>>5088234
>Aasimar - Grandpa fucked an angel and you don't even get a halo
Do we at least get a set of angel wings?

>>5088243
No, just the ability to glow and heal people.

>>5088234
>Halfling - An all female race that are either shortstacks or legal lolis
>>Lolimode

Might as well meme the Prophet Mohammed

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>>5088234
>Aasimar - Grandpa fucked an angel and you don't even get a halo.
Angels are for lewds! Lewds!

>>5088234
>Halfling - An all female race that are either shortstacks or legal lolis

>>5088234
>>Tiefling - Grandpa fucked a succubus and all you got was her tits and some horns.

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>>5088243
>>5088249
>>5088255
>>5088258

Seriously what use is having the blood of angels coursing through your veins if it doesn't give you the strength to break free from a set of iron cuffs? You would think that attracting one of the servants of the righteous gods would mean that your grandpappy's descendants would be blessed with the same phenomenal strength that their blessing gave him.

But nope. You might be able to glow with a divine aura, and heal minor wounds with a touch, but strength wise a halfling maiden remains a halfling maiden. Not particularly strong. Even with the blood of angels, you are a halfling maiden.

"If I had a pebble, I'd show these rats what for..." you grumble, catching a few concerned looks from the other slaves to be. The cart bumps and jumps, and the slavers make noises in their weird desert tongue. "Nothing more dangerous in the world than a halfling with a sling."

[I'm afraid I don't have any pebbles.] Some voice comes from... wait, where is it coming from? It sounds like it's coming from all around you. [But you don't have a sling anyways, so...]

"Halfling girl's always got a sling." And that's a fact. "What do you think our panties are for?"

[Normally, you'd want to keep people from seeing too much, wouldn't you?]

"I mean, I'm 'bout to be bouncin' on some sultan's lap, so what do I care 'bout modesty?"

[Understandable.] The Voice says. It pauses for a moment. [Though I'd assume you'd prefer not to do any bouncing on anyone's lap?]

"Well, maybe some cute dwarven lad with a nice, luscious beard for me to braid..." Your preferences are simple. Stocky, big muscles, big beards. Dwarves hit the nail on the head, but so do a few other folks. "Or maybe some some big Orcish boy who doesn't shave his face like half the clans do..."

[But not a sultan's?]

"Nah, desert heat doesn't get along with my skin," you tell the Voice. "What's it to ya, anyways?"

[Well, I could give you the means to escape, if you'd like.] The Voice tells you. [But... I'd need you to do me a little favor in return.]

You snort. If whoever's talking to you could help you escape, why hasn't he? "What sort of favor?"

[Oh, it's simple.] The Voice gets even smoother than before. [You'll run into someone when you escape. I'd like you to use some of what I teach you to help them out.]

"Well, if you can get me out of here, I'll call you 'All-Father' and pray to you three times daily."

[Oh, there's no need for that!] You can hear the Voice clap his hands together, his tone very cheerful. [We're friends. Helping eachother out is what friends do! Now, let's see what suits you best...]

Choose your class.
>Beguiler - Illusions, Charms, and Skullduggery
>Bard - Inspiration, Music, Perform
>Rogue - Sneak Attack, bitch
>Sorcerer - So anyways, I started blasting...
>Warlock - Pact Magic with Strange Entities

>>5088329
Is this the Warlock the usual Daemon Pact Warlock or can we make Pacts with Angelic Beings aswell?

>>5088332
Angels, demons, spirits, ancient machines - a lot of things can be invoked.

>>5088336
Yes, this is extremely acceptable.

>>5088329
>Warlock

>>5088329
>>Bard - Inspiration, Music, Perform

>>5088329
>Beguiler - Illusions, Charms, and Skullduggery

If no one votes for this, consider me supporting >>5088337 instead.

>>5088329
>Beguiler - Illusions, Charms, and Skullduggery

>>5088329
>Warlock - Pact Magic with Strange Entities

>>5088329
>Beguiler - Illusions, Charms, and Skullduggery

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>>5088337
>>5088350
>>5088359
>>5088364
A sharp pain stabs at your mind. It feels like someone just tried - and succeeded - and cramming something the size of a boulder into your tiny little skull. You may or may not have screamed, your head hurts too much for you to tell. The pain becomes a numbness, which becomes a floating sense of lethargy, which becomes an emptiness as all around you disappears.

Except for the sound of the Voice.

[I'm sorry, little missy, I forgot to tell you to pack your bags...] The Voice sounds almost apologetic, but his tone is too smooth for you to discern his real emotions. [You're about to go on a t r i p . . .]

"W-What...?"

Everything around you dissolves, even the nothingness your brain feels like it's floating in. Colors run into one another and swirl together, forming a rainbow of forest hues before they all come together into a black, empty space. Somehow you're there, and you're not there, the slavers are yelling in their desert tongue but no one's there. One of the other slaves to be has cradled you as your whole body seizes up, yet none of them are there with you.

You see a reflection of yourself in the void. The scars you suffered when the desert folk raided your village fresh and red, the marks of your tribe on your shoulders. The color slowly bleeds away from this image, breaking apart into a flurry of letters...

Nameless Slavegirl
Level 1 Halfling Beguiler (Order of the Binder)

STR 8 (-1) DEX 15 (+2) CON 14 (+2) INT 10 (+0) WIS 12 (+1) CHA 16 (+3)
HP 10/10 ; AC 12 ; Proficiency +2 ; Saves DEX +4, WIS +3
Skills Animal Handling +5, Arcana +2, Deception +5, Nature +2, Sleight of Hand +4, Stealth +4
Tool Proficiencies Farming Implements, Land Vehicles, Thieves' Tools

Equipment Slave Rags

Class Abilities Bind Spirit, Charlatan's Cant, Surprise Casting
Racial Abilities Aura of Light, Brave, Lay on Hands, Lucky, Sling Mastery

Cantrips Known Mage Hand, Minor Illusion, Prestidigitation
Spells Known Color Spray, Disguise Self, Silent Image, Sleep

The words then begin to fall apart, becoming so much glittering stardust. You feel yourself being carried through the great Void, your mind being pulled out into the cosmos beyond where the constellations have gathered together to stare down at you. Spirits, to guide you. Though you may only call upon one at a time, when you say your prayers in the morning...

Choose your favored Bound Spirit - you will be assumed to bind this one each day unless otherwise stated.
>11.11.11 Howard, Engine of Worlds
>Benjamin Walsh, King of Liberation
>Gar'ig Y'gax, Master of Games
>J'Pegg, the Corruption of Art
>Michelle, Angel of Protection
>Morrigan, Fairy of Summer
>Old Scratch, the Golden Fiddler
>R.O.S.S., the Self Actualization Mentor
>Yashi Koba, Mother of Dragons
>Yogg Theron, the Inner Chaos

>>5088498
>>Morrigan, Fairy of Summer

>>5088498
>Benjamin Walsh, King of Liberation
or
>Yogg Theron, the Inner Chaos

>>5088498
>>Benjamin Walsh, King of Liberation
This one for now, until we escape. Then we can pick another one.

>>5088498
>Benjamin Walsh, King of Liberation

>>5088498
>Gar'ig Y'gax, Master of Games
Seems fitting for our class to make this our main Spirit.

>>5088498
>>Benjamin Walsh, King of Liberation

>>5088498
>Morrigan

>>5088498
>Morrigan, Fairy of Summer

though Benjamin is quite fitting.

>>5088498
>>Gar'ig Y'gax, Master of Games
No way I can't choose this

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>>5088523
>>5088669
>>5088731
>>5088847
One of the constellations has the appearance of an eagle spreading its wings, an olive branch in one talon and a spear in the other. You stumble towards it, and feel like you fall through the stars themselves, the points of light once again rearranging themselves into letters.

Thank the All-Father that your pappy taught you how to read.

Benjamin Walsh, King of Liberation
Pact Proficiency Firearms
Pact Cantrip The Liberator (Eldritch Blast)
Attunement You gain advantage on rolls to escape bindings and grapples, as well as saving throws against effects that would restrict your movement or suborn your free will.
Sense Detect Tyranny/Anarchy
Sign Starry Eyed Patriot

"SILENCE, WHORE!" You vaguely feel one of the sandfolk slavers backhand you, dropping you onto a pile of hay in the back of the wagon. He casts a glare down on you, contempt in his eyes. Your throat feels hoarse... how long were you screaming? "Keep your pig-whore mouth shut, or I will you a reason to scream, gâvur."

With a spit, he marches off. Your shackles keep you bound to the cage-wagon, but you're able to shakily sit up with some help from another slave to be.

"He's pleasant..." you stare at his back. Too much maile to really get a hint as to what his build is like, though he's not exactly broad. You doubt you're strong enough to take him, though.

"No, he is not pleasant." The gal who aids you is some sort of beast folk. She's got fluffy ears that you really want to reach out and pet... and a collar not unlike your own. As well as a love of freedom, and a hatred for shackles that burns within her heart. "I believe the words you are looking for is 'petty and cruel'."

"It's called sarcasm." You lean back into the hay as you explain your words to the beast girl.

"What is called sarcasm?" she asks.

"Huh...?" You meet her eyes. Maple Hills only saw beast folk when they came in with the traders, but you know they emote just like anyone else. She seems genuinely confused, so you explain further. "It's, uh, what they call it when you say something that's obviously untrue."

"Huh." The beast girl tilts her head. "We call that lying in my village."

"No, no, not to pull the wool over someone's eyes or anything like that," you explain. The beast girl looks positively puzzled. "To make a joke."

"I see..." She doesn't seem to get it. "The lie is funny, then?"

"I mean..." You gesture at the man. "The contrast against the obvious sure is."

"I think I understand," the beast girl's eyes brighten, and her lips widen into a smile. "I shall try a sarcasm. Ahem - the sky is green!"

The beast girl snorts with laughter. You stare at her in mild disbelief... is she having you on? "Right... thanks for helping me up, by the way."

>>5089169
"It was not my pleasure!" Oh god she's still doing it, she giggled at... does that even qualify as a joke? She looks at you expectantly, and pouts a little when you just stare in her direction. "Sorry, I do not think I am very good at the sarcasm. My name is Angora. May I have the pleasure of knowing yours?"

You want to tell her, but there's a slight problem.

All the stuff that The Voice stuffed into your head made you forget your name. Speaking of which, where did he go? Ah, it's probably not important.

Choose your name.
>"I forgot" (Angora will name you)
>Mumei
>Outis
>Kimsey
>Nikoja
>Keine

>>5089171
>Kimsey

>>5089171
>>Kimsey

>>5089171
>Kimsey
This looks fun I'll join in.

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>>5089171
Kimchi.
More kawaii.
And good for your gut.

>>5089171
>Chris

Megumin is also valid.

>>5089488
This. I like the name Kimchi and it's one of my favorite foods.

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>>5089276
>>5089374
>>5089408

"Kimsey," you give her a name after a moment of hesitation. You don't know why, but the name feels right even if you know it's wrong. You are no one.

"That smells like a lie." Angora leans in uncomfortably close, sniffing at your face with her not-quite-catlike nose. You pay it no mind, beast folk will be beast folk, and if she wishes to act like a shameless puppy then you won't stop her. After sniffing you a few times, she gets a quizzical look on her face. "But not like a deception? Strange. No one is named 'no one' in the old tongue. Or the new tongues, for that matter. Yet you are clearly someone, and you take the name 'no one' despite it not being your name."

"By the All Father..." you grumble, pushing her away. Angora pouts. "Look, I don't remember. Maybe the sand folk conked me too hard on the head. So just call me Kimsey for now, okay?"

"Very well, Kimsey." Angora nods and pulls away, no longer sniffing you for lies. Instead she casts a worried look your way, remaining in an awkward silence until she works up the courage to ask, "Are you going to start screaming again?"

"Probably not." You don't bring up the Voice. People who hear voices are either saints or madmen. You have no affiliation with the church, so you'll probably end up being grouped with the latter. "How long was I screaming for, anyways? My throat doesn't really feel like I had been screaming all that long."

Angora tilts her head.

You stare at the catgirl, suddenly concerned at how she was going to answer.

"You always scream," Angora says. Her green-gold cat-like eyes stare back into your own. "Day in and day out, it comes in fits. It took a long while until I could sleep through it, you know!"

"How long's a long while?" you have to ask, but you don't think you'll like the answer

"Oh, three months or so," Angora says it nonchalantly, but a pit of dread drops into your stomach. Three months is a long time, but now that you think about it, you don't remember her, either... "But it is like a lullaby now! I wonder if I can sleep without it."

How much time are you missing. You stare up at the sky, but the angle of the sun isn't something you really know how to measure. Maybe the stars...?

"Are you sure that you are not going to start screaming again?" Angora asks.

"Not as sure as I was a minute ago," you admit.

"Come here." She does not wait for you to respond, instead pulling you onto her lap and patting your head. It actually feels kind of nice, really relaxing "Good girl, good girl... is this helping you calm down?"

"Yeah..." You feel remarkably calm now... calm and focused. Focused enough to realize what you did on instinct when that slaver slapped you. A key ring is hidden in the folds of your rags, taken via mage hand when he manhandled your screaming body. You keep your voice low. "I'm getting out of here. You want to join me?"

>>5089623

You show her the keys, then quickly hide them away again. If the sand folk guarding the caravan see what you knicked, then your escape will end before it begins. Luckily, they all seem more interested in keeping an eye on their surroundings then following the conversation of two girls in a foreign tongue.

"Well, at least you have not changed that much," Angora seems relieved, somehow, when she ruffles your hair. "You can talk now, but you are still a madwoman. I'm in."

"Just like that?" You don't want to look a gift horse in the mouth, but...

"You and I got sold at a discount for being problem children." A vicious smirk crosses Angora's face as she shows off just how sharp her nails are. Or rather, how sharp her claws are. "You kicked and screamed and never made things easy for anyone. I left a few 'clients' of that place scarred in places best unmentioned in polite company."

As she smirks, you can see the letters returning, overlaying themselves over her and telling you of what she can do.

Angora na Ralda
Level 1 Catfolk Monk (Fist of the Forest)

STR 16 DEX 14 CON 15 INT 8 WIS 12 CHA 10
HP 12/12 ; AC 14 ; Proficiency +2 ; Saves STR +5, DEX +4
Skills Acrobatics +4, Athletics +5, Insight +3, Stealth +4, Survival +3
Tool Proficiencies Didgeridoo, Trapper's Tools

Equipment Slave Rags

Class Abilities Feral Trance, Primal Arts, Unarmored Defense
Racial Abilities Big Cat's Claws, Catlike Reflexes, Catlike Tread, Feline Empathy, Powerful Build

What's your plan to escape?
>So anyways I started blasting... (Use "The Liberator" to attack once you undo your shackles)
>Unlock the shackles but keep up the illusion that that they're on with Minor Illusion. Ambush them when they next stop.
>Slip away during the next bathroom break with stealth and illusion magic.
>Try to affect them all with Sleep and then slip away while they're sleeping.
>Write in.

