-of-the-doubt, if she dislikes demons so much, but you’re too grateful (and too fearful of her changing her mind) to question it out loud.

“Y-yeah, I ken,” you mumble. “Thanks, Svanhilda…”

Like a beaten dog, you skirt around her and slink over to your friends and allies. ZZ raises her eyebrows at your approach, but you shake your head and she doesn’t ask anything else. From a distance, you watch Svanhilda pull up her anchor and grip the boat’s spoked steering-wheel, masterfully steering the Pearl away from the port and out onto the lake. The memory of those same hands on you now fills you with a queasy feeling that almost matches Khorine’s seasick-green countenance. You’ll never feel those hands’ supple strength in calloused caress again.

(Will you ever know tenderness like that, without what you are and where you come from getting in the way?)

You can’t help but dwell on those dour thoughts, spiralling into a silent sadness as the others chatter about their plans. You force yourself to look away from Svanhilda after a while, mostly because of the looks she’s giving you, and how much more tense she seems to be whenever your eyes meet. You pull up your hood and stare down at the lake, instead.

“Hey, you good?”

You feel your other half’s presence before her hand claps down upon your shoulder. You look over into ZZ’s face, and force a smile that you both know she sees right through.

“Yeah,” you lie, “I’m good.”

“Aight, glad ta hear it,” she says, playing along. “‘Cause we need you at yer best. The plan is…”

>CZ will dive down to the deepest areas of the lake and poke around with her spear, stirring up and slaying any cave-drakes she finds
>CZ and the others will creep around in the cave-system which ZZ and the gang visited yesterday, and CZ should be ready to chase down the mother-monster if she emerges
>The people on the Pearl are going to just go about fishing, keeping an eye on the competing parties and hoping the monster gets hungry enough to emerge of its own volition
>Write-in

>>6143722
>CZ will dive down to the deepest areas of the lake and poke around with her spear, stirring up and slaying any cave-drakes she finds

>>6143722
>>CZ will dive down to the deepest areas of the lake and poke around with her spear, stirring up and slaying any cave-drakes she finds

>>6143722
>CZ and the others will creep around in the cave-system which ZZ and the gang visited yesterday, and CZ should be ready to chase down the mother-monster if she emerges

Rolled 67 (1d100)

>>6143780
>>6143815
>>6143845
“…So I just, like… Dive?”

“Well, yeah,” ZZ replies, then frowns. “What?”

“Uh, well… Idon’t even know hat I’m lookin’ for, ya know? I didn’t see it before.”

“You saw the five-footer, right?”

You nod.

“Well, picture that, but about ten times bigger.”

You gulp.

“Hey, don’t freak out on me,” ZZ chastises you. “You don’t gotta kill it solo. Just spear any smaller ones you find, poke around on the floor of the lake, an’ if Big mama shows up, you come right back. Lure it to the Pearl!”

“Uhh… Okay,” you say, still not entirely convinced.

Nevertheless, you are determined not to let your sister or your new friends down. You exchange a brief look with Maladoo, whose solemn face remains set in canine impassivity, though the swivel of his ears reveals that your fellow creature-of-darkness has his eye on your performance as well. He’s not exactly your boss, but since he HAS become something of a mentor, this only increases the pressure.

(Though stripping down in front of so many witnesses has a certain psycho-sexual thrill…)

“Don’t wanna ruin my outfit,” you explain, “an, you know… All that weight and drag an whatever, so…”

“We get it, we get it!” ZZ says. Waving you on. “Just go already!”

You nod. Tucking the enchanted stone under your tongue, you take one last deep breath—you know just in case it doesn’t work so well—take up your pronged spear, and dive.

1: You're ambushed.
2-10: You have no success.
20-50: You find some smaller monsters...
50-90: You find the true monster, but...
90-99: You find the true monster, and...
100: !!!

