There was no rest for the chicken in your arm, and unyielding energy to cry, and cry, and cry even more: that is all it had. However, Vera was not reacting at all, even though the water would’ve made it easier for her to hear it. How come?

It will be hard to swamp with the hen in your hands, for sure.

> Return to the boggy ground and walk around the lake, to where her island would be the nearest.
> Jump into the water and swim from island to island until Veronica notices you.
> Shout towards Veronica, perhaps she’ll recognise your voice, and you are probably louder than a chicken! (What?)
> Toss the chicken into the water and watch if anything happens.
> Put the sword on your belt as it’ll be impossible to swim with it in your hand.
> Leave the chicken on the weed island you are currently in.
> Leave the sword on the weed island you are currently in; the damn thing is just too damn heavy!
> Put the clamp back on the chicken’s beak. You don’t want any attention or to bait anyone right now.
> [Write In]

> Is this a LOTR fanfic?
> No.

> What is this?
> A oneshot quest about an apprentice and his female dwarf master.

> Who are we?
> A 17-year-old human apprentice named Julian in the small human hamlet of Crisscross.

> How often will you update?
> I want to update once a day if I am able to.

> Will there be mechanics and rolls?
> Not in this quest.

> Where are the images from?
> Heavily edited OP pic. Credit to the original owners/creators.

> Where can I find the other threads?
> https://lws.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?searchall=shortstack

> If you prefer to read it as a story instead of a thread:
> Chapter 1:
https://pastebin.com/raw/TrhwrD4c
> Chapter 2:
https://pastebin.com/raw/PY7YH7VG
> Chapter 3:
https://pastebin.com/raw/ZT9J0N3J
> Chapter 4(so far):
https://pastebin.com/raw/v2AF1Y22

>>5149279
Can we hear any sounds of struggle/fighting? If so then
> Put the sword on your belt as it’ll be impossible to swim with it in your hand
> Jump into the water and swim from island to island until Veronica notices you
Otherwise
> Shout towards Veronica, perhaps she’ll recognise your voice, and you are probably louder than a chicken! (Veronicaaa! Over hereee!)

>>5149403
> Can we hear any sounds of struggle/fighting?
> No. Veronica looks like she is standing on top of its unmoving corpse.

>>5149279
> Shout towards Veronica, perhaps she’ll recognise your voice, and you are probably louder than a chicken! (Veronicaaa! Over hereee!)

You sheathed the sword behind your belt and then pushed it from side to behind, as it swung too large to be comfortable for you to move otherwise.

“Veronicaaa!” you approached the edge, shouting across the swamp-lake. The frightened birds unflocked and scattered from the isle, their crows putting to flight the monstrous reptiles. You waved the raised hen. “Over heeeere, Vera!”

You continued to hail, doing your very best to catch your childhood friend's attention. With your throat tiring and frazzling, you were to relent; despite its size, the chicken had void-like lungs, and would not stop screeching unless forced to do so.

Veronica shuffled and budged. She let go of the pick, as if unable to pull it out and straightened her back. Your friend hastily stepped off the beast, approaching the edge in a likewise manner. She hopped, waving left and right with one of her hands and pointing celebratory at the lizard with another. She was well enough to shout and jump and cheer; her voice was audible and loud, but so far, it was hard to distinguish what exactly she was saying; the gist of it was obvious 'Look, look, Julian, -I- killed it!'

As you sighed in relief that she was not harmed in any way, you saw what Veronica could not: the beast was unhurriedly rising to its feet, with the pickaxe still stuck in its neck (or skull?). Its tall-sized silhouette hung over her.

> Toss away the chicken.
> Cast your hands behind yourself, and then turn around; imply to Vera there’s something behind her.
> “VERONICA! RUN! BE-HI-ND YOU!”
> Jump into the water with the sword and the hen. Hopefully, the beast will be more interested in the chicken as you get closer.
> Leap from the island onto the boggy ground and run around the lake, it’s not direct but it’ll be faster to reach Vera.
> [Write In]

>>5150256
>Leap into the water with sword and hen
>Throw hen as a distraction
>Shout "Behind You! RUN!"

>>5150256
>>5150260
Sounds reasonable enough, don't think we will get much shouting done but any noise we can make can hopefully distract it

File: If I could fly....jpg (1.33 MB, 3024x2520)

1.33 MB JPG

“Behind you! RUN!”

You leapt into the water, grasping the hen with exceedingly tight grip: it did not matter at this point if it died now or a few seconds later. With a striking splash, you soaked into the marshy water: it, frigid and muggy, drenching you in an instant. Your worn clothes dragged down, offering not much resistance against the depths of the lake; no outerwear was meant to be swim in, but you had multiple layers of such unsuitable garments. Axe and the sword encumbered you, too.

Crisscross had no access to an open sea, or even a gulf, but a stream-river passed through the hamlet, and bigger rivers and lakes stood not much further; that is to say, you knew how to swim, but you were not a -great- swimmer. Gasping, you escaped from the sloughy hold and pulled yourself towards the surface. The sudden lustrous shine bedazzled you.

Vera, confused by your sudden jump and wild shouting, turned her head. She covered herself with her arms, just in time. The serpentine-bipedal beast lunged, the top of its massive ridged head—deep grooves flowing towards its thick neck—ramming into your friend. The weedy island trembled and, for a moment, fell beneath the waters. Vera was plunged backwards, her body hurling through the air, then, like a skipped rock, over the surface, and then under the lake. She was tossed closer to you, but it was hard to find any other positives in your situation.

The wet hen flapped its wings erratically: it was trying to stay afloat as much as you were. Perhaps, this chicken even wished to fly away. Not today, hen; not you. There was no way you’d be able to stay afloat with the chicken at hand: moving both of your hands was necessary. You tossed the bait above where Veronica fell, although the hen well not too far from it.

The reptile slithered into the water. The frothing spumes plus the handle of the struck pickaxe was the only trappings to guide you to where it was; in water, of course, it was moving even faster. Was Vera unconscious?

> You can trust your friend to stay awake and float herself up. Wait until the beast bites the bait, and then stab it!
> Swim to where Veronica disappeared beneath the waves, and submerge to assist and bring her back if necessary. Do you have the time?
> Wait until the beast bites the bait, and then try and grab the pickaxe and climb on top of it. Pull the pick to lead the reptile away from your friend, and, the opportunity presents itself, retrieve the axe (or the sword?) and viciously stab it!
> Swim to where the hen landed, hopefully reaching it before the reptile. Throw it further away to give yourself time.
> [Write In]

>>5151290
>Trust in Vera
>Wait for the beast to bite the bait, then grab hold of the pickaxe to stab away

If Vera is unconscious, she's as good as dead anyway, if we don't slay the beast. If we focus on saving her, we'll both be drowned or torn apart.

>>5151290
>>5151441
+1

File: Deep underswamp ....jpg (78 KB, 405x720)

78 KB JPG

You had to think and think quick.

To jump after Veronica, even if she was knocked unconscious—it was a ferocious blow—would put both of you in fraught and peril. She would be as good as dead, together with you. No, you had to deal with the beast first, so, even though your hands shook to plunge after your friend, your judgement was firmer. You paddled to a close-safe distance at which the hen drowned in desperation, her shank and claws chained; she stood no chance …

The beast zigzagged only meters below the lake, leaving a trail of iridescent bubbles and sullen waves behind and above it. One, and two; you raised your arms, palms wide open, and laid forward, trying to stay afloat without disturbing the water and taking-diverting attention away from the bait. Releasing a guttural growl, the swamp beast uprose, its maw wide open. With a row of hundreds of sharp teeth, it was big enough to bite into and then tear off at least half of Veronica’s body.

The hen was much smaller: the maw snapped wide and the beast swallowed it whole. You heard a quiet clucking, as the reptile monster trashed its head. With the reptile deaf in its own hungering shrill, you hurdled and leapt through the water; a short moment of opportunity. You grasped the pickaxe by its handle with both of your hands.

