EX 2, MOV 2, TWI 1, PRU 3, MND 2, DZL 0
Stress: You'll live.
Consequences: None.
Fate Points: 1

It was the easiest decision in your life - either you try to run for cover, dragging your bad leg all the way to it, or you simply push yourself forward into the location you were already halfway in - and were intending to investigate regardless.
Had anybody actually seen this infiltration being completed, you wouldn't get any points for grace and technique - but judging by the lack of surprised exclamations expressed on the outside, it got the job done. Even more importantly, it did not appear you've managed to wake up the woman sleeping in Mercer's bed. Indeed, whoever peacefully snoozed there - be it his wife, his mistress or a harlot - continued doing so in blissful ignorance, entirely unaware of your presence.

You've made it inside - now, it was simply the matter of locating the grimoire, wherever it is. Mercer had no clue you've headed straight to his own home to rob him - and thus, you've truly doubted he would be back here to complicate your task.
But where could this accursed book be? You were half-hoping that once you got inside, you'd find a bookshelf previously hiding in the blind spot, with the leather cover of the sought tome there - but there was nothing of the sort. Well, Mercer never struck you as the lover of literature.
But where would he keep a warlock's grimoire? It would not be a random spot - not at all. To find it, you had to get into the brute's head, think like him. Was he the sort to hide it, or keep it somewhere convenient? And if he was to hide it, just how paranoid was he?
And come to think about it... The tome was not the only object of interest you could find.


>If not on the table, then in its drawers! It's where I would keep a book.
>A dresser is a convenient spot. You can keep far more than clothes there.
>Could he be hiding it in the wardrobe? Nobody would look there.
>There is a chest by the bed. What if it containts his most prized possessions?
>Not here. In the basement. Is there a basement? I need to find a trapdoor.

As for the other matters...

>Close the shutters on the window to make my life so much easier.
>Hex the witness with nightmares, ones that would keep her for a while.
>Inspect the figure on the bed.
>Pocket a few light, but expensive trinkets lying in the open. This should teach Mercer a lesson.
>Simply try to be quiet.

>>5049077
>Close the shutters on the window to make my life so much easier.
>Hex the witness with nightmares, ones that would keep her for a while.

These first, in that order. Then...

>Not here. In the basement. Is there a basement? I need to find a trapdoor.

Do the things that are most difficult and take the longest first, then look in the obvious convenient locations.

>If not on the table, then in its drawers! It's where I would keep a book.

I'd personally rather not steal wealth, even portable wealth. Until we ascertain whether Mercer is guilty of any relevant crimes or not then all he is at the moment is an asshole, and an asshole he may be but if he is a loyal, faithful soldier and advisor to the duke then we shouldn't harm him or do excessive wrong to him for the moment.

Besides, we may be among pseudo-criminals but I doubt there is a convenient fence for our loot anywhere in town. Then we'd just be stuck with obviously stolen items if we were forced to empty our pockets.

>>5049077
>If not on the table, then in its drawers! It's where I would keep a book.
>A dresser is a convenient spot. You can keep far more than clothes there.

Mercer isn’t one for elaborate traps or hiding places. Start with the obvious places first.

>Close the shutters on the window to make my life so much easier.
>Hex the witness with nightmares, ones that would keep her for a while.

>>5049077
>>5049489
Supporting this

>>5049077
>>5049489
Support for this.

Not an immediate concern, but we should keep an eye out for any information we can dig up about Mercer while we're here. For, uh, investigative reasons, not to plan out Lynestra's petty revenge, you see.

>>5049489
support.

>>5049489
Supporting.

Been away a couple weeks, fun to catch back up.

The first thing that you needed to do was to disable the witness. The simple fact of the matter was, no matter how careful and quiet you were to act, she could wake up at any time for no reason - and thus, precautions needed to be taken so she won't. While your left hand was used to close the shutters and spare you the danger of passersby witnessing your dirty deeds, your right hand was already drawing a symbol of the hex in the air - one that you applied to the sleeping target effortlessly. You've seen her brows furrow almost immediately - merely a start of her restless sleep, you knew - it would only get worse for her by the minute, and she would not be let go. You haven't spent more than a second pondering on the subject of ethical questions of cursing a woman who, to your knowledge, has done nothing to you. This little unpleasantness might darken her day for the time being, but it would actually solve both of you a lot of potential headache - so in a way, you were doing her a favor.

You spared a brief look at the window, making certain it was shut properly - before quickly making your way to the others and attending to the shutters there. Only then, once your search has been absolutely secured, would you begin actually looking. The grimoire was, of course, your primary goal, and you've not come with the intentions of robbing the man - only securing the property the duke has already officially passed to you. Still, should you have found anything else of interest, it would not hurt to at least take a look.

Your first object of interest was the writing table, the surface of which was largely barren, except a quill, an inkwell, a stack of blank parchments kept to the side - and to the other side, there laid a small book: "Genealogy of Stromic Houses, volume 3", the title claimed. You were not too quick to judge the book by its cover - and instead snuck a peek inside its contents. It was not uncommon for warlocks, especially in human lands, to disguise their grimoires as something harmless - but alas, this thing seemed to be exactly what it looked like.
That meant that if the grimoire was anywhere near this writing table, it must have been inside the two drawers - and herein lied the problem. Both of them were fashioned with locks, something you had no way of seeing from the outside.

You bit your upper lip. A lock could not stop you, of course - you would easily get inside one way or another. It was solely the matter of the approach, time, noise and how much obvious damage did you want to do.

>A violent approach will be swift and easy, if unsubtle. This is a drawer, not a safe.
>[Prudence] By precise application of a spellflame, I could silently melt through without damaging the contents. It might take time...
>[Twilight] It's good that I always carry a lockpick with me, just in case. I'm like one of those master thieves from the literature - merely dressed less ridiculously.

Good to have all of you back, and in such high numbers too. If we can keep the engagement level about 6 every time, it would be great.

>>5051814
>[Twilight] It's good that I always carry a lockpick with me, just in case. I'm like one of those master thieves from the literature - merely dressed less ridiculously.

This is a tough one. Lynestra would probably succeed if she tried to melt the lock with Prudence, but on the other hand it would be better if there was zero trace of her presence. I have my preference, but I don't think there's a wrong approach here.

>>5051814
>[Twilight] It's good that I always carry a lockpick with me, just in case. I'm like one of those master thieves from the literature - merely dressed less ridiculously.

>>5051814
>>[Twilight] It's good that I always carry a lockpick with me, just in case. I'm like one of those master thieves from the literature - merely dressed less ridiculously.

>>5051814
>>[Twilight] It's good that I always carry a lockpick with me, just in case. I'm like one of those master thieves from the literature - merely dressed less ridiculously.

On the one hand, we're the obvious suspect when Mercer finds the grimoire disappeared. On the other, keeping plausible deniability is probably better than obvious witchcraft.

>>5051814
>[Twilight] It's good that I always carry a lockpick with me, just in case. I'm like one of those master thieves from the literature - merely dressed less ridiculously.

Rolled 3, 1, 3, 6 = 13 (4d6)

The lock on a table drawer shouldn't be too difficult to pick...

[Twilight +1]

To be fair to your actual amount of skill, you weren't a master thief. Never in your life you've cracked a vault safe as the danger got closer and closer - but you have, on the occasion, cracked a regular lock. It was, actually, fiction that gave you a vague understanding of the process - and once upon a time, boredom drove you to insert two hairpins into the mechanism protecting the guest room - where you've tried fiddling with it, until a servant came by and yelled at you. Your first true experience came in the army - a soldier had to know how to do all sorts of things. How to pick a lock, dress a wound, skin an animal, how to filter water... It's unbelievable how many simple and yet life-saving skills you've owed to brief courses taught to you in those desperate times.

As you carefully worked the pins with the pick in your left hand and applied the proper pressure with the torque in your right, you've stopped briefly, just for a splinter of a second, and ask yourself if it was the Sunhawks you owed for this particular success, or if a little girl with two hairpins could have managed just as well.
The answer may have been given to you just a moment or two later, as the lock gave in with remarkable ease - and the drawer was opened effortlessly.

Suddenly, your ears twitched, as you've heard a gasp behind your back. As you've turned, however, you saw nothing but the woman you've laid a curse on, turning restlessly in her bed, her fingers grasping at the bedding. What visions and nightmares she could have possibly seen at this moment?
You've not let this line of thinking continue. There were others, more important matters at hand - so you've made yourself turn and shift your attention to the now open drawer...

On the very top, you could see a very simple handgun of dwarven making - you were not an enthusiast in the subject, but you've seen enough firearms in the days of the Alliance of Lordaeron to wager - this was the sort of a weapon you'd want, if you wanted to shoot one man, at a very short range. You would also wager that it was well-capable of firing in this moment. Laying in less than an inch from it, there was a dagger - sharp and missing its sheath. Every time Mercer would have used this drawer, he would have to remove the weapons first and lay them somewhere else - very inconvenient... But worth it, should he be ever attacked specifically by this table. Paranoid, much?
The weapons were not the only things inside, however. You've also seen a few bottles of ink, spare quills, and - beneath the weapons - what looked like a small book or journal.

Your heart skipped a beat. Could this be it? You've moved the handgun out of the way with great care - you've heard that those dwarven monstrosities could go off for any reason, but you must have gotten lucky. Soon enough, the suspected grimoire was in your hands - and with two of your fingers, you've opened it...

...another disappointment, you've thought at first, as nothing of magical nature was found on the pages. These looked like some sort of a personal ledger - or a diary, perhaps - with countless pages of writing on it, with names you didn't recognize, numbers the meaning of which you weren't sure of, and abbreviations more incomprehensible than any demonic beast from the dark beyond - at least, not to the surface look, which was all you were willing to spare at the moment.
Quickly, you've found the last page - if you were fortunate, Mercer would have written his thoughts on Jarad's matter (or the grimoire's hiding place) there by pure coincidence.

Your eyes narrowed, as you quickly darted them across the ugly scribbles that passed for sir Egmund's handwriting...

"Lynestra Dawnstrider (Sun-strider?)
Sunhawk mov <- hunger. War. Exile??
POLIT OPINIONATED!
Honorable? Trollbane con. Ind by C -> Falconcrest??

Inner circle. Sus Aspy?? Dis + C too??
Strong ribs
"Soldier of the apocalypse"?!?!?!"

Your face darkened by the second as you've come to the end of the writing. It was not difficult to tell just who the notes were speaking of, not at all - and you were not sure you've liked the implications...

>[Movement] My heart is jumping, but I can still it. Read older entries, without wasting too much time.
>Pocket the journal. I've come here for the grimoire anyway - might as well borrow some more light reading.
>Lay it back where I've found. It's good that I know about it, but Mercer must not know that I do. What if I force his hand?

There's something more there, stirring inside of you. A sinking feeling in your gut, unpleasant, but fleeting...

>[Mind Palace] What is it? Fear?
>Focus on the present. The grimoire is not yet found.

>>5052730
>>[Movement] My heart is jumping, but I can still it. Read older entries, without wasting too much time.

>[Mind Palace] What is it? Fear?

I have a feeling that these two together will hamper one another, none the less I think it wise to do both. The journal may give us a useful clue regarding Jarad or may condemn or exonerate Mercer. We also shouldn't ignore our gut.

>>5052730
>Lay it back where I've found. It's good that I know about it, but Mercer must not know that I do. What if I force his hand?

>[Mind Palace] What is it? Fear?

I am absolutely dying to find out what's in that journal, but I'll vote to err on the side of caution here. Taking our sweet time with the journal is better than skimming it, and knowing of its existence opens up the opportunity for more capers whenever Lynestra is feeling particularly stupid further down the road. We've also learned that Mercer does not live alone, that he is a verified paranoiac, and that he knows about the inner circle (if you could call it that).

>>5052730
>>[Movement] My heart is jumping, but I can still it. Read older entries, without wasting too much time.
>>[Mind Palace] What is it? Fear?

Rolled 6, 5, 1, 3 = 15 (4d6)

Fear? No, it's not fear. Think.

(Mind Palace +2)

Rolled 1, 4, 1, 6 = 12 (4d6)

To read and understand what you're reading in such a tense time might be more difficult than one imagines...

(Prudence +3)

>>5054048
It's actually Movement +2.