Rolled 2 (1d10)

>>6143895
Despite your goblin night-eyes. It take you some time to adjust to peering around in the murky-dark waters of Sunset Lake. You’re able to shapeshift some webbing between your fingers and toes, and a thin membrane over your eyes, and that makes it a bit easier. Actually, it comes to you pretty instinctively, which is a pleasant surprise! Still, there’s debris from the bottom, flotsam floating around, silver-green fishies to distract you, and you’re never really gone swimming so deeply (let alone with a spear clutched close to your naked body), so it’s still and adjustment.

Once you’re adjusted, you’re pleasantly surprised by how quickly results come. Oh, it’s not immediate, but a part of you had feared that, in all this subaquatic vastness, there’s be too much empty space to find even a truly monstrous cave-drake. Honestly, that might even be true… Except, of course, that you’re a demon, and these things are full of Dark juju. In addition to darkvision, you’re packing DARKvision, and by peering about for the characteristic ‘glimmer’ of unholy arcana and following that unplaceable sensation, you are able to spot several salamander-thingies not unlike the one you saw bubbled-and-caged two days prior.

The magic pebble proves worth the gold coins spent to acquire it: with a pleasantly fizzy sensation like the champagne you snuck at Tips’ wedding a few years back, it fills your mouth with slightly-stale but life-sustaining air. Thus freed to dive deep and stay beneath the surface, you pursue your prey. Every time you approach, their whiskers twitch and their ‘wings’ beat water. The first couple times you nearly cry out in protest, but after that you remember to keep your mouth shut, lest you take in water and waste the air from the stone—the sensation of the two combined nearly makes you choke and gag as it rushes out of your nose.

67: You find the true monster, but…

You chase after your fleeing foes, considering whether it is worth the risk to hurl your fishing-spear at such small-fry. Before you can decide, though, a sudden pressure upon your sense alerts you of much bigger fish—err, amphibians—to fry. You stop short, turning you attention way from the departing drake to instead address a veritable underwater storm: dirt, debris, and torn-up underwater foliage spreading out in a great, misty cloud that obscures your dark-adapted eyes utterly, but cannot block your supernatural senses so easily.

(Well HELLO there, Big Mama…)

You grip your spear one-handed and paddle your feet and free hand to push into the cloud, not stopping to consider the risk until you’re already embedded in the murky miasma. Only then, squinting against the grey-blue-and-green haze, do you realize WHY such a mess of muck is being shaken up from the lakebed: you’re not the first one to find it.

“What the—hurk!”

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>>6143905
You shut your mouth again and squeeze your eyes shut against the familiarly-unfun sensation of magical fizz shooting our your nose. When you open them again, you properly perceive what had flummoxed you a moment prior: there, at the bottom of Sunset Lake, stands a strange, squat knight in odd-but-shining armour. Or, well, you ASSUME it would shine, under other circumstances: were they not so deep, or made so dirty by their duel.

The armour is unlike any you’ve seen before: a full-body suit, thick-limbed and with a domed helmet that seems to have a circular window on the face, meshed with metal an to protect a glass viewing-port for whatever little adventurer is wearing it. A huge tank is strapped to its back, and a spear not unlike your own is clutched in the figure’s grip, though it seems to be connected up by still more harnesses and uncanny apparatuses to the suit itself. Your eyes trail a longer, thciker cable or rope, stretching from the waist of the ‘knight’ and up towards the refracted light f the world above, broken by the shadowy silhouette of a boat. It’s a weird set-up for a weirder get-up, and you might not have even made the comparison to a knight if they weren’t pretty much fighting a dragon.

The Monster of Sunset Lake has 23 HP and will require a minimum of 2 hits to slay.