The beast noticed you, its narrow eyes widening as it suddenly twisted its neck and hoisted its neck. Your legs dragged through the water, your boots quickly filling to the brim with icy moisture. You clutched the handle with all your strength, desperate to hold on. A sudden and intense pain of your left hand burned through your skin like acid. You cried, as your body fell on top of the beast’s headcrown; the same way Veronica was before. Instead of standing up, you fell on your knees, holding into the pickaxe between your elbow, as well as your arms. One mistake, and you were a dead man.

The beast continued to thrash around frantically, but you refused to let go. Suddenly, with only a moment to spare for you to take a breath, it went below the waves, flailing just the same. No … it was not as chaotic inside water as it was above it. The water was murky and foul, and you couldn't see a thing. Yet, you felt that the swamp beast couldn’t yank you the way it did. Even if it was not planning to drown you—and you hoped it was not -that- smart—the outcome would be the same. You had to bring the creature back to the surface; dead, if you were fortuitous. You clenched your teeth and tightened your nose: you had to save the precious oxygen. Letting go of the pickaxe with your left hand—you did not trust it to be strong enough—you reached and fought your belt to slowly raise Tetreus’ sword.

The edge of his sword met the beast’s scaled skin as if it was stone, with your thrust also weakened by the gruelling resistance of the lake. It went through, but just barely, no further than one-tenth of its length.

Could it even feel it? How in the word did Veronica manage to injure it?!

> Pull out the sword and jump off the beast. Using the time before it realises you left, swim to the surface.
> Forget the sword, grab the pickaxe again. With it already deep inside, begin thoroughly jerking it in the beast’s head.
> Let go of the pickaxe and grab the sword instead. Forcefully lunge it down with both of your hands and your weight.
> Take out your axe and slash the neck of the swamp beast instead.
> [Write In]

> Press F for the brave chicken.
> Sorry that I don't have a specific time those updates come out.

>>5152356
> Take out your axe and slash the neck of the swamp beast instead.

It IS noticeably sharper for its dwarven craftsmanship, right? Decapitate this swamp-monster!

>>5152475
> It is sharper than the sword, yes.

The sword’s only advantage—its piercing power—was greatly limited by the sturdy other scales of the beast: ones protecting its head, neck, and shoulders. You let go of the hilt as you had not enough strength to push it down. Instead, you released and took out Carinda’s axe, hanging off the side of your belt. You smite the axe downwards. There was no power behind your swing, but the heel slashed into and went through the beast’s skin nonetheless.

Before your eyes, you could see nothing but darkness and murk, and with every passing moment, even that was turning into indistinct blear. It was impossible to appraise savage reptile’s reaction; you hoped that what you were doing gravely hurt it, or even killed it. With no point to sway your axe, you, instead, pushed it deeper with the weight of your waterlogged jackboot. You forced and thrust the axe down and up and towards yourself, slicing into it like a saw.

The beast lashed out like it did before; it was uncalming and unwavering. Gruelling moments pass, you had no choice to let go and swim back to the surface—you could only hope you injured it -enough- to stay away (or to kill it), and not just to anger it further. Grabbing axe and the sword, you jumped off the raging monstrosity and, with what was left of your conscious, you swam to the surface.

You gasped for breath the second you emerged from the lake. Your lungs largened like a bubble, the abrupt cold air making it feel as if they were unprepared, and about to burst. You spat and coughed; the necessitous oxygen tasted like a ball of melting snow, with pungent brambles inside.

There was no escape from the dull pain grating inside of your forehead like a famished rat. It was brighter and clearer above the surface, but it was still a blemish to distinguish a reptile from seaweed. The bloody imprint of the handle left your two palms chaffed.

If Veronica was anywhere nearby—still alive—you were not going to spot her that easily. You breathed slower.

> Return to the closet weed island you can spot.
> Return to the marshy land surrounding the lake.
> Drop the axe: the thing is too cumbersome.
> Drop the sword: the thing is -far- too cumbersome.
> Allow your vision to return, and then search for Veronica.
> [Write In]

>>5154310
>Drop the sword, NOT the axe
Waifus before asshole knights
>Wait for your vision to return, then seek out Vera

I'm new here, why do we carry two weapons in the first place?

>>5154310
> Allow your vision to return, and then search for Veronica
Hopefully we can hand the sword to Vera, not like we know how to use it properly anyway
>>5154492
Axe is ours, sword was borrowed from a man-at-arms

>>5154310
> Allow your vision to return, and then search for Veronica

>>5154530
Aw, thought they both had their use or something.

>>5154538
They do, sort of: the sword is better as a deep thrusting weapon to inflict maximum damage. The axe, however, is uncannily sharp for its dwarven craftsmanship... But II don't think was actually made for warfare.

>>5154492
>>5154530
This.

Sorry, all, I feel very sick today so I'll postpone the update until tomorrow.

>>5155632
Rest up and feel better soon, QM!

>>5155632
Hope you feel better soon, QM

You lifted your arms, only to quickly settle them on top of the lake. Floating up and down the water slowly and vertically, you kept your head erect: resting shortly after the battle. You held the hope of you injuring the swamp beast just enough for it to be afraid to engage in any further confrontations. No longer exasperating, you pushed Tetreus’ sword behind and through your clothed belt; the axe, you kept in your hand.

‘Julian?’ You quick-turned. You followed from where Veronica’s voice was heeded. Fighting -in- the water was not the easiest or most restful of pursuits. You felt tired. The shine of the sopping lake didn't make it any easier for you to see, but your—as if you were losing consciousness—vision was belatedly mending. You noticed your friend standing on the very edge of the Swamp’s basin. Somehow, Vera had managed to paddle herself to “safeness”. The top half of her body was bent, she was covering her stomach with both of her hands.

“Julian!” Veronica raised her voice.

“I see you, Vera!” you splashed your hand left and right, waving it towards your friend. You felt relieved, but for how long? With a keen, suspicious, even over-cautious look-behind, you breast-stroked towards the shore.

When you clambered out—so far so good—your friend was there to meet you: hands folded and face pouting. She failed to keep the sullen-sombre (?) pose for a prolonged time. She grimaced, kneeling and then pushing her knees to her chest.

You bit your lip.

> "It seems you can notch another savage beast -I- fought and survived."
> “Is that the way you should be thanking someone who had saved you?"
> “Why did you do something so -stupid-, Vera? Do you realise that you could’ve died?!”
> “Why couldn’t you just wait until we built and returned with a trap, Vera?”
> Shake your head, but keep your comments to a minimum. The quicker you leave the Swamp the better.
> [Write In]

>>5155654
>>5155689
>Thanks for the well wishes, I am, indeed, better today. I don't know what happened yesterday to me.

>>5156923
None of our criticisms are criticisms that couldn't be leveled at us, and we already KNOW why she did it: to prove herself, to impress Tetreus, to be worthy of adventure.

Instead, I propose:

>[write in] Vera... Are you okay? Are you hurt? If not, let's get out of here.

Save the lectures for the adults.

File: e3f53d3b0823d26f1da10baa3(...).jpg (1.58 MB, 1600x1174)

1.58 MB JPG

>>5156933
> ... Wow, you are right. That's something I should've included as a choice.

>>5156923
> Shake your head, but keep your comments to a minimum. The quicker you leave the Swamp the better.

Pretty sure it's safety, not safeness.

“Vera, you don’t look too well,” you said. Stepping closer, you kept your hand hanging above her shoulders and back, “Are you okay? Hurt?” What she did was -stupid-, there was no way around it, however, the things you did just as recently were not much better. You tried not to willingly put yourself in danger, but you were the one who decided to forge the Ecline Amalgam and thus go through all the dangerous problems coming with it.