EX 2, MOV 2, TWI 1, PRU 3, MND 2, DZL 0
Stress: 1
Consequences: None.
Fate Points: 1

All these words and abbreviations, your eye returned to Mercer's scribblings, what did they mean? Well, it was probably safe to assume that everything written on the same line is connected - perhaps, written on the same time. Maybe f you grasped onto something obvious and went from there, it would be easier for you to understand the man's mind. "Inner circle" would clearly refer to you receiving an amulet from Nagaz and his Argus Wake - that was no secret. What of "Aspy", then? It could have been that he actually wrote "A spy" - choosing, for some reason, to capitalize the first letter. You've seen some men Capitalize words in their writing for no discernible reason - although this would definitely be the first time in your life you've seen someone doing the same for articles. Although this incomprehensible stylistic choice did bother you somewhat, reading the text as "a spy" simply made sense. Some of the Shadow Council did suspect that you're a spy - you were told that directly.
What did "Dis" mean, you were not quite certain - disinterested in the Council's activities? Disenfranchised, despite being in the inner circle? Distinguished by Nagaz? It must have some relation to this "C" - this letter repeated in the notes twice, and your gut feeling told you it meant a man. Right now, you knew Corsair - who held no relevance to the Argus Wake whatsoever - and Church. "Ind by C"... Inducted by Church? From there on, Mercer would suspect Falconcrest connection...

The more arcane half of the writings was mostly deciphered - and you briefly allowed yourself to look at the upper lines. Mercer correctly believed you to be a Sunhawk, and knew it had something to do with the arcane hunger of your people. He also correctly believed you to be a soldier - that, you've talked extensively about during the dinner. Danath Trollbane was mentioned then also - the paranoid fool must have thought that just because you were on the same world at some point, you must have been in the league with the old king. You've never even met the man..! To suspect a betrayal...

"DISloyal + Church"? Did he suspect somehow that you and Church had a secret agenda - not against Alterac (he would not mark that one with two question marks) - but to the Argus Wake? Well, if one was to actually believe that you stumbled upon this whole town by accident, and did not plan to become a part of the local politics all along, it would be foolish to expect loyalty to an organization you were inducted into at knifepoint. As for Church... You've had your suspicions about Church yourself, and you were not certain right now if agreeing with sir Egmund was good or bad news for this particular theory.

The most important question of all, however, was simple - from where was he drawing all this information? Who told him that you were a spy? Would it be some member of the Argus Wake that he was in contact with? As for being "opinionated" - firstly, you weren't, and secondly, you've only really spoken of politics to...

...to Brooks.
You've also told her that the Wake suspects you of being a spy. You told her that you think Church is not loyal to their cause. Just when you've walked out your prison and breathed the air of Alterac the first time, it was as you were explaining what the Sunhawks were. She called them a "movement". You've told her of being promoted to the inner circle too.
All these notes - all of them - were about the things she was present for, just like she was standing in wait the moment you walked out of your room - and there the time you've woken from your drunken debauchery.
It was all there. In chronological order, as she found out about it. As if it were notes on her report - when telling a story, she'd begin from the moment you've first met.

THAT was the sinking feeling in your gut - a terrible, hurting realization. Like a legless insect in the light, it squirmed away, tried to hide somewhere deep within, in a place you'd never look. It was squirming even now, as you've reread these damning words again and again, trying to find another explaination - any other explaination. The words began to blur before your eyes, as your breathing became quicker. No matter how hard you've tried, the black ink on the parchment did not speak in your thoughts - even as you've quickly flipped back and tried to focus on the other entries, all they meant to you right now were nonsensical strings of letters and numbers you cared not for...

>No. No, no, no, no...
>Treacherous harlot! I will find her right now, and skin her alive!
>It was fake. All of it, from the beginning til end. I knew it was too good to be true.
>Everyone is always betraying me. My king, my kingdom, my unit - my own family... I'll never be hurt again.
>Nothing written here is actually damning. I'm overreacting and more than a little hysterical.
>It's foolish to think of this as a personal betrayal. She's a soldier, she's obeying orders. If our roles were reversed, perhaps I'd do the same thing. It means little.
>Maybe she's a spy. So what? Even if she didn't before, by now she cares, and genuinely so. You can't fake that.
>I must speak of this to her, confront her - but calmly. No one will be skinned.
>All of this is speculation and pure conjecture. What if I'm wrong? Brooks is never even mentioned here.

>>5054087
>Nothing written here is actually damning. I'm overreacting and more than a little hysterical.

All of this is just gossip that would come up in a casual conversation. No need for us to have a conniption. It's not like our unprovoked political rant or "Soldier of the Apocalypse" episode were things that we shared in confidence, and worse, both of those happened in public. The truth is, it's a wonder that Brooks is friends with us at all when we not only spurned her advice, but ended up in a ditch because of it, a ditch which she then pulled us out of. It would be wise to avoid running our mouth so much in the future, however.

>>5054087
>Treacherous harlot! I will find her right now, and skin her alive!
I knew it

>>5054087
>No. No, no, no, no...
>Treacherous harlot! I will find her right now, and skin her alive!
>It was fake. All of it, from the beginning til end. I knew it was too good to be true.
Do not actually skin her until we retrieve that Grimoire first but I believe that this would be Lynestra's first and natural reaction.

>>5054087
While I imagine our initial reaction would probably be something like...
>>5054196

...I personally imagine we'd eventually come to the conclusion that...

>Nothing written here is actually damning. I'm overreacting and more than a little hysterical.

>>5054087
>>No. No, no, no, no...
>>Treacherous harlot! I will find her right now, and skin her alive!
>>It was fake. All of it, from the beginning til end. I knew it was too good to be true.

>>5054087
>>Nothing written here is actually damning. I'm overreacting and more than a little hysterical.

Agree with >>5054240, basically - an initial freakout followed by rationalisation seems like the most in character response.

>>5054087
>No. No, no, no, no...
>Treacherous harlot! I will find her right now, and skin her alive!
>It was fake. All of it, from the beginning til end. I knew it was too good to be true.

>>5054087
>It was fake. All of it, from the beginning til end. I knew it was too good to be true.

>>5054087
>Nothing written here is actually damning. I'm overreacting and more than a little hysterical.
Panic, anger and then deep breath and come to senses.

That's the kind of activity level I like to see. Post soon.

"No...", you muttered quietly, the remnants of your disbelief evaporating as you've reread this journal of lies.
Your mouth was open agape, and your hands were trembling lightly. You were trying to put the book down, but your fingers were gripping it tightly, and wouldn't let go. The blood in your veins boiled, and your jaws clenched so hard, it pained you.
How dare she. How dare she?! Every word from your lips, taken to this hog of a man, this hate-filled vermin, this low creature that despised you and has made no secret of how he despised you. Every second you've spent together has now suddenly started shining with different, unpleasant colors - the times you've made the mistake of trusting, of confiding, the times she listened and asked, her constant presence... It was not to offer you a shoulder to lean on - it was to offer a dagger to stab you in the back with. How many more lies, false platitudes, faithless smiles and poisonous encouragements would this treacherous, slithering snake offer you, if you did not happen to find out? How many more betrayals were you expected to take in your life?!

Stab you in the back, will she?! Fine! You've had a knife for her too - you'd carve her traitor heart out as an example, and then skin her alive. You'd gouge out her eyes, and place hot coals in the sockets! A thousand deaths was not enough for deceiving you like this, consorting with the enemy, and what an enemy at that. All this... For Mercer? For MERCER?!
You've thrown the journal across the room, your hand moving by itself to conjure a stream of spellflame. A hateful look was thrown at Egmund's concubine, still tormented by the curse you've laid - and for a moment, you were tempted to take it out on her. But no, you've stopped yourself. No - this would mean that by the time you got to this harlot, your anger would cool - your satisfaction from revenge would be lesser. So you've paced towards the door...

...before stopping, as your hand reached for the doorknob, and you realized how foolish what you're doing was. Your anger was righteous, and your response - proportional, but you've wasted too much time and effort into breaking in here, just to turn around and get distracted with something else. Getting justice for your wounded heart was important - but it could wait a few minutes. The grimoire was yet to be found.
You inhaled deeply and clenched your first, both to extinguish the flame and to channel some anger, lest it inhibits the fine work with the lockpick.

Your task was not yet done.

File: Imp.jpg (111 KB, 936x770)

111 KB JPG

It was a blessing that no work on the second lock was even needed, as you would have no doubt made a hatchet job. Fittingly for being protected by nothing, nothing but disappointment awaited you in the second of the table's drawers - but you supposed that disappointment was better than the stinging feel of foul treachery. There, you've found a bottle opener and a few small, bumpy sacks filled with...
...corks? For a second, you were so bewildered, you forgot about your anger. You've checked the other little pouch, only to find corks there too - of different markings and make, but all of them were simple, round wooden corks. For a second, you've twirled one of them before your verdant, glowing eyes, inspecting the writing and trying to see if there was some hidden meaning you could not see - like a code, or a secret message - but if there was, you were sorrily lacking the context to understand them. Still puzzled, you've returned it all where it belonged - and even went to the corner you've thrown the journal into, to place it in the first drawer too, careful to place the dagger and the pistol back where they belonged, on top.

It was not in the table, then. What else..? The dresser, you guessed immediately. Back in the days of your childhood, your uncle kept all sorts of things in his dresser - and only some of them were unfashionable old robes. Especially fondly you remembered the upper drawer, where he thought you wouldn't reach - there you'd often find sweets, you only needed a chair to stand on...
You've lightly stepped towards this piece of furniture, and, as if by old habit, checked the upper drawer first, but treats saddened and hurt you with their absence. Well, it's not as if humans would have the good ones anyway. The second one from the top contained nothing but clothes too - male on the right side, female on the left, seemed to be the theme. As for the middle one...

"Gah!", you've stumbled back, as swift, screaming, little SOMETHING leapt into your face, shrieking at you in an ungodly high pitch.
A guard! You did not even remember falling to the ground - but you did, and this foul little beast still had his legs wrapped around your neck, while his hands were reaching for your eyes. You could see little of him while his claws were aiming to gouge out your eyes, but you heard and smelled enough to understand just what was trying to kill you. An imp!

>[Exertion] Grab his tail, and bash his head against the floor! By the stars, die! Die! Die already!
>[Mind Palace] Try to disrupt what shackles him to the material world. Begone, fiend! Begone!
>[Dazzle] Sniveling worm! You serve ME now!

Those of you who wanted to cool off and rationalize - you are seen, you are not forgotten.

>>5055846
>[Mind Palace] Try to disrupt what shackles him to the material world. Begone, fiend! Begone!

>>5055846
>[Dazzle] Sniveling worm! You serve ME now!

>Use a Fate Point.

You may ask why I've chosen to use our weakest stat and our last fate point on this pathetic imp. I would answer that I think this imp may actually be the key to this puzzle, if Mercer is in fact a secret warlock then subverting this imp and getting it to reveal to us the identity of its master and what it has witnessed guarding this room may get straight to the heart of this mystery.

Though, if I had to choose between the other two prompts, I'd choose the Mind Palace one.

I also can't help but laugh with the image of a little Lynestra stealing candy from her uncle and being legitimately disappointed as a grown adult woman at not finding treats in a similar location in the home of someone she hates. Very cute, more than a bit childish.

The corks definitely make me suspect Mercer to be a secret warlock or some sort of magician or alchemist, you can't convince me he keeps the corks of his wine bottles or something like that, not when we are in the midst of being strangled by a fucking imp in his home.

>>5055846
>[Mind Palace] Try to disrupt what shackles him to the material world. Begone, fiend! Begone!
It's just an imp. Not the smoking gun.

>>5055846
>>[Dazzle] Sniveling worm! You serve ME now!

>>5055846
>>[Mind Palace] Try to disrupt what shackles him to the material world. Begone, fiend! Begone!

File: 1627672739895.png (457 KB, 958x717)

457 KB PNG

>>5055846
>[Dazzle] Sniveling worm! You serve ME now!
>Fate Point

We must assert our dominance.

Rolled 2 (1d2)

This decision will be solved by a tiebreaker.

1 - Mind Palace, 2 - Dazzle

Rolled 1, 4, 1, 6 = 12 (4d6)

Subjugating a demon on the field, not a creature confined by a magic circle, is one of the most impressive tools in the arsenal of a warlock - no matter if the demon is big or small.

(Dazzle +0, FATE POINT +2)

Rolled 3, 5, 3, 6 = 17 (4d6)

Things don't work out the way you'd prefer. The imp is free to attack!

Rolled 1, 4, 4, 1 = 10 (4d6)

His claws are fast to slash at you. But maybe you're even faster?

(Movement +2)

EX 2, MOV 2, TWI 1, PRU 3, MND 2, DZL 0
Stress: 1
Consequences: Headache (2)
Fate Points: 0

This was, by far, the most humiliating thing to have occurred to you in your entire life. Worse than spending years hiding from the world like some sort of criminal, worse than running from your own country, worse than being lectured by a child, worse than everything that occurred during your drunken escapades put together.
You were being bested by an imp.

"You serv-", you began, but the little bastard has been summoned before, and knew exactly what warlocks are capable of.
The creature had no intention of letting you subjugate him - and so, he interrupted you in the best way he could have thought of - by grabbing you by the hair, and forcefully slamming the back of your head against the floor. No spellcaster, no matter how great - not even the great Gul'dan himself - could have possibly managed any charm while his brain was being tested against his own skull.
"No, no, no, no, no!", the creature shrieked victoriously, believing the battle has been already won. "Not happening, sister! Not happening! You die here!"