Oh, you sort of know the difference between a reptile and an amphibian, kind of, mostly. One’s rough and one’s smooth, mostly, right? Still, given the sheer SIZE of the Monster of Sunset Lake, and its general body-plan and all, it’s hard not to draw the comparison. ZZ wasn’t wrong: the ‘Big mama’ of all these other newt-thingies must be at least a good thirty-feet long, though a lot of it is tail. Its body is still marked by many a wound, especially around the head and neck, wreathed in a wide-cast net of thrashing, lashing tentacle-like whiskers, as if a whole plate of calamari was live and wriggling around its eyeless face and wide mouth, round and lamprey-like with its many rows of teeth.

It’s… Pretty fearsome-looking, all told. You’re sort of impressed the little guy fighting it isn’t running, since suit aside, whoever it is doesn’t look much bigger than you, and you’re bite-sized to this big beastie.

(Makes you wish you could’ve worn armour down here, but good luck swimming with any agility in THAT. Maybe if you’d had a suit of whatever-the-fuck that other shortie’s wearing, so you could just walk…)

>>6143909
You watch the lumbering, clumsy motions of the pint-sized subaquatic spearman going toe-to-toe with the creature that YOU’RE down here to catch, and decide what to do. There are a few options, after all, with the situation being so changed from what you might have originally envisioned. In the end, you…

>Join the ‘knight’ in flanking the ‘dragon’, hoping to take it down with the power of teamwork
>Sneakily swim over to cut the cable, if you can, to strand and disadvantage this obvious competition
>Attempt to bait the big beast away from the blighter in the battle-suit, so you don’t need to share the credit… Though even if it works, it’ll be chasing you and you alone…
>Write-in

>>6143910
>Attempt to bait the big beast away from the blighter in the battle-suit, so you don’t need to share the credit… Though even if it works, it’ll be chasing you and you alone…
well, that was the plan

>>6143910
>Attempt to bait the big beast away from the blighter in the battle-suit, so you don’t need to share the credit… Though even if it works, it’ll be chasing you and you alone…
Damn, Delvers got to it first

>>6143905
>with a pleasantly fizzy sensation like the champagne you snuck at Tips’ wedding a few years back
So. It’s been that long.

>>6143910
>Join the ‘knight’ in flanking the ‘dragon’, hoping to take it down with the power of teamwork
Honestly, might as well. The last thing we want is being alone, far from the ship, and injured. After the thing’s dead, take a chunk from it if possible. We need proof.

>>6143910
>Attempt to bait the big beast away from the blighter in the battle-suit, so you don’t need to share the credit… Though even if it works, it’ll be chasing you and you alone…

>>6143910
>>Attempt to bait the big beast away from the blighter in the battle-suit, so you don’t need to share the credit… Though even if it works, it’ll be chasing you and you alone…

[Power's out in town tonight. Sorry, no update!]

>>6144487
no problem, man

Rolled 4, 3, 2 = 9 (3d20)

Alrigth, we're back!

>>6143933
>>6143937
>>6143972
>>6144081
>>6143946
While you won’t pretend you’re not a little afraid of fighting such a titan, alone and in its element, you’re even MORE afraid of how angry and disappointed ZZ and the others will be if, after missing their first hunt, you come back empty-handed from THIS one… And with the Delivers (well, you THINK it’s the Delvers) seizing the day (and the reward money) in your stead! Those little guys must have used their weird gizmos to track it down somehow before you could...

But you have something that they don’t: mobility!

While the clunky-and-clumsy armoured adventurer on the lakebed is tussling with the overgrown caved-rake, you circle around and attempt to catch its eye. Upon remembering—duh!—that it doesn’t HAVE any eyes, and once more reminding yourself with a sizzling sting why you can’t open your mouth and shout to draw its attention, you go for broke and bust out the magic.

(Luckily, <Charm> is innate enough to not require somatic or verbal components. You just hope it will be enough…)

Rolling Mentalism and Survival (3d20, DC 15) to see if you draw it off...

