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Aug 29, 2020 01:21
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| # ? Apr 20, 2024 00:39 |
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2.13. A Little Light Reading Artist: Zachary Suchlicki You hesitate. "Our... troupe makes decisions together. I will speak to my friends, and get back to you." "By Sigmar, you can't even decide for yourself. No wonder your kind is not allowed in cities." Walther spits on the ground. "Fine. Go chatter amongst yourself. I will provide a firm hand if necessary." He stumbles towards the rest of the nobles, screaming for drink. You call your group over and let them know of Walther's proposal. Nazril speaks first. "We could lean on the boy's father for a decent payday once we get to Auerswald. Then we see cousin Okri, and get what we need to make it to the Grey Mountains. I say we go for it." "Great, that's two. Al?" The scholar looks at the nobles with suspicion. "I don't like this. Nobles, by the very nature of their position, don't see the world like we do. None of us are 'people' to them, we're at best toys for their amusement. You heard how they talked about our little group, they think we are beneath them." "You seem to know a lot about nobles for a lecturer, Al." His face goes red. "Well, yes, somewhat. There's a 'von' in my name for a reason. The other von Einbecks run a small fief in eastern Wissenland. But I'm not exactly welcome with the rest of the family given my, uh, views on nobility and the Empire." "What kind of views?" "That they shouldn't exist. Nobles, trading clans, dynasties in general turn land itself into a instrument of extortion against the people. Aristocracy is much more dangerous to Men than Chaos." Nazril laughs. "Yeah, that'd do it." "So I can't in good conscience recommend we take in this 'golden youth', even if we do get paid in the end. Which is far from certain, given the nobility's track record when dealing with regular people, let alone, if you pardon the expression, Travellers." Dika stares daggers into Al. "Don't say 'Travellers', old man. We are Strigany." "My apologies, young miss, the Strigany." You turn to Dika. "Two 'yes', one 'no'. Dika?" "Oh, I say we take him. If he runs his mouth, no one will ever find the body, and Pesha here will have a new doublet." "Straight to the point as always. Pesha?" Pesha signs at you. You. Yes. I. Yes. "Four against one. Sorry, Al, the noblet comes with us." Moving away from the group, you lock eyes with Walther. You nod, and he drunkenly nods back. Not obvious at all. You sit down at your table, and the final noble plops down across from you. "I still did not hear my future, fortune teller." At least it's not 'witch'. "Of course, milord. Touch the cards, and I will tell you your future." He puts his hand on the deck and smiles. "Please. Call me Klaus. There's no need to be so formal." The boy is charming, but something in his eyes worries you. He is like a beaten dog, waiting for the stick to come down again so it can finally tear off the arm swinging it. You set the cards in their proper place, turning them over one by one: past, present, future. Decision. Change. Sacrifice. Betrayal. Death. Lots of blood in this boy's future. "You have been carrying a burden, Klaus. A burden of choice. But tonight, your mind is made up, and great change is upon you. The road ahead is difficult, and it will take sacrifice upon sacrifice. And remember: those who offer at the altar often end up offered on it." Klaus thinks on his prophecy. "And my decision. Is it the right one?" "Depends on who you ask. That question will haunt you for the rest of your life." Brief as it may be. Klaus rises and bows. "Thank you, fortune teller. You have eased my mind somewhat." He rises, deep in thought. Pesha and Dika pack the table, and you join the twin brothers. "Milords, it was a pleasure sharing the future with you, but I'm afraid our little troupe must be off. We bid you good tidings, and wish you well in your endeavours." Markus pays you no attention. Instead he is absolutely enamoured with one of the working girls. Reiner sees you off. "You did what you had to do, Traveller. Really went above and beyond. Thank you." You bow and get the gently caress out, away from the soon-to-be murder scene. Walther catches up with your group in a few minutes. "Right then, off we go. To the inn?" "My Baronet, there is absolutely no way any of us can afford to stay at the