“I am … alright,” Veronica yielded a smile, although it was clear to you and her that was not the case. Keeping both of her hands over her chest and stomach, she purled, and then coughed out the water she had swallowed when she was drowning in the lake. With her olive eyes trembling, she looked at you and winced, “He gave -you- his sword?”

Your eyes followed hers, falling on the loosely hanging blade. You sighed, “Yes, but it’s not that great.”
She frowned, first reaching for the sword but then stopping mid-way to pull back her arm, “Yet still …”

“He gave it to me so I wouldn’t die on my way here, that is all."

Vera uttered a doubtful ‘Hmph …’. “That’s one more humongous beast you fought and survived; unfair!”

You rolled your eyes, “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

“Don’t you need its ‘stomach’?”

“No,” you shook your head, “that wasn’t it. The beast I need looks … ”

Before you could finish, a loud rumbling noise echoed from the glassy depths. You couldn’t let yourself be spotted. You pulled Veronica to hastily hide from the genesis of the sound. You and she settled behind encroaching trees and into the tall grassy bushes surrounding the edges of the lake. You hushed your friend and lowered your head. With a plodding pace, the beast of the swamp climbed from beneath the trembling waves: only then it was made clear how much damage you—and Carinda’s axe—did to it. Cut pieces of flesh, as if this monster was nothing but a fish that miraculously survived total filleting, sagged from its head, shoulders, neck, and body, with blackened blood leaching around it like a downpour of water.

But it did not journey far, and, collapsing headfirst onto the muddy marsh, the beast, staring at nowhere with its now lifeless eyes, was lugged back.

It had no strength—or perhaps even willpower— to fight. It vanished underneath yellowish bubbles and drizzling marshy splashes. An ear-splitting gnaw and chomp tolled across the hollow lake, and for a moment, everything became silent. A shadow arose from where the other reptile stood earlier—twice the size of it, it was almost as big as your masters’ waggon. It, too, was a reptile, but a colossal one. Half-resembling an alligator and half a lizard, it had six long twisted legs and an oversized bloated frog-like stomach. Its eyes, long and narrow, blazed with an eerie glow. Armoured patchy scales—each as big as your palm—covered it: starting from its two-twisted tails up to its stocky ridged head.

-This- was the creature which stomach you required … The hell?!

> Offer Veronica Tetreus’ sword; you already have the axe.
> Grab the attention of the stomach-monstrosity and then escape the same way you came here. If your plan works out correctly, then the beast will have to struggle with the briars and thorns and you two will not.
> Grab the attention of the stomach-monstrosity and then escape back to the waggon through the parts you did not yet travel. Together with Vera, it should take you just half the time it took you to deal with the brambly in-your-way bushes and trees, while the stomach-monstrosity will still get enveloped in them. Not guaranteed, but perhaps you can escape straight and directly to where Carinda and Tetreus are waiting for you.
> It will take a while to reach Carinda and Tetreus, but you cannot waste this opportunity. You -need- that stomach. Grab the attention of the stomach-monstrosity and then lure it to where the Blackhorn Tree is.
> No ... you will have to come back another time. Wait until the stomach-monstrosity returns to the swamp lake and then leave with no engagement.
> [Write In]

> You can give a name to the beast if you would like me to refer to it some other way!
>>5156942
> You are likely correct.

>>5158407
>Offer Vera the sword
>Lure the beast to the Blackhorn tree
>Let Them Fight.gif

>>5158407
> Offer Veronica Tetreus’ sword; you already have the axe.

QM?

> Update in an hour, maybe a bit less or more, apologies!

Pushing yourself further behind the patchy and dense thorns—keeping an inch away as to avoid impalement—you peeked at your friend. “Are any of your bones broken?” you asked, reaching with your hand towards her.

She pushed her hands over her chest and smirked, “All in one piece … were you trying to cup a hold, lardhead?”

You scoffed, “If there was anything -to- cup in the first place.” Masterfully, you leaned away from her slap. Was it too much? No, far from it. Suffering through an innocent jest was the least she could do after putting both of you in such a reckless danger! Before she could re-attempt, you pushed the sword hilt-first onto her stomach, “You can have it.”

Vera’s freckles were practically invisible beneath her radiant layer of red-crimson blush. With contempt in her olive eyes, she glanced you up and down before coolly nicking the blade from your arms. She grasped it. Veronica was of comparable height to you: the sword was as large for her as it was for your hands. You nodded, glancing to where the beast dallied.

“That is the one I actually need,” you said. The stomach-monstrosity before your eyes was almost as big as the waggon, and it had a well-built mantle of scales. Your master’s axe was sharp, but you had no guarantee even it would be able to injure it.

“That one?” Vera peered above the bushes at the giant part-gator part-frog. “You are joking, right? Are you saying I fought that -other- reptile for no reason?” ‘You did.’ She saw you nod, whacking her palms strongly against her knees.

She thrust herself up and sighed, “It could be worse, like if you sough the stomach and it just got -eaten-,” she said, playfulness returning to her voice, even though the pain was just as notable. “There won’t be another chance like now, Julian. It’s a bit big, but I think we can handle it.” Vera nudged her head, “What do you say, lardhead? You want to go left or-”

“I have another idea,” you mulled over. You were alive and safe, that was the most important thing, but, Vera was right, there wouldn’t be another chance to lure it away like now. You now knew where you could find the stomach-monstrosity, but could you risk it? “There grows a tree not far (?) from here, tall and towering … I think it was even bigger than this thing.” Vera gave you a dubious look. “It’s sentient,” you added, “It can thrash around and fight with its branches.”

“A sentient tree? Another one?”

“Yes, and the reason all those trees are coming to life is there as well, but I’ll blow the gaff of that for you later.”

She bit her thumb, “While I would prefer to fight and kill and butcher it my- ourselves, watching the two of them fight would make it much easier for us, and it would be a very rare thing to witness. Will it fight it for us?”

You chewed on the inside of your cheek, “If we ask the tree to do it for us—to protect us? I can’t be sure. However, if he can make it somehow attack the tree, by accident, then I’m sure it’ll anger the Black Horn.”

“Sounds good. Sounds great. Yep-yep, let’s do it!”

If only everything always worked out the way you planned it. You stood up, stepping out of the bushes to reveal yourself. Right away, you felt the burrowing eyes of the cannibal looking at you; your already-damp skin chilled to the bone, with even your blood congealing and thickening like poison. It twisted its head, rolling out a notched tongue to flick it towards you like a whip, droplets of aberrant digestive acid-like fluids dripping on the ground. It went from one pair of its legs onto another. It did not act as you hoped. The monster was not rushing to attack you. Was it because it had no interest in you or it didn’t want to leave the lake? You did not know.

> Continue slowly approaching the swamp-beast until it decides to attack. Avoid coming to it closer than necessary. Once its attention is caught, run as fast as possible towards the marsh where the trees are.
> Pick up a stone and toss it towards the beast. Keep throwing the stones until you grab its attention, anger it, and it decides to attack.
> The beast stands wide-open to you. Throw your axe directly at its forehead. It might not kill it, but if you can land the hit it’ll injure it, and then will likely get stuck in its head. Once the tree kills it, you can remove the axe with no problem afterwards.
> Call Veronica to join and assist you. Together with her, make as much annoying noise as possible: shouts, axe/sword rattle/, and alike.
> [Write In]

>>5160871
>> The beast stands wide-open to you. Throw your axe directly at its forehead. It might not kill it, but if you can land the hit it’ll injure it, and then will likely get stuck in its head. Once the tree kills it, you can remove the axe with no problem afterwards.

>>5160871

> The beast stands wide-open to you. Throw your axe directly at its forehead. It might not kill it, but if you can land the hit it’ll injure it, and then will likely get stuck in its head. Once the tree kills it, you can remove the axe with no problem afterwards.

This is where our practice pays off... I hope.