This was not a factually accurate statement. Your head was hurting - ttrue - and all matter of curious sparks were flying before your eyes, the creature did not intend to stop at hurting you this much either. But you were alive, you were still in possession of your limbs, and you were utterly furious.

>[Exertion] Power through and persist. His will is mine!
>[Prudence] I'm not the sort to lose my skill under the pressure. Chant the spell of banishment. Demon, get ye gone!
>[Movement] Both of his hands are grabbing my hair. His legs are around my neck. His throat is exposed. Now is my moment!
>Aaaah! Save me, Tzerak!

>>5056685
Omega yikes, welp, sorry for wasting our last FP bois, but use em or lose em. Well, not really, but whatever.

>[Movement] Both of his hands are grabbing my hair. His legs are around my neck. His throat is exposed. Now is my moment!

My first instinct would be to use Exertion since that stat is both high and it continues our attempt to subvert this guy, but apparently controlling demons when they are not confined via magic circle is actually an ultra hard feat, plus we just took a blow to the head. The same goes for Prudence, it is our highest stat but we just took a blow to the head.

Gross Motor Skills however, or even relatively simple striking acts probably wouldn't be severely impeded by a moderate blow to the head.

>[Movement] Both of his hands are grabbing my hair. His legs are around my neck. His throat is exposed. Now is my moment!

Kill it, lets not waste further time or risk further injury or discovery by others.

>>5056685
Goodness gracious, Lynestra really is a constant embarrassment. Hopefully we can get the grimoire and find somewhere nice and remote to sulk while we study it.

>[Movement] Both of his hands are grabbing my hair. His legs are around my neck. His throat is exposed. Now is my moment!

>>5056685
>>[Prudence] I'm not the sort to lose my skill under the pressure. Chant the spell of banishment. Demon, get ye gone!
Excellent use of out last fate point folks!

>>5056685
>[Movement] Both of his hands are grabbing my hair. His legs are around my neck. His throat is exposed. Now is my moment!
Inaverdantly or not we keep failing

>>5056685
>>[Movement] Both of his hands are grabbing my hair. His legs are around my neck. His throat is exposed. Now is my moment!

>>5056685
>[Movement] Both of his hands are grabbing my hair. His legs are around my neck. His throat is exposed. Now is my moment!
Sometimes I wonder if we should do everything blackout drunk

Rolled 2, 5, 2, 1 = 10 (4d6)

It's time to reclaim some dignity. Strike!

(Movement +2)

Rolled 4, 6, 6, 3 = 19 (4d6)

...or maybe not. But maybe the imp will make a mistake?

Rolled 5, 2, 1, 4 = 12 (4d6)

This fiend must be the chief imp of Kil'Jaeden himself. He attacks!

Rolled 2, 1, 4, 1 = 8 (4d6)

You won't be taken so easily... Will you?

(Movement +2)

Rolled 4, 3, 6, 5 = 18 (4d6)

A stalemate, but with the imp having a slight advantage. Please end this disgrace, for the sake of all parties involved.

(Movement +2)

Rolled 1, 1, 2, 5 = 9 (4d6)

Success so clearly in view. Or is it merely a trick of the light?

What started as a sudden ambush became a painful, drawn-out slog - despite the initial successes the demon had, as well as the advantage of having you pinned, the imp was plainly and severely outmatched. In order to protect his vulnerable throat from being struck, he had to release your hair from his grasp and dodge - and this was the exact point where he lost his momentum. Sure, he was quick to leap at you once more, claws aiming at your precious eyeballs, but all you really had to do was quickly cover your face with a palm. What little scratches you've sustained from that, you could easily live with - while the demon...
...the demon mistook this momentary stalement for a sign of coming victory. You were on the defensive, you could not land a hit on him swiftly enough, spells were out of the question - surely, he won?
He could not be more wrong. You still had one hand free - and it was quick to find a hilt of a dagger. It did not matter how dazed you were, it did not matter that you've struck blindly - the imp plainly did not have it in him to pay attention to what you were doing, and thus would not dodge.

The creature was still alive after that cut, but just barely so, and for a short time too. In the next moment, the dagger's point was already in his belly - and that was the end of him. The creature did not leave you with the satisfaction of spilled guts when you twisted the blade, but rather evaporated in a flash of light and a puff of smoke, just as you expected.
You've let out a drawn out breath. That was terrible. But at least, no one was there to witness this.

Rolled 5, 3, 2, 6 = 16 (4d6)

Your curse was applied with due diligence, right? You would not do a sloppy job at disabling the witness?

(Prudence +3)

When you've thought of the word "witness", you quickly darted your eyes towards Mercer's concubine, still dreaming her troubled dreams. You could see her shuffling in the bed, twitching involuntarily, breathing quickly and loudly. It might have been a most unkind thing to do, but in the hindsight, it was also the proper thing. It was plain as day that normally the woman would not stay asleep through this whole scuffle, lest she was deaf. But she did - and both of your lives were now significantly easier.

It has taken you some effort to regain a vertical position, but you stood soon enough. Now, has finally come the time of the interesting part. You've had serious doubts that he happened to just fall asleep in Mercer's dresser - he was there for a reason, and the only possible reason you could imagine was guard duty. Not guarding the house, not guarding the wardrobe - but just this specific drawer. What could have possibly been there, that was so valuable?

The answer came to you as soon as you've taken a peek inside. Your heart skipped a beat, when you saw the tome bound in the calf skin - and it skipped another, once you opened it in the middle and glanced upon the very familiar symbols littering the parchment in an odd manner, completely inreadable even to a layman who somehow knew the eredun alphabet. This was it, you thought to yourself victoriously, as your finger slowly caressed the lines making up a drawn pentagram. The grimoire.
But that was not the only thing inside. Right beneath this holy grail of Strahnbrad's court intrigue was something else - something of the similar shape and size, and you've already had suspicions as to what. Another grimoire. This one was written in a different hand, with a dfferent ink - but it was a warlock's spellbook still, no matter what the letters on the white leather grimoire claimed. "Weaponry of Troll Empires", ha! The only weaponry described inside was the one that killed in the present, not the past. Names of demons, and rituals meant to summon and bind them, spells so foul, thinking about them would make an archmage wake in cold sweat. All of this forbidden knowledge, passed down by the titans of the dark magic, or earned through years of trial and error, blood sweat and tears.

Two grimoires, written in a different hand. Owners of neither of them were kind enough to write their names on either side of the cover - but considering the imp's presence here, there was only one...
Your eyes darted towards the woman you've cursed. Well, there were actually two possibilities.
Either way... This was it. You've won.

>I'm done here.
>There's still unfinished business.

To the victor go the spoils!

Calf-skin grimoire, plain cover.
>Claim.
>Leave it behind.

White leather grimoire, disguised as an ordinary book.
>Claim
>Leave it behind

The journal of treachery and lies
>Claim
>Leave it behind.

Jesus Christ, just looking at the dice rolls are giving me a headache, what a mess.

>>5057405
>I'm done here.

Calf-skin grimoire, plain cover.
>Claim.

White leather grimoire, disguised as an ordinary book.
>Claim

The journal of treachery and lies
>Claim

You know what? I was thinking of leaving behind the journal so as to be less suspicious, but considering the fact that Mercer was supposed to bring us the grimoire later today anyways, he'd surely notice it missing and thus know we broke in. May as well take all the evidence for us to peruse behind our warded door until we have consumed all the information and have a case to present to the duke.

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31 KB JPG

>>5057426
I was wondering about this. The plan was to go completely unnoticed at first, but the journal and the second grimoire could both be critical pieces of evidence, which we never would have discovered if Mercer had just cooperated. Our actions, while characteristically dumb, are actually defensible now.

>>5057405
>There's still unfinished business.
Tidy up a little before we leave. We don't need the lady to wake up and suspect anything before we get some reading in.

Calf-skin grimoire, plain cover.
>Claim.

White leather grimoire, disguised as an ordinary book.
>Claim

The journal of treachery and lies
>Claim

Actually, can we get a good look at the woman too? It may be worth remembering her face, maybe.

>>5057405
I'll switch to this >>5057439

And I'll support this >>5057453

>>5057405
>I'm done here.

>>5057406
Calf-skin grimoire, plain cover.
>Claim.

White leather grimoire, disguised as an ordinary book.
>Claim

The journal of treachery and lies
>Leave it behind.

>>5057405
>Clean up our tracks

Calf-skin grimoire, plain cover.
>Claim.

White leather grimoire, disguised as an ordinary book.
>Claim

The journal of treachery and lies
>Leave it

The journal is a bunch of irrelevant babling. Do we really need to tip him off by taking it?

Rolled 1 (1d2)

The fate of the journal will be decided by a tie-breaker.

1 - take it
2 - leave it

Maybe in the future, you would be caught because of what you left behind, or more accurately - because of what you haven't. No one can truly claim to know the future, no one can see what lies beyond each individual possibility. Maybe every decision you have made until this point, every single one, was taking you to the best possible future. Or maybe, you would already find everything you're looking for by now, if you had not been ambushed and captured on your way to Thandol Span. Maybe there, in the dwarven lands and beyond, there would be less intrigue, less danger, less misfortune...

You did not know. No one could know. You only knew one thing - that no one has seen you slipping out the same way you came, two tomes carried at your side, and a small journal hidden under your cloth.

You have gained a new stunt!

>Veteran of the Interdimensional Wars
You’ve spent the last four years in a slumber. Like a snake, you’ve burrowed yourself into the deepest hole you could find, where only glimpses and echoes of the outside world would find you. It is over now - and while you might not feel fully awake still, the numbness and the stupor will pass. As for the skills and the knowledge you’ve not used for so long, the quickness of your mind, the will to fight and to win - none of it will ever come back, for you can’t regain what you’ve never truly lost.
No matter the approach, you gain +1 to all your attacks.

You may add +1 to any of your six stats.

Additionally, you may choose one between two new stunts.

>Thalassian Revanchism
The old enemy is at the gates, but you’re prepared and well-armed, armed with the best weapon against the enemy. It is not steel or sorcery, but the fire in your heart and the hatred for all the vile filth their banners represent. As long as you have that hate within you, as long as you remember the wounds dealt to the High Kingdom, you will not give them an inch, no matter how outmatched.
Against the so called death knights, the filthy undead and all other ideological enemies of elvenkind, you get +2 to Exertion.

OR

>Mental Gymnastics (silver medal)
Unlike the stories meant for children, reality is unpleasantly complex and can boast a lot of unseemly shades of grey. What is considered righteous one moment may suddenly become vile in the eyes of society, and what is decried as “illegal” or even “evil” may be deemed forgivable or at least understandable when one takes a look at the circumstances. There is plenty of grey in your life, but is it really as dark as people say? And are those "people" really so squeaky clean themselves?
As long as you can claim moral high ground, you gain +2 to Movement.

>>5059814
+1 Dazzle

>Thalassian Revanchism
Mental gymnastics sound funny but its applications appears to be limited.

>>5059814
>Dazzle
>Mental Gymnastics (silver medal)

>>5059814
+1 Twilight, we do sneaky stuff often enough that it matters

>Mental Gymnastics (silver medal)

>>5059814
>+1 DZL

>Thalassian Revanchism

>>5059814
+1 Dazzle
>Thalassian Revanchism

>>5059814
+1 Dazzle

It is hard to remember all the skills we've used most or that we got the best rolls on since we last leveled up, I think Mind Palace and Twilight both qualify for things we've used a fair bit that have been important recently but I think Dazzle is most prominent in my mind because I feel that we would have gotten better at socializing after having talked so much with Sherman and loosened up in the Bar and talked to the Duke.

Tough call on the stunt.

QM is the +2 for Mental Gymnastic something that applies even to the physical aspects of Movement? Like, if we are righteously fighting a death knight in defence of our home, do we get the bonus to strike quickly or dodge? Or as the name suggests, is it only for evasive conversation dodging using literal Mental Gymnastics to justify ourselves and what we've done?

Likewise, is the +2 Exertion for the intimidation aspect as well, or just for physically attacking others?

For now I'll vote...

>Mental Gymnastics (silver medal)

This will be surprisingly useful I think in the immediate and farther flung future. Justifying our break in of Mercers house, explaining our own actions in the past should they ever come up, preserving our allies trust in us or at least their trust that we aren't deranged and had some sort of internal reasoning and high-mindedness behind our actions so as not to lose them. Even if it doesn't apply to physical actions.

Though a +2 Exertion even against a select set of enemies is massive, it takes us from decent to "we are probably equal or stronger to most significant foes in this category" even ignoring the Forsaken and the Death Knights of Strom, we could use it against...whatever that undead warlock's name was, Larent or something.