inns here. Unless you've been carrying more gold than you're letting on, we're setting camp a few hours away." The noblet mutters under his breath, but follows suit, as much as his drunk legs let him. Pesha helps him find his footing, and you set off to find a decent camp site. It takes your group a few hours, but you find the place for a makeshift shelter. While everyone is busy setting up the tents, you finally take the time to look at Baba Tsera's book. Opening it up, you find runes in a language you don't recognize, but the cover is warm to the touch, gently pressing back against your hand. You remember what you did back on the barge, close your eyes, and try to "speak" to the book. You stand in a great emptiness, with nothing above or below you. A dark fog rises from behind you, and whispers in your ear. "THE SEER SEEKS HELP FROM US." You turn around, but there is nothing there. Just the endless expanse of the great emptiness. The fog remains behind you. "Who are you?" "THE ANSWER WOULD TELL YOU NOTHING. IT'S ENOUGH THAT WE HELPED THE SAGE YOU HOLD IN SUCH HIGH REGARD." The fog whispers in a myriad of voices: men, women, children. They fight for each syllable, desperate to speak, but none hold power for long. "YOU CAME TO US. WE CAN HELP. BUT THERE MUST ALWAYS BE AN OFFERING." You consider this. "How much of an offering?" "THE GREATER THE TASK, THE GREATER THE PRICE." "I need to speak to a spirit that I gave an oath to. Can you help me with that?" The Chorus laughs in a thousand thousand voices. "SUCH A TRIFLE. WE WILL TEACH YOU THIS, AND MUCH MORE." "What will I have to do?" "THIS WILL REQUIRE NO PAYMENT. CONSIDER IT A DEMONSTRATION." You open your eyes. The book floats in mid-air, its pages shuffling back and forth, until they stop. You study the runes, and suddenly, you KNOW. The Chorus was right, this really is a trifle. The Winds aren't that hard to control. You focus and read the words, moving your hands through the air as you do. The warm glow of the fire is drowned in a sickly green. Piece by piece, the student's spirit is assembled in front of you. This far from its corpse, it flickers in and out of the world, like a candle flame dancing in the wind. "Oathbound... calls. Benedikt... answers." You hold the book in your hands, and feel the whispers in the back of your mind. "THE FIRST GLIMPSE IS FREE. WE ALWAYS OFFER MORE, FOR A PRICE." The ghost stands in front of you. What do you do? A. Ask it to stand watch. A ghost never tires, and can see trouble much better than anyone else in your group. You can't rebury him if you die, after all. B. Ask it to scout. Pretty soon, there's gonna be a murder happening at the Lorlay. The ghost might see what's going on. C. Bombard it with questions. Last time you talked, it was kind of a tense time, so try to figure out what makes Benedikt tick. D. Speak to the book again. What ELSE can The Chorus teach you about dealing with spirits? At the very least, you could ask for a price list.
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Aug 31, 2020 00:29
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A
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Aug 31, 2020 02:41
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A
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Aug 31, 2020 03:00
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D
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Aug 31, 2020 15:34
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B ties us directly with a murder if he's spotted. Big nope there. A
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Aug 31, 2020 16:14
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D Always be asking (mechanical) questions!
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Sep 1, 2020 05:50
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A. Full defense.
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Sep 1, 2020 06:01
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D We have this tool and probably won't live long to use it anyway. Might as well see what kind of options we might have in the future.
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Sep 1, 2020 15:39
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A
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Sep 2, 2020 05:11
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Whoops, there was a delay for some unknown reason. We now return to your regularly scheduled warhammery.