>>5089624
>Unlock the shackles but keep up the illusion that that they're on with Minor Illusion. Ambush them when they next stop.

>>5089488
Doesn't it cause gastric cancer if you eat too much of it, though?
(Also, Kimchi would have been discarded as a name. Not setting appropriate - the Nameless Slavegirl is from an East-Europe/West Asian style region a la Anatolia, Romania, Greece).

>>5089624
>Unlock the shackles but keep up the illusion that that they're on with Minor Illusion. Ambush them when they next stop.
Then
>So anyways I started blasting... (Use "The Liberator" to attack once you begin the ambush)

>>5089624
>Unlock the shackles but keep up the illusion that that they're on with Minor Illusion. Ambush them when they next stop.

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>>5089624
>Angora na Ralda
>Tool Proficiencies Didgeridoo, Trapper's Tools
>Didgeridoo
>Australian aboriginal instrument
>>5089628
>Not setting appropriate - the Nameless Slavegirl is from an East-Europe/West Asian style region a la Anatolia, Romania, Greece

Poor Angora, the girl just wanted to huff petrol on the res and now she's getting sold on some durka-durkas hapless romantics market.

I don't care what her name is but the level of autism you used in justifying it just makes me face palm. QM, assert your dominance and just say when you don't like something and move on (or more wisely just ignore it). You're God here. Whatever you say goes. No need for retarded justifications.

>Doesn't it cause gastric cancer if you eat too much of it, though?
*looks around and sees all the old korean people who never die*
v.s.
*trust this clickbait article by some college dropout who will write anything for a paycheck*

Unlock the shackles but keep up the illusion that that they're on with Minor Illusion. Ambush them when they next stop.

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>>5089628
Wake up this morning and Google Kimsey because I figure I was a bit rough on you. Lets warm up to the character, make another sexy drawing or two... :

>What does Kimsey mean?
>English: habitational name from a place called Kempsey in Worcestershire, recorded in Domesday Book as Chemesege, from an Old English personal name Cymi + eg 'island', 'area of dry land in a marsh'.
>The Kimsey surname has several possible origins: no doubt some instances of this surname evolved from an Old English personal name made up of two elements, "cyne," or "royal" and "sige," or "victory." In Yorkshire, it is generally thought that bearers of Kimsey may have taken the name from a place name.

>East-Europe/West Asian style region a la Anatolia, Romania, Greece
>Anatolia, Romania, Greece
Three wildly different cultures and the only thing they have in common is that Rome conquered all of them (which is like saying Afghanistan is the same as Greece because Alexander and the Macedonians conquered both of them).

Some other source your getting these names from?

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>>5089628
Now that I think about it, if we're going for
>setting appropriate
A couple slags are out for night of high-jinks when they're suddenly kidnapped by a muslim rape ga- urr, asian youths.

More culturally relevant too.

>>5089708
>>5089899
Bro if you want an inconsistency, Mumei is literally Japanese and I mostly included it because the name itself is an anime trope/meme for people who lost/forgo their name, and I like me some of the japanese animes. That said, the range (Southeast Europe + a liiiiiitle bit of German area) was not meant to suggest a monoculture in that area, but similar deep cultural norms (which can be traced back to their hellenistic roots, because Rome did spread their greekaboo tendencies to places they conquered).

Sorry if I came off as a dick when I shot Kimchi down with my autism.

Kimsey in this case comes from Turkish 'kimse' the y makes it look girlier, so Anatolian in this case (probably a super isolated mountain tribe, a la book Two Rivers). Outis is Greek. Nikoja is Macedonian. Keine is German. They all mean/are derived from a word meaning 'no one'.

Angora is 100% supposed to be indicating that she's from a different people than the Nameless Slavegirl with the name and instrument proficiency. Remember that the Nameless Slavegirl lost a few months with that blackout.

Also, no. I refuse to trust journos, motherfuckers lying and taking shit out of context. I mostly trust the papers in the NIH, though, and a bunch of Korean doctors published a paper in 2005 where they found kimchi to be a carcinogen in high quantities. Fine on occasion, though. I don't have a large korean population where I live, so I don't really see the old korean people who never die, sorry.

>>5089916
Kekw. Anyways, back to writing.

>>5089624
>Unlock the shackles but keep up the illusion that that they're on with Minor Illusion. Ambush them when they next stop.
Seems good to me.

Rolled 6, 8 = 14 (2d20)

Sleight of Hand (+4) with Advantage (Slavers are more concerned about monsters/bandits than you) vs passive perception DC 13

>>5089959
Time to be a cheeki sneeki breeki.

Rolled 9, 15 = 24 (2d20)

>>5089959
Angora's Zany Scheme, taking the higher of your two charisma modifiers (+3), rolling with advantage due to sex appeal vs passive insight DC 11.

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>>5089933
4u

>>5089624
>So anyways I started blasting... (Use "The Liberator" to attack once you undo your shackles)
Lmao
Are you the same guy who ran and dropped that loli Voldemort quest?
>>5089976
Hmmmm words

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>>5089959
12(8+4) vs DC 13 Failure
"Alright, here's what we do..." You keep your voice low. Slumping into the pile of hay you suppose you were meant to sleep on, you quietly undo the shackles around your wrists. The collar around your neck needs a key that's not on the ring, but it doesn't impede your movement. You'll take it off later. Angora crouches near you to listen to what you have to say. "Put your hands here, I'll undo your shackles. Then, we wait until the next stop, take them by surprise. Got it?"

"I have it, yes," Angora says.

The hay muffles the sound of you undoing the chains, the bumpy cart ride providing ample cover. You wince a bit when one of the chains falls from the hay to the wooden floor, but none of the slavers react. As you shove it and the others into the hay, Angora looks at you with a quizzical look, her head tilting like a curious cat.

"Will they not notice our missing chains?" she asks, keeping her voice low. "They will be quite cross if they see us out of bondage..."

"Don't worry," you whisper. A subtle gesture is all the somatic component you need, alongside a hushed word in the old tongue. "I'll take care of it."

You don't think you knew magic before you spoke with the voice, before you lost however many months you lost, but you know it now. Unnatural energies flow through your fingertips as you cast a minor illusion, shackles reappearing on your wrists where they ought to be. But not binding you nor Angora in a real pair of chains, just an image that will follow you.

"Hey!" one of the slavers raps on the bars of your wooden cage. Not the one who slapped you earlier, you don't think. To start, this man looks like he actually grooms himself on a regular basis. His eyes are not dark like that man's, but a sky-blue that almost glows. "What are you two whispering there, eh? You kafir better not be scheming something in there, else Nashad will have to rough you up again. Eh, Nashad?"

"At least the whore isn't screaming anymore," the burly, unkempt sandfolk man grumbles unhappily.

You open your mouth to say something biting, but Angora claps her hand over it before you can say anything. "Yes, is a little trick I found to help calm her in our cell in Ashke-Ra. You see, little Kimsey can either be a screaming madwoman, or..."

Angora then does something outrageous.

She pulls you in close enough that you feel her not-so-small breasts pressing up against your back. Your face would turn red well enough from that alone, but her hands suddenly become far more daring. A finger hooks itself into the corner of your mouth, and gently pulls on it. Her other hand caresses your body from the chest down, giving one of your small breasts a squeeze before traveling towards your inner thigh. She pulls the rags so tightly against your skin that you're afraid it might tear.

"An aroused madwoman," Angora finishes. "She is much easier to deal with like this, trust me~"

>>5090108
18(15+3) vs DC11 Success!
Nashad gapes at the way that Angora has embraced you from behind, turning red in the ears and muttering something about the temptations of sinful kafir. The one who rapped upon your cage gives a very appreciative look over your tiny body, his eyes lingering perhaps a bit too long on the way your rags now cling to your chest. You're not sure whether you mind that or not. You mean, he's a really handsome guy - and the way his 'armor' shows off his chest is not helping - but he's also working for slavers, even if he isn't one himself.

Dammit Angora! Could she stop running hand against your inner thigh so you have a chance to think with your head instead of your girly bits?!

"Maker's Light, the good book is not wrong about the ways of you kafir. Sinful and decadent indeed, if only all women were so frisky with one another. Then all the world might know peace!" the handsome man chuckles. He sniffs the air and narrows his eyes at the two of you. "Though it reeks of magic in there. You're not trying to cast some sinful spell on me, are you?"

"Just a small folk charm for little Kimsey~" Angora purrs, making a show of nuzzling your neck. She starts rubbing there, and you get why she's doing it but you can't help but squirm as your breath becomes heavy. "It helps warm a woman up when she's feeling cold."

"You'll have to teach me," the man says with a chuckle. "Such a spell-"

"Would be haram, Dastan." Nashad growls. He punches the man's shoulder lightly, and Dastan gives a playful wince. "Now stop ogling the kafir and keep an eye on the road."

"But pretty girls ought to be ogled, Nashad! That's why they work so hard to keep themselves pretty." Dastan flashes the two of you a grin, but Nashad punches his shoulder again, this time quite a bit harder. Dasta winces for real this time "Ah, you're no fun..."

"As for for you two..." Nashad takes a long sniff, his scarred face twisting into a complicated expression. "I suppose disgraceful whore is better than screaming madwoman, but do not think you can tempt us with your sinful bodies, kafir. You are the property of Sultan Melchor II of Sha T'Laa, and will be delivered unspoiled and on time for his son's wedding festivities..."

Nashad trots his horse off, keeping an eye on the lightly forested mountains through which the procession moves. Angora takes her hands off you the moment no more eyes are upon you, and flashes an apologetic look.

"I am sorry, Kimsey," Angora whispers an apology. "I had to think fast, and two pretty girls acting affectionate makes most men stop thinking."

"No, we're good," you tell her. You look to the front of the small procession, which is slowly coming to a halt.

>>5090110
They will know that you've broken free when the come to get you. You can see that there are six armed men aside from Nashad and Dastan. What's the plan for your ambush?
>So anyways, I started blasting...
>>Eldritch Blast your way to victory
>>Color Spray and make a run for it
>Weave a spell of sleeping and try to slip away quietly.
>Weave some illusions to confuse the guards.
>Write In

>>5090059
Nah, I'm not much of a lolifag, I like big booba too much. Legal Loli Halflings are an OK meme though and you have no idea how tempted I was to use Ghislaine for Angora, but two white-haired girls is a bit too much for one party. If anyone has some images of a delicious brown catgirl with abs (or at least some nice tone) and nicely sized booba who isn't Ghislaine, let me know. Her current image is a bit small chested for how I'm picturing her...

>>5090024
Not bad!

>>5090111
>So anyways, I started blasting...
Advantage on sneak attacks baby! Guaranteed to kill the first guy.

>>5090111
>Color Spray and make a run for it
Also you might wanna consider get a tripcode

>>5090111
>So anyways, I started blasting...
>>Eldritch Blast your way to victory
>Weave some illusions to confuse the guards.

>>5090193
I forgot the rules for DnD, but for crossbows you need one turn to fire, then the next turn to load? How many Elderitch Blasts can we get off on a single turn? As far as I know we can fire as many times as we want.

>>5090199
You are level 1, so the Liberator gets one shot per casting for 1d10+CHA. It's a cantrip, so you can invoke it as many times as you want. Don't worry about relying on Angora, she's capable with her claws and has a flurry during her Feral Trance.

>>5090111
>So anyways, I started blasting...
>>Eldritch Blast your way to victory
Time to blast some fuckers and get outta here.

>>5090209
So a 1d10+3. How many times can we cast per turn?
Man I wonder if there are meta magics that allow us to combine spells, or cast two spells for the price of one.

Rolled 11, 13, 18, 5, 18, 19, 9, 8, 4, 19 = 124 (10d20)

>>5090183
Donezo
>>5090217
Casting takes 1 action (you get one per turn), though I'm not going to roll full combat in here as there would be too many goddamn rolls and variables. Are there any sites that can log a lot of rolls? Initiatives and skill checks will be rolled in this though.

For example, this post will have the initiative D20s for the combat in the following order:

Kimsey (+2), Angora (+2+1), Dastan (+2), Nashad (+2), Guards x6 (+1)

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Fighty Rolz: https://rolz.org/dr?room=So_Anyway_I_Started_Blasting
You guys got really lucky with the damage rolls on your surprise round. The guards had 9 HP

The caravan comes to its next stop after what feels like two hours, an awful long time for you to maintain an illusion. Though the memory of how to shape the flow of magic into the image of shackles about your wrists comes naturally to you, keeping it up feels like holding a bucket of water in your arms. Not something particularly straining, but something that grows tiresome after such a long period of time.

Except instead of your arms feeling sore, it's your entire body.

"Hold...!" Nashad barking his order comes as you reach the limit of how long you can keep the spell up. You want to drop it then and there, but you need to hold it for just a few minutes longer. "Dastan, go tell the quartermaster to get food and water ready for the men and the horses... and the merchandise, too. The Sultan will be mad if we let his son's birthday gifts waste away. And don't let me catch you with your hand under her skirts this time! You have rank, be an example to the men."

"No promises are made, Nashad," Dastan says. Nashad glares from atop his horse, but Dastan waves it off with a chuckle. "If the peach is ripe and ready for harvest, don't be surprised when it falls into the farmer's hand."

As Dastan walks off, you can hear the surly Nashad grumble, "Maker's light, why must every sahir I meet be such a migraine to deal with."

"As for the rest of you louts!" Nashad shakes his head and barks at the other guards. "Khalid, Husam, go take the merchandise for a walk - and do not let those kafir whores tempt you! Their maidenhoods belong to Sultan's son. Barak, Naseem, you two take rear guard. Sa'id, Faruq, you guard the front. I'm taking a shit. If the camp somehow catches fire while I'm gone, you'll each receive 40 lashes for gross incompetence, understood?"

"Yes, shawish!" The six watchmen snap to attention with their spears in salute, relaxing only when Nashad dismounts and walks off into the shrub-forest.

"You want some water, Barak?" one of the guards asks another as the group breaks up.

"I don't think you can sweet talk an extra ration out of Farah with Dastan around, Naseem," the other guard says.

"'He who does not try, always fails,'" Naseem says.

"Quoting the good book now, eh?" Barak chuckles.

As the soldiers do as soldiers do, you and Angora get yourselves into position. You lay down on top of the hay with your head resting in your "shackled" hands, while Angora sits up against it in a meditative position. This way, she's close to where their vitals will be, while you will have a clear shot over her head to hit one of the guards with the Liberator.