>>5060415
As the name suggests, Mental Gymnastics is a social stunt - but it's not limited to strictly defensive uses. Thalassian Revanchism may affect things beyond the physical level, but far more rarely so.

Eeeehhh...

I've changed my mind, thinking back to the first thread and how I lamented our build and not being good at coercing or having the raw force to kill shit good, I think passing up on +2 Exertion even against a select set of enemies is too much. I think we can rely on our current stats and fate points to get ourselves out of sticky situations for problems that we can foresee right now.

Switching to...
>Thalassian Revanchism

EX 2, MOV 2, TWI 1, PRU 3, MND 2, DZL 1
Stress: Surprisingly, none.
Consequences: You feel fine.
Fate Points: 3

For good or ill, the deed was done - you have made sure that nothing on the surface would betray what you've done, and even taken the liberty of memorizing the face of the figure in the bed. From how plain and unremarkable that woman was, it seemed rather unlikely to you that she's the master of the grimoire - but as you were well aware, sometimes appearances could be deceiving.

But what now?

>I must head into seclusion and inspect what I've found, in detail. Rushing into action, making hasty decisions - it won't do me good.
>There's no time. It will take Egmund one look in his table drawer - or in his dresser - to find out what I've done. I need to get to the duke and tell him my side of the story, before Mercer poisons his mind.
>Duke? No. It's Mercer himself that I need. He's going to sing a much different tune, now that I have him by his throat.
>It might not be the most logical course of action, but first I need to find Brooks and confront her. I plainly won't be able to focus on anything else with that still in the back of my mind. This is important.
>[Write-in]

>>5060778
>>I must head into seclusion and inspect what I've found, in detail. Rushing into action, making hasty decisions - it won't do me good.

>>5060778
>I must head into seclusion and inspect what I've found, in detail. Rushing into action, making hasty decisions - it won't do me good.

>>5060778
>I must head into seclusion and inspect what I've found, in detail. Rushing into action, making hasty decisions - it won't do me good.

I'm in two minds about this, I think we either need to hole up in our warded room to investigate all the evidence and prevent people from interrupting us and present our case once we've done all the reading and thinking we need to or we need to take the initiative and bring our initial conclusions to the duke and ask for time for us to investigate the books. We are the obvious culprit for taking the books but technically the fact that no one saw us may delay the hammer coming down on us as there is no serious evidence that would warrant someone breaking down our door combined with the breaking and entering itself being a minor crime at best. If we were to go to the duke, I guess the initial conclusions we would present would be that at the very least Mercer is likely a secret warlock or for some unexplained reason has access to another grimoire despite seemingly hating warlocks and it is possible he had something to do with Jarad's death.

All in all, I feel as if it is better act now and apologize later than to beg for permission to continue. Better to come with all the evidence prepared than to come with incomplete conclusions.

>>5060778
>There's no time. It will take Egmund one look in his table drawer - or in his dresser - to find out what I've done. I need to get to the duke and tell him my side of the story, before Mercer poisons his mind.

There was only one rational way about it - you needed seclusion and peace. Not the peace of your temporary quarters, not even the seclusion of your real quarters - in either place, you might have had to contend with the furious Mercer at any time. No, you needed to get out of the town for the time being - and only return when you have some idea what you're dealing with, or what case could you really present to the duke.

Where would you head? As it happened, you already had some ideas. First, you would put all of your rightfully appropriated goods into your traveling satchel - and then, you would begin heading towards the edge of the town. Slowly, without the unnecessary haste or drama - you didn't want to make it seem like you're running away from something. To the passing watchman you've met on the road, you would not respectfully - and the same treatment you'd extend to those by the open gates. None of them tried to stop you, or even inquire as to where you're going - good. That meant they don't know what you've done yet... Of course they haven't known. How could they have possibly known? For a moment, you reprimanded yourself for bringing your paranoia from Quel'Thalas to here. You've had nothing to worry about. No one would have suspected you of breaking and entering here just by the way your face seemed familiar.

No, they wouldn't, you exhaled when you made it out of Strahnbrad. And they didn't. You've checked your bag once again, making certain that each one of the three books are with you - and then it was time to stop tormenting yourself and make a switch to horseback riding. Having a demonic steed was a convenience you've missed dearly in the last years - and now that you didn't feel the need to hide your talents, lest they arouse suspicion, it was time to finally spoil yourself and relax.

Try to, anyway. Now that the immediate danger of being found out has passed, and you no longer had to listen for every odd sound, the floodgates of your mind have suddenly opened - and each and every thought you could have possibly had was done waiting. Mercer was almost certainly a warlock - even if he was in the habit of collecting grimoires, it did not explain why an imp was guarding them. How could he have possibly become a dark sorcerer? When, and for what reason? How powerful was he - and could he have had something to do with Jarad's death?
What were you to tell the duke, if his advisor really was a treacherous murderer? What if Jarad deserved to die - would it necessarily mean you can't exploit his death to get rid of Mercer? And was getting rid of him really something that you wanted, or would you be content to just live and let live? And what if Mercer didn't have anything to do with what happened to Jarad? What were you to do then - say "Sorry, my mistake?". No - no, you've had reasonable suspicions... And if Mercer didn't make it so unnecessarily difficult...

Brooks. Brooks..!
Your mind returned to this matter all the time, and the more it did, the more painful it was - but the less you were sure what to think. You were still angry, there was no doubt about that - but something was eating away at that anger like a worm. Was there anything really terrible in this dossier that Mercer kept? Surely, if Brooks was a spy and meant to help sir Egmund do you harm, she'd recall something more valuable from your chats? You've rarely kept your mouth closed, when it was just the two of you - surely, you said something terrible, something compromising, something he could use. Nothing like that was in the journal, was it?
Your hand reached to the bag, so you could check, but you've made an effort and stopped yourself. There existed a line where this would be simply too desperate and pathetic, and you were not about to cross it. Whether the corporal was a foul traitor, to whom you needed to deliver just deserts, or someone you could still call a friend, or something inbetween - that was a matter for another time. For now, it was do or die for your political career in Alterac - and whether it would be the former or the latter, would depend solely on your ability to find something compromising in what you've stolen.

There it was, at last. Sixty one Kilrogg verse from the town of Strahnbrad, the half of a post-war shack. The one with the cellar you've noted. Every once in a while, you've had an idle thought of maybe looking into what was happening there. Could it be a Syndicate treasury? An Argus Wake observational post? A safehouse for stromic scouts? Just a cellar, with no importance whatsoever?

There was no one there currently, and you had no desire to go in and check - what if it was occupied by six hardened stromic killers? But there was no reason you couldn't have watched it from the distance, staking it out under the cover of trees...
While doing some light reading.

You've already had some ideas as to where to start - comparing the handwriting in the grimoires and what you knew to be Mercer's little journal. You couldn't resist a smile, when you've confirmed that one of the spellbooks was written by the same man, often with the same ink - while the other...
The other, wrapped in calf skin, must have belonged to Jarad. Who else?

You breathed in, slowly and carefully, your eyes momentarily closed. You've done it. After all this nonsense, you've finally had not one, not two, but three angles to work with. Three, at the very least!

>[Mind Palace] Theory B. Can I get a measure of Jarad's skill - and Mercer's too? Could Jarad have made a fatal mistake because of his stupidity and hubris?
>[Twilight] Theory D. Could have Jarad's grimoire been tampered with? Could that be the cause of his death?
>[Prudence] Force myself to open the journal of treachery and lies. Who else was Mercer working against? It's time to unravel this web.
>[Write-in]

>>5062329
>>[Mind Palace] Theory B. Can I get a measure of Jarad's skill - and Mercer's too? Could Jarad have made a fatal mistake because of his stupidity and hubris?

>>5062329
>[Mind Palace] Theory B. Can I get a measure of Jarad's skill - and Mercer's too? Could Jarad have made a fatal mistake because of his stupidity and hubris?

We should probably save one Fate Point for either our presentation to the Duke, which may involve any number of social rolls or for a potential attempt by Mercer to straight up murder us before we present our findings to the duke, he may show up in that damn Armour, though he could also have entirely good intentions while still being guilty of the crime of killing Jarad.

As for the investigation, I think we should use the Fate Points on the theories that use our weaker skills, though perhaps there is merit in actually using them on our best skills in order to try and over-succeed.

>>5062329
>[Twilight] Theory D. Could have Jarad's grimoire been tampered with? Could that be the cause of his death?

>>5062329
>>[Mind Palace] Theory B. Can I get a measure of Jarad's skill - and Mercer's too? Could Jarad have made a fatal mistake because of his stupidity and hubris?
I did not expect that we would hide away in some abandoned place instead of bunkering down in our room when I read seclusion.

>>5062329
>[Mind Palace] Theory B. Can I get a measure of Jarad's skill - and Mercer's too? Could Jarad have made a fatal mistake because of his stupidity and hubris?

Rolled 1, 2, 3, 4 = 10 (4d6)

The time has come to measure them and found them wanting.

(Mind Palace +2)

Commendable enthusiasm, but are you sure your ability to follow through isn't lacking, considering the... Circumstances?
When one has been stabbed in the back, all he can think of will be the gushing wound in his back. There can be no care in his heart for high-minded matters of natural philosophy, or the principles of cosmic arrangements, or even something as simple and mundane as political intrigue. The entire world shrinks to the size of this one little wound. Your world, admittedly, was a bit more vast than that. There was room for doubt there, hestitation, excuses - and that was only the beginning of it. The tail of the worm eating away at your courage and certainty, pride in what you've just done. After all, what if you've made a mistake? Are you immunized against such? What if coming to this war-torn land was a mistake? What if only misfortune would await you under the Shadow Council's thrall? What chance did you have against the death knights of Strom in full force? What if no matter what you did, the duke would listen to sir Egmund, not you? He has known him for all his life, after all - you just showed days ago. And what did you do since then - got wounded, humiliated yourself before the town, stole from his trusted advisor? Who was the boy lord more likely to put his faith into? And even if he does believe you... Maybe it would be better, had you headed straight to him, presented a case, no matter half-baked. Got to him before Mercer's poisnous words would turn him against you - just like Brooks has turned against you.
...but has she, truly? It was something you really could not stop thinking about. In all the time you've spent together, she seemed direct, earnest, and even sympathetic. She seemed like a friend - your first and only true friend, who wanted to see you win. If she was Mercer's loyal stooge, would she really act so disappointed with you this morning? Would she try and talk sense into you about the ride..?
But the journal. How do you explain the journal?

You've tried to power through it, of course. Occupy your mind with work - but what use was staring into the ink symbols before you, if their meaning didn't even register inside your head? Your finger traced the careful linework of Jarad's drawings just fine - but instead of finding flaws and weaknesses in him, you only saw them in yourself.
Maybe it would come to you, eventually. If you spend just ten minutes calming the turmoil in yourself, if you breathe a little, you could channel all this emotion into focus - and cut through it all, having found strength within you in a momentary lapse of uncertainty...

What is the heart of it, truly? What is stopping you from uncovering Jarad's folly?

>Even if I do this, even if I find the definitive proof, what will I do then? He was a man of the Shadow Council... If Mercer did it, was it truly wrong? What would the duke think?
>Nothing hurts more than a personal betrayal - other than the uncertainty surrounding it. I'm second guessing every word, and I have no way to be sure...
>What if he just kills me? Awake, or in my sleep.
>I'm surrounded by those who despise me, those who betray me, and those who honor me for the wrongs I've done. Nobody here is decent. There's no one I can trust in.
>The humiliation I've subjected myself to. She was right - everything I was going to achieve, I've nearly thrown away in advance. And what for?
>The battle against that spawn of evil, back in the tomb. I did not do well. And the scuffle with the imp - it's taken so shamefully long. Do I still have what it takes?
>What would have lied beyond the Thandol Span..? Does it lie there for me still? Every time I lose focus, I imagine a haven that awaits me, somewhere there.
>This is unworthy of an officer of the royal army. All of this. Victory is within my reach - I merely must be better.
>I don't know... I think I'm afraid. I'm just afraid.
>[Fate point] Nothing. I grind my teeth and try again.
>[Write-in]

>>5063189
>[Fate point] Nothing. I grind my teeth and try again.

These doubts are the thoughts of a helpless waif, not the Last Sunhawk. It would be a disservice to the legacy of those comrades who died in her stead - even the traitors, damn them all - to admit defeat in this abandoned cellar. Fight on, Sunhawk, and someday you may finally snatch victory from the jaws of defeat.

And then imbibe in great quantities of yummy, yummy alcohol to make the pain go away.

>>5063189
>Even if I do this, even if I find the definitive proof, what will I do then? He was a man of the Shadow Council... If Mercer did it, was it truly wrong? What would the duke think?
>Nothing hurts more than a personal betrayal - other than the uncertainty surrounding it. I'm second guessing every word, and I have no way to be sure...

At least for me I think these are what would distract us the most.