>>5160817
Welcome back!
>>5160871
>> The beast stands wide-open to you. Throw your axe directly at its forehead. It might not kill it, but if you can land the hit it’ll injure it, and then will likely get stuck in its head. Once the tree kills it, you can remove the axe with no problem afterwards
While I'm not sold on being disarmed, it's not like we are an amazing fighter anyway

>>5160871
> The beast stands wide-open to you. Throw your axe directly at its forehead.
c r a c k

You momentarily closed your eyes, stepping even further and closer towards the reptile-behemoth. With your eyes staring directly—unblinking—at the oversized monstrosity, you moved down your axe. Intensely gripping the handle, you leaned back, shifting into the stance Carinda had shown you once before. Today alone, you exercised and practised more of your axe throwing than during the last years of your life; those two axes were not made -specifically- to be tossed around, and callously throwing Carinda’s forges was not something you wished to do; you did not need to know how until now!

This day today, it felt like you learnt plentiful: from master Carinda’s brief tutorship as well as your not-so-successful tries. Now, you just had to throw it again: the perfect -exact- way Carinda have done. The least you could do was copy your master in every one of her movements. Watching the stomach-monstrosity up-close—still standing watchful yet unmoving—you spun the axe before letting go of it just the second your arm was straight and lowered.

The thrown axe soared across the muddy meadows, cutting the air with a spiralling whistle. The sharp dwarven shiv gored through the hide of scales and deep into the prodigious forehead, the air around it exploding into a musky black-vermillion spray of blood. With its neck and shoulders elevated, the swamp beast stood firmly anchored and unflinching. Then, with the axe still far-flung into its skull (?) and in-between its eyes, the mastodon gator exited the morass lake.

A deafening blurred croak—a mix of furore and pain—exploded from within its expansive stomach. It charged at you.

Your hands were now empty of any ways to defend yourself. “Run!” you turned and yelled to Vera before scramming away yourself.

*** *** ***

The beast slithered between the bushes and trees like a snake, ransacked the razor fens like a river hippo, and even leapt across the sinking ravines like a humongous frog; you and Vera -barely- managed to keep ahead of it. Even though it had an axe-head deep inside its skull, it didn’t seem to matter!

Vera was leading the way, cutting a pathway, one just big enough for you to pass, using Tetreus’ sword. But she was, justifiably, rushing ahead, and so were you: the thorns she left untended dug into your skin and left it scrapped, and afterwards, bleeding. For the pursuing meat-eater, the sight and smell of your blood were like a sirens’ sugary tears and song. You did not doubt that if you were to get caught, the angered beast would be able to swallow you both in one bite.

Veronica didn't know the way, so even from behind, you had to lead her; you barely knew where to go just the same. Nests of charcoal birds—crows and ravens—disturbed by the reptile’s destruction, rouse up and then set wild like a manifesting-tangible scourge, entangling with the likewise insects into buzzing clouds of soot and ash.

A hulking midge, with more eyes, wings, and legs than vital for its breed, landed on your face. On reflex, you ended up slapping and crushing it in-between your fingers, spraying the watery insides into your eyes. You gagged, yelling in duress. Vera stopped, and then pulled your arm …

You escaped out of the crimson barbs, with the beast still in a deadly-close pursuit. Managing to clean your gaze, you let go of your friend’s spongy hand to let her return to swinging the sword using them both. You were standing in the marshland, with shallow sloughs, fenlands, and salt-morasses separated into hundreds of pounds, with echinated nevergreen Black Horns growing in-between the muddy borders. You pointed Vera further, where the uplands began.

“The sentient tree should be there!” you yelled between your clumsy attempts to free your feet from the sulking mud.

Veronica stopped. “Take your time, Julian.” She said with a smirk, turning her full body so suddenly it hurt her bones. Her hands grasped the hilt as she bend her body back.

A crackle of wood echoed as the beast came closer and closer.

“You idiot,” you lunged at your friend after finally freeing yourself from the damn entrapment. You grabbed Veronica into a hug and pushed her forward, to where the slimy mossy ground began to turn more parched.

Vera rolled her eyes. She prickled your face with her haystack-like hair, however, joining in with your hurtle.

“I wanted to hit it once, just to be safe,” she said with a pout, tossing a glance behind her, “as you did!”

“I did it from a safe distance, Vera, by throwing the damn thing; and as you can see, it did not do a damn thing to it!”

“I know I can do a better job than you,” she said with a cheeky grin.

“Let’s just leave it to the tree, as we planned in the first place.” You ascended even further into the upraised glades of the Russet Swamp. Here, stood the Black Horn tree, the tallest and oldest of them all; again “she” was unmoving and spiritless, they were those trees always seem to be up until they are bothered. In her cradle-like branches bunked Vermin.

“You came after m-!” A hollowing croak interrupted the white-haired man mid-sentence, and then a loud earthquake rose beneath the beast’s feet.

> Grab onto the branches and climb with Veronica onto the Black Horn tree, so that the stomach-monstrosity has no choice but to attack it.
> Rush towards the tree as close as possible and then try and split left and right of it, so that the stomach-monstrosity is forced to jump towards it, or to slam into it.
> Kindly ask Veronica if she could impale the sword into the trunk of the Black Horn tree and hope that it'll wake it up.
> Engage the swamp beast while tasking Veronica to cut the branches holding Vermin: that’ll sure to wake the tree!
> [Write In]

>>5162127
> Engage the swamp beast while tasking Veronica to cut the branches holding Vermin: that’ll sure to wake the tree!

>>5162127
>> Rush towards the tree as close as possible and then try and split left and right of it, so that the stomach-monstrosity is forced to jump towards it, or to slam into it.

>>5162127
> Grab onto the branches and climb with Veronica onto the Black Horn tree, so that the stomach-monstrosity has no choice but to attack it.
treeeee

>>5163610
Supporting this instead of >>5162261 (Me), for the sake of breaking the stalemate.

>>5162127

You raised your voice, “Vera, once we reach the tree, let’s split up right in front of it! I’ll go ri-”

“I’ll go right!”

You sneered into your collar and clenched your fist, sighing and nodding.

You rushed past the mellow dune; the angered serpentine following you as close as your own shadow. When you were inches away from slamming into the imposing tree, you fell on your hand and, twisting your body, you sprang to the left of the trunk. In the same second, your friend pushed rightwards, her legs dribbling through the mud and above the ancient roots. She stumbled and fell face-first into the slosh: that also put her out of the way of the gator-lizard.

As you hoped, its enormous body crashed into the wooden core, splintering the roots and bending the trunk. Vermin rasped in fear as a horrible tremor was sent through his wooden custodian. Sanding the trunk with its scales, the beast collapsed on the ground right beneath the shade of its blackened soaring horn-like branches. It rose not much later.

Of course, it wasn’t hurt, but pissed. You were now far from it to pursue. With a rumbling tremor, it backslide back on its elephant-like legs and turned to where Vera was, still struggling to pick herself off the ground. Sensing the inflames eyes upon her, your friend gripped the sword, twisting and reading to thrust. Unlike the beast she fought earlier, however, it did not lunge with its head to crack her likely sprained bones, instead, stepping to loom atop of her.

Vera winced, lurching the sword as soon as the frog-like monstrosity was at reach, but then the swamp deviant croaked. Its stomach grew with brutish haste and tremendous force, squishing Vera between its scaly hide and the half-wet swampland. You could not see her anymore. You prepared to jump to her rescue, but the reptile had other ideas.

Bluish secretions trickled earthward of its gut—it foamed like boil the second it was exposed to moist air. Keeping Vera trapped—and suffocating?—beneath its stomach, the creature dragged its head to feast its eyes on you. It gurgled again, making you stop in your tracks. Was it brewing something inside of its bellows to spit? Something that would -harden- the molten Ecline Ore?