>>5090788

The men who approach you have helms atop their turbans, and chainmail over their robes. One of them is almost as fair as the people from your village, though with hair that's nearly black as midnight. The other is as dark as the men who caught you before your blackout, with dark brown curls that tumble down to his shoulders from beneath his turban. His nose is almost comically large, and he holds up the holy symbol of the Maker, a moon overlaid atop a sun.

"Awaken, cadi!" He commands Angora. With a flourish, he presents the holy symbol as if he were a priest performing an exorcism. You can't help but stare at him, as it looks rather silly.

"I am not asleep," Angora says. Her eyes are still closed, though. "I am meditating."

"You'll have plenty of time to sit still and ponder the deep mysteries later," the soldier presenting the holy symbol says. He grabs her shoulder and shakes her. "Now tell the madwoman to stop staring. It's time for the two of you to stretch your legs, piss, shit, whatever you need to do."

"Is that so?" Angora asks.

"Yes," the soldier nods emphatically.

"Whatever I need to do?" She asks again.

"Yes, the caravan has stopped, so-"

Angora's golden, cat-like eyes snap open, and with a flurry of movement, she does what she needs to do. Her claws extend in an instant, her body seems to become more lithe, her expression turning from the calm woman you've been talking to into that of a wild, ravenous beast. Like a pouncing tiger, she leaps at the two soldiers with not so much as a word, cutting both of them with a fluid motion and dropping again to all fours.

She went for the throat with both of them. Their necks are mangled, their voiceboxes wrecked for sure, red blood pooling around both their heads. Not a word escapes either of their lips before they pass out from the pain, but not for lack of trying.

You're caught off guard with how efficient and brutal Angora was, but you still manage to act before Barak can process what just happened. He's barely turned around to spot the carnage in the cage, and before he can act you've already drawn on him. Invoking the Liberator takes the simplest somatic components of any spell you know.

You make an L with your pointer and thumb, and point it at the target.

The ghostly silhouette of an ancient weapon wraps around your hand. It almost looks like a hand crossbow, but with a tube and a bulbous chamber near the back in place of a bow's arm. With click and and a fwoosh, a bead of pure force shoots out at rapid speeds, crashing into Barak with a thudding sound and splaying him out on the ground.

The other guard will likely return soon with the water he went to fetch. What do you do?
>Continue blasting until there's no more opposition.
>Slink away into the mountain forests.
>Start a fire and run off in another direction.
>Steal Nashad's horse and make a break for it.
>Write In

>>5090790
>Steal Nashad's horse and make a break for it.
Was about to pick keep blasting and was gonna say that we shouldn't take the horse due to our size and probable lack of training... but I checked and we got an animal handling skill, if there's a tie count mine towards blasting.

>>5090790
>Steal Nashad's horse and make a break for it.

>>5090790
>Steal Nashad's horse and make a break for it.
Bring Angora with us if that's not already implied

>>5090790
>Continue blasting until there's no more opposition.

>>5090790
>Continue blasting until there's no more opposition.
>Write In
Equip some armor to decrease the likelihood of you getting hurt. Sure we can leave, but these collars will stay on us. I suspect the culture around this region do not tolerate escaped slaves.

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>>5089169
>Benjamin Walsh, King of Liberation
Shoot if I knew we we're going for UNCLE SAM'S FIERCEST FREEDOM FIGHTER I woulda picked sorcerer. Well, nothin to it now.

>>5091028
We can always try multi-classing, or picking up additional feats to make up for it.

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>>5091040
Need more dakka and blam blam if we're to please Uncle Sam

>>5090790
>Steal Nashad's horse and make a break for it.
>Take our friend with us

>>5090790
Quickly search for some means of removing our slave collars. If that guard gets back before we find it we blast him. Otherwise we remove the collars and run away.

Actually, is that guard the only one left? How many other horses are there? If he's the last one and there are other horses we scare the others off so we strand his ass in the middle of nowhere and let nature take him out when we run away.

It goes without saying we take our new catgirl friend with us. Slaves gotta look after each other and all.

>>5091028
>>5091085
>>5091040
Yeah. Also, no one in the setting has commented on it yet, but the Sign of binding him is that your eyes are now blue and flecked with small stars. His pact is blasting/utility focused.

>>5091040
Reminder that you can change which spirit you have bound each morning, if you don't like your current one.

>>5090920
Yeah, you're not leaving Angora behind.

>>5091205
Guards wise, there are 3 more basic guards, Nashad who is the head of the guards and a bit tougher, and Dastan who is some manner of spellsword type.

>>5091262
Hmmm, we might want to avoid that fight then.

Still, the damned collars. Gotta remove em'. Our bound spirit is related to freedom right? He got a way to get these damnable shackles off of us? I'm pretty sure in this land walking around unattended with a collar is a bad idea.

>>5091312
You can try shooting it off when you have some time, but you don't have the key or the tools to get it off. If you had a set of theives' tools or find something to improvise them, you can do that.

Rolled 12 + 5 (1d20 + 5)

Rolling animal handling vs DC 15 (Horse is well trained, but you're an unfamiliar rider and trying to ride for 2)

>>5091439
Horsie! Did it come with saddle bags? Can we grab a spear, weapon, or something valuable before leaving?

>>5091439
That's a pass right? Horsie isn't going to buck us off?

>>5091439
Animal handling skill comes in to save the day nice.

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>>5090874
>>5090918
>>5090920
>>5091118
17(12+5) vs DC15 Success!
Additional Fighty Rolls: https://rolz.org/dr?room=So_Anyway_I_Started_Blasting

"Grab what you can," you tell Angora. "I'll grab the big guy's horse, and we'll make a break for it."

"I will take the reins," Angora says. "My father taught me how to ride such beasts for war."

The two of you split up. You slip to where Nashad put his horse to graze while Angora relieves the fallen of their water skins, as well as their spears and two scimitars. Nashad took the lazy route of securing the horse, wrapping the reins loosely around an old post on the road without so much as a knot. Though his horse seems wary of a strange woman approaching it, however small you may be.

"You're a big guy, aren't ya?" You say more than you ask. It would take two of you stacked on top of eachother to meet this fellow at eye level. The village you grew up in never had any beasts of burden of such great size, but he's not all that different in shape from the donkeys your folks had to plow the fields. Or temperament, for that matter. "Come on now, my friend and I need your help to get out of here, okay?"

Big guy or no, you know how to deal with fellows like him.

Once you have his reins, he follows you like a puppy back to Angora.

"We are in luck," Angora whispers. Her cat-like ears wiggle happily. "They had fresh water skins. That should be good for a few days."

"Nashad was kind enough to leave us his saddle and bags," you gesture to the fully equipped horse. "Not sure what's in them, felt like rations and feed."

"Good," Angora hooks two of the spears onto the side of the horse, each of them now wrapped in a leather sack. Then she pushes a belt and scimitar into your hands. "Put that on, then we ride."

No one notices the two of you quickly donning the scimitars, nor Angora hoisting you up into the saddle before jumping up in front of you with a spear in one hand and the reins in the other. You wrap your hands around her waist for dear life, as this horse is definitely too big for a halfling like you. Then you're off.

Your luck in going unseen does not last forever, as the sound of a horse spurred on into a gallop is not exactly quiet. It does not let out a loud neigh, or anything so dramatic, but the sound of its hooves on the road does not go unnoticed.

"Escape!" One of the guards shouts. "The slaves have stolen a horse!"

"Barak!" you hear another guard call out. You peak back and see that Naseem has dropped two cups of water, and is running for a horse. "Those bitch kafir killed Barak and the others! I'll have their heads!"

"No, you won't!" You hear Nashad call out... soon followed by seeing him rush in from the shrub forest holding his pants up with one hand. "Those slaves are the property of the Sultan! You will retrieve them unharmed or I will kill you myself! Dastan, where are you, you damned sahir."

>>5091845

You can see Dastan quite clearly.

In fact, you're pretty sure your eyes lock for a moment, even as Angora builds distance from the caravan. He gives you a little wave goodbye, an amused smile on his face, as if everything happening was some grand joke to him. He has not stood up from his chair, despite the scrambling guards. A serious looking woman with wire framed glasses is giving him a thin frown as he extends an empty cup to her, but with a roll of her eyes she fills it back up.

"I'm right here, Nashad," Dastan says, his eyes turning to the angry mustached man. "How do the bookless kafir to the south say it? It seems that the times have gotten quite interesting for you, old friend."

"For the love of the Maker, get off your ass and help track them down!" Nashad seems to be frothing at the mouth. "That is the Sultan's property escaping more with the Sultan's property! You that haram magic of yours and get them back/"

"Eh, delivering those slaves to the Sultan was your job, Nashad." Dastan takes a sip of his wine. "I have tasks of my own, and wasting energy to fix your fodi is not one of them."

"You are supposed to help protect this caravan, sahir!" Nashad seethes.

"From bandits and raiders," Dastan takes another sip of his wine, which earns him an infuriated twitch from Nashad. "Just property that an incompetent shawish of Sultan Melchor misplaced, which isn't that big of a deal. Besides, do you know what this is?"

Dastan holds up the cup of wine, admiring the way the sun's light shines through the rich red liquid.

"It is haram is what it is, sahir," Nashad spits the title like a curse.

"Indeed it is!" Dastan takes another sip, and the levels a flat, unimpressed look at Nashad. "So too is binding most westerlings as slaves with the touk malaoun as those girls were. Kafir they may be, they are our brothers and sisters in faith... they just have not read the most recent chapters of the Maker's Holy Word."

"All slaves in the markets of Ashke-Ra are heretics to westerling faith," Nashad repeats those words like a canned mantra. "Thusly, they forfeit the protections give to those who practice the old ways. The Sultan would not break the Maker's law."

"And yet he has among his imports casks of Betican Red for his son's 15th birthday," Dastan says, taking another sip of his wine. "A lesser sin, as far as sins go, but still haram under the Maker's law."

"Yet you partake of it freely, sahir," Nashad crosses his arms, unamused by what Dastan means to imply.

>>5091846
"The Maker will forgive me, I'm sure," Dastan chuckles, before taking a long sip of the forbidden drink. "For it is as the mad sage Al-Hazred once said: the Maker holds a special providence for fools, drunks, and the sahir. Don't tell me that you forgot already who we sahir work for, old friend. You've been throwing my title around like a curse, after all, so I assumed you remembered what it means."

"So you won't help us, then, Dastan?" Nashad looks a little defeated at Dastan's words.

"Maybe I will. It would be interesting to hear what those girls have to say about the matter of their faith." Dastan swirls the wine in his cup with a smirk. Nashad freezes up at his words, especially as he continues. "I'm sure I'd be owed at least one question for my assistance in capturing them. And I'm sure the good Sultan would be horrified if he found out that they were forced to renounce their faith beneath the knife..."

"You dare, sahir?!" Incensed, Nashad backhands the cup out of Dastan's hand. The pewter goblet clatters to the ground, the Betican Red spreading like freshly spilt blood. Nashad's scimitar is drawn swiftly and silently, leveled at Dastan's neck. Dastan levels an unamused look as Nashad seethes. "The Sultan will hear of these baseless accusations, you misbegotten spawn of shai'tan! It is not your place to accuse one as noble as Sultan Melchor of such an abomination in the eyes of the Maker, you whose very birth was an abomination!"

"I made no such accusation, old friend," Dastan looks quite tired now, pushing the scimitar away with his gauntlet. "And you just wasted the Sultan's wine."

The two of them look at each other for a moment. The bespectacled woman looks frightened at the possibility that they might come to blows, but Nashad takes a deep breath and sheathes his blade.

"...I saw an old friend acting like a drunken fool, that is all," Nashad finally says. With a complicated look on his face, he tells Dastan, "That said, you should leave this caravan in peace, Dastan."

"Nashad, is there-" Dastan starts, but Nashad holds up his hand.

"Leave, Dastan," Nashad insists. "Before you say something that we'll both regret."

"Alright," Dastan stands, brushing himself off. "I still go to Fatmah's Garden for kebab on Tuesdays, you know. Have my own private booth there now and everything. She's got a new one that has some vegetables the westerlings brought over from the Sunset Lands. If you're ever in Ashke-Ra again, I'll treat you, old friend."

Nashad sighs, a smile not unlike that of a grumpy old cat on his face. "I look forward to it."

>"From bandits and raiders," Dastan takes another sip of his wine, which earns him an infuriated twitch from Nashad. "Just property that an incompetent shawish of Sultan Melchor misplaced, which isn't that big of a deal. Besides, do you know what this is?"

Should be:

"From bandits and raiders," Dastan takes another sip of his wine, which earns him an infuriated twitch from Nashad. "I see none of those here. Just property that an incompetent shawish of Sultan Melchor misplaced, which isn't that big of a deal. Besides, do you know what this is?"


>>5091849
You don't catch most of Dastan and Nashad's row, as you're too busy dealing with the fact that you have one rider on your tail and two more incoming. What do you do?
>Cast Silent Image over the area to throw them off your trail, creating illusory duplicates that go off in different directions.
>Try to put the rider to sleep with a spell. He should probably still stay up in his saddle.
>Wait for the others to catch up and unleash Color Spray to blind the riders and their horses.
>So anyways, you started blasting...
>Write in.

>>5091853
>Try to put the rider to sleep with a spell. He should probably still stay up in his saddle.
My trigger finger itches, but until obtain more firepower this is our best bet.
Slowly but surely, Kimsey will become the loudest proudest rootin' tootin' shootin patriot there is.

>>5091853
>So anyways, you started blasting...
INFINITE AMMO BABY!

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>>5091853
>>5091883
>So anyways, you started blasting...
Okay you've convinced me

>>5091853
>Cast Silent Image over the area to throw them off your trail, creating illusory duplicates that go off in different directions.

>>5091853
>So anyways, you started blasting...
>Cast Silent Image over the area to throw them off your trail, creating illusory duplicates that go off in different directions.

Max chaos.

>>5091853
>So anyways, you started blasting...
I. Want. Their. LOOT! Better if we can steal an additional horse, or Horses. They can go for a lot of money. It would be as simple as tying the following horse's reigns to the leading horse, then we all canter to a steady pace to the nearest city.

>>5091853
>Cast Silent Image over the area to throw them off your trail, creating illusory duplicates that go off in different directions.

This could bamboozle every enemy rider.

What are some Feats you guys think we should aim for? This is what I think we could use decently.
>Healer
>Lucky
>Metamagic Adept
>Second Chance
>Skill Expert
>Skilled
>Spell Sniper
>War Caster

>>5092232
I thenk we already have Lucky as a racial ability.