Eventually we'd work through it and try again though, whether we waste some time in a malaise unable to decide how we feel and why or whether to even spend time thinking about it instead of just powering on we'll eventually get around to it.

>This is unworthy of an officer of the royal army. All of this. Victory is within my reach - I merely must be better.

Though if choosing these internal musings actually prevent us from retrying this line of inquiry entirely then I'll vote...
>[Fate point] Nothing. I grind my teeth and try again.

>>5063189
>Nothing hurts more than a personal betrayal - other than the uncertainty surrounding it. I'm second guessing every word, and I have no way to be sure...
>[Fate point] Nothing. I grind my teeth and try again.
But above all, drink something strong before starting again

>>5063189
>I'm surrounded by those who despise me, those who betray me, and those who honor me for the wrongs I've done. Nobody here is decent. There's no one I can trust in.

>>5063189
>>I don't know... I think I'm afraid. I'm just afraid.
>>[Fate point] Nothing. I grind my teeth and try again.

Rolled 6, 4, 2, 3 = 15 (4d6)

Sunhawks do not give up. Certainly not as easily as that.

(Mind Palace +2)

EX 2, MOV 2, TWI 1, PRU 3, MND 2, DZL 1
Stress: Calm heart.
Consequences: You feel fine.
Fate Points: 2

In the forest not far from the town of Strahnbrad, there is a post-war little house, of which many know, although few people can remember who lived there and what happened to him. It's missing much, an entire wall even - but somehow, the structure continues standing in defiance of both the elements and the history itself. There is a cellar there, leading into the unknown.

Further into the thicket, beneath the cover of trees and bushes, there is a creature just as stubborn as the house she's watching from afar. Minding neither the pain of the betrayal, nor the gnawing fear and doubt, be it in the present or the future, she is treading on, page by page. On her laps, there are two grimoires - and with narrowed eyes, she's reading into both. Comparing them - to what she's been taught, to what she's learnt herself, to each other. Her eyes slowly drift between pages of one to the page of another, as she notes similarities - many similarities - that they share. Every once in a while, she lifts her eyes towards the house in the distance - at other times, she suddenly falls still at the sounds of the forest, looks around, searches for threats. She calms soon, every time, and always returns to her work.
It is not easy, it is not immediate - but the distractions are forgotten. The aching heart yields to the busy hands, fear can not exist where there's slow, deep thought.

The woman stops suddenly, and begins flipping through the pages of the calf-skin book, and she keeps going forward until she finds something familiar. Then, she falls silent and still, with only her lips and eyes moving. She dwells on this page for a long time.
Then her eyes dart towards the other book.

Judging the warlock's power and competence from the grimoire alone was often difficult - while knowledge was certainly one vital component of power, there was more to being a warlock than just that. Further, it took no skill and no knowledge to merely copy the notes of another, more powerful mage - understanding what you wrote and being able to pull it off was another matter entirely.
Analyzing the grimoire was also difficult - in a way that is nigh impossible to explain in layman terms. There was not one, correct way to summon a demon - dark magic was not a settled science in that regard, but more like an art. Each warlock often had his own unique way of approaching the process - and it would often take some research and testing to find out, if that way actually worked, if it was efficient. This was not something that could be done in an hour, in some forest - it demanded time and effort.

But there were some things that you could do. For example, you could compare how similar were the two grimoires - and slowly shake your head at your findings. You've never studied at the Academy, and you've certainly never been a professor there, but you imagined that reading two papers - one of a gifted student, and one of a shameless thief - would feel the same as you have felt right now. Page after page, you've seen repetition. Mercer copied one piece of Jarad's writing after another - and although most of it seemed accurate, there were also moments where he was off in the ways he probably did not understand. On this particular page, for example, Jarad seemed to be familiar with the nathrezim alphabet - while Mercer did not seem to be. His replication of Jarad's text was his best guess at what the more knowledgable warlock's handwriting spelled - and your eye immediately spotted at least one thoughtless mistake.
There was more to Mercer's grimoire, however, than mindless copying. First off - the first pages written by his hand did not seem to be mirrored in Jarad's book at all. Secondly - at the page margins of his grimore, you've spotted mysterious symbols, doodles that you did not recognize. There was at least one per page early on - but closer to the end, there seemed to be none at all. What could this possibly mean, you did not entirely understand - but it seemed important somehow.

Of course, there was one particular spell that you cared about the most - the one that allegedly killed Jarad. The infernal summoning.
Immediately upon finding the correct page, you were greeted with rows of names, countless diagrams and formulas, the words of incantations and the alchemic recipes that you presumed Jarad used for the reagents. Whether or not they could have led to the disaster, you did not know - the spell was too complex for such a quick, snap judgement.
But there was one thing that you've known for a fact. This was one thing that Mercer did not write down in his own grimoire. The only thing, even. No - for that, and only for that, he used a torn out page instead. It nearly fell on the grass as you accidentally freed it. For all intents and purposes, it seemed like an accurate replica of Jarad's handwriting - except for the margins. They were littered with strange symbols you've noted - they were there almost for every line of text.

Well, your surface level analysis is finished. What are your conclusions, detective?

>[Write-in]

>>5064995
"There was more to Mercer's grimoire, however, than mindless copying. First off - the first pages written by his hand did not seem to be mirrored in Jarad's book at all. Secondly - at the page margins of his grimore, you've spotted mysterious symbols, doodles that you did not recognize. There was at least one per page early on - but closer to the end, there seemed to be none at all. What could this possibly mean, you did not entirely understand - but it seemed important somehow."

>Mercer is probably a beginner, amateur warlock, hence only the single imp for defence rather than the pack we summoned to defend the threshold of our room. It also seems like he is no scholar or if he is, then he is a scholar of a different sort than the usual kind. He is stealing knowledge from Jarad but him coming into possession of Jarad's grimoire was probably not the start of his interest in the infernal arts. The first few pages indicate knowledge copied from a different source he had access to, whether that be another grimoire, a teacher, eavesdropped knowledge, demented whispers from a dream or vision, who knows? The ripped out page doesn't necessarily mean Mercer killed Jarad, but it may indicate that he either witnessed his death or the power of the attempted summoning and became afraid, or that he simply ripped out the page with his new additions for the convenience of transporting the single page instead of a heavy tome in case he ever wanted to perform the summoning himself. Still, not enough for form a solid conclusion from.

Damn, that detective stunt really would've come in handy here, huh?

>>5064995

https://youtu.be/ETK7q93bc5k

I will first give my interpretation, then spin this into a narrative of what seems to have happened based on what is available. This is not definitive, mind.

>Jarad was smart and experienced. It's impossible to rule out that an oversight led to his downfall with only a cursory examination, but it seems increasingly unlikely that he 'made a little oopsie' when his grimoire is a testament to his learning.
>Mercer is not a warlock, or perhaps a poor or inexperienced one. It appears that he has been copying Jarad's work while trying to learn as he went. Negligible but non-zero percent chance that Mercer is simply rusty or a dabbler in a different type of magic.
>The doodles indicate that Mercer has understood what is on the page and made notes of his observations, or at least puzzled out the general meaning of it? Jarad's work as a novice would logically be easier to grasp, and the number of notes that Mercer took visibly diminishes toward the end of the grimoire, which would cover more advanced subjects as Jarad's wisdom and skill increased.
>Supplement to the above; Mercer has demonstrably had some marginal success. An imp was directed to watch over the grimoires, and it was almost assuredly summoned by him.
>Mercer has been working diligently to make the knowledge that resulted in Jarad's death his own - incidentally, it is also Jarad's most potent knowledge, the sort of breakthrough that a mortal could only hope to achieve once in their lifetime.
>Was Mercer carrying the torn page with him to avoid carrying his own book as he studied and consulted other sources outside of his home? Not wanting to be caught with dark magic fits his paranoid modus.
>Mercer has been enriching himself with the wisdom of a recently deceased man whom he's expressed nothing but antipathy for. This is not indicative of malice on its own, but is remarkable enough to mention and an ample motive for murder.

>>5065116
This is the scenario that I picture:

Jarad ventures out to accomplish what few even dare to attempt, but is killed. Perhaps he was arrogant and made a mistake in his hubris, or his hangers-on realized that he was about to unleash literal Hell and put a stop to him, or the Shadow Council decided that he was too ambitious and used this as an opportunity to 'disappear' him, or what have you. Convenient.

Mercer takes it upon himself to look into the incident, or at least uses this as a pretext to pursue his self-interest, and comes to possess Jarad's grimoire. Rather than burn this profane knowledge or sequester it away, like a reasonable non-warlock would, he not only studies it, but makes a copy for himself, dabbling in the dark arts. 'Is it possible to learn this power?'

Yes, evidently. He has been making progress and taking notes along the way, though this slows as he comes across more esoteric subjects more in the ballpark of a talent such as Lynestra. But his ultimate goal is the proverbial Big Red Shiny Button at the end. We know that this knowledge has killed a man. Why would anyone pursue it with such fervent zeal, if not to turn it to their own ends?

Who or what killed Jarad? Indeterminate. We should look at Mercer's journal to see what he knows about various persons of interest, and see if we can figure out any specific means of murder.

>>5064995
Things we can rule out
>Mercer being a competent sorceror
>Mercer tampering with Jarad's grimoire

Things we cannot rule out
>Someone else tampered with Jarad's grimoire

Things we confirmed
>Mercer is a paranoid hypocrite

File: Teron Gorefiend.jpg (124 KB, 1280x720)

124 KB JPG

You've found some answers - not all of them, and not to the questions you most needed answered - but some satisfactory, solid facts - and leads too. Some of them, you would have never even dreamed about without getting your hands on this grimoire first.

Mercer... A warlock! Only now you've managed to process this horrid thought fully. It offended you deeply somehow, the very thought of it. After all, if he of all people managed to learn your intricate and dangerous craft, it diminished your own achievements. It was a spit in your face. If he could do it, just about anyone could. Once the initial minute of revulsion has passed, another question occurred to you - how?
It wasn't possible to learn magic from a grimoire - it plainly wasn't, just like it wasn't possible to learn advanced mathematics without even knowing what numbers look like. He had to have some initial training, not particularly in this field of magic, but maybe he was a hedge mage of some sort, or...
A thought occurred to you and together with it, a chill went down your spine. What if sir Egmund was a death knight? Not one of those Scourge-made, those most commonly remembered, but one of the the original, from the Second War. An orc warlock, whose soul was placed in a body of a...

No, you shook your head and exhaled. Firstly, this would be very stupid. Secondly, if any of the the first death knights - the original warlocks of the Shadow Council all - still survived more than two decades after the Second War, they would be leading the Argus Wake, not playing soldier. Thirdly, they were true masters of darkness. Their grimoires would most certainly not be protected by a single lowly imp, and they would not waste time having childish spats with you - they would have simply taken your head upon the first disagreement. And fourthly - and that point was particularly important - although their origin and nature differed from those Death Knights of Strom, they were undead still.
Mercer lacked in hair, not in breath - most certainly not in breath, as you remembered from the dinner. If sir Egmund was a dead man, some sort of Teron Gorefiend's second coming (or third, as it might be), you would have noticed immediately. So would have everyone else. No, Mercer was a man. Not a "mere human", as some would put it, but a man still.

Now, what do you do about him?

As you've read, compared, mused, theorized, you never lost awareness of your surroundings. Watching that hiding hole from afar was your secondary goal, after all. You were simply too prudent to be caught off guard like this - so you weren't.

It didn't come from the direction of the ruined shack, but the opposite of that - the depth of the woods. It was the sound of heavy, slow footsteps your sharp, elven ears have easily heard from a mile away. Although you didn't see him just yet - there was too much cover in the way - it was assuredly one dismounted man, or someone roughly human-sized. Not a giant, starving ogre.

>[Twilight] Hide. This is a dangerous, untamed land - so it could be anyone.
>That's right, it can be anyone. Get up and prepare myself for a possible confrontation.
>No need for paranoia. Stand up, raise my hand and prepare to greet this guest of mine with courtesy.
>Remain seated with my books. I want to communicate one simple thing - I'm busy, I have no business with this man, and I wish to be left alone.
>"Halt! Who goes there?!"

>>5067452
I'm guessing this could either be the occupant of the little hiding hole or it could be Mercer in that fancy armour, but if he is alone then we can take him if we prepare our summons and buffs beforehand, that is if he is intent on a fight.

Even if it isn't Mercer, I'd rather like to find out who the occupant of the cellar is.

>That's right, it can be anyone. Get up and prepare myself for a possible confrontation.

>>5067452
>That's right, it can be anyone. Get up and prepare myself for a possible confrontation.

>>5067452
>No need for paranoia. Stand up, raise my hand and prepare to greet this guest of mine with courtesy.
Brooks?

>>5067452
>Remain seated with my books. I want to communicate one simple thing - I'm busy, I have no business with this man, and I wish to be left alone.

>>5067452
>>That's right, it can be anyone. Get up and prepare myself for a possible confrontation.