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Sep 18, 2020 18:58
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2.15 - Uninvited Guests Artist: Sergey Vasnev You stand up, locking eyes with the spirit. "Benedikt, we may be in danger. There are those who wish us harm in these woods, searching for us. Should they find us, we will be undone, and I will not be able to fulfil my oath. But you, in your current... state, you could see them before they could see us." The spirit moves what's left of its jaw, thinking on your words. "I... understand. I will... guard." Benedikt floats away from the camp, making his rounds. The book in your hands pulsates lightly, reminding you of greater power within. Dika and Pesha seem unfazed by your dealings with spirits, fully consumed by flashing signs at each other. Their hands are moving so fast that you only catch a few words here and there: drunk, waste, dagger, gold. On the other side of the fire, you can see the subject of their argument: the passed-out noblet. Nazril sighs and walks over to the baronet of who-gives-a-gently caress, and nudges him with his foot. After a brief struggle, he manages to turn Walther onto his side. "At least this way he won't choke on his own sick", the dwarf says. "Not your first drunk noble?" "Not even the twentieth." "My companion here has quite a reputation in Nuln, especially among Gunnery School students", says Albrecht. "All lies and you know it." Nazril plops down on the ground by the fire, and looks through his bag. "Are you actually expecting trouble, or are we now lying to spirits as well?" "I'll sleep a lot easier once we put some distance between us and the Wallenstein family problems." The professor takes out a small pipe and fiddles with it, while looking at the drunk aristocrat. "The noble scion of house von Jungfreud would make a fine loose end. Or an excellent patsy." "And he wouldn't have to be breathing to play those roles. So yes, Nazril, I'm expecting trouble." "Hmph. Don't like the dealing with the dead, either. It's unnatural. Besides, I thought you wanted to avoid looking like the stories of your people. And yet here you are, reading from dark tomes and getting spirits to do your bidding", says the dwarf. "I did no such thing. I asked Benedikt if he would like to help keep an eye out, and he agreed. I'm not a necromancer." "Sure. Just don't try to pull that at Karak Azgaraz. Mountain dwarfs aren't as forgiving as I am." Both of you decide to leave it for now, and focus on the food. The leftovers from last night's caravan feast hit the spot, and soon everyone drifts away to their own dreamscape. --- "Oathbound! Enemies!" Your dream of a warm house with a thatched roof is shattered by Benedikt's wailing. You fly awake, reaching for a dagger in your boot, and look around the campsite. Everyone but the noble is awake, their weapons drawn: Pesha with his daggers, Nazril with his crossbow, and Albrecht with his pistol. "How many are there? Where?" "A small band... on horses. Ten minutes out. Dressed like Norsemen... but no Chaos upon them." You look over to Albrecht. "Looks like patsy it is. We have to move." Pesha flashes signs at you: No, time, move, camp, leave, bag. "Let them come, got enough bolts for twenty men here", interrupts Nazril. "I'm not running twice in two days." You feel the book vibrate in excitement in your bag. "And what of our charge? The beating heart of the aristocracy can hardly walk in this situation, let alone run", says Albrecht. "Leave him. If they're looking for him, it'll at least slow them down", says Dika. "Break his leg just in case, and run. I'm not betting on an old man and a dwarf when it comes to a fight." What do you do? A. Leave the bags, have Pesha grab Walther and run. They may have horses, but you have a ten minute head start. B. Leave the noblet behind to slow them down. You will be stuck in the Grissenwald with no supplies, but you might stay alive. C. Stay and fight. You got everyone's weapons, the book, a spirit on your side, and ten minutes to get in position. D. Another plan?
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Sep 18, 2020 18:59
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Are norseman the type of people who can track a people through the woods?
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Sep 18, 2020 20:00
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Outrail posted:Are norseman the type of people who can track a people through the woods? They are typically sea-based raiders. Fantasy vikings who follow chaos god but are more sane about it than cultists.
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Sep 18, 2020 20:26
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These seem like they might be fake norsemen - but if we beat them in a fight and they are fake, we're still gonna get the blame for whatever is going on here. If they are real, uh, I hope we can beat them. That said, I am less into leaving all of our poo poo and hoping for the best. I say C, unless there is some way the book can help us scare them off?
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Sep 18, 2020 20:27
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B I'm not interested in dying for a wastrel noble.
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Sep 18, 2020 20:29
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C. These guys were probably expecting to take us by surprise. We have time to spring the trap on them instead, and some capable fighters who will be fully prepared.
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Sep 18, 2020 20:33
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JT Jag posted:C. These guys were probably expecting to take us by surprise. We have time to spring the trap on them instead, and some capable fighters who will be fully prepared. We have a scholar, a mining engineer, a child, a ghost who said he can't fight, a drunk noble and... Ourselves with limited knife skills and no known offensive skills. None of those are "capable fighters"
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Sep 18, 2020 20:41
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chin up everything sucks posted:We have a scholar, a mining engineer, a child, a ghost who said he can't fight, a drunk noble and... Ourselves with limited knife skills and no known offensive skills.
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Sep 18, 2020 20:43
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We could use the noble as bait, wait for them to dismount and surround them.
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Sep 18, 2020 20:52
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chin up everything sucks posted:We have a scholar, a mining engineer, a child, a ghost who said he can't fight, a drunk noble and... Ourselves with limited knife skills and no known offensive skills. How could you do our boy Pesha like that? Also, Nazril is a trader, not an engineer. His cousin is an engineer.