Like before, trees’ branches, roots, and the coarse layer of bark began to rustle and crunch, miming not unlike a body of a human (or a dwarf?). With a muddled heave, the tree's trunk was pulled to how it was before the beast. It churned not unlike an awakening volcano, with its bark reforming into a ghastly set of coiled eyeballs. Again, it entwined Vermin.

> “Black Horn! That thing is trying to steal your benefactor! You have to stop it!”
> “Black Horn, please help us, that thing is trying to kill us and uh … Vermin too!”
> Wait if the beast is engaged or simply distraught with the tree and then rescue Veronica.
> Toss a few rocks and sticks at the stomach-monstrosity to grab its attention. If it spits, so be it, you have to give Vera a fighting chance.
> [Write In]

>>5163719
> Thanks you for solving the stalemate!

>>5163829
> “Black Horn, please help us, that thing is trying to kill us and uh … Vermin too!”

>>5163828
> “Black Horn! That thing is trying to steal your benefactor! You have to stop it!”
It's the whole reason we brought it here after all

> Sorry all, no update today. Voting is still open as I'll only be able to start writing it tomorrow.

>>5163829
> “Black Horn! That thing is trying to steal your benefactor! You have to stop it!”

“Black Horn! That thing is trying to steal your benefactor! You have to stop it!”

“Steal?” a rasping feminine voice spoke-hollowed from the newly-formed cavities, horned branches, and a boscage of roots—from everywhere and nowhere—all in uncanny chorus. “You can’t leave! Not until I repay you.” A thicket cage surrounding Vermin largened in size and reinforced in its breadth. The Black Horn tree “stepped forward”; its ink-black roots settled and grew around itself, sinking the stomach-monstrosity. One of its plethora of branches serpentined and encircled like a horn of a ram put under a demonic deviltry. Like a meatless claw, it picked up the alligator.

“N-no-no, I am not going anywhere,” Vermin assured his captor. The man’s face turned pale, likely from lack of oxygen than panic. With a rasping gasp, he added, “That thing is trying to break me out just to eat me; honestly!”

A rumble echoed as every single one of the Black Horn’s sylvan sheaths and cowlings—inner bark, outer bark, and in-between—rose and fell, like snapping ice. The Black Horn captured the befuddled beast, it was more than likely its first time quarrelling with a sentient tree, and rose it far above the slough. Vera returned fighting for her breath as soon as the beast’s enormous abdomen no longer was crushing her tomboyish body. Her fingers reached for the hilt as she stood up.

“SQUAWK!!!” the monstrosity vomited out what it held in its stomach once it reached “eye-level” with the tree; spewing a molten cluster of bluish liquid upon the branches and the roots; surprisingly minty, but at the same time rotting, in its stench. The discoloured secretion oozed onto the bark and then seeped beneath the cracks into the heartwood. The one peculiar bought which held the part-gator part-frog imprisoned hardened, and then completely solidified in place; without the intentions of the Black Horn tree. It attempted to move, but its now lifeless grey branch appeared petrified.

Beast’s narrow glowing eyes came into sight from underneath the many meshes holding it confined, and above the mud. With its stomach flattened, the empty bellow it was making wasn’t reassuring still. Could the Black Horn win this?


> Step away and let the two fight it out. If Vera wants to join in the battle, let her.
> Step away and let the two fight it out. Draw near Vera and assert that it's best if you don’t get in the middle of the fight.
> Drawn near Vera to suggest: perhaps it would be best to free Vermin, baffle-weaken Black Horn, and equal the odds.
> Steal the sword from Vera and use it to pierce the hide of the beast—if you can—from below; a perfect chance!
> [Write In]

> Sorry for no update yesterday, but we return today!

>>5166325
> Step away and let the two fight it out. If Vera wants to join in the battle, let her.

>>5166325
> Step away and let the two fight it out. Draw near Vera and assert that it's best if you don’t get in the middle of the fight.
I have no idea what's going on, but I love overpowered living trees.

>>5166325
> Step away and let the two fight it out. Draw near Vera and assert that it's best if you don’t get in the middle of the fight
The thing is gonna start thrashing around so best to keep distance for now, if it manages to break free it will be tired and hopefully easy to finish. If it dosn't then we can tell the tree we're helping and stab it in the gizzard
No worries, assume you got lost on an big boat of sorts?

You gradually drew near Vera: you made as little noise as you possibly could to keep the stomach-monstrosity focused entirely on the tree. How nice was it that there was a sentient tree identical in strength (?) and size to this massive reptile, now willing to fight it. With the shadow of its extensive and heavy body hanging above you, and its leaking juice flowing out and falling in worrying droplets around you, you knew that the best solution was for you to avoid getting in the middle of their fight.

You asserted, with a hush, hoping the Black Horn would not hear, “Vera, let’s pull back—are you okay?”

She squinched, her free hand raised as if reaching for something up in the air, “I wouldn’t want -that- repeated.” No matter what, Veronica would always narrow-mindedly insist she was fine, even then, even were she dying! You had to be physical to find out the seriousness of her injuries. Gently but suddenly, your put your hand on her stomach. She teared up.

“What are yo- agh- damn you, lardhead!” she struck you with her fist.

“How many of your bones are actually broken here, Vera?"

“We don’t have time to worry about that right now,” she huffed, grabbing the sword, “ ... I can’t hit it in the stomach, can I?”

Veronica was resolved in her stubbornness, but you worried for both yours and hers lives at that moment (someone had to) so you pulled her.

You shook your head, “No, if we damage it’s stomach the whole thing was for nothing. Though … I doubt we’ll be able to.”

“What’s that suppose to mean?”

“-Not with Tetreus’ sword, at least. I tried with a beast least scaly with its hide before, remember, although it was underwater, and it didn’t harm it.”

You helped kowtowing Veronica stand up, outdistancing yourself from the two much-stronger-than-you creatures.

“You have to use two hands, Julian, and twist it like -so- and—” before Vera could finish sharing her inexperience, the cage holding the half-frog exploded into smithereens and sharp splinters, ash-like sawdust and mercury blood slathering. The beast-frog croaked and, again, its stomach ballooned with such velocity and force it smashed itself free from the hardened (weakened?) claw. The stomach-monstrosity fell on the ground, and the swampy marsh shook from the comedown; heavy it was, and fat.

Black Horn tree motioned its shattered branch towards its remains, it sap laying silvery web-like threads on top of the wooden fractures; no, even now could not bring it to “life”. If not permanent, what the stomach-monstrosity did was at least long-lasting … The serpent beast leapt, smashing its ridged yet wrought head at the trunk of the tree. The full column cracked and arched from such a mighty assault, but its primal roots uprose and then fell through the sludge and soil, its edges far beneath the ground to be noticed. Like manifold-corded bullwhip, the gnarled undergrowths whipped and slashed into the beast’s sides, legs, and even the chest, entangling it from beneath this time. An obsidian-black tendril-branch twisted and crooked from the opposite side of where the broken one now was, enlarging and growing with a deafening crackle. It descended on the beast, but did not reach it.

The oversized gator blew its stomach fluids upon the outgrowth like a cascading waterfall, draining the sentiences the supposed elven pollen you were told by Vermin was claimed to grant it, and even further, turning it from a tree into much-easier-to-break stone. The cobalt-cyan rot grew.

Vermin grabbed the unbending cage; the places where the reptile struck and spat were meters from where he was held captive. “You can’t just let me die here! Listen, listen you two, I’ll give you the pollen -right- now, use it on other trees here, or something else, I know you can come up with a good idea” —he gasped— “especially you, the prickly one. Very please, be kind and helpful and heroic and I'm just an innocent man here!”

Vera turned her head towards the burly man, and then at you, “You never said there was an adult here, with the sentient tree.”

“It’s a long story,” you lead your hand to lift your forelocks, “In short, he robbed Carinda’s waggon a few years ago, set it on fire, and also punched me a few times and left me to die, sort of.” You were now at a safe distance from the battle, but in close reach; you could always go further.