>>5067452
>Remain seated with my books. I want to communicate one simple thing - I'm busy, I have no business with this man, and I wish to be left alone.
>Stare them down once they're in eyesight.

Lynestra's a cripple, there's no need to scramble around. Keep calm & in control.

File: The Dwarf.jpg (187 KB, 1200x1371)

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Although you've had a conflicting urge to show yourself to be relaxed and in control, your caution won out in the end - if this turned into a life or death struggle, history would not care much about how you carried yourself - besides, you would be the only surviving witness. You could just lie.

So no, you would not remain seated, and you would not greet whoever was coming your way with a dumb smile and a wave of your hand - you would greet him prepared. Firstly, it would meant summoning yourself some assistance - namely, Tzerak, that living mountain of pure brute force. Secondly, it meant applying a protective spell to yourself - it already saved your life once lately, so there was no reason to neglect caution. Thirdly, you've ignited a felflame in your right hand - and immediately hid it behind your back. If it was an enemy, the sort not to be dissuaded by an overt display of force, you could surprise him with a handful of fire.

And so, you waited - and you listened to the heavy footsteps approaching your position, closer and closer by the moment. Your eyes narrowed, and your teeth clenched - this could be the fateful confrontation between you and sir Mercer. It could be Brooks too, why ever not - even in that case, your preparations might not have been a waste. Still, you've kept your cool and signaled the demon to keep still and silent too. You wished to prepare for a fight, not start it.

A second of wait later, your mysterious guest showed. With a sack held over his shoulders, and a basket full of picked mushrooms in the other, this creature was most certainly not Mercer. This one had about several heads in him fewer when it came to height, and a few heads worth more when it came to hair - although if you judged purely by his attitude and the grimace that instantly graced his noble features upon the sight of you - sure, it could be him.

EX 2, MOV 2, TWI 1, PRU 3, MND 2, DZL 1
Stress: Calm heart.
Consequences: You feel fine.
Fate Points: 2

The dwarf dropped both of his carried possessions on the ground at the sight of you and the demon, and grabbed his axe by its shaft. The demon exhaled a cloud of steam, tightening the grip on his own hammer - but you weren't too worried just yet. Not because the dwarf could pose no threat to you - you've seen too many of them in action in the war to hold to such ridiculous beliefs. It's just that you were far too familiar with their kind to take the brandished weapon as a sincere threat.

"Ye again, ye knife-earred piece of shite!", the dwarf let out an indignant, guttural growl.
You wondered briefly, what clan he could possibly belong to. He bore no markings on his face that would be a telltale sign of the plain-dwelling wildhammer, but it did not necessarily mean he wasn't one of them. In the end, you've decided it didn't actually matter - no dwarven clan had much resentment for your kind, so his aggressive posturing was definitely just that. Posturing.
Then, a second too late, something suddenly occurred to you.
"Again?", you blinked.
"I told ye to ne'er show yer ugly mug here!", the dwarf pressed, his face growing redder by the second. It looked like he was about to explode.
And yet, it did not actually seem like the situation would actually escalate to any serious violence. Still, what about your dignity?

>[Dazzle] Now listen here, you barrel-bellied, furry midget...
>[Prudence] Calm him down. Whatever offense he imagined, I'm sure we can just talk.
>Tell him the truth - he must have confused me for someone else. I've never even seen him before.
>Does he see all those books? I'm doing something important. And I want a moment of quiet.
>Is he the squatter I've been wondering about? Ask him.
>I serve the rightful ruler of this land, and I walk wherever I please.
>Does he not the demon? I'm the warlock of the Argus Wake. He should show some respect.
>It's fine, master dwarf. I was just about leaving.
>Oh no. No, no, no, no... NO!

>>5069383
>Tell him the truth - he must have confused me for someone else. I've never even seen him before.
>Is he the squatter I've been wondering about? Ask him.
>Not that we've cleared that up, who is it that he has mistaken us for?

We just got done doing some light reading and have begun the process of solving this mystery, our heart is calm, our ego cannot be swayed by an overgrow hedgehog or whatever it is dwarves evolved from.

>>5069383
>>[Dazzle] Now listen here, you barrel-bellied, furry midget...
>>Does he see all those books? I'm doing something important. And I want a moment of quiet.

>>5069383
>>Tell him the truth - he must have confused me for someone else. I've never even seen him before.
>>Is he the squatter I've been wondering about? Ask him.
>>Not that we've cleared that up, who is it that he has mistaken us for?

>>5069383
>[Prudence] Calm him down. Whatever offense he imagined, I'm sure we can just talk.

>>5069383
>>Is he the squatter I've been wondering about? Ask him.
[SQUAT DWARF JOKE]

>>5069383
>>[Dazzle] Now listen here, you barrel-bellied, furry midget...

No post today, the coof got me bad.

>>5070327
Take care QM.

>>5070327
Oooof. Get well soon.

>>5070327
Sending my energy, stay safe.

>>5070327
Feel better QM. I've been catching up with the quest in the archives and just got to Thread 2. Really love it and looking forward to being able to participate.

>>5070327
Take care

I've recovered. Post soon.

>>5071052
Welcome. The more regulars we have, the better.

Rolled 5, 3, 1, 2 = 11 (4d6)

But what ABOUT your dignity?

(Prudence +3)

Rolled 1, 4, 1, 3 = 9 (4d6)

This dwarf has insulted your honor!

This is the second time my post gets disappeared into the void. Fuck it, the quest continues tomorrow.

>>5074982
>>5074984
Gods, these fuckin' rolls.

>>5075041
No worries, it happens. As it precaution it helps to highlight your post and copy it just in case it gets devoured. Or to write it up in notepad or microsoft word or something first.

EX 2, MOV 2, TWI 1, PRU 3, MND 2, DZL 1
Stress: Unmoved
Consequences: Walking on the sunshine.
Fate Points: 2


When it came to your dignity, it remained unscathed - you were not about to take the dwarf’s antics to get to you, and you were going neither to placate him, nor to entertain this nonsense by getting into some sort of childhidsh spat - this wasn’t Strahnbrad, after all. No, what you needed to do was to deflect and shift his attention to something else.
“I’ve been wondering if anyone’s squatting in the remnants of that shack.”, you asked a simple question. “Is it you?”
That was good thinking, but for some reason you could not understand, your inquiry seemed to only anger the dwarf more - his eyes bulged out so much, you swear you could distinctly see each distinct blood vessel. He waved his axe in such a dramatic fashion, it almost hit the trunk of a nearby tree, had his reach not been too short.
“Squattin’?”, he took particular offense to this word. “Squattin’, ye felweed-snortin’, hare-brained, long-shanked witch? Ye come here an’ yap about comin’ uninvited? Ah don’t min’ invitin’ ye here! Not ever!”

Tzerak only turned to you silently, canting his head a touch, his tiny eyes staring at you as if he was asking if what he’s seeing is real. You, meanwhile, only waved him away and emitted a low “ah” - so that was the crux of the issue. It had nothing to do with you at all - and everything to do with dwarven knack to stake a claim to everything they wanted and declare it their rightful land.
“Inviting us? I recall that dwarves are recent arrivals to those mountains. If you’re so bothered by the Syndicate…”
“I’m nae talkin’ about nae Syndicate, ye fool! Ye, blight upon yer entire kin! I’m talkin’ about YE!”, saliva was fired out of his mouth like buckshot. “You barge in mah home, try mah hospitality, insult mah ancestors - that all, I can lit go. But whit for you vomited in mah lest pair ay socks?! The gall on ye to show yer mug after that! Have ye nae shame?!”

You blinked, as it took you a second for your cognition to tear its way through his heavily accented speech.
No. What he was saying simply didn’t make sense, no matter what ethereal, dreamlike, half-remembered images begin rising to the surface of your mind. You couldn’t - you wouldn’t have the time to. She said you were found within fifteen minutes… Oh.
Oh, she meant distance. You were found within fifteen minute ride’s distance. You could have been away from the town for the entire night, before your merriment has finally come to an abrupt end in that ditch you were found in, and only then the scouting party…

Well, that was something you could reflect on later. For now, there was a matter of the dwarf.

>[Movement] I was entitled to a little celebration. I’ve just beaten a death knight.
>[Prudence] I might have had too much. But I truly meant no offense to him, to his ancestors, or to his socks.
>[Twilight] Uh… Would he believe me, if I said it wasn’t me?
>[Exertion] No matter my ridiculous misadventures while drunk, I’m sober now. He’s going to behave, or else.
>[Dazzle] That’s how we do it in Quel’Thalas. I’m sorry it was too much for his delicate dwarven sensibilities.

>>5075984
>>[Movement] I was entitled to a little celebration. I’ve just beaten a death knight.
Well we don’t want to get into the Dwarf’s list o grudges do we?

>>5075984
>[Dazzle] That’s how we do it in Quel’Thalas. I’m sorry it was too much for his delicate dwarven sensibilities.

>>5075984
>[Prudence] I might have had too much. But I truly meant no offense to him, to his ancestors, or to his socks.

I, for one, welcome our new dwarf friend. He let us crash at his house uninvited, so he can't be all bad.

>>5075984
>[Dazzle] That’s how we do it in Quel’Thalas. I’m sorry it was too much for his delicate dwarven sensibilities.

I too, welcome our newfound dwarven friend.

>>5075984
>[Dazzle] That’s how we do it in Quel’Thalas. I’m sorry it was too much for his delicate dwarven sensibilities.

friendship ENDED with BROOKS
now URIST is my BEST FRIEND

Dazzle seems to be winning. Make an argument for why Bondweaver should apply in this situation, if you want a bonus.

>>5076520
My intent was that we literally make friends with him, hence using Dazzle instead of merely being the polite fence mender with Prudence or bragging with Movement.

The stuff about mocking his sensibilities isn't meant to literally be mocking but to be sort of teasing, seeing if he has any banter in him.

After all, why should his dwarven sensibilities be offended by us having a good time and getting drunk? We were just doing what was natural and enjoying the ̶d̶e̶l̶i̶c̶i̶o̶u̶s̶ horrible swill the humans call beer, surely as a dwarf he can understand. Or were we too much for him with our fun loving ways and delightful drunken affect? He probably can't even drink as much as us or bring himself to enjoy life properly if he took issue with us having a good time, truly elves are the true appreciators of fine drink and the good life.

>>5076520
>>5076554
To add onto this, I say based on the description of bondweaver saying we get the bonus when trying to charm people, and the brief chat we had during the beginning of last thread when you talked about when Bondweaver ought apply you mentioned that it is supposed to apply to friendly conversation-making not as a blanket bonus to Dazzle.

I think that applies here, the anons above me seem to agree that our intent is making friends with this dwarf. Nor are we particularly uptight or offended or all that concerned with this issue about him being mad about his socks, that isn't the issue here and we aren't really trying to "solve" the issue of his anger about his socks, we are just going straight into the friendly nonchalant banter.

>>5076520
Yeah, I was going for light goading banter on the dwarf - "what's the matter, can't handle some liquor?" type banter, establish a rapport. We should offer to bring him in for the next pub crawl.

>>5075984
>>[Dazzle] That’s how we do it in Quel’Thalas. I’m sorry it was too much for his delicate dwarven sensibilities.

Rolled 4, 1, 3, 1 = 9 (4d6)

>>5076554
>>5076777
I'm convinced. But what about the dwarf?

(Dazzle +1, Bondweaver +2)

>>5078365
Never change dice

This is easy. He’s a dwarf, not one of the delicate capital city wallflowers. What you need to do is show that you’re on the same, you and him - banter a little, smile, pinch at him - figuratively, that is. No need for formal apologies, let loose a little - just like you did that evening, at the celebration.

“Come now, you’re a dwarf.”, you spoke easily, raising your head. “Drinking is your national past-time, you do it every day of the week. In Quel’Thalas, we do it somewhat differently - we make our rare celebrations special, so if your dwarven sensibilities were offended...”
The dwarf’s eye twitched just a little. He said nothing, but judging from the fact that he wasn’t lunging at you, he probably took this barb as playful banter it was intended as - not as a grievous offense to his people. Still, you’ve felt it in your gut that you needed to go on. The correct words were floating somewhere there, inside your skull, but it took some effort to find them in the midst of everything you should not have said, assemble them in the right order. This was significantly more difficult to do on the spot than you would have ever suspected:
“Besides, I’m certain it’s not the first time someone threw up in your…What was that? Beard?”

A step too far. That was way too far, you’ve realized suddenly, as the dwarf’s grip on his weapon tightened, and he rose his axe to the sky with a furious cry that sent a chill down your spine. He meant it this time, you knew suddenly. He was not about to comically wave his weapon around anymore - he was about to bury it in your skull, if you allow it. He TRULY meant it. Tzerak’s body tensed, as he prepared to leap forward and intercept the attack, low growl emitting from the demon’s throat. Something more than mere tension was in the air - something only vaguely familiar, a sudden change. Something you did not have the time to dwell on.
You’ve had mere splinters of a second to decide what to do…


>[Movement] “No! Wait! You’ve got it wrong!”
>There’s no way to salvage this with words. Let us fight it out, and maybe we’ll talk once the smoke clears.