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Sep 18, 2020 20:59
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2.16 - No More Running Artist: Tyler James You look at your little troupe. "Nazril is right, I'm done running. Let's show these 'Norsemen' what we can do." Pesha cracks his knuckles in response. "Dika, Pesha, help me prop up the noblet and stuff the bed rolls. It won't trick them for long, but it'll buy us a second or two. Nazril, Al, take positions, you'll starts us off." The camp comes alive with a flurry of movement, as you desperately try to make it look like all of you are sleeping. Albrecht hides behind a fallen tree, with his pistol arm on it to steady his aim. Meanwhile, Nazril stands behind a bush, waiting for his moment. Once you finish with the camp, the three of you scatter. Dika crouches near Nazril, her daggers at the ready. Pesha lies prone on a small hill overlooking the camp, daggers in his boots. You yourself hide nearby, with Baba Tsera's book in your bag, and a rock in your hand. You're as ready as you're going to be. --- Benedikt didn't let you down, and a few minutes later, you can see five riders emerge from the darkness. The ghost was right - they're dressed in leathers and furs, but you can see no darkness on them. Nothing worse than the average Reiklander, anyway. As soon as they see the campfire, they break into a gallop, screaming and brandishing their swords. The sound is loud enough that the noblet startles awake, just in time to see them enter the camp. The first rider stops, breaks into a monstrous grin, and leans to stab one of the bedrolls. Not feeling nearly enough of a resistance, he looks around in confusion, stopping his movement just long enough for Albrecht to draw a bead. CRACK! The old man's pistol roars, drowning out the riders' screams. All, except one. The first man howls in pain as the bullet shatters his collarbone, making his right arm go limp. His sword bounces on the ground, as his horse panicks and bolts. Nazril joins the fray, firing at the second rider's horse. His bolt tears through its leg, leaving behind a deep cut. As the horse tries to make another step, its leg can't handle the weight, and it tumbles to ground. The second rider flies off the beast, hitting a tree with his head. Dika is upon him in moments. You forgot how quick she is when she wants to be. Her daggers flash in the campfire's glow, and soon, the rider stops moving. The third rider tries to raise his sword, but Pesha is on it. He jumps on him from the hill, sending both of them off the horse. Pesha's daggers do their job, and the man is dead before he hits the ground. You survey the camp. Two riders lie dead, and the third one is on a panicked horse, with only one arm in working condition. But the other two are ready, and you've lost the element of surprise. It's one thing to stab an unaware target, and quite another to go toe-to-toe with a man on a horse. On the other hand, it's going to take Nazril and Albrecht a while to reload their weapons, and Dika and Pesha are out in the open with just their daggers against riders with swords. You put your hand on the book. You are in an infinite fog yet again, the Chorus whispering to you. "A VALIANT EFFORT, SEER. YOU GAVE IT EVERYTHING YOU HAD, AND IT WASN'T ENOUGH." "It's not over yet." "NO? YOUR FRIEND STANDS ALONE AGAINST A TRAINED SWORDSMAN ON HORSEBACK. HOW LONG WILL HE LAST? HOW LONG WILL YOUR SISTER?" "Leave Dika out of this!" "WE DID NOT PUT YOUR SISTER IN THIS FOREST. NOR DID WE SEND RIDERS AFTER HER. YOU DID. BUT WE MAY YET SAVE HER." You turn around and yet see nothing but the fog. "How?" "WE WILL GRANT YOU POWER THAT YOU SO NEED. THE MEANS TO SHAPE THE WINDS TO SAVE THEM." "And in return?" "BLOOD. YOU WILL GIVE US THE BLOOD AND SOULS OF THOSE WHO STAND AGAINST YOU." "I don't know how." "OH, WE WILL TEACH YOU." What will you do? A. Close the book and throw the rock at one of the riders. It might distract them and buy your troupe the time to regroup. Dealing with the Chorus isn't worth it. B. The Chorus has a point. Agree to the trade. Besides, what do you care for the souls of a few Reiklanders?
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May 18, 2022 13:22
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B! Friends are friends
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May 18, 2022 13:51
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A. Blood is one thing, but souls? Not a currency we ought trade in under duress, that's for sure.
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May 18, 2022 13:56
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B No one has ever regretted giving a talking book souls before.