“The pollen he is talking about … ?”

“Yes, at least from what -he- says, it brought the tree on the bridge and this one to life, but I’m not sure we can trust him on that. He's desperate.”

Vera peered at her sword, pondering, “We don’t want the reptile to win, do we? Maybe we should get the tree some help?”

> Agree with Vera, but insist—as you only half your left hand injured—that you be the one to approach and take the pollen.
> Agree with Veronica, but go after the pollen together: she might need help if the beast becomes even more tempestuous.
> Once you posses the pollen, use it on one of the smaller and younger Black Horn trees nearby.
> Once you posses the pollen, use it on something else instead. (Razorfen bushes? Mossy rocks?)
> No, it’s too dangerous, many things can go wrong: getting hit by the stomach-monstrosity, getting struck by the branches, or getting drenched in the potentially dangerous acid, or another ... ? Stay at a close distance.
> No, in fact, persuade Veronica to move even further away from the battle, so far you are -certain- not to get injured. Wait out the battle as you originally had planned. If the Black Horn tree loses, then you can finish off the weakened part-frog anyways.
> [Write In]

>>5166474
> I have no idea what's going on, but I love overpowered living trees.
> I'm sorry if my writing is not clear enough, I try to be descriptive enough but it's hard!

>>5167179
> No worries, assume you got lost on an big boat of sorts?
> Nothing that epic and adventurous. Just a small window of time between waking up, chores, and going to work.

>>5167938
>Agree with Vera, but insist she hold back
>Once you possess the pollen, use it on mossy rocks

Maybe we can make overgrown golems, better suited to battling the stomach-beast? After all, you can't turn stone to stone!

>>5167938
>Agree with Vera, but insist she hold back
Now, I don't know if this can be done, but
>Once you possess the pollen, use it on your axe
If we can't do that, then
>Use it on the Razorfen bushes

>I'm sorry if my writing is not clear enough, I try to be descriptive enough but it's hard!
Dw about it, it's likely just because I'm new to the quest and unfamiliar with characters/situations.

>>5167938
> Agree with Vera, but insist—as you only have your left hand injured—that you be the one to approach and take the pollen
>>5167951
>use it on mossy rocks
Worth a shot, would be pretty cool too. We can deal with potential problems with clingy rock babies later

You nodded, “Maybe you are right, but you should keep away. I’ll go get the pollen on my own.”

Vera’s freckled face turned sullen. She lifted her large sword, pirouetting with it in feverish desperation.

“I get caught off-guard -one time- and you become as overbidding as my mother, Julian. Don’t.”

You gained ground ahead of her bruised self. “We don’t have time to argue. You are injured, you are walking with a hutch and if your bones -really- are broken, it is going to take a few months for them to recover. Besides, Vera, you are allergic to pollen, you’ll sneeze and waste it-”

“I’m allergic to -whey- pollen!” she stomped her boot an array of times, alternating with Tetreus’ lurching tall-sword.

“We don’t know what that thing is, it might be some elven whey,” turning your head away from Vera to Vermin, you paced further into and through the spongy marsh. You stopped, glanced back, and smiled, “I won’t fight it.”

“You better!” your friend muttered, chewing on her lips.

With a distance between the: ruinous branches, drenching acid lime, shedding rich blood, and yourself, within a harm protected-reach—you intruded below the crumbling shades, upraising your arm towards Vermin.

“Alright, give it to me.”

The leafless stolons pushed farther into his bulky arm the moment he made an attempt to move it. Showing annoyance and anger in his rust-coloured eyes, he grizzled on, the sharp splices bruising his rebel skin, but unresistant to his ring-covered, as if gauntlets, hands. You glanced aside, this was taking longer than necessary, the battle was continuing.

Stomach-monstrosity stared stalwartly at the, now, petrified agape talon-branch. With almost all lower part of its cadaver ensnarled in the roots, the part-reptile beast found it much harder to reach with its acid, it was unmoving, all six of its limbs were locked in the roots; but so was the Black Horn tree. Her roots were abundant but neither flexible nor sturdy.

“Gah … Pfh… There!” He growled not unlike a savage beast below him, pressing a petite bag through the open space in-between the branches.

“You better help me out after this.”

File: The fallen scarlet trees ....jpg (69 KB, 736x711)

69 KB JPG

You reached your hands, placing your palms together to form a cup—a pillow for the satchel to safely fall downwards. You pulled the twine and opened the bag, revealing the pollen from the lands of the Elves; it bore a resemblance to shimmering rye; a bag of golden dust. You made anxious steps back: the beast was curled like an ophidian and was pushing its massive body and knife-edged scales up against the shedding roots. It was only a question of time until it would break out. You looked at what neighboured the marsh: fallen, crumbled twigs, fen bushes with their scarlet thorns, and mossy rocks, although the last ones were quite rare.

None of the rocks here were of great size, not a size you’d have a problem raising off the ground; the biggest of them, you’d fail to lift above your head. Hotfooting it, you reached one of such “impressive” rocks: it was greenish-black in hue and one-third swallowed by the even sludging mud, with a thick shell-like layer of lichen covering one side of it like a tumour. You scattered the pollen on it.

You waited; you were patient. There was no reaction. Nothing was happening. “How long does it take?” you prest Vermin.

“I-I don’t know! A minute, two … five?”

You couldn’t just stay here and wait like a scarecrow, that would be reckless. The bag, it was half-full, it had -a lot- of pollen left in it. If you wanted, you could try and bring more of the things to life but … the roots holding the part-alligator part-frog began to give in and break, and with another set of its ancient roots fallen to pieces, the Black Horn tree fell into upheaval. One side of its branches was gone, and the other was petrified, like a canvas paper between the trunk and the beast. Still, this Black Horn tree was massive, and it had many enormous branches wreathing and entangling together into contorted antlers in the shape of a sickle.

Carinda’s axehead was stuck in the middle of the stomach-monstrosity’s forehead; you master, certainly, would have been proud of your throw.

> Pour another fistful of pollen on this one mossy rock. Maybe it'll "awake" it faster?
> Go and bring another similar-sized rock to life using the pollen. [A medium distance away.]
> Go and sprinkle the pollen on all the small mossy rocks you can find neighbouring the tree. [A short distance away.]
> Go and coat the nearest Black Horn tree in half of the pollen you have, it’ll probably need it. [A long-distance away.]
> That is enough. Put the satchel into your bag and return to Veronica.
> You won’t be able to reach the axe when the beast will stand up tall, or it’ll be in motion, it will be too fast to catch up, too dangerous, and too large to reach. Rush towards the creature before the roots are destroyed, and toss a handful of pollen at your axe.
> Even if the roots are broken here, the Black Horn will—again—attack and recapture it. With so many of its roots broken, it’ll be weaker, and the more the beast petrifies it, the less it’ll be able to retaliate, but you have to make sure the stomach-monstrosity is secure and won’t leap-lunge or make an attempt to bite off half of your body when you approach it. Wait until the beast is captive again, and then approach it to cover the axe in the pollen. Hopefully, you can bring it to life, and it’ll even be effective.
> [Write In]

>>5169841
> You won’t be able to reach the axe when the beast will stand up tall, or it’ll be in motion, it will be too fast to catch up, too dangerous, and too large to reach. Rush towards the creature before the roots are destroyed, and toss a handful of pollen at your axe.

Worth a go! Rock golem with magic axe, maybe?

>>5169841
> You won’t be able to reach the axe when the beast will stand up tall, or it’ll be in motion, it will be too fast to catch up, too dangerous, and too large to reach. Rush towards the creature before the roots are destroyed, and toss a handful of pollen at your axe.
Lesgo.

> Sorry all, there won't be an update tonight.