>>5088498
>Nameless Slavegirl
>Level 1 Halfling Beguiler (Order of the Binder)
>STR 8 (-1) DEX 15 (+2) CON 14 (+2) INT 10 (+0) WIS 12 (+1) CHA 16 (+3)
>HP 10/10 ; AC 12 ; Proficiency +2 ; Saves DEX +4, WIS +3
>Skills Animal Handling +5, Arcana +2, Deception +5, Nature +2, Sleight of Hand +4, Stealth +4
>Tool Proficiencies Farming Implements, Land Vehicles, Thieves' Tools
>Equipment Slave Rags
>Class Abilities Bind Spirit, Charlatan's Cant, Surprise Casting
>Racial Abilities Aura of Light, Brave, Lay on Hands, Lucky, Sling Mastery
>Cantrips Known Mage Hand, Minor Illusion, Prestidigitation
>Spells Known Color Spray, Disguise Self, Silent Image, Sleep

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>>5091883
>>5091893
>>5092152
>>5092158
Fighty Rollz: https://rolz.org/dr?room=So_Anyway_I_Started_Blasting
Lucky trait coming in clutch, turning a miss into a killshot.

"Can't you make him go any faster?!" A very pertinent question flies from your lips as you notice a vengeful looking guard quickly gaining ground upon you.

"We are still strangers to him," Angora replies, her eyes focused on the road ahead. The horse isn't exactly going slow, but it's more a brisk jog than a sprint. Angora's spear is set at the ready, waiting for one of the charging guardsmen to barrel by. She keeps her profile low, her head barely rising above the horse's own. "Mount and rider, it is a bond of trust. If he does not trust us, he will not lend us the full swiftness of his legs."

"That's all well and good," you say, looking back. Naseem, you remember Nashad calling this one - his face twists with unspoken fury as he pushes his mount to terrifying speeds, gaining on the two of you with every breath. "But we've got a mad easterling gaining ground fast!"

"Yes, I am aware of that!" Angora almost sounds annoyed. "Though if you are done divining, might you cast us that spell from before?"

"Which sp-" You almost ask an obvious question, before you realize what she means. "On it!"

You turn around and make a sideways L with your fingers, aiming for the easterling's head - as much as you can aim on the back of a horse jogging at a fair clip. As you bounce with each step, the spectral form of the Liberator wraps around your finger. Light gathers at the tip, and with a metallic pew it shoots back at Naseem, cutting the knot of his turban and revealing a balding head.

That only seems to incense the easterling further. He pushes his horse even faster than before, pulling up alongside you. With a smooth motion, Angora attempts to skewer the neck of his steed, but he falls behind just far enough that all she does is give him a trim.

"You are lucky...!" He crashes his horse against your own, nearly causing it to lose its balance. Angora's masterful riding keeps it on its feet. However, knocking him down was not what he was aiming for. "...that Nashad demanded you kafir whores live!"

You almost slip from his grasp, but he manages to overpower your grip on Angora's waist.

With a heave, he throws you from the horse, and you become quite familiar with the dirt. My, oh my, it has caught you in quite the compromising position, and filled your mouth until you choked...

"..."

Angora glares death at him. Not a word or even his escape her mouth as she meets his gaze for just a moment, her golden eyes shining dangerously beneath the high noon sun. Before he can regain his balance on his horse, she rams her spear through his chest, and with a brutally efficient motion, she throws him from the saddle, ripping the spear free.

Without a second glance to the dead man, she wheels the horse to you. "Madwoman! Are you hurt?"

>>5093061

The answer to that is kind of complicated. Your body is rather sore and scratched up from hitting the dirt, and your mouth is full of the mountain's dust. But your heart and soul are feeling a bit worse. You won't lie, for a moment you believed that Angora would wheel away, leaving you behind to take the fall and buy herself some time to escape. But she didn't, she turned back towards you and came to pick you up, even as the other guards quickly approach.

You feel awful for doubting her, especially since you're not sure what you would have done in the same situation. In the end, though, you'll be fine.

"Yeah," you cough out a bit of dirt. "I'm-"

"-NOT DEAD YET, KAFIR!!"

The sudden shout of anger catches both you and Angora off guard, as Naseem rushes the cat-woman with his scimitar held up high. His chest has been all but caved in by her blow, blood still gushing out from the place where she had stabbed him. But he must be the sort where pain only drives him mad, the loss of blood feeding his battle fervor as he forgets how to think about anything but killing.

He charges from Angora's blind side, where her claws are occupied and she can't quite reach him with her spear. For a moment, you see a future where she takes the first of many wounds to come, and you're eventually subdued, your freedom robbed from you once more.

Aiming wildly, you invoke the Liberator and take a shot that by all rights you should have missed.

A metallic pew rings out, and something sizzles and pops, casting flecks of red everywhere.

Oh, that was his head.

"Good shot, Kimsey," Angora's praise snaps you out of the trance that your first kill stuck you in. She pulls the horse up next to you, ignore the blood that's been caked onto her bare thighs. "Now, get up, we need to get moving before-"

"Naseeeeeem!" Another one of the guards calls out, roaring with righteous vengeance. He's spurred his horse into an outright charge, his scimitar over his head and rage upon his face. "I shall see you in Paradise, my brother! But not before I send these kafir to Hel-"

Angora cuts him off by stabbing him through the throat.

"Your guard was poor, muharib," Angora tells the soon-to-be-corpse. His only response is a weak gurgle, his body collapsing to the ground. "But... you die a warrior's death all the same. Go to the Maker, receive His judgment."

"I don't think the Maker has good things to say about slavers," you can't help but comment.

"Perhaps not," Angora agrees, pulling the spear from his throat. "But my people believe that the Maker holds a special providence for those who die in battle. For if he does not, then what righteous man would take up his spear to do the evils that must be done unto evil?"

"That's kind of-"

>>5093062
Before you can finish your thought, Angora quickly adjusts the grip of her spear, her eyes darting to one side. Another one of the guards has decided to be brave, and ride forth - perhaps not noticing that his comrades have all been felled. With a graceful and fluid motion, Angora hurls the spear in his direction, and it plants itself not a yard infront of his horse.

The horse bucks backward with a loud whinny, and the guard falls flat on his ass, staring in terror at the spear.

"Tch..." Angora clicks her tongue in annoyance, relieving the nearest horse three more spears that had been slung on the side of its saddle. "I missed. Let's be off, before that one fetches anyone else."

You'll need to make a break for it, but where will you go?"
>Head south and west until you meet the Ma'Alhayaa, and follow the river to the ocean. You want to return home as swiftly as possible.
>Circle back and head north. The last place where anyone would expect you to go would be Sefar'sha, the seat of Sultan Melchor.
>Head east. There should be some mountain tribes there; they are known to offer shelter to escaped slaves.
>Head south, toward Guoba Desert. Punishing as it may be, it's the place you're least likely to be followed, and one of your pacts might be able to help you survive...
>Follow the road west, back to the City of Ashke'Ra.
>Write In

Also, may I note that holy shit Angora has no chill with the Nat 20s. 2 crits and a 20 on her Demoralize check...

>>5093110
>The horse bucks backward with a loud whinny, and the guard falls flat on his ass, staring in terror at the spear.
>"I missed. Let's be off, before that one fetches anyone else."
Lmao no. I don't recall all the rules for DnD 5e, but since he's prone or at least on his ass, he should be at a disadvantage. Bonus points for us if his horse has fled.
Put a magic bullet between his eyes until he's dead. Can't let any of them call for backup.
Loot the bodies too, and as many horses as we can corral. The more we have, the more supplies we can get via selling what we don't need.

>Head east. There should be some mountain tribes there; they are known to offer shelter to escaped slaves.
They raided our village. I doubt there's anything left to find. We can com back later once we're well supplied.

>>5093063
How many guards are still alive? How many more do we need to kill to level up?

>>5093063
>Circle back and head north. The last place where anyone would expect you to go would be Sefar'sha, the seat of Sultan Melchor.

>>5093063
>Head east. There should be some mountain tribes there; they are known to offer shelter to escaped slaves.

We need to lay low for a while. Mountains are perfect for our cat friend and really difficult to traverse with horses, giving a chance to skidaddle away if the slavers follow us there.

>>5093111
Actually, while he's prone, you have disadvantage on ranged attacks against him.

>>5093300
Of the dedicated guards, only Nashad (their leader, who has class levels) remains, though the rest of the caravan is armed and will defend themselves if you attack (Around a dozen people).

You are at 150/300 experience from defeating 6 guards.

>>5093445
Yeah no uh. Is the whole caravan mobilized against us? Crying shame that. Let's grab what we can from this encounter then leave, else take another bag if the whole caravan is gaining on us.

>Head east. There should be some mountain tribes there; they are known to offer shelter to escaped slaves.

You know qm, lolimort was a much better quest than this.

>>5093671
That QM flaked after the second thread. We'll see soon enough.

Rolled 11 + 5 (1d20 + 5)

>>5093664
Sure. You can roll Animal Handling (1d20+5) if you want to grab more horses, which will probably have some stuff in their saddlebags. You can take the roll from this post, or your own (I'll go with whichever is higher; this or the first roll by someone else).

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>>5093062
>the Liberator
What exactly is this? How does Kimsey know how to use it?

Rolled 5 + 5 (1d20 + 5)

>>5093782
give me life, or give me horse.

>>5093933
It's the eldritch blast warlock cantrip, with fluff based on the spirit who Kimsey has bound to her (he's the only one that gives her that cantrip). The Voice shoved knowledge+instincts into her brainpan without a care in the world for how it affected her, thus why Angora calls her "madwoman" (Kimsey spent a lot of time screaming incoherently).

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>>5093938
>>5093664
>>5093430
>>5093111
"I... honestly cannot believe that worked," Angora says.

Neither can you, if you're honest. An hour out from Angora sending the last guard from the caravan running with a missed throw of her javelin, the two of you have gotten a fair way into the mountains that the small caravan had circled. It's not the escape that you're questioning, though you'll admit that the two of you definitely got lucky.

No, it's the fact that four horses are now trotting in a train, following the fellow you and Angora are mounted upon, a loose lead guiding them to stay with you. Each laden down with a saddle, and some bags filled with supplies.

Yours, now, by right of conquest.

Also by right of tricking the horses into following you into the mountains with the illusion of a floating carrot.

"Same, but I guess horses aren't the sharpest tools..." You respond. Honestly, you didn't know you knew how to do that. In fact, you're quite certain that you shouldn't have been of any use in a fight. Not that Angora needs to know. You smile with a bit of pride, "They were clearly no match for my beguiling magecraft."

"The magecraft of a farmgirl must be a formidable thing indeed," Angora's words make you choke. You can hear a bit of laughter in her voice. "I suppose the Violet Garden's name must be more literal than I had imagined."

"How did you...?"

"Know of your past?" Angora finishes the question when you trail off in confusion. "Word travels around the slave pens of Ashke-Ra more swiftly than the Masters might wish. When a stolen daughter of the Silver Wolf asks a question, she finds her answers soon enough."

"In Hobbiton, if you don't mind?" You rub at your temples. Either she's dodging the question, or she's expecting you to put two and two together when you only have one two.

"We shared a cell for months, madwoman." You frown when Angora calls you by that nickname. "I took care to learn at least something about the woman who kept me up all night."

"Wait..." You find a three and add it to the two other twos, such as it were. "Does that mean you know my name?"

"Kimsey is Kimsey," Angora shakes her head, giving you an infuriating non-answer. As if sensing your dissatisfaction, she poses you a question: "If you do not remember it, and do not associate it with who you are, then is your name truly your name? What if the name I give you is not one the you of today likes, even if the you of before felt warm inside whenever someone called you by it?"

"You're acting like I'm a different person, just because I've got a few blanks in my head..."

You frown. But wouldn't you be? Memories are what make a person who they are, after all, without them they are just a hollow automaton going through the motions of life. You don't think you like the idea of being like that.

"No, but also yes." Angora's eyes scan the ridge line, looking for anyone that might approach. "I mean, I'm certainly not who I was yesterday..."

>>5094125

"All this talk about memories and names and whatever is making my head hurt..." you complain. You try to peer past her. "Are we over the ridge yet?"

"Not for a few days yet." She pulls the horse over and to a halt, taking a keeping low to the ground and stepping out to a stony ridge that overlooks the pass. "It looks like we bloodied their nose enough that the Caravan will leave us well alone. If they lose any more men, they won't be able to scare off bandits."

"And they'll have a hard enough time doing that already, alqita."

A man's voice cuts in from the ledge above your own. Angora's spear seems to leap into her hands, and you point your finger at the noise, getting ready to invoke the Liberator. A familiar face, matched to a familiar voice, the man wearing the colored turban from the Caravan. Both of his hands are raised, showing that he is unarmed - though there's an infuriatingly self-assured smile on his face.

"Though not as much as two kafir girls wearing the touk malaoun around their necks, all alone and without their master." He keeps his hands raised when he takes a seat on the ledge, his legs dangling down part of the way. "More vulgar men then I would be quite eager to take advantage of two lost girls in such a sorry state. I, however, would be pleased to removed such vile yokes from around your necks."

Angora looks like she's about to accept it without thinking, but you have to know something first. "What's your angle, easterling?"

His heart does not sing for freedom as do yours and Angoras, but nor does it seem to sing for the tyranny of order. You're not sure what to make of your pact-sense's reading on him.

"Dastan," he corrects you. Then, somewhat sheepishly, he forms a circle with his thumb and finger. "As for my angle, well... let us call it a price, eh? I've two questions for the two of you that I'd like answered truthfully, and... your consideration of an honest proposition. In exchange, I'll take those collars off you, and help you dress like honest women rather than... ah, what is the delicate term for it, comfort slaves."

Do you accept or reject Dastan's proposed trade?
>Accept the deal
>Push him for more details
>Tell him to get lost while pointing at him with violent intent.
>"So anyways I started blasting..."
>"This proposition better not be some weird sex thing."
>Write in

>>5094126
>"This proposition better not be some weird sex thing."
>Accept the deal

>>5094126
We were told you were magic or something. For all we know you could had enchanted those clothes to track us, or maybe they're cursed and will make us into slave. You're shown little that we can trust you, no matter how handsome you are!

>>5094126
>Push him for more details

>>5094158
+1 to this.

>>5094126
>Push him for more details
>Accept the deal
>While his does his thing on one of us, the other has their weapon aimed at him.

>>5094126
>Push for more details
>Accept the deal
>"This proposition better not be some weird sex thing"

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>>5094158
>>5094279
>>5094330
>>5094376
>>5094532

You spend a moment contemplating the deal, your finger not dropping for even a moment from Dastan's center of mass. Your eyes don't leave him, lest he try pulling something funny. That's definitely the reason, and not anything else. The man's roguish good looks have nothing to do with why you have not yet started blasting, and they should not have anything to do with whether or not you accept the deal.