>>5078570
>[Movement] “No! Wait! You’ve got it wrong!”
Burn a Fate Point

>>5078572
+1

>>5078570
>[Movement] “No! Wait! You’ve got it wrong!”

Ah, Lynestra, truly we are doomed to forever have a swollen lead tongue.

To think we'd have gotten to the point to where we are burning fate points on friend making during what is probably the most important point in the quest up to this point, we really need these for the investigation. Still, I really want another friend.

File: Lynestra.jpg (35 KB, 500x475)

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>>5078570
>[Movement] “No! Wait! You’ve got it wrong!”

Rolled 5, 2, 6, 1 = 14 (4d6)

Is it too late for apologies?

(Movement +2, Fate point +2)

EX 2, MOV 2, TWI 1, PRU 3, MND 2, DZL 1
Stress: Unmoved
Consequences: Walking on the sunshine.
Fate Points: 1

There was an unpleasant sensation, a tingling in your hair, a worrying omen of something coming - and immediately, you were proven right. From the unforeboding white clouds crowning the mountains of Alterac, down came a bolt of awesome lightning. The wrath of the skies struck the dwarven weapon, coating it in sparking fury that sought to escape the steel - and escape it would, the moment the dwarf points his weapon at you.

The felguard was already rushing forward with a hammer in hand, and a battlecry yelled out in the foul demonic tongue - but he was neither to strike at the dwarf, nor intercept the blow, as you've dismissed him with a gesture - the very same one you did, as you raised your hands up.
"Wait!", you yelled out.

It was a gamble, to be sure. You were betting that he would see your surrender through his red-eyed fury, and that he would care for it. In your heart, you were hoping that it would pay off - because the alternate outcome would involve searing pain in your flesh.
And... It did. The dwarf's axe froze in the air, as he stared you down from a distance. Keeping lightning trapped like this costed him effort - but he was not about to let it loose at you, until you've pleaded your case. Although, neither would he dismiss it.

"I did not mean to slight you, master dwarf.", you spoke quickly. “Neither your ancestors, nor your beard. I’ve only meant to jest - and to talk. Let’s not shed blood over a misunderstanding!”
Perhaps, if you did not have a splinter of a second to think on it, you would make a stronger case - but you’ve hoped that it would be enough. It would be a shame to have to kill someone over a prose not purple enough…
“GAH!”, the dwarf slashed his weapon through the air, and the bolt of lightning arced through the air once again - not to you, but to the skies - released back to where it was borrowed from. He stomped his foot in the ground, slapping his palm into his face. “Blest it! Whit kin' of an elf are ye?!”

That was probably a rhetorical question. But you answered anyway.

>[Write-in]

>>5079637
“The good and beautiful kind”

>>5079637
>"My... acquaintances have described me as a 'Soldier of the Apocalypse.'"

>>5079637
>"Is this a rhetorica - ...I'm a blood elf"

>>5079637
>A nice one

>>5079960
Supportan!

We have a winner. Post tomorrow, boys, my word.

You blinked, but then understood - yes, it's probably unreasonable to expect some dwarf who lives like a hermit to understand the divide in the elven nation - your people were completely unlike anyone else, after all. What has split your kind in pieces was not land, it was no matter of families forming clans, neither was it a matter of language, hereditary features or anything normal by the dwarven standards - it was all political. No one in the whole world was more political than elves, and you were the most political of them all. Maybe that was the answer to his question - you were a political kind of elf. Maybe even a dissident kind. But commonly, you were known as...

"A blood elf.", you answered a flap of the eyelids later. Then you blinked again, doubting yourself. "Is this a rhetorica-"
The dwarf screamed in despair, dropping his precious axe on the ground and grabbing onto his face with both of his hands:
“Coorse it’s a rhetorical question! Whit kin’ of… Nae, don’t answer ‘at!”, the dwarf looked like he was on the verge of tears. “I’ve come haur tae bide my misery in sham, an’ ye can’t even lit me dae ‘at in peace. Every darn day, some cretin comes along. ‘Hey, fa li’es haur?’. ‘Did ye pay yer toll?’ ‘Yoo’re tough. Join mah gang ur else!’. ‘Yoo see onie green flam in the sky?’. Ah want tae die in peace, darn it! An’ ye! Ye want tae come haur every day, ye felweed heid? Ye want tae torment me?!”
“No.”, you tried to answer tactully. “I don’t mean to torment you, I didn’t even remember that I’ve…”
Visited?
“Bothered you before. And I definitely don’t mean to continue bothering you every day.”
It looks like acting even mildly apologetic was enough to swing the poor dwarf back in the state where he was mildly amusing, as opposed to unexpectedly dangerous. Once again, he’d speak in such a tone of voice, that let you know immediately no harm will befall you, lest you speak of his beard again.
“Well, it wi’ it, wench!”
“Out with what?”, you inquired with prudence.
“Yoo’re still haur, aren’t ya? Yoo’’re nae leavin’, cause ye want somethin’ frae me. It wi’ it, sae ah can gang back tae dyin’ in peace!”
He spoke of dying once more. Your eyes quickly darted towards the mushrooms spilled out of the basket he’s carried here. These didn’t look poisonous to you, and you’ve known a thing or two about fungi, so he was probably just melodramatic. One gathered provisions to live, not to die.

>I’m, uh… Lynestra. What’s his name?
>Why does he want to die - in shame, too?
>I’ve fought alongside plenty of dwarves in the Third War. Was he there?
>I can’t quite place what clan is he from.
>The last time I was here… Did I do or say anything strange? Ask him.
>I’d like to apologize for what happened yesterday.
>Green flame… Someone must have asked him about the Jarad incident. Mercer?
>He brought lightning from the sky. Is he a sorcerer?
>He looks formidable, and I badly need help.
>His first answer will be “NAY!”, but he must know something about...
>>The alteraci?
>>Death knights of Strom?
>>Argus Wake?
>>Stromgarde?
>>Orcs and dwarves around here?
>If one is to approach researching the books properly, it would take days. If I’m to stay away from the town in the meantime, I’ll need a roof. Try to get an invitation.
>I don’t want anything from him. Time to go back to studying what I looted.
>[Write-in]

>>5084110
>>I’m, uh… Lynestra. What’s his name?
>>I’ve fought alongside plenty of dwarves in the Third War. Was he there?
>>The last time I was here… Did I do or say anything strange? Ask him.

>>5084110
>I’m, uh… Lynestra. What’s his name?
>Why does he want to die - in shame, too?

I would perhapse apologize a bit later, he might have calmed down but no point in tempting his anger so quickly yet again, same reason why I wouldn't inquire about what actually happened.

Given our geographical location I would suspect he is from the wildhammer clan, I am not sure how familar our character is with dwarves, but I would ask if it may have lost his mount and thats why he hasn't left this place, there have to be more hospitable places to die even for an outcast.

>His first answer will be “NAY!”, but he must know something about the alteraci?
if we plan to lay low the information of who comes and goes in these parts might be important.
>If one is to approach researching the books properly, it would take days. If I’m to stay away from the town in the meantime, I’ll need a roof. Try to get an invitation.
I know this is a big request and he is unlikely to freely grant it, but I would still say being upfront is our best shot with him.

>>5084110
Eeeeeevvvvvveeeerrryyyyyytttthhhiiiiiiiiinnnnnggg!!!

All the questions!

No, but for real, lets start with >>5084175

From there we can decide whether it is a good idea to ask about his deathwish, though I imagine we ought to know each other better before a lot of these things are appropriate.

We really could use his help though, a roof over our head would give us more time to do a thorough study and we could use his help if Mercer comes knocking early.

>>5084110
>I’m, uh… Lynestra. What’s his name?
>I’ve fought alongside plenty of dwarves in the Third War. Was he there?
>If one is to approach researching the books properly, it would take days. If I’m to stay away from the town in the meantime, I’ll need a roof. Try to get an invitation.

Everything, honestly, but I would rather delay asking more specific questions as to not overwhelm the QM.

>>5084110
>I’m, uh… Lynestra. What’s his name?
>I’ve fought alongside plenty of dwarves in the Third War. Was he there?
>The last time I was here… Did I do or say anything strange? Ask him.
>He brought lightning from the sky. Is he a sorcerer?

I can't access the most recent thread on the archieve, anyone else having this problem?
I am sorry if this is already common knowledge, but the inaccessability confuses me as I keep getting an error message [an error occurred while processing this directive]

>>5085057
https://archive.wakarimasen.moe/qst/thread/4992051/
Parts of suptg is still fucked but the usual archive sites are working fine

>>5085100
thank you

You may have been off on a bad start - several times, somehow - but finally, things seemed to be going your way. It was time to secure it all with the greatest weapon of yours - being polite, and acting in a personable manner. Or at least one of the two.

"My name is lady Lynestra.", you've introduced yourself. "Lynestra Dawnstrider. And I was just wondering, if we’ve met before. I’ve fought in the Third War, and I know that many dwarves have. Have you? Maybe we’ve been on the same battlefields?"
That was so smooth, it couldn’t have possibly failed. Start with the glory of battle - and then casually apologize for being rude and not asking for his name. That way, you can figure out his clan too.
“Dawnstrider, eh?”, the dwarf narrowed his eyes, looking at you in a manner that you didn’t wholly like. “That soonds like royalty. Ur ye royalty?”
“You’re thinking Sunstriders, master dwarf. Sunstriders are royalty.”, you called out loudly, and then excused yourself with what seemed more like a mutter. “There’s some resemblance, but it’s a…. Coincidence.”
“If ye say sae, yer royal highness.”, the dwarf narrowed his eyes even more. He looked at you silently for a few seconds more, before changing both his expression, and his topic. “So, princess. We be friends noo? Yoo’ll be comin’ tae mah fire tae trade war stories, an’ ‘en throw up in it?”
“If you want.”, you tried to not let a single muscle on your face twitch, as you offered this jest as a response. You’ve resisted the urge to phrase it as a question, knowing the answer in advance. Then, you felt the need to clarify. “But I’m not usually drunk. And I’m not sure yet if there’s any war stories to trade, master..?”
“Angus.”, the dwarf answered unwillingly.
“Angus…”, you began, before being interrupted.
“Angus naethin’. An’ aye, I’ve seen yer war - seen plenty ay wars. Seen yer kingdom, probably seen yer hoose too. Pretty place, cooldn’t lit th’ orcs burn it. Hud tae fly in an’ bash some skulls til they left. Ah hink ah’d be a bit less welcome thaur these times, but at leest th' orcs hae yer hospitality. Guid fur them, Ah say…Ye want tae gab abit th' war yoo've waged fur th' greenskins too?”

Fly? He was a wildhammer, then, the griffin rider. Wildhammers were always friends to your people, until very recently. The other dwarves always considered their kind a little bit odd for that - although preferring to live close to the sky instead of under a rock was an even bigger reason for the tension between them - and the Wildhammers spat right back at their mountain brothers. Wildhammers, the elf-friends… Strange, how what’s been established for centuries has changed forever in the short years you were away. Did you ever really come home?

>I won’t apologize for my people looking out for themselves. Besides, the Horde already involved some of our own at the time - and treated them like equals. He knows Sylvanas, yes?
>The human alliance has failed us too many times - so we left. The Wildhammers could have too.
>The war was the responsibility of an insane warmonger - whom the orcs, to their credit, actually deposed. Immediately after, it was all over.
>What happened was a shame, but there’s no war between our people anymore. I think that he’d be more than welcome there.
>It’s important to establish that I didn’t fight in that war. I’ve shed no dwarven blood in all my life.
>I can’t be blamed along with those, whom I don’t even represent. I’m an exile.
>My banner is alteraci orange, not orcish red, and I stand by duke Dryden, not regent Lor’themar.
>His feelings on the matter are justified, and I share them. All I can say is, I wasn’t asked about it. Nobody was.
>This political farce was cooked up by traitors back home, who misled and deceived our noble king. If he was on this world, if he only knew, he would never allow it to happen.


The question about your drunken antics will have to wait until the next post, I couldn't fit it in.

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>>5086668
>I can’t be blamed along with those, whom I don’t even represent. I’m an exile.
I have no doubt anymore that we are dealing with a real gryphon rider and the fact that he doesn't shout too the sky everytime we select his unit model implies that for one reason or another he lost his mount, for this reason I think it would be beneficial to establish some common ground, we are both far from where we belong, as unlikely as it seems we have met a kindred spirit in the most unlikely of places.