You wouldn’t have had been able to reach the axe once the stomach-monstrosity stood up tall out of your grasp; once it was ravaging mad, scourging every single thing in its path. Time to hurry was then, and so, before the dangerous beast let itself loose of its tangle, you went in hurry towards its beetling-gibbous cranium, where your axe was struck into.

It saw you, the previously line-tight gaps of its restless eyes swelled up, swallowing your blurry figure whole in their burnish glare. You swallowed; you were too afraid to pull your eyes away from its gaze. The enormous gnash of its jaws toughened: its maw seemed so large the beast could effortlessly snatch onto and devour a prey many times your size with ease. In its trashing, it exhaled with a harsh, snorting vehemence, striking you with a gnawing breath.

You trembling hand reached into the satchel, holding into the sticky snowy pollen with almost-lifeless fingers. You would not look away, and neither could you feel the blood in your wearied arm. You took out the dusty elven magic on hutch alone; you used your hand so many times, you could do it again without feeling it. You waited until your arm was right before your eyes to -break- it open, odiously throwing the pollen onto the beast face. Together with the axe throw, you had done it twice.

The stomach-beast closed its eyes. It wide-opened its leviathan maw to wail: less in pain and more in exhaustive anger. You were keeping a close watch on the axe and its wood handle, but it was unmoving and inanimate. You backed away … you only took a few puny steps back afore the beast broke free of the roots, driving cracks through the rootstocks and splintering them into finger-sized fragments and pieces. It didn’t care for the Black Horn at first, and neither did it now.

For a very short time, the half-reptile rose and stood on the back of its four mastodon legs, pushing the rest of its weight on its thick-sized split-tails. There was a deafening bellow. The beast’s stomach filled up, its bilious skin stretching out to cover the huge vacuous space between it and the wet ground. 'You’ll never be a smith Carinda would be proud of … ' you closed your eyes and cover your body with your hands, even though you knew this beast wouldn’t let you stay an uneaten petrified carcass for too long. Earth beneath your feet shook and unsteadied as the stomach-monstrosity fell on its front legs, forcing its bloated stomach against the ground in a way nature was not intending it to, spouting its acid straight.

File: The moss speaks to you ....jpg (479 KB, 1799x1200)

479 KB JPG

You foundered and collapsed, but not by your own will. With sudden and immense power, a solid wreck struck into your feet and, as you fell, pulled you down into the mushy ground. You caught the whiff, and the burning scent, of the beast’s bloodcurdling—in more ways than one—stomach spew as it flew inches away from your face. You opened your eyes, and, as you feared, the many drops continued to sink through the air towards you. As you curled yourself, a mantle of thick lichen slithered over your face and the rest of its body: the opposite side of it was of a heavy stone.

Like insect mouths, thousands of them moved and chattered, softly biting and tickling the outlines of your face.

“We can move? Can’t you hear? We can talk. We can chat-debate-and-tittle-tattle. We don’t want to listen to you. We don’t tittle-tattle. Do we have to carry this heavy stone around, now? We grew around it, it protected us for so long. Our filaments feel sticky, we don’t think we should let go of it. It’s like our shell. More like our home. We will roll it with us, now it’ll be easy. We are attached to this stone. Child, we are grateful. -We- aren’t. We love to be sentient!”

> Express gratitude to the sentient-moss-on-stone for protecting you. Ask if it can drag you away from the beast.
> Ask the sentient-moss-on-stone if they’ll allow you to throw at the beast’s head or shoulders to crawl beneath its scales and gnaw on its skin and flesh. You are not sure how much damage that is going to make to it.
> Pick up the sentient-moss-on-stone and throw it at the reptile’s head, no time for questions. Buy yourself enough time to stand up and then run away back to where Veronica is standing.
> Cry out for the Black Horn’s help, even though it looks as if it is the one losing the battle one. If it doesn't fight any better, Vermin -will- be hurt.
> If the axe is going to be sentient as well, then it’s only a matter of time. Request a deed of it. [What?]
> [Write In]

>>5171945
> Express gratitude to the sentient-moss-on-stone for protecting you. Ask if it can drag you away from the beast
Jesus christ. This moss is cute.
> If the axe is going to be sentient as well, then it’s only a matter of time. Request it to hurl itself at the reptile's neck and decapitate it.

>>5171955
Supporting.

Also:

>>5171945
> Cry out for the Black Horn’s help, even though it looks as if it is the one losing the battle one. If it doesn't fight any better, Vermin -will- be hurt.

Your eyes darted left and right, unsure of where or who to keep them upon. “I thought I was a goner, thank you” —you interrupted yourself mid-thought— “sentient-moss-on-stone. Thanks a bunch for protecting me, you saved me there.”

“Is that our name? Why does he get to name us? He is not that good with names. We don’t agree, we quite like it. It’s banal and uninteresting. It’s clear, and explains what we are, do you want a human name? No, none of us here want one.”

The ashen-green moss veiled and pulled your body further and deeper into itself as if you were the omitted fitting for its carpet-like shape. The rock the sentient moss stuck to, and now hewed, was kept above you, and it rolled back and forth to break the fossilising droplets and capture the wet remains of the beast’s stomach juices. Like so, it sluggishly wriggled-crawled away from the stomach-monstrosity, yet, straight away, the beast realised you were left unhurt and were now being carried away. Its stomach was emptied: it couldn’t disgorge for a while longer. It revealed its curved row of unblemished teeth and, loudly snapping its sinewy neck, it plunged it down at the inanimate stone-half.

From the morass and mud, tailed and twisted root-ends shoot up, plunging to seize the body of the tameless behemoth. As the final of the whip-like anchors surrounded the neck, head, and parts of the upper half body of the part-frog part-alligator, the towering Black Horn was reaped alongside them—viscous quicksilver-hued sap outflowing from all the cracks, fractures, and grazes in its bark and its heartwood. The thrashing beast made another effort to break free, but it failed, either tired or weak.

All Black Horn’s outgrowths grew from the very top, and each and every one of them formed a sickle-like contortion. Russet Swamp was ancient, and the wooden branches of this tree explicitly were as sturdy as a boulderstone, and as sharp as all-night-grinded steel. The horned cresentoid fell upon the beast's scale-protected body, gouging it out!

Midmost of being dragged away by the sentient-moss-on-stone, you saw the eyes of the creature widen; it began to gasp and choke, and then spit out … blood, as if the branches reached its organs. Fresh, blackish-red blood seeped out of its mouth and wound. It snapped towards the Black Horn tree, gnawing on the sickle-like branches penetrating its body …

Even now, the axe stayed dormant. You would have to take it out to wield it again, but you were too afraid to try; it was plain suicidal. The moss came to life, there was no reason the axe could- or would not. Even if it could throw itself in your hand to let you toss it again, that would’ve been enough; and better would be if it could hurl itself and decapitate the neck!

You emptied your lungs, shouting out loud, “Sentient axe, respond! I -know- you can hear me! Behead this reptile!”

There was a long pause, but it wasn’t silent: cascading blood, splitting wood, grinding teeth—all of them made an annoying, deafening noise.

“I am -not- an axe, neither am -I- a handle,” a deaf and faith, barely noticeable lilt left the axe, as if it was hollow (it wasn’t) as a small creature, a soul, was trapped inside, and was thinly whispering from beneath the wooden handle …

“I am the lost branch, the one you so viciously cut off from my selfdom, and then corrupted into this pastiche, forced to carry the bit and tangle of ores: a stooge, a serf—never to be let go, never to be free. A mockery, to cut and split other trees like myself. Life of horror. Soaked in hot oil and then burnished with a crude axe so that I am not even allowed to -die-.

“No, I was always living-breathing-aware, this puff of dust does not change a thing. I will -patiently- wait until this thing I was -forced- to carry rusts, crumbles, and falls off, and then I will be liberated; and if either you or the dwarf grasp me with your hands one more single time, I will cut them off with the sharp steel you two appear so proud of.” It said.