They are certainly distracting, though. Especially the abs, you could gri-

"I acce-" Angora almost makes a fatal mistake, you have to intervene quickly.

"No she doesn't," You snap. Angora gives you a strange look, her arms crossed beneath her ample breasts. Gosh, with the way her girls strain against her bindings, she's almost as distracting as Dastan. "We want to know the questions before we agree to anything."

"Nothing about the proposition?" Dastan asks. The amused look on his face has not left since you first spotted him, though now an eyebrow has arched in curiosity.

"We only have to consider it, right?" You ask... and then a horrifying thought crosses your mind. "It just better not be some sort of weird sex thing."

"No butt stuff?" Dastan chuckles.

"No butt stuff," You say with the most grave severity.

"What do you mean when you say 'butt stuff'?" Angora asks, confused. You break your eyes from Dastan to stare at her in disbelief, and the easterling has the good courtesy to join you. Angora ponders your expression for a moment, before revulsion slowly dawns on her face when she realizes what you mean. "Oh. Ohhhhhhhhhhh. That cannot be sanitary."

"I mean, if you use prestidigitation to clean before you get going..." Dastan says, but he withers a bit when you flash him an unamused glance. "But yes, it's not a 'weird sex thing' or anything like that. It's not even a normal sex thing, I promise."

"And your questions?" you ask.

"Ah, it's a simple thing, really," he starts. From his vest, he pulls out a pad of paper and a quill that smells of conjuration magic to your nose. "The first is to ask... you are kafir, but which sort of a kafir are you? The faith you follow in your homeland, that is the question I am asking. The second is to ask what you remember about the one who put the touk malaoun on you in the first place."

"Well, I certainly accept," Angora puts her spear back on the sling where the others are strapped to the horse's side. "It is known to my people that the Maker sits upon his throne in heaven, and the spirits of the land and the rivers and everything in between are his hands upon the earth. We do not have a name for what we called it other than faith, but the shrine we kept had a scroll of his word."

"An old faith, then, but one of the books," Dastan motions for Angora to come closer, and when she does he begins tracing glyphs upon the collar. "And what of the one who put this on you, do you remember his face?"

>>5095055

Angora shrugs.

"He wore a mask," Angora says with an apologetic tone. Her brow furrows in concentration as she tries to remember a bit more. "A silver domino mask, over one of black cloth that covered his entire head. His accent sounded like that of an easterling, though that would not narrow it down in this land."

Dastan nods, the last glyph he writes causing the collar to flare up. The clasp unsnaps, and the leather falls away.

"Glad to be out of that..." Angora says, rubbing her neck. "Thank you."

"It's my pleasure, alqita," Dastan says. He waves you over. "And what of you, majnuna? What faith did your people keep, and what of the man who put that collar on you?"

"My name's Kimsey," you say, trying not to get won over by the man's easy going attitude. "Please use it."

"Oh, and I am called Angora!" Angora's ears perk up.

"Thank you Kimsey, Angora." Dastan has to take a knee to get to your height, and even then he manages to be taller than you. "But yes, the same questions for you, Kimsey."

What faith did your village keep?
>We just called it the Faith. Had a small church, a big book in an old language.
>The same sort of faith that Angora's people kept.
>You were a disciple of the Church of the Holy Maker, the largest religion in your part of the world.
>You were from the Branch Jaegerites, a sect popular in the eastern section for its militarism.
>You kept to the old faith of the Maker's Truth, deemed rather heretical by the Church of the Holy Maker.
>Bi'iiradat al-Khaliq, you belong to the faith of the Holy Prophet (pbuh)! A small sect to be sure, but your family cleaved to the true faith in such foreign lands.
>Write in

Roll 1d100 to determine how much you recall of the one who collared you.

Rolled 26 (1d100)

>>5095057
>Write in
Would you like to hear about our lord and savior Todd Howard Jesus Christ?

>>5095057
>You were from the Branch Jaegerites, a sect popular in the eastern section for its militarism.

Jihad, brothers!

>>5095057
Which one is the totally not Christian one? The first one sounds like it.

I mean, Dastan is a totally not Muslim and Angora sounds like a totally not Jew. Let's complete the trio here.

>>5095144
Angora is more a Shinto/Shamanistic with an Abrahamic Overdeity. Most of these are a flavor of Not-Christian, no real not-Judaism here. Maker's Truth is a sort of Not-Gnosticism, though, which is popular among the merchant class. Jaegerites are the most D E U S V U L T of the not-Christians.

>>5095151
Ah, got it. Do we get any bonuses or malus for this choice or is it just a thing to color our interactions with others?

>>5095151
I'm voting for the most DEUS VULT one, so I guess Jaegerites. Mom must be pissed.

>>5095245
Well, I can get behind that. It's time for the Last Crusade!

>>5095057
>You kept to the old faith of the Maker's Truth, deemed rather heretical by the Church of the Holy Maker
These fucking guys don't wanna be fantasy Cathars.

>>5095057
>>The same sort of faith that Angora's people kept.

Rolled 38 (1d100)

>>5095057
>You were from the Branch Jaegerites, a sect popular in the eastern section for its militarism

SOL INVICTUS my brothers.

Rolled 48 (1d100)

>>5095057
>WE WILL TAKE BACK JERUSALEM!

As a note, I'm going to be on a hiatus until after Christmas. Next story post will be on the 26th.

>>5095786
Ah, so it’s a good time to join then.
>>5095151
We literally are part Angel. This seems fitting.
>>5095245
She’d be proud I think

Let’s go DEUS VULT let’s go!

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>>5097250
>>5095500
>>5095245
>>5095116

Something about the question rattles you for a moment, and you can feel a sharp pain at your temple. Vaguely, you can see Dastan and Angora rush to your side. You cannot hear their voices well at all, they're practically inaudible beneath the ocean of pain that stabs through your mind. You think you start screaming.

But that doesn't matter. You remember now, at least in part.

Who you are, what you were, where you came from.

Ah, so this is why you reached out to Him, of all the spirits you might have called upon when the Voice gave you the means. Why He answered your call so easily, with only the barest of signs marking you as a bearer of His blessings. Why the weapon manifest in your hand felt so familiar to you, even though you would swear that you never saw such a contraption in your life. How you knew where those shots would go when you squeezed down upon the trigger, so much further than a crossbow.

You are His descendant after all. The blood of the Liberator runs through your veins as truly as it ran through your mother's, and your grandmother's before her, all the way back to the days when the Angels walked this base Earth and Benjamin Walsh took a mortal wife from the Halfling tribes.

And as this realization takes you, letters once more begin to dance in your vision, spelling out things that your mind aches too much for you to care to comprehend.

Alignment set to Chaotic Neutral.
Gained Racial Trait: Daughter of Liberty.

"-e's finally stopped screaming," you can hear Dastan's voice before your sight returns to you. Along with it, the crackling of a fire. "Does she do that often? It seems like she does that often."

"How could you miss it?" Angora's voice joins Dastan's, closer to you than his. Your sense of smell returns, and with it your sense of taste. A wooden spoon feeds you a simple porridge, bland enough to go down without a single complaint from your tongue or stomach. "She spent most of the trip screaming, you know? I could hardly rest my head before her voice would wake me again."

"An unenviable position, I must say," Dastan says. "It's no wonder the cage was wrapped in a veil of silence, then. Though I must wonder what the Sultan sought in buying our little majnuna. A woman like you would turn many heads, but a girl like her..."

"The masters of Ashke-Ra kept her calm with an extract of poppyseed." You can hear the grimace in Angora's voice. "Would have enslaved her to it, if I had let them. But a madwoman is better company than an addict, yes? So I ensured the dosage was reduced on most days, by mixing our gruel together, to share the load."

"It must have helped that you're bigger than her," Dastan says. You can hear the fire being tended to. "Al'Afiun is expensive, I'm surprised they would go through the expense just to keep a slave quiet..."

>>5098984

"Orders from on high, or so I heard." You can feel a fond hand stroking your head as Angora speaks. "In any case, a half dose did not a quiet roommate make. Some days, I slept through when they brought us food. She was quieter then than she is even now, and would curl up next to me like one of the kittens from my tribe. I would swap our meals the next day, just in case."

"I thought..." you struggle to croak out a few words, but it pains your throat to speak. "Said... couldn't... sleep... without..."

Your bleary eyes open, and you can see the stars have come out, a crescent moon hanging overhead. Your head rests upon Angora's thighs, now clothed in a divided riding skirt rather than bare beneath a set of slave's rags. Looking up, she seems to be dressed almost too respectably for a warrior of her caliber, having taken up an only somewhat altered form of the local fashions.

She looks down with an amused smile, and pats you on the head. "I am glad you did not lose yourself for too long, my dear madwoman."

You open your mouth to protest.

She fills it with a spoon full of porridge.

"You know my name, Angora" The porridge is soothing enough on your throat that swallowing it leaves you mostly well enough to speak. Just a few coughs between your words, but even those become less and less. "Please use it."

"Ah, which name should that be, majnuna?" Dastan asks with a too-curious look. "Would it be Kimse, who is no one? Or would it the "Daughter of Walsh"? Or how about the '51st Maiden Daughter of the Shrine of Thirteen Eagles'? You gave us quite the fire and brimstone speech, Jaegerite, but that's to be expected of your type, yes?"

"What do you mean my type?" You sit up from Angora's lap and pout at Dastan.

Dastan and Angora share a look.

Both then look at you with some small amount of concern.

"Jaegerites are, how does one say..." Dastan struggles to find words.

"The Branch of Jaeger is known for its..." Angora looks anywhere but your face.

The cat-girl and the turbaned man's eyes meet once more, and then they turn to you and answer as if with one voice. "Enthusiasm."

"Hey!" You puff out your cheeks, before throwing your hands up in exasperation, falling down to the grass. "You try seeing all the heresy and evil in this world and tell me you don't want to smite it! The Maker demands that evil be excised from his creation, and all good children are his hands upon this base Earth. Therefore we must be ready, willing, and able to-"

"Slaughter caravans that raise the Holy Sun?" Dastan asks, pointing out certain practice of your people.

>>5098987
"Slaver caravans that raise the Holy Sun," you correct him. Angora has poured herself a cup of tea, content to sit out this particular theological debate. "Slavery is an abomination in the eyes of the Maker, and therefore must be opposed at every opportunity. 'For great is the wrath of the LORD against the man who would chain his brother. And so, the LORD did send down the Third of his Heavenly Kings to lead the chained against the man who called himself their Master...'"

You feel a fervor burning in your chest, and you can see that your Aura of Light has not only turned on, but has begun to outshine the campfire. Your eyes blaze with righteous conviction as your sermon continues.

"Is she working herself into another screaming session?" Dastan asks Angora.

"No," Angora says, sipping her tea. "If she was, she would have started screaming by now."

"'-but the LORD's work was not finished!'" You shout to the mountains after reciting a particularly gruesome passage about the heads of slave traders being bashed in with stones. "'For he looked upon the halls of marble where the money was to be counted, and saw within an abomination even greater than before! For the slaves' first chains were made of iron, but now they found them to be made of gold, and in the eyes of the LORD this was an abomination most high. Upon the black rock where stood the counting halls, Walsh did lead a myriad of myriads with sling and stone to crush the Masters' Masters, singing holy, holy, holy is the LORD!'"

"Yes, enthusiastic is definitely the correct word to use," Angora says.

"Absolutely," Dastan nods, and then looks at you. "So, are you done with your sermon yet?"
>I am trying to reconnect with my religion, thank you!
>I suppose I can be done here, for now.
>But I haven't gotten to the part where they dash their skulls against the marble stairway.
>I am a Shrine Maiden dedicated to the Liberator. I can do this all day.
>Yeah, I think I got that out of my system. So, what was that favor you wanted to ask about?
>Write in.

>>5098988
>I am a Shrine Maiden dedicated to the Liberator. I can do this all day.
>But I will save it for another day, for more eager ears.
>So, what was that favor you wanted to ask about?

>>5098988
>But I haven't gotten to the part where they dash their skulls against the marble stairway. *pout*

Puppy dog eyes may also be appropriate.

>>5098988
>I am a Shrine Maiden dedicated to the Liberator. I can do this all day.
>But I will save it for another day, for ears that would appreciate skulls dashin against marble stairs. *pout*

>>5098988
>But I haven't gotten to the part where they dash their skulls against the marble stairway. *pout*
>So, what was that favor you wanted to ask about?

Let's up the cuteness meter a bit before getting back to business.

>>5098988
>But I haven't gotten to the part where they dash their skulls against the marble stairway. *pout*
>So, what was that favor you wanted to ask about?

Wonder why we scream our head off.
Liking this story boss.

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>>5099012
>>5099138
>>5099202
"But I haven't gotten to the part where they dash the slave masters' skulls against the marble stairs yet..."

You look up at the two of them with large, pouty green eyes. No, they're blue now, flecked with seven five-pointed stars, a sign of your great-father's favor. You really want to continue, and you hope your expression conveys those feelings well enough. When the two of them seem to laugh, no doubt amused by your childish expression, which must match your childlike - to humans - body, you puff your cheeks out and pout.

The Declaration Atop the Black Rock might be one of the more controversial pieces of scripture that your particular sect of the Branch Jaegerites cling to, but it's one of your favorite sermons. The words your family's angelic sire spoke when he threw down the money-counters who crowned themselves as kings might confuse those raised outside of your traditions, but they are important all the same. The cornerstone of your sect's philosophy.

No gods, no masters.

"Oh, I'm certain that would make for a merry sermon, majnuna." Dastan's tone betrays his amusement at how disappointed you are at being cut off from going into detail. Gloriously gory detail about how the slave masters of old were struck down, the only fate befitting those who practice such an abomination. "Let's have you give it to someone who needs hear it, eh? The Matron of Ashke-Ra, though I'd fear for her poor heart if she heard someone recite that particular passage from the Book of Walsh with such a fire in her eyes."

"I am still skeptical that so many books can be said to hold the Maker's word." Angora takes a skewer of meat and vegetables from Dastan's fire, and pulls off a chuck of pepper and meat. She doesn't bother to wait until she's finished chewing before she continues. "Good is Good, Evil is Evil, and one scroll on what was what was enough for our tribe to sort it out. Who can say whether all those books truly hold the spark of the Maker's inspiration?"

"Who's to say your scroll is any different?" Dastan smoothly counters Angora, who shrugs and takes another bite of her meat. "But we can debate theology until the sun itself withers and dies. These books are too ancient for anyone to have an accurate record of who wrote them and when, civilization rose and fell a dozen ti-"

"The King of Liberation himself penned the Book of Walsh," you declare with utmost certainty. Dastan narrows his eyes when you cut him off, but leans back, waiting for you to continue. "The proof for that lies in the unbroken Sofian line, which began when He took my ancestor Sofia as his bride, and the chief of his clergy."