Rolled 12 + 1 (1d15 + 1)

>>6144832

You squint your eyes and furrow your now-harness brown, forcing a pulse of power through your temples and out into the surrounding water—a pulse that says “Hey, lookit me, I’m a pretty little fishy or, like, whatever! Come chase me!” It even works, too…

4, 3 ,2: FAILURE

…Sort of. The big beast thrashing tendrils stop for a moment as it registers your energies and turns its head towards you, jaws hanging open as if in confusion or surprise. Thing is, that’s when—

ZZ-ZZ-ZZAP!

—the Delver-or-whoever strikes with their weirdo spear. You get a sense of what the cable’s for, as it pulses with a binding-bright light that makes you turn your head and immediately seizes the Lake Monster’s attention anew.

(Which is putting it mildly. Ooo, that bitch is MAAAD!)

Rolling the Delver's damage on the free shot...

Rolled 16 (1d20)

>>6144835

She's not only angry, either: the Lake Monster is hurt, and afraid. The water boils and bubbles around the Lake Monster, such that you can't quite see how badly she's hurt, but you can feel it with your empathic sense. You feel a pang of sympathy for a fellow spawn-of-darkness, being stabbed and filled full of burning light… But hey, that’s what you’re here for, too, sorta’.

(Suddenly, you’re not entirely sure how to feel about that…)

Though you can’t make out the particulars through the underwater steam-shroud, you can tell the Monster is spasming something fierce, and that her many mouth-mounted manipulators are lashing out blindly to find the source of her suffering.

Rolling the Lake Monster’s auto-grapple…

>>6144837
16: SUCCESS!
Suddenly, one lashing length of rubbery meat strikes true, slapping into the chestplate of the underwater knight. The Delver is staggered by the blow, but worse is what happens next: where one whisker finds its mark, a dozen more quickly follow, grappling each and every limb of the Delver in question and prising his limbs in every which way. No scream of terror escapes the steel-plated sub-marine spearman, but you can feel that fella’s fear just as sharply as you earlier tasted the Lake Monster’s.

So, too, do you scent the sensation of predatory satisfaction—of having its prey at its mercy, ready for consumption.

The Delver’s spear hangs from a cable at his (or her, you guess?) side. Gauntlets fingers grope and grab at empty water , straining and failing to take up the deadly electrical weapon once more… But to no avail.

The Monster of Sunset Lake has 10 HP left, and will take at least one more hit to incapacitate.
The Delver is uninjured, but helpless in a grapple
You have 30 HP, 2/3 MP, a fishing spear, a dagger, and no armour right now

What will you do?
>Go for the shock-spear and try to stab it! That’ll risk getting grappled yourself, but that thing look like it really stings!
>Go in with your own spear, from the back, where you’re safer!
>Since <Charm> failed… Maybe try <Fear> instead, to scare it off and save the Delver with less risk to you?
>Fuck this—sorry, Delver-or-whoever, but you’re going to swim up to the surface and signal the Pearl to come over this way, so you can tackle this monster with back-up!
>Write-in

>>6144845
>>Go for the shock-spear and try to stab it! That’ll risk getting grappled yourself, but that thing look like it really stings!

>>6144845
>Go in with your own spear, from the back, where you’re safer!
If we save them we can claim a bigger share
Lifewise for using our own weapon instead of theirs

>>6144845
>Go in with your own spear, from the back, where you’re safer!
it's only 10hp, we can do with our own.

>>6144845
Go in with your own spear, from the back, where you’re safer!

>>6144845
>Go in with your own spear, from the back, where you’re safer!
He’s in the limelight right now. We don’t need to join him.

>>6145026
am >>6143946

Rolled 14 (1d20)

>>6145026
>>6145023
>>6144979
>>6144919
>>6144886
A few thoughts occur to you, as you circle around behind the ongoing underwater melee. There is the thought that being amidst a writhing forest of meaty feelers sounds pretty fun, but also not like a worktime-activity, and also potentially pretty lethal. There are also the two related thoughts that if you team up with the Delver Knight or use his-or-her weird weapon, you might be indebting your own party to theirs in some way, forcing you to split the take. Zith-Zi would hate that, and so you—a former Zith-Zi yourself once upon a time—do, too.