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May 18, 2022 14:46
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B Trade
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May 18, 2022 15:18
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Best foot forward
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May 19, 2022 20:58
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2.17 - Blood for Blood Artist: Dmitry Vishnevsky You sigh. You're in no position to bargain. "Deal. What do I do?" The Chorus' cackle echoes across the endless fog. The book floats in front of you once more, pages shuffling until they hit the right one. You study the runes, and speak the words, but nothing happens. "BLOOD FOR BLOOD, SEER. A SMALL CUT TO FEED THE SPELL." You swear under your breath. The elaborate knife that you got from the Wallensteins is closest. You use it to cut across your palm, and squeeze your hand, feeding the book. The blood falls from your fist and floats, suspended above the pages. Slowly, far too slowly, it shapes itself into a thin surface, as you look into your own reflection within the crimson. Beyond the blood mirror, the riders have regrouped. One of them breaks for Nazril, who's stuck reloading his crossbow. The horse is so drat fast, even across the forest floor. The rider swings his sword in a wide arc, catching Nazril's leg. The dwarven merchant screams and falls, his leg no longer willing to support him. His voice goes quieter and he stops moving. The other rider makes for Albrecht. As the old man fumbles with his pistol, the rider's sword catches him on the knee, pushing it out of its socket with a sickening POP. Al screams, drops his pistol, and holds onto the tree for dear life. He remains standing, but only just. "FOCUS, SEER. YOU DON'T WANT TO SEE WHAT HAPPENS IF YOU DON'T." Pesha doesn't hesitate for a moment. He pulls his daggers out of the dead man's neck and rushes towards the rider beside Al. But with the element of surprise gone, his swings can't connect with the trained rider, who's practically toying with him at this point. Dika fights like a cornered rat, bristling with steel, but she's too small. The rider beside Nazril dodges her swings easily and readies his sword. The blood suspended above the book has solidified into a mirror with ornate edges, all skulls and teeth. "NOW, SEER! BREAK IT!" "Run!", you yell, before slamming into the crimson surface with all your might. Dika and Pesha scatter as soon as they hear you. The mirror SHATTERS into dozens of red shards in front of you. They hang, suspended in mid-air for a fraction of a second, before flying faster than any bullet. They cut through the riders and their horses, tearing chunks of flesh out of them. Braying in agony, they collapse into a puddle of blood, and pass out. But not only the riders are hit. While Dika managed to make it out of the crimson storm, Pesha wasn't so lucky. A shard grazed him on the arm, leaving behind a bleeding wound that he's trying to hold close. You take a step toward him, but he shakes his head and nods towards the camp. poo poo. In the heat of battle, you completely forgot about your companion/burden/bait. Walther von Jungfreud, the future of the Jungfreud dynasty, is holding onto his neck, gasping for breath. His doublet is soaking up the blood trickling from his neck. You also notice that you can't move your left arm, the one you cut for the spell. It's stuck, as if made of stone. The book vibrates, calling for your attention. You put your hand on it. "NOW FOR YOUR END OF THE DEAL. QUICKLY, WHILE THEY STILL LIVE." "What?" "COLLECTING THEIR BLOOD AND THEIR SOULS IN THIS CONDITION IS TRIVIAL, BUT TIME IS RUNNING OUT." "That wasn't the deal!" "YOUR FRIENDS ARE SAFE, ARE THEY NOT? AND YOUR SISTER IS UNHARMED. THESE MEN CAME HERE FOR THAT ONE. THEY ALL STOOD AGAINST YOU." What do you do? A. Do as the book says. Give it the blood and souls of the three dying riders and Walther. B. Try to talk the book out of taking Walther. You're no healer, but maybe Al can do something about the noblet's neck. C. Thanks, but no thanks. Close the book, toss it into the blood puddle, grab whoever can walk, and bounce. D. Another plan?
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May 20, 2022 13:57
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May 20, 2022 14:05
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B, Walther wasn't standing against us. Don't be a dick book.
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May 20, 2022 14:06
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B
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May 20, 2022 14:33
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| # ? Apr 20, 2024 00:39 |
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B. I've no especial care for the noblet, and if they die, they die. But. We are not going to give the blatantly malicious book souls beyond what we specifically agree to.
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May 20, 2022 14:34
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