"You can remember your bloodline, but you cannot remember your name?" Angora asks, again through a mouthful of food.

>>5100025

"Madness is a strange thing," Dastan remarks. "I knew a man once, who took a blow to the head... once he recovered, he could perform sums so complex that it shamed scholars from the University. But if you asked him where he was, he would not be able to tell you..."

"I'm right here, you know," you flash them another pout, which gets another amused look from the both of them. "And my name is - ow!"

A pain as sharp as a knife stabs you in the temple when you try to remember that piece of information.

"Let's not tax your brain too hard, Kimse." The way Dastan pronounces the name you took is strange, but it feels right. "Don't want you to erupt into another screaming session. Trying to remember your faith, that's what triggered it, yes?"

"Maybe, I don't know..." you grumble, rubbing at your head. A prestidigitation makes your fingers cold and soothing. It helps that a certain, all-too-familiar weight around your neck is gone now. "Anyways, you took that collar off, so I owe you a favor to consider. Let's hear it."

"He wants our help cleaning up his homeland's messes," Angora says through a mouthful of meat.

"That is... depressingly accurate," Dastan sighs. He gives you something of a pleading look. "As I told Angora while you were indisposed, something is rotten in this country. Children of the Books being shackled with the touk malaoun? Kafir or not, it is heresy! Madness! Yet I hear tell of girls made to renounce their faith under the knife, see honorable men ignoring what is right in front of them?"

Dastan lets out a frustrated sigh, his words failing him in the moment.

"As I said, he wants help in cleaning up his homeland's messes," Angora finishes the last few vegetables on her skewer. "Personally, I do not care about that, as much as I care about the opportunity to free my fellow tribesmen."

What is your response to this proposal?
>Press for more details. (Write in what details you want)
>Accept the proposal. You're in the mood for some vengeance.
>Reject the proposal. You'd rather escape to the mountain tribes.
>Did someone say "dash their skulls upon the stairs"? Because it sounded like someone said "dash their skulls upon the stairs".
>Write in.

>>5100026
>Press for more details. (Write in what details you want)
Why do this now of all times? Why not earlier before we had to suffer through months of travel? Why are you still working with your slaver friends? Oh nooooo I feel so bad about these sinful things. Oh well I guess I'll laze about and transport slaves for my next fat pay check oh bloo hoo. I better drink my sorrows away.

>>5100044
+1 to this but let's not go too aggressive, he might be the guy the voice told us to help once we escaped seeing as he wants to fix his homeland, it could be someone else though.

>>5100026
>>5100057 +1

>>5100026
>Did someone say "dash their skulls upon the stairs"? Because it sounded like someone said "dash their skulls upon the stairs". *starry eyes*
>Accept the proposal. You're in the mood for some vengeance.

>>5100026
>>Accept the proposal. You're in the mood for some vengeance.
Pretty sure that the voice wants this.
Also, did Angora let herself be enslaved? She would probably have been able to fight her way out a long time ago or even avoid capture entirely if she wanted to. We should ask her about this

>>5100026
>Press for more details. (Write in what details you want)

We'd be wanted women if we're runaway property of a Sultan of this country. How does he propose we contend with that for what sounds like an indefinite commitment?

Personally, I'd aim to head back to the west and find more traces of who we are before we try to set right a foreign country.

>>5100044
This but with:
>Did someone say "dash their skulls upon the stairs"? Because it sounded like someone said "dash their skulls upon the stairs".

We start with that but then reason catches up with us and we ask about that. We should adopt a more diplomatic tone and ask all that in a *nice* way though. He did help us and remove our collar. Thus we ought not be so snippy and judgmental with him even if we are a religious fanatic who abhors slavery.

>>5100110
That's also a good question as well. We should also ask about that.

>>5100026
>Did someone say "dash their skulls upon the stairs"? Because it sounded like someone said "dash their skulls upon the stairs".
>Accept the proposal. You're in the mood for some vengeance.

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>>5100044
>>5100057
>>5100065
>>5100216
>>5100115

The senses your greatfather's invocation blessed you with tells you that the man who stands before you has no desire to force others to bend the knee to his will... but also no particularly strong desire to bring freedom to those who do not have it. The selfish sort of person who seeks to maximize his own freedoms within the structure he finds himself within. A curious stance for one who wants your help in cleansing the rot of slavery from his nation.

So you have to ask, "Why do this now of all times? Why not earlier? Why not before they dragged us halfway across your country in an iron cage?"

Angora winces at your tone.

Perhaps your words came out with more vitriol than you intended. But you don't understand, if this was such great heresy, then why did this man wait so long to act upon the tenets of his faith? You would not. Your brothers and sisters would not. Yet this man did, though how long you cannot know, for the stars above do not seem so different than the winter months in your homeland.

To his credit, Dastan takes you words without a wince, his face a stone mask.

"Any answer I give you would be insufficient, and rightly so." He takes a skewer off the fire - one with roasted fruits and fowl - and passes it to you. Nothing too different than what you could find at home but for the spices used, which are strange to your tongue, but hardly bad. "So instead I will ask you two questions in turn. How many girls do you know who can fight on even footing with a man? Of those, how many could still do so after a fortnight in a cage?"

"The women of the leon are not frail hume damsels who cannot lift a spear, Dastan," Angora growls, her ears flattening in annoyance. "Our menfolk may be bigger and more fearsome, but if we left the hunting to the menfolk alone then tribe would sure starve."

"Are they too busy working out?" You ask, giving a pointed look at a certain man's exposed abs.

"Too few of them, actually," Angora sighs. "Not one son is born for every twenty daughters."

"Sounds like Paradi-" Dastan starts, but when you and Angora shoot him a glare, he coughs into his fist. "We're getting off topic, but I hope you understand my meaning well enough."

"So you kept working with them because you thought we were weak?" Your eyes narrow. The accusation that he works with hated slave masters is heavy in your tone.

Dastan holds up a hand, shaking his head. "I serve a higher power than a mere Sultan. I was simply going in the same direction as the caravan as part of my work, nothing more."

"The higher power is the Prince of Markaziun," Angora volunteers. When Dastan throws her a look like a kicked puppy, she shrugs. "What, you already told me. I see no point in dancing around the matter like you did on the way up here. Unless... were you trying to play at being story-teller? Waiting for the dramatic moment?"

>>5100906
"I like to think of it as giving a bit of flair," Dastan says. He looks a bit put out by it, though.

"I assume your work is what you want our help with." You take a bite from your skewer while waiting for a response. When Dastan nods, you swallow what you've been chewing and follow him up with another question. "Why us, then?"

"One of you probably could have broken free any time she wanted, given how easily she picked apart Nashad's men," Dastan levels a pointed look at Angora, whose gaze has traveled to the stars. There must be something interesting up there, as she refuses to meet Dastan's eyes. After a moment of silence, as if he had expected her to say something, Dastan continues. "The other is a sahir with the blood of an angel flowing through her veins. The better question to ask would be: why would I not float the offer and see if you bit, eh?"

"Speaking of..." You level a look at Angora. "Why didn't you break yourself out, anyways?"

A moment of silence passes by.

Then another moment.

You finish off your skewer. You're not sure what the little yellow chunks of not-quite-apple were, but they paired quite well with the peppers and onions. Not to mention provided a sweet counterpoint to the savory flavor of the gently spiced salted chicken that you suspect Dastan had prepared. Though if it was preserved, it might have been Angora? Or did they hunt it while you were screaming...

"It's ill luck to abandon a god-child," Angora finally says.

You're not sure you believe that, but you'll let it lie. For now.

"Indeed, especially one who is a child of the books, kafir or otherwise," Dastan says. Then, with a wave of his hand, he calls forth the specter of a hound - large and burly, with the sort of respectable, loyal face to him. "Akhilas will watch over us tonight, so you can rest easily. I will not ask your answer until you've had time to think on it. This is not a small commitment, rooting out this heresy, but if you do decide to aid me in this, I can promise you the Prince's protection, at the very least."

Come the morning, you'll have a decision to make on where to go.
>Continue to the mountain tribal lands. You just want to leave this behind you.
>Confer with Dastan as to where you can go at this point.
>Confer with Angora about joining Dastan, and seeing where you will need to go.
>Write In.

>>5100907
>Confer with Angora about joining Dastan, and seeing where you will need to go.
Get Angora's opinion now with the new information and...

>Make clear to Dastan if you do join then it's as a partner, not as a servant. Meaning that he needs to respect your beliefs, and be transparent about his plans.

I think if he's willing to work with us as equals, we can accept his offer now that we have the guarantee of protection.

>>5100907
the Prince's protection. The same prince who wanted us for his harem. I am tired of this man's bullshit. He needs to be absolutely transparent, else there will never be trust.

>>5100925
The prince who wanted us for the harem was the sultan's son who Dastan does not serve.

>>5100907
Confer with Angora about joining Dastan, and seeing where you will need to go.

>>5100973
Oh

>>5100907
>Confer with Angora about joining Dastan, and seeing where you will need to go.

>>5100914
I will second this.

>>5100914
+1 to this, seems reasonable enough to me.

>>5100914
+1

>>5100973
>>5101004
Specifically, all sahir in this region of the world directly serve the Caliph and his family, or are otherwise hunted as heretics. Dastan is one (of many) who has been charged into looking into the odd number of Westerlings who have been bound with a touk malaoun, a magic item that forces the wearer to obey the one who holds a paired ring (in this case, the Sultan's son). Westerlings are generally peoples of the books, so by their custom and and religious stricture they must not be robbed of their free will.

In this region, mind-affecting spells are heresy to use upon the faithful, and by extension the peoples of the books (who are faithful to the right god, but follow the old ways instead of the new). People who are not of the books, such as the Mountain Clans or the Southrons, are fair game though.

>>5101575
This some bullshit!

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>>5100914
>>5100973
>>5101004
>>5101177
>>5101284
"Isn't he the one who wanted Angora and I to become his..." You gesture at Angora, and your own shapely figure that the modest clothes which you dearly hope she dressed you in cannot hide. "Playthings?"

"Different Prince," Dastan says, making a noncommittal gesture. "A higher prince, for sure."

"A prince ought to be a prince," Angora grumbles. She flops onto a bedroll near the fire, staring up at the starry sky. "You city folk and your hierarchies are strange."

"I mean, princes are the sons of a king, right?" You ask, finding your own bedroll.

"The Westerland tongues do not have the right word, I think," Dastan claims. He lies on his side, one hand supporting his head and those delicious abs of his on full display in the flickering light of the fire. "One is the son of a Sultan, who rules a great city and its surrounding lands. We sahir serve only the blood of the Caliph, whose authority over these lands was handed down by the Maker himself, a thousand years ago. I serve the Seventh Prince, Joachim al-Samawi... though I'm sure that name means little to you Westerlings."

"You would be correct," Angora says. "I know little enough of the kings who claimed dominion over the forests of my tribe, let alone of foreign lords. What of you, little Kimsey?"

"Sorry, never heard of him," you say. Dastan seems a bit put out by that. "But with how my memory's been, that's not really saying much. For all I know, the man could have visited the shrine my family kept, and I'd be none the wiser."

"I'll introduce you next time we're in the Holy City," Dastan says. "Though I'd advise you to be careful should we enter the palace. That place has more snakes than an execution pit..."

The conversation beneath the stars continues for some time, the three of you exchanging stories of your pasts. How Angora's parents arranged for her marriage with the sweetest young boy she's ever met, and how she just hope he gets over his shyness around women by the time she returns to her tribe. How Dastan learned that he had an aptitude for becoming sahir when his little sister fell down a well, and how he shrunk the distance she needed to climb with his magic. How little you remember of your own past, beyond the vague shape of the shrine your family kept. Old stone and open in the forest, with pillars atop which nested the eagles for which it took its name.

At some point, sleep takes you.

But you have no dreams.

You thought you might have some sordid nightmare, living through the fate that you avoided by escaping from your captors. Perhaps a surreal wet-dream where you drowned in the pleasures that come with a life where you only need to think about pleasuring dicks of all shapes and sizes. That's what life in a harem is like, right? Every harem girl exists solely to please her masters' cocks, and doesn't need to worry about anything besides how best to please and be pleasured, right?

>>5101977

Being submerged in constant pleasure, every waking minute devoted to the joys of being a woman, would be a hazy and dreamlike existence. But unlike a dream, you would never be allowed to wake up. Eventually, that pleasure would become a cage and the dreamlike existence would become a living nightmare.

It would be nice to have a dream like that.

It would feel impossibly good, and you would wake up refreshed, albeit with a damp bedroll.

But you do not dream. You only experience a pause in your consciousness, your every thought submerged in something empty and black, before the sun finally dawns. Your eyes flicker open to the not-quite-unwelcome sight of Angora's bosom, her arms wrapped around your head. You're not certain when she invaded your bedroll, and you're somewhat disappointed that it's not Dastan's abs that your head is resting against, but you will make do.

"Pssst, Angora," you whisper into one of her fluffy ears. "Angoraaaaaa..."

"I am 'wake..." a soft yawn interrupts Angora's words. Without a second thought, she strokes your head. "When did you get in my bedroll, Kimsey? Or did I invade yours...?"

"You invaded mine," you whisper to her.

"Apologies," she says, but she doesn't let you go. "I used to do this with little Rhodey, before the raids. Of course, you are smaller than him... and much less flustered than he would be, in your position. Hmmm, shall I say the magic words that always sent him running, his face as red as the dawn?"

You snort, "What were those?"

She curls up around you, her lips almost brushing against your ears. With a gentle voice you would not expect from her, and a tone somewhere around the midpoint of motherly and seductive, she whispers two words into your ears. Somehow, they carry a sweet promise, but also a very sexually charged threat. No wonder an inexperienced, shy boy would run away from such danger.

"Ara ara~"

Your ears turn a bright, cherry red. "By the Maker, Angora, what were you doing to that poor boy? I don't even know what that means, and I can tell you were coming on strong..."

"It was just teasing," Angora doesn't roll away, though, nor let you free from her grasp. Does she have a thing for people who are smaller than her? "So, what do you think of Dastan's quest? A bit... ambitious, is it not? Though I would not hate fighting for such a cause..."

"It's the righteous thing to do," you declare with almost no hesitancy. "We shall dash the Slave Masters and their skulls upon the marble stairs of their palaces, just as Walsh did long ago."

Angora chuckles at your enthusiasm. "Perhaps. Though I think Dastan may only be aiming for slaves that have been taken against the Holy Law-"

"All slavery is against the Holy Law."

You cut Angora off with a statement of fact, but she puts a finger to your lips before you can continue. You pout, as you would like nothing more than to spend the morning giving a sermon on how to best kill the slavemasters.