(This oughtta do it…)

You swim upwards and angle your spear down, clutching it between your legs and gripping it with hands and with knees both for a moment as you take aim at the back of the beast’s head. You have to shift your equipment a bit for that, being naked and all. A thought occurs, belatedly: when you stripped down to avoid being dragged down by robes or armour, did Svanhilda see?? Or the night before? No… No, that never could have worked.

(Focus, focus!)

You shake your head, hard, to jar loose the intrusive musings. You finish aiming the spear, hoping the little Delver Diver can hold on just a little longer, and then you plunge downwards, kicking hard and clutching your spear to your slimmed-down bosom, throwing all your force and wait into the plunge…

You sadly lack any direct combat bonuses besides your Natural Weapons, not applicable here. However, you are flanking, and the enemy is occupied. You’re attacking from behind, and you’re using a specialized weapon. As such, you roll 1d20, DC 12.

Rolled 4 (1d8)

>>6145033
A hit! Rolling damage...

Rolled 1, 8, 8 = 17 (3d20)

>>6145034
>>6145033

You struck true! You felt, rather than heard, the monstrous-retort: a water-trebling boom from the Lake Monster’s always-gaping maw. It released the Delver in its startlement, which almost made you whoop with joy for though his/her fear was a fine and piquant thing, it wasn’t what you were here for and you didn’t wish the small-sized adventurer ill, really. And anyway, the Lake Monster’s fear was fresher, finer…

And tinged with rage.

“Oh,” you said aloud, wincing as the water sizzles against the stone.

(Oh, she’s REAL terrified, now.)

A mortal terror had taken her, this monstrous and Dark mother of monstrous lake-critters, stabbed in the back and burnt all up her front, hunted and harried and now—here and now, against the two of you—making a desperate last stand.

Also, you’d forgotten about that BIG fucking tail, now threshing through the water like a tumbling log, too fast to easily avoid—let alone while still pulling free your spear.

The Monster of Sunset Lake has 6 HP, but is making its attack. It has multiattack, so each successful roll is its own hit

>>6145038
Unable to dodge the tail, you instead pulled your legs up to your chest, as if to curl up into a ball. When the tail came hurtling towards you to smack you to shit, you instead grabbed hold of the spear still embedded in the back of the bitch’s gill-slit, twisted it hard, and kicked off the paddle-thick rear limb of the monster. It—she—screamed again, that scream that vibrated the lake around you, and pulled away, lurching forward in agony. You checked your spearhead to ensure the pronged points were all still there and, sure enough, there they were!

So, too, was Mama Monster.

Critical Failure! The Lake Monster has stunned itself with pain, giving you a free success on your next move! To-hit dice will be rolled but just to see if you crit.

Now is your chance to strike, to finish this!

You…
>Cast <Fear>, to drive the monster away for now, that you might finish it off with your friends in safer circumstances
>Shapeshift some claws to tear it apart [4d20 to hit, but 1d2 damage without a crit]
>Stab again with the spear [1d20 to hit, 1d8 damage without a crit]
>Take up that shock-spear [1d20 to hit, 1d15+1 damage without a crit]
>Write-in

If you choose to engage rather than driving off the Lake Monster, and don’t finish it, it will make its auto-grapple attempt. if that fails, it has a morale check coming up as to whether to attack again or retreat. If you use fear, it’s guaranteed not to attack again. Consider this little tactical blurb a bit of tutorial, or a result of some latent mentalism by CZ

>>6145043
>Stab again with the spear [1d20 to hit, 1d8 damage without a crit]
it have 6HP.
So with our auto-success, I'm taking that 1-chance-over-4 to finish it with 0 Delver contribution.