>This political farce was cooked up by traitors back home, who misled and deceived our noble king. If he was on this world, if he only knew, he would never allow it to happen.
This option on the other hand just seems very in character, no opportunity to praise our precious prince and frame the opposition should be left untaken.

oof

Surprisingly big choice, how we feel about joining the Horde. I'm not really caught up on all the lore of how this happened and my memories of what could be relevant are shoddy.

So, I did some wikia diving and found the following: the blood elves generally had a negative opinion of the Horde just prior to joining it, however Sylvanas played a big part in opening up relations between the Horde and the elves by saying she still considered herself a protect of Quel'thalas and repeatedly offering troops and supplies to help defend Quel'thalas from the Scourge. The blood elves denied many of these offers particularly ones of stationing troops within their borders. It is worth noting that the Regent of the blood elves, Lor'themar Theron was the 2nd in command under Sylvanas back when she was Ranger-General fighting the scourge.

Then a few things happened: some scourge leader named Dar'Khan Drathir got killed and his head presented to the Regent, negotiations failed with the Alliance, the Night Elves apparently made incursions into Quel'thalas, thus the Blood Elves were looking for allies and joined the Horde. Also, Lor'themar helped get the elves at seat at the table by sharing knowledge of uncorrupted orcs in Draenor.

Apparently this was a contentious policy decision initially, but the Regent-Lord went full police state and sicced the Magisters on the dissidents, they literally mind-controlled anyone who disagreed with them. For example, a NPC named Lyria Skystrider and some priest named Ennas are arguing publicly with some others about why they'd abandoned their old Alliance allies, that the orcs are fair-weather friends, (they'd attacked Quel'thalas within recent memory I believe) that Sylvanas is not the same person as the Ranger-General they knew, that they should be a society of Conscience and that their magic addiction was leading them down a destructive path, etc, etc. Then some guy named Priest Kath'mar shows up and literally mind-controls them on the spot to take the polar opposite stances like robots.

Finally, there was a piece of literal fanfiction that was canonized when it won a writing contest where Lor'themar and Grand Magister Rommath do some stuff and there are pretty big revelations. The first minor note is that the elves have a spat with the Kirin Tor about them not helping the elves in the Third War and leaving them to rot in the dungeons. The important bit is that in a meeting with Sylvanas it is revealed that she had an ulterior motive for helping the elves, she wants them to go participate in offensive operations in Northrend against the Scourge or else she'll abandon them and remove her troops from helping the elves in their home turf against the Scourge and stop supplying them. Thus blackmailed they agree to do so in the end, though not before some strife between the magister and regent.

End infodump. 1/2

>>5086672
So, remembering our prior discussions I think there was some talk of us eventually coming to realise Kael'thas was crazy, so while I think we'd still have some very strong positive feelings and nostalgia towards the initial intent of the Sunhawks and Kael'thas, we would probably not fully whitewash them if pushed. Though, disregarding discussion between anons, so far in character we've been outspoken about the virtues of the Sunhawks and Kael'thas, and with our flashback to Outland we were willing to justify a lot for Kael'thas, though I imagine that changes somewhat after that one guy joins up with the Naaru and again after Kael'thas outright attacks Quel'thalas.

That being said, we could justify any future whitewashing of Kael'thas by simply making the distinction of pre-crazytown Kael'thas and post-crazytown Kael'thas, and then arbitrarily place the point of when he "turned" somewhere pretty far into the warcrimes timeline but not so far as to whitewash supporting the world-conquering Legion. Thus we can reconcile having previously still spoken positively of the Sunhawks and Kael'thas with us acknowledging that at the very end he wasn't all there.

I also forgot to mention in the previous post. We may know most of what occurred in my infodump, but we almost certainly wouldn't know about the specifics of what occurred in the high-end diplomatic meetings between the various leaders or the blackmail in the canonized fanfiction.

Now, previously I'd written out what I thought we'd personally do here, but looking over the the prompts I think every single one is in character and makes sense with an opinion we could hold, we could even hold almost all of those choice prompts as internal opinions simultaneously without contradiction. In the end I don't think we'd try to justify the Horde stuff even if we privately acknowledge the context and think it makes sense, Lynestra has previously mentioned feeling strange and alienated returning home, so I think it makes sense that we'd fall into the camp of "joining the Horde kinda-sorta makes sense with context but it is strange and bullshit and I had nothing to do with it and IF ONLY KAEL'THAS WAS THERE, EVERYTHING WOULD BE RIGHT!"

2/2

>It’s important to establish that I didn’t fight in that war. I’ve shed no dwarven blood in all my life.
>I can’t be blamed along with those, whom I don’t even represent. I’m an exile.
>This political farce was cooked up by traitors back home, who misled and deceived our noble king. If he was on this world, if he only knew, he would never allow it to happen.
>His feelings on the matter are justified, and I share them. All I can say is, I wasn’t asked about it. Nobody was.
>Well, in context it kinda-sorta-not-really makes sense, but we don't need to mention that.

>>5086672
>It’s important to establish that I didn’t fight in that war. I’ve shed no dwarven blood in all my life.
>I can’t be blamed along with those, whom I don’t even represent. I’m an exile.
>This political farce was cooked up by traitors back home, who misled and deceived our noble king. If he was on this world, if he only knew, he would never allow it to happen.

"Tzerak, get me my soapbox."

>>5087266
"They don't have those in Alterac"

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>>5086672
>The human alliance has failed us too many times - so we left. The Wildhammers could have too.
>I can’t be blamed along with those, whom I don’t even represent. I’m an exile.
>This political farce was cooked up by traitors back home, who misled and deceived our noble king. If he was on this world, if he only knew, he would never allow it to happen.

>>5087384
Supporting

“I didn’t make those decisions, master dwarf.”, you sighed, raising your head and shaking it just a little. “I wasn’t even there for those decisions. I’m an exile…”
Much like you, you could have said, but you didn’t. You bit your tongue instead - first of all, you didn’t even know for a fact that it was the case. Secondly - it’s best to let this thought appear in his head on its own. He would probably take offense, if you started talking about how you’re not so different, you and him.
“...I don't belong with them, precisely because I disagreed with our new course.”
That was a stroke of genius, to pat yourself on the back, an incredible way to phrase that. Much better than 'I’m a war criminal, I fled my country! I belong under a tribunal!'.

The dwarf kept his distrusting eyes on you, not saying anything much beyond:
“So?”
“So, if I’m to be blamed for anything, I’d rather it to be for things I’ve actually done.”, he truly gave you this. It was a great way to move this conversation away from the treacherous and potentially lethal subject of war and politics, towards something Angus McNothing has already made a decision not to murder you over.
“Yoo’ve dain plenty haur alreddy, longshanks.”, the dwarf huffed through his nose.
“It couldn’t have been that bad, yes..?”, you asked with just a little more wariness in your voice than you actually had on the subject. But just a little. “Did I say anything strange?”
“Strange is a wurd! Batty, is whit ye were. Barged inside me hoose, talkin' abit how yoo’re sniffin' it smugglers an’ stashes. Looked under me scratcher fur enemy spies. Ah’d kick ye it, but ye started bawlin' when ye didn’t fin' them. Felt bad fur ye a wee.”
“By the sun.”, you’ve muttered under your breath, than asked loudly. “Did I… Say anything else? Did I say who the enemy was?”
“Sure soonded loch it was the auld Gordok Bock.”, the dwarf huffed again, but now into his beard. He even smiled a little, like he found your rivalry with that man funny.
“Who?”, you blinked. This name sounded foreign to your tongue, or his. “Is he an orc?”
The disappointment with which the bearded warrior has looked upon you couldn’t be described with mere words.
“Forget it.”, he frowned then.

The two of you stared each other down shortly. The point of your boot dug into the earth a little.
“And then…”, you began.
“Ah was thinkin' abit hoo tae get ye tae sod aff. An' then ye began mumblin' abit how ah ‘shoods hae bin there’, an' how ye ‘shoods have foond me fore’. An' then ye cralwed tae hug me. Still bawlin’, but laughin’ tae. Spooked me a wee bit.”
“I’ve probably just wanted a friend, that’s all.”, you’ve mumbled inaudibly through gritted teeth, as you stared into the ground.
“But it was still funay back 'en.”, the dwarf raised his tone, suddenly serious. “Yoo speakin’ of mah fowk, 'at wasn’t. Ye have nae sham fur yerself, wench, fine - but whit abit yer kin? Ye have a kin?”

>Yes.
>No.

>>5089064
Whoops, forgot to take off my name, sorry.

...

>Yes.

>>5089064
>No...

>>5089064
>Yes

>>5089064
>>Yes.

>>5089064
>No.

>>5089064
>Yes.

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Alright, people. We are going on a short hiatus for the time of the winter holidays - after which, the triumphant march of the Sunhawks will resume. In the mean time, I can be contacted on twitter.
I'd like to apologize for this thread not being as lively as I'd want it to be, but the coof and a few other factors got in the way.
As usual, this is an appropriate time for feedback. Also, I'd like to ask you a question. How many of you are also playing Alterac Resurgent quest? I'm curious how significant is the overlap.

Play Warcraft 3.

>>5091585
Enjoy the holidays QM, everyone.

I don't really have any feed back to give this time around, but that may be because I'm dead tired as I didn't sleep at all last night.

I haven't participated in Alterac Resurgent quest, I remember there being quite a bit of enthusiasm for it and anons pining for it to return in one of those "talk about old good quests or quests you desperately want to return" threads during its hiatus. The writing simply doesn't appeal to me nor do the mechanics.

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>>5091585
>Alright, people. We are going on a short hiatus
I must admit it saddens me to hear that I will have to do without my warcraft 3 fix for a while, but it is understandable. I wish you and everyone else a pleasant holiday season, I will be happy to welcome you back when the story continues.

>feedback

>Alterac Resurgents
not me, this quest is kind of what got me back into quests again. I didn't venture much beyond it, I might still check it out, but so far I didn't have that many reasons too.
>feedback
I really don't have much in terms of constructive critism, sure I wish you would post more frequently, but that is more a sign of how much I have grown to appreciate your writing, not to mention the way you manage to weave in those bits and pieces of warcraft lore.
I like the characters we have met so far, they all feel distinct and there always seems to be more depth to them once we got a chance for further interaction, none so far have felt one note, which I view as perhaps your greatest accomplishment so far.
I guess that's just a more long winded way of saying, pleasure having you and keep up the good work.
>Play Warcraft 3.
After playing warcraft 3 on and off for almost 10 years it is fair to say the game and its lore holds a special place in my heart, but both the disastrous release of reforged as well as the perhaps even more questionable story decisions of the blizzard "story" team killed my interest in the IP. It is a big part of why I was drawn to this Quest in particular, it managed to give me back tmy nostalgia for the game, although it might still be some time before I actually play it again.

>>5091585
I usually give fanfics and quests about established franchises a wide berth. This one is the exception, however.

Don't apologize. There are more important things than writing about an elf's botches and gaffes. Speaking of which, I still find them and look forward to future capers and blunders.

>>5091704
please excuse my poor formating, I didn't notice it right away.

>>5091585
Not to be a coomer but dank it, when are we getting another drunken escapade?

>>5092293
plz no

>>5092293
Probably eventually, but not soon. While it's good to have moments of levity, I don't want the quest to be exlusively dominated by those kind of moments.
Also, I have a grudge against coomers ever since the sudden leap to 9 responses per post, with all those "new players" disappearing immediately after without a trace.

>>5092552
going from 3 to 5-7 regulars each vote isn't a bad thing though
I just want us to fulfill that ill advised bet in some way

>>5092552
As someone who likes being titillated from time to time, I just have a grudge against coomers, period.

I'll archive as usual near the end of the day as we are about to fall off, assuming someone else doesn't do it first.

>>5092552
>>5092651
There is this unwritten rule for questing that if options like that appear that they are going to be picked. Even if the entire longterm playerbase were to vote as one block against it chances are a horde of lurkers, questventurers is gonna materialise out of the void if need be and outvote them. I wasn't there in this particular instance, but I have seen the phenomenon many times before and fighting the coomers is as pointless as fighting human nature itself.
I wouldn't hold it against them that their presence is as short lived as their attention span. From what I can tell you have quite the loyal following already and if I ever manage to commit to a quest of my own I would probably be quite envious.

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The thread has been archived, don't forget to upvote!

https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=The%20Last%20Sunhawk%20Quest

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>>5091585
I just want to let you know, a thread or two back, when "Lynestra" reminisced about her brief time back in civilization after the war; wearing her old uniform in secret, humming the old songs, imagining there were others doing the same thing and hiding just like she was... that was spot on writing. It hit on cord that I think is pretty relatable no matter what a person's back ground is.

I want to play your quest from that alone, so good job.

Merry Christmas buddy.

Merry Christmas everyone, hope to see you all again when the adventure continues

Merry Christmas, everyone. It was a joy to QM for you this year.

Merry Christmas everyone! It was a pretty fun questing with you all this past while.