>>5101979
"Against the Holy Law of his people," Angora says. She has a complicated expression on her face. "I believe that if we were apostates of our faith - true apostates - or if we had not been of a faith that held to the Maker and his teachings, then our situation would have been acceptable to him and his prince. Magic collar and all."

"Hah!" You can't help but bark out in laughter at the suggestion. "Angora, that's absurd. You can't just believe that slavery is okay for one group of people and not another. Either you realize that depriving people of their vital freedoms is the highest evil in all the world, or you are evil yourself. Or aid and abet evil. I mean, sure, his heart doesn't sing for the liberation of the downtrodden, but..."

"I do not think the world is so black and white, little Kimsey..." Angora looks a bit worried.

You manage to wriggle out of your hands, and go to shake Dastan awake. Your eyes are bright and full of happiness, because you know that Dastan might be selfish, but he recognizes the evils that are inherent in chains.

"Dastan, Dastan!" You look him in he eyes as he wakes up. You didn't realize that they were so blue. He blinks at you, and stares up in confusion. "If we join you, that means we're going to carve out the rotten heart of slavery that has infested your homeland and replace it with a system of proud and honest freemen, yes?"

Dastan stares at you.

Angora stares at you with concern.

"You..." Dastan lets out a disbelieving bark of laughter, followed by a mad burst of chuckles. "...would get along with my Prince like a city on fire. No, not a city, a damned country. Perhaps I should not introduce the two of you after all, if we visit the Holy City. Between your passion and his schemes, I'd be afraid that you might accidentally start something that would paint the streets red with blood."

"Angora~" you sing, and the cat-woman pinches her nose. "I'm not hearing a no~"

"Let us leave the ideals for the ideal world where they can be realized for now, Kimse," Dastan rolls away from you, and pushes himself to his feet. "My mission - our mission, if you join me - is solely to root out improper use of the touk malaoun. We can talk higher ideals once we bring those heretics to ruin. I'm sure my Prince would love what you have to say on such institutions. He is quite the idealist."

You cross your arms and pout. That's not what you had been hoping to hear, even if what he says about his master is promising. Of course, words are cheap, actions are expensive. "Don't expect me to leave slaves still bound if I see the opportunity to free them."

"I think I can look the other way," Dastan gives a shrug. "As long as the slaves want their freedom. It may surprise you, but many folk find freedom to be more trouble than it is worth."

You stare at Dastan in confusion.

>>5101980
"I'm sorry, I don't think I understand," you admit, after a long silence. "Everyone deserves the right to choose their own path in life."

"And some genuinely prefer the simplicity that comes with servitude," Dastan says. He pulls out an odd carafe with a press, and gets to brewing some strange tea from ground beans inside of it. "The Letters of Walsh even tell us, 'Righteous is the man whose slaves return to serve him of their own will after tasting the sweet fruits of freedom, for he has provided to them a better life by far then what they could provide for themselves.'"

You click your tongue. "Those Letters are apocryphal. But I think I understand. To impose my will upon one who would use their freedom to forsake their freedom is in and of itself a violation of their freedoms."

"All this talk of the nature of freedom gives me a headache," Angora says. She's rubbing her temples and gives you a sour look. "Are we joining him, or not?"

"Yes," you say. "As long as he understands that we are not servants to be ordered around."

"If I needed Servants I would ask my Prince to lend me an entourage," Dastan says. "Lapdogs are not rare in these lands. A pair of heads that can think and tell me when I'm stupid are much more valuable to me than ones that just say yes to everything, eh? So why don't we bang our three heads together, and figure out our first priority."

What is your top priority, right now?
>Selling off the horses and whatever is in their saddlebags. (Roll 4d100)
>Finding yourself a safehouse or base of operations to work out of.
>Following up on whatever additional leads Dastan has on the illegal use of the Magic Collars.
>Getting some revenge on the Sultan and his Son by infiltrating his birthday party.
>(Write In)

>>5101984
>Selling off the horses and whatever is in their saddlebags. (Roll 4d100)
We only need three horses.

Rolled 16, 40, 47, 99 = 202 (4d100)

>>5101984
>Selling off the horses and whatever is in their saddlebags. (Roll 4d100)

Rolled 19, 75, 43, 89 = 226 (4d100)

>>5101984
oh shit was I supposed to roll too?

Rolled 83, 18, 66, 100 = 267 (4d100)

>>5101984
>>Selling off the horses and whatever is in their saddlebags. (Roll 4d100)

>>5101984
>Getting some revenge on the Sultan and his Son by infiltrating his birthday party.

I want to hear the lamentation of their women when we dash these slavers heads against the steps of their households.

Rolled 81, 79, 51, 84 = 295 (4d100)

>>5101984
>Selling off the horses and whatever is in their saddlebags. (Roll 4d100)
I love me some money, also I know 3 other people already rolled and it's probably best of 3 I might as well roll anyways.

>>5101984
Get money then find a safehouse. Gotta have a base of operations if we're going after nobility here.

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>>5102034
Taking this guy's rolls.
Extra Loot Rolls: https://rolz.org/dr?room=So_Anyway_I_Started_Blasting

Breakfast at camp is a simple affair. You get put in charge of stirring the porridge and keeping it from burning while Dastan uses his magic to fill your water skins. That's apparently the first spell all sahir learn, the ability to squeeze the sands and arid wind for the scant water that can be found. Angora ventures away from camp for a brief time, returning with the flowers and fruits of a cactus. The meat of the fruits get added to the porridge, while the flowers and fruit skins get made into a violently purple tea.

"How do you even know what's safe to eat out here?" Dastan asks, sipping appreciatively at the slightly sweet drink. "I trust you're a competent woodsman, but... this is a little far from your usual hunting grounds, no?"

"The nose knows," Angora taps the side of her slightly mishapen nose. It's hard to tell without looking at her for a long, long while, but her nose takes more than a few cues from that a cat. It's just hard to tell what it takes, as it's little different from a human's. "I can smell what is poisonous, and what will be agreeable. I hear humans cannot always tell a poisoned mushroom from one that is safe to eat - is this true?"

"There are poisonous mushrooms?" you ask. This is the first you heard of it, and while your memory isn't the best... "That doesn't sound right. I'm pretty sure I've eaten every type of mushroom before..."

"The Death Cap will kill a man in a matter of hours if not treated by a shaman," Angora says.

"I've also heard that the red and white mushroom in the Westerlands can be poisonous if you eat too many," Dastan nods along with Angora.

"Oh, don't be silly, everyone knows that death-caps are just really spicy." You can see how someone would mistake the death-cap's rather extreme kick for something poisonous, though. Your mother made dishes with it, spicy mushrooms were a staple of your family's kitchen. But you suppose that if you're not used to it... "Tell you what, we get back to the Westerlands, I've got a lovely family recipe for death-cap poppers that I'm sure you'll love. I can even cut the spicy bits out, if you're not a fan of a little heat."

Dastan and Angora share a look with one another.

"No thank you," Dastan says. His face is hidden behind a long swig of his tea.

"I am afraid that I am allergic to death-caps," Angora states. Strange, she has her eyes locked onto her porridge when she says that.

"Same," Dastan agrees. "They've never agreed with me."

"Well, that's a damned shame, they're really quite good." Why the two of them stare at you like you've grown a second head when you say that is quite strange. They were your favorite comfort food, back at the shrine... though you do remember something your mom said about most other humanoids having bad allergies to them. "Anyways, shall we get down to business?"

>>5103029

"Angora and I went over what you and she..." Dastan searches for the appropriate word for a moment. "Liberated from Nashad's men. Half their pay for this little escort job, and a few other things. We can go over it, if you'd like."

"No need," you say, staring at the bags. Letters begin to swirl around, dense enough that it gives you a headache. "I can already see what we have..."

Inventory
Currency: 2500 Copper, 100 Silver, 7 Gold
Nonmagic Items: 6x Diamonds (Uncut), Potion of Fire Breath, Potion of Superior Healing, Potion of Gaseous Form
Magical Items: Unknown Adamantine Cube

"I take it neither of you know what that adamantine cube does?" you ask.

"Did you divination reveal its secrets?" Angora asks you. "I cannot say why, but for whatever reason, it puts my hair on edge whenever I touch it."

"Nope," you say. "You have any idea what it was, Dastan?"

"Sadly, Nashad never brought it up," Dastan says. "I would recommend we not sell it until we know what it is. Who knows, it could be something we want to hang on to."

The real question is, who do you want to sell to?
>The Mountain Clans will not ask many questions nor care for the goods origins... but will only pay in goods, rather than coin.
>If you can sell a lie about a horse trader and his wife and daughter, you might be able to pass your goods off as legitimate.
>There are merchants who will not ask many questions, but will skin you alive on price.
>There are fences who care not for the goods origins, but will require a favor.
>Write in.

As a note, I'll be off the New Year, next story post will be the 2nd

>>5103029
>eat death caps frequently
>really high con
W O W

>>5103031
>The Mountain Clans will not ask many questions nor care for the goods origins... but will only pay in goods, rather than coin.
>If you can sell a lie about a horse trader and his wife and daughter, you might be able to pass your goods off as legitimate.
The clans will greatly value the horses for breeding, riding, beasts of burden, and their milk. They will also use them for meat and leathers, bones too for farming if they can make bone meal, or ceremonious purposes. I'm curious as to what kind of goods they're willing to trade for such valuable creatures.

As for everything else, I'unno. Sell then later at a city?

>>5103031
>The Mountain Clans will not ask many questions nor care for the goods origins... but will only pay in goods, rather than coin.
We can always whatever goods we can't use to other merchants

>>5103076
Armor perhaps. Armor made by clanners would allow us to fit in with other clan groups, but might make us stick out like a sore thumb in urban cities. We could get armor for Angora. That won't be unusual. Enchanted items perhaps?
Oh! What we really need is lamp oil. It's cheaper than an alchemist fire, and more versatile. We could always use more water skins and rope. Rations like penican.

>>5103031
Could we exchange goods for "services & lessons?" Fighting feats for Angora, Slice of Life feats for Kimsey.

>>5103031
>The Mountain Clans will not ask many questions nor care for the goods origins... but will only pay in goods, rather than coin.

What "goods" are we talking and do Dastan and Angora trust them to keep their damn mouths shut? I like coin but I like the idea of not getting ratted out to the feds even more if we can secure resources that are actually useful to our endeavors.

>>5103246
>Head east. There should be some mountain tribes there; they are known to offer shelter to escaped slaves.

>>5103031
How did Dastan move ahead of us after we killed the guards?

>>5103290
Sahir are the gish-caste of the Caliphate. Dastan is a few levels higher than you, and specializes in teleportation and destruction based magic. Their magic is mildly heretical because it does not follow the Holy Words passed down from the creator, and instead shapes magic more intuitively (which many consider dangerous/reckless). In game terms, he uses Spheres rather than Vancian magic.

>>5103037
She doesn't remember it, but one of the weird/special things about halflings in this setting is that they can eat any type of mushroom without worrying about it. She definitely doesn't remember that a lot of the tastier/spicier mushrooms are poisonous to other humanoids.

>>5103129
You could, but it would also be a major time commitment to learning them.

>>5103246
The Mountain Tribes and the Caliphate do not get along. If you're worried about the Fedboys, Dastan technically IS the Fedboys looking into the corruption of more local governments. That said, any Mountain Tribes in this area especially are likely feuding with the Sultan who wanted you and Angora to be his son's sex slaves.

>>5103340
>mushrooms are tasty
At least if were ever in a forest or cave system, Kimsey can life of the poisonous mushrooms to save her own rations. Pretty cool. Say would that make her slightly poisonous for predators to eat, or does her digestive system renders the toxins in the mushrooms inert or something?

What we taking a few weeks? A month?

>>5103340
So he specializes in "Space" and "Forces" arcana then? Good. Now we just need a healer. Can we function as a healer with the right spirit?

>>5103357
A month at minimum. Though I would say that if you found/bought a Manual for a Feat, you could train yourself towards during down time (albeit at a slowed rate).

>>5103361
You currently do not have access to spirits that have healing, but if you look into it you might find one that can give you a little bit of it. You do have Lay on Hands from being of divine blood, but that's only 5 HP per day (or 1 disease/poison - they exchange at a rate of 5 HP per affliction).

>>5103366
If we bought the manual, could we train while reading on horse back? Travel from point A to point B via mundane methods are very slow, so it would be a good opportunity to read in between destinations, and an efficient use of time.

>>5103366
Are there manuals for the Healer Feat? Can the Skilled feat be taken multiple times for different skills? Is there a manual for the Spell Sniper feat? Can we buy a healer kit and binoculars/monuculars from the tribal village?

>>5103366
How long would it take to claim proficiency with the Chef feat, be it through tutoring or manuals?

Happy New Years, folks!

>>5104200
One month if you cook all the meals you eat, using a manual of the feat. If you let others cook, longer.

>>5103493
Depends on the feat. If it doesn't require movement or implied practical study, you're good (so, like Skilled in knowledge type skills). If it DOES, you'll still reduce it from 3x to 2x multiplier in time taken.

>>5103966
Yes to everything but the binoculars, lens are tricky and you'd only really find them in a city. Note, feats gained through manuals never give ability advancement.

>>5104278
What's ability advancement?

>>5104294
Some feats are tagged with "Increase [Ability Score] by 1, up to a maximum of 20". Manual Feats do not give those benefits (the ones that do will generally be cheaper and take a bit less time than the ones that don't to make up for it).

>>5104278
Happy new year.

>>5104308
So, some manuals are cheaper, take less time to learn, and give attribute bonuses

and then there are some manuals that are more expensive and dont give attribute bonuses?

>>5104372
See the previous statement of feats gained through manuals never give attribute bonuses. They're cheaper and take less time because you're losing part of the feat.

>>5103031
>The Mountain Clans will not ask many questions nor care for the goods origins... but will only pay in goods, rather than coin.

>>5104721
Can we commune with Benjamin Walsh and learn how to Eldritch Blast better? Fan the hammer, shoot faster, shoot farther, duel wielding finger gunning action?

dead tierd after a really long drive. next post tomorrow.

>>5106950
Is there anything stopping us from spending the whole year acquiring a dozen or so feats and increasing our attributes?

>>5108210
Money and my exhaustion.

>>5108280
Can we milk the horses for milk. Their milk can be made into booze.

>>5106950
Qm come back

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>>5104729
>>5103076
>>5103037
>>5103246
The mountains are the easiest place to launder these stolen horses into something you can sell, especially if you want to avoid the chance that someone recognizes the horse or some of the goods you try to offload. Angora takes the lead, as though these mountains are far drier than those of her homeland, "Guiding a horse up a rock is guiding a horse up a rock. Follow the path I take, and your horses should remain sure footed."

"And if they don't?" You ask, following her up a particularly dubious deer trail. "What happens then?"

"Then the horse falls, and you will likely break a leg," Angora makes no bones of it. "If not something worse. If you do not get healing soon afterwards, something unfortunate might occur."

"Well that's a morbid thought..." Dastan does not look too pleased by that.

"I can do a bit of healing, but I've never set a leg before..." You say.

"Follow me and you will not have to," Angora says, leading on.

Three days and three nights pass, and thankfully you do not need to dip into your reserve of trail rations too often. Though the mountains are dry, they still have brooks and streams and shrubbery, and while Angora and Dastan refuse to let you do any foraging lest you bring back a mushroom they're allergic to, they both manage to find some of the desert's scarce bounty. On more than one occasion, Angora even manages to spear a few fish, making for a tasty treat at dinner time.

Do you change your bound spirit to a different one any of these mornings?
>11.11.11 Howard, Engine of Worlds
>Gar'ig Y'gax, Master of Games
>J'Pegg, the Corruption of Art
>Michelle, Angel of Protection
>Morrigan, Fairy of Summer
>Old Scratch, the Golden Fiddler
>R.O.S.S., the Self Actualization Mentor
>Yashi Koba, Mother of Dragons
>Yogg Theron, the Inner Chaos
>No

On the third day, you run across something that might be trouble...
>You can hear the sound of battle, and shouts getting ever closer...!
>Something stands in your way on the trail. The antlers of a deer, the beak and feathers of an owl, and the body of a bear...
>The trail leads to a great stone bridge over a ravine. The only problem is the creature guarding it...
>You hear a rumbling voice, and see something land from overhead. "Hoh...? Who dares intrude upon the territory of the mighty dragon, Vercingetorix...?" Beguiler: You can tell that this is an illusion, but who might be casting it?
>A man claiming to be the Local Lord has come with his veteran men-at-arms, and in FULL HARNESS at that. What brigandry do you intend, intruding on his lands-by-rights!? Beguiler: You can tell that some of this is an illusion, but who might be casting it?

>>5109379

>Do you change your bound spirit to a different one any of these mornings?
Going with no, but that's mainly because I'm not particularly how "sacrilegious" it would be for us to stray to a different bound spirit.

>The trail leads to a great stone bridge over a ravine. The only problem is the creature guarding it...
I wonder if it's a riddle monster, or just a monster monster?

>>5109379
>No
Great great great great great great great great great great grand daddy didn't raise no pussy ass bitch.

If you're a bandit, you're getting a bullet between the eyes, else would you like to do some buisness?

>>5109379
>No
Gun is always the correct option so we must keep the gun magic!
>You hear a rumbling voice, and see something land from overhead. "Hoh...? Who dares intrude upon the territory of the mighty dragon, Vercingetorix...?"
Seems fun.

>>5109379
>No
>You hear a rumbling voice, and see something land from overhead. "Hoh...? Who dares intrude upon the territory of the mighty dragon, Vercingetorix...?"

>>5109379
>No, keep GUN
>You hear a rumbling voice, and see something land from overhead. "Hoh...? Who dares intrude upon the territory of the mighty dragon, Vercingetorix...?" Beguiler: You can tell that this is an illusion, but who might be casting it?

File: Vercingetorix.jpg (5.17 MB, 1471x1920)

5.17 MB JPG

>>5109562
>>5109640
>>5109784
This high up, the air turns frigid despite the merciless pounding of the sun. You can see cracks off white on the mountain ridgeline that surrounds you when you enter into a great valley of green grass and brown stone. The cracks snake up the mountainsides, turning into crowns of white that give you the impression of a row of vicious fangs. No trees or shrubbery can be found here, though you can see a flock of sheep on the northern end, where ice melting from the cracks feeds into a shallow stream that meanders through the valley until it reaches the place where you have entered.

"This should make a good place to camp!" Dastan declares. "I see a nice little hill on the eastern ridges. Let's aim for there, and set up camp for the night."

"How much longer until we reach the Mountain Clans?" You ask. Your legs have gotten sore from riding all day, and you sorely wish for a chance to be off your mount for a week or two. "Any more time in the saddle and I'll be bow-legged for the rest of my life..."

"Not long," Dastan assures you, spurring his horse forward. "Just two or three more days, until we reach there territory. Now, when we get there, if they offer you any food, make sure to accept it. It would be a grave insult to reject their hospitality. But if a boy offers you a crown of flowers, politely turn him down. That's a marriage proposal, and they take such promises very seriously."

"Who would want to marry someone they have never met?" Angora asks, seemingly baffled by the idea. "Among my people, you know the boy you are to marry from a very young age. Why, I even held my future husband when he was a baby, with the understanding that I was to become first among his wives..."

"Not every boy has the advantages your little Rhodey had," Dastan points out. "In some tribes, there may be more boys than girls. Those who can't win a girl's heart end up pretty lonely..."

"That is strange," Angora says. "Why do they not simply share?"

"Most men don't like that sort of thing," Dastan responds, a wry grin on his face.

"You do not know what you miss," Angora looks to the sky, her ears twitching in confusion. "Sharing intimacy with my sister-wives is something I would never give up, especially since dear Rhodey is too yo- hold."

"What's up?" You call on the Liberator as Angora reaches for her spear.

"I hear..." She sniffs the air, her frown deepening further still. "What is that-"

Whatever she said is drowned out by a roar, as a shadow passes over you. Dust kicks up before you, and you see a beast that you thought only belonged on the pages of a story book. Half again the size of a house, with muscle and sinew and blood red stares, the eyes of the beast are golden and slitted. A crown of horns rests upon his head, and you can feel the heat of the flame that briefly shoots out from its nostrils when it snorts. There is but one word for this creature.

Dragon.

>>5110296
"Hooooh...?" The dragon's voice rumbles like thunder, nearly sending your horse into a panic. Angora and Dastan both tremble at the sight of the beast, but put on a brave face. You... don't understand their fear, though. You can see the flaws in the illusion, though you cannot see who is casting it. All the same, it's quite impressive. "Who dares intrude upon the territory of the mightiest of dragons... the great Red Wyrm, Vercingetorix? Speak!"

Dastan draws his scimitar, and presents the flat of his blade to dragon with a formal bow of his head. "I am Dastan, son of Rustem, son of Zal. Loyal servant of Caliph Keikobad, and sworn sword of Prince Kaous. On my honor as sahir, I swear to you noble dragon, we knew not that this was your territory, and we only seek safe passage to the halls of the Mountain Folk."

"You are sahir?" The illusion asks. "You keep strange company for a sahir. Two daughters of the westerlands, one a warrior of the Mountain Lions, and the other a smallfolk godchild who smells of the great eagle... What of them, I wonder?"

>Let Dastan do the talking for now.
>Announce who you are, and your purpose - the breaking of chains!
>Two can play at this game. You can create your own illusions... one of another dragon. Specifically, this Dragon's nagging mate, who clearly gave you permission to pass.
>"Guys, he can't hurt you, he's not real..."
>Write in

>>5110296
>>5110298
Ahem, accidentally put two # for the trip. Sasu-freaking-ga

>>5110298
>Two can play at this game. You can create your own illusions... one of another dragon. Specifically, this Dragon's nagging mate, who clearly gave you permission to pass.

This'll be hilarious.

>>5110298
>Two can play at this game. You can create your own illusions... one of another dragon. Specifically, this Dragon's nagging mate, who clearly gave you permission to pass.
LMAO

>>5110298
>Two can play at this game. You can create your own illusions... one of another dragon. Specifically, this Dragon's nagging mate, who clearly gave you permission to pass.

>>5110298
>Two can play at this game. You can create your own illusions... one of another dragon. Specifically, this Dragon's nagging mate, who clearly gave you permission to pass.
Oh my God yes.

>>5110298
>Two can play at this game. You can create your own illusions... one of another dragon. Specifically, this Dragon's nagging mate, who clearly gave you permission to pass.
>"What the hell are you doing out here Vercingetorix?! Didn't I just tell you to guard our cave-house a moment ago? I swear to Tiamat, you always do this, you always ignore what I say and go on your stupid bridge keeping hobby, harassing some adventurer while I work out there getting our family the gold we need for OUR CHILD. VERY YOU BETTER HEAD BACK INSIDE OR I SWEAR TO TIAMAT, YOU'RE TEARING OUR FAMILY APART. YOU THINK JUNIOR WANTS TO BE ALONE?!"
>"HOME. NOW."

>>5110579
>>5110639
+1 to this, wonder how our companions will react.

>>5110639
Oh god, the poor illusory dragon is married to a ball-busting Karen! May god have mercy upon his poor draconic soul.

If anyone can sell the incarnation of the opposite of cheeseburgers and freedom it would be us I imagine. After all, if you are "for" something you've got clear vision of its opposite...

>>5110639
+1 this is some good shit. Theres potential here.

File: Ka'ren.png (125 KB, 500x281)

125 KB PNG

>>5110321
>>5110341
>>5110505
>>5110579
>>5110639
>>5110713
>>5110765
While Dastan busies himself genuflecting towards the illusory dragon, and Angora's eyes are locked on the beast with her spear at the ready, you make use of you Surprise Casting ability. You need only the most subtle of hand gestures, and the most silent of words to cast an illusion of your own. It helps a lot, that compliments flow out of Dastan's mouth like a river over a cliff, a waterfall of praise being lavished upon the increasingly smug looking dragon. With such thick scales, powerful muscles, and noble, self assured, demeanor, you know that only one thing in the world would be able to convincingly ding that armor. Only one thing that you can conjure which would be able to bring him low.

"VERCIIIII, DARLING~!" A voice that sounds like your own, if you were five tons heavier and breathed fire, booms through the valley. You try the best impression of your mother's sarcastically sweet voice, the one she used when your dad fucked up. The sheep get spooked, and run off into a cave. "Wheeeeeeere the hell have you been, daaaaaaaaarling~!?"

His spouse.

Your parents loved eachother dearly. But you also knew that the two of them could hurt each other in ways that no one else could. Of course, the Dragon does not exists, and thus has no spouse, but this show is not for the illusionist. It's for the benefit of your friends. And maybe, just maybe, to get the illusionist to reveal himself with nothing but your own audacity. A beautifully feminine green dragon lands next to him, butting heads with "Verci".

"Ka'ren, sweety!" The illusionist does not miss a beat, deciding to play along. "You see these small fry, here? I caught them trying to sneak into our valley like a pack of loathesome brigands! What do you say we carry them back to the cave, give the clutch some manflesh tonight?"

"Do we get a say in this?" Dastan asks. Angora readies her spear. Her arms shake, but she's ready to embrace her destiny... "I feel like we should have a say in this."

"No!" Both illusions shout. Your's follows up first, boxing the red dragon's horns. "Because we're not doin' that, and that's final! I swear ta god, Verci, it's any excuse with you, isn't it? Any excuse to get some manflesh, huh? You know that stuff's not good for the clutch!"

"Well, I mean, there's only three of them..." The red dragon wiggles his eyebrows at your illusion. "What do you say? You, me, a burning tower, and three fine morsels of manflesh... just like old times! Hrothgra's getting old enough to watch her siblings, you know?"

"Wait a minute, you didn't leave Hrothgra all alone with Bjorne and Fafnir, did you?" Your illusion demands to know the answer.

"She's a strapping young girl, she'll be fiiiiiine!" Vercingetorix has the tone of a man who knows he's in trouble.

"C-Can we go now?" Dastan asks, rather nervous. "You two seem... busy."

"Yes!" "No!"

>>5111220

"I can't believe you left little Hrothgra all alone with her baby brothers!" Your illusion sounds like she's gonna faint. "She's just a wyrmling, for Tiamat's sake!"

"You don't know what she's capable of, because you're never around," Vercingetorix growls. "Always gallivanting off into the sunset to Tiamat knows where, leaving me to watch the kids and the hoard. Do you know that her fire's so hot now that she can melt a boulder? You wouldn't, because you're never here!"

"This is getting very uncomfortable and I would like to leave," Dastan says. Angora just nods.

"Stay put, boy!" Vercingetorix growls. "We're having you for dinner tonight."

"Oh, so now you're inviting them over dinner instead of eating them?" Your illusion asks. Verci palms his face with a claw. "Well, that's a step up from your previous behavior, I'll say! Do you know what I hear, when I'm out there, earning the gold that makes up out hoard? I hear a Red Dragon keeps making snacks out of humans who try to pass through our valley? I think, surely that's not my Verci, he wouldn't do something so stupid that the sultan would start calling for a dragon hunt! And yet what do I see when I get home? My dear Verci harassing what, some refugees trying to get to the mountain folk?"

"How do you know we're refugees?" Angora asks. Dastan gives her a stare that quite plainly says 'please don't antagonize the one who doesn't want to eat us'.

"You've got fuzzy little cat ears beneath your hajib, and the little one there's too fair skinned to be from these parts," you have your dragon say. "I assumed escaped slaves or somethin'."

"The sultan called for a dragon hunt?" Vercingetorix asks.

"No, he hasn't," You have Ka'ren move into Verci's space, poking him with a knuckle. "Because your wife smoothed it over, because she's the best wife in the world. I know people, Verci, and I know who to talk to. That's how make enough gold to keep our hoard nice and fat! Now what do you owe me?"

"Thank you dear..."

"And what aren't you going to do?"

"Eat the humans..." Vercingetorix seems really sad about that. "Though, I was keeping an eye on the hoard, dear. You just... scared them off, you know."

"Oh my god you're still going on about the sheep..."

"Hey!" A distinctly different voice calls out from... behind one of the rocks. Vercingetorix disappears as you seem to have offended them enough that they lost concentration. "Any wife of mine would know that sheep are the BEST hoard, thank you very much. They're delicious, they carry value for a long, long time, and the best part about them is, as long as you've got ample grazing ground, they multiply themselves!"

A dragon with wings like a butterfly's flutters up from behind a stone, its mouth twisting in what you hope is a grin. "Though that was the best reaction anyone's had to Bigcingetorix in a long time! I'm the real Vercingetorix, by the way. Which one of you was the... artiste?"

>>5111222

Choose one
>Throw Angora under the bus.
>Throw Dastan under the bus.
>Whistle innocently.
>"I have no idea what you're talking about, that dragon seemed very real to me."
>Remain silent until they figure out that you did it.
>(Write in)

>>5111224
>Throw Dastan under the bus.

"Dastan, were you fucking around with illusions when a dragon was threatening to eat us?!? Shame on you!" Then scoff and turn your head away like a disappointed mother. Given that we've yet to showcase our illusionist abilities to them and that Dastan is shown to be a mage, this is a great prank to pull on him and the group.