> Allow the sentient-moss-on-stone to wriggle yourself and it to Veronica.
> Stand up and walk back to Veronica yourself—much quicker—watching over the sentient-moss-on-stone.
> Apologise to the axe: you did not know it felt that way. Promise to remove the axehead if it helps you one last time.
> The wooden handle of the second axe was made from the same tree, tell this axe-haft of this fact, and that it will remain in your captivity unless it assists you with killing the stomach-monstrosity. Will it care for its other body piece?
> Inform the axe-haft that it is very unlikely it’ll be able to find its origin tree without your help. Promise to return it to the tree and to remove the axehead if it assists you this one last time. You can always use the axehead on another handle, it isn’t the most important part of the axe.
> The stomach-monstrosity is almost dead. Suggest to Veronica that she deals the killing blow and impales the beast through its eye using the sword.
> The stomach-monstrosity is almost dead, but Vera is far too injured to deal with it, still. Ask to borrow the axe, and then rush-charge back to deal the killing blow by impaling the beast through its eye, and maybe even the two of its eyes.
> [Write In]

> Thank you all for playing. Please bully me if I delay an update, as it's more likely than not due to procrastination and not a legit reason.

>>5173144
> Inform the axe-haft that it is very unlikely it’ll be able to find its origin tree without your help. Promise to return it to the tree and to remove the axehead if it assists you this one last time. You can always use the axehead on another handle, it isn’t the most important part of the axe.
What a fucking twig.

>>5173144
Oh god what why are the tools talking to us. It's going to be like that scene from Beauty & the Beast but bloodier
> Inform the axe-haft that it is very unlikely it’ll be able to find its origin tree without your help
I wonder how annoyed Carinda is going to be

>>5173144
>Apologise to the axe: you did not know it felt that way. Promise to remove the axehead if it helps you one last time.

“How are you going to be able to find the tree I’ve cut you from? Even I barely remember the exact spot.”

Fibrous embroidery appeared over the sandpapered wood, tangling the handle. The haft said nothing that you could understand from other noise.

You pointed your hand towards the stomach-monstrosity; the thick black-red blood trickled over and veiled its lavender scales. You lead your finger below your chin. “I need you to cut off that things’ neck right now. Help us out, and I -promise- I will return you to the exact tree I took you from, and I’ll separate you and the axehead so you won’t be connected to it.”

It was an easy task to determine when this toughened reptile was furious, and in pain: even suffering deadly injuries, its outcry became more thunderous, and its trashing, violent and feral. The beast’s flesh crunched as was split in-between the wooden sickle, strenuously pushing its neck to gnaw into the bark of the Black Horn trunk. But as soon as its teeth tore through the outer layer, forcing the sap to bleed the same way the Black Horn tree did it, the beast stopped and unclenched its jaw. Its eyes rolled out—and its body was pulled back by the massive reaping hook of the tree—devoid of any fightback. Last, a deafening babel bellowed from within its stomach and lung, clashing together with an earsplitting fracture.

The roaring veered into silence. The sentient axe-haft, its pale-white grain blooming like carved-out flowers, in its sentient self, pushed down further into the wound it was pierced in. How much was it the strength of the living axe-haft, or Carinda's skilful masterwork—or both—was difficult to determinate, but the result was soon made clear: the front half of stomach-monstrosity's skull was severed—cleaved—into two.

Final gasps left the dead reptile’s mouth, replaced by remains of its bluish vomit and spraying spittle. Belatedly, suffering much from its physical fractures and many of its branches petrified from the vomit juice, the Black Horn drew out the scythe and unravelled the mighty pliant branches to resume their towering antler-like build.

Vermin fell into the mud, softening his fall with his hands. In haste, he stood up, only to have the creeping trunk bend towards him, with many of its eye-like hollows and jagged bark eyelids gazing down at the man. The brawny thief stepped away.

“They said … That creature was here to take you, or worse. It will no longer be a problem, you can stay. You should … “

Vermin cleared his throat. He moved back, “ … Yes! You saved me from it. You did enough to thank me. More than enough.”

Ebony branches lifted towards the man, but it could not move as fast, “That was not enough; I -wish- to travel together! I wish to show you ... ”

Vermin put his hands over his knees and sighed. He followed a loud inhale with a tired yet lively voice, “You can travel alone, I don’t think your ancient roots will hold you for much longer. If you want more friends of your ‘type’, ask them.” He bowed his chin in your direction. Precisely, to your pollen pouch. He then turned away and withdrew into the morass.

The ground on where you stood rumbled as the Black Horn pulled its roots; just like Vermin said, with only one-third of rootstock left undamaged, the sentient nevergreen no longer had anything holding it firmly fixed. Black Horn covered its splintered roots with its glittering sap secretion, pulling them along itself like drenched tail feathers.

“No … Wait!” the colossal tree began to move: to chase after him. It did not rest, neither did it wait to even be healed.

Vera closed the gap, approaching you and the cadaver of the stomach-monstrosity. She was curving her back, and raising up her breasts: overexaggerating the fact she was -not- in pain. She -likely- knew you wouldn’t buy it.

“That’s the first time you made two new friends in one day,” Vera didn’t resume proper human postures, “So, how are we supposed to drag it back?” She nodded her head at the fallen creature. True, how were you supposed to?

> Forget about the Black Horn. Return back to the waggon with Vera. You, Veronica, and Carinda should be able to drag the body back together (?).
> Before the Black Horn tree leaves, ask for it to stop. Suggest that it forgets about Vermin as, instead, you can point it to where Black Bristleleaf tree is. Perhaps, with a new companion, it will leave the bridge and … then what? Who knows?
> You still have some elven pollen on you. Before the Black Horn tree leaves, ask for it to stop. Suggest that it forgets about Vermin as, instead, you can bring some of its kind to life. With one of the trees, you’ll have a little of the pollen left for later.
> You still have some elven pollen on you. Before the Black Horn tree leaves, ask for it to stop. Suggest that it forgets about Vermin as, instead, you can bring some of its kind to life. If you do it with two trees, you’ll have no pollen left, but it might be a bigger company to convince the tree.
> Before the Black Horn tree leaves, ask for it to stop. Now that it can walk, ask if it can help you bring the dead body of the creature back to where Carinda’s waggon stands. Then you can do something else ...?
> Ask the sentient-moss-on stone if it would like to accompany you on your travels. (Is it a good idea?)
> Offer the elven pollen to Vera, and ask for her opinion. You’ll do what she’ll decide on.
> [Write In]

>>5174476
>Oh god what why are the tools talking to us.
> You literally brought them to life with sentience pollen.

>>5175778
>Forget about the Black Horn
Our debt to Vermin is paid well enough.

>Ask the moss creature if it wants to join us
>Send Vera to go get Carinda
>Together, extract what we need of the creature and go

>>5175778
> You still have some elven pollen on you. Before the Black Horn tree leaves, ask for it to stop. Suggest that it forgets about Vermin as, instead, you can bring some of its kind to life. With one of the trees, you’ll have a little of the pollen left for later
We could also ask it to help us haul the carcass back. Otherwise the rock/moss hivemind might be convinced to help
>>5175780
We were young and naive, we are not ready for this kind of responsibility!

>>5175778
> Before the Black Horn tree leaves, ask for it to stop. Suggest that it forgets about Vermin as, instead, you can point it to where Black Bristleleaf tree is. Perhaps, with a new companion, it will leave the bridge and … then what? Who knows?

Rolled 2 (1d3)

>Ask the moss creature if it wants to join us

>>5175813
> Send Vera to go get Carinda
> Together, extract what we need of the creature and go

>>5175838
> You still have some elven pollen on you. Before the Black Horn tree leaves, ask for it to stop. Suggest that it forgets about Vermin as, instead, you can bring some of its kind to life. With one of the trees, you’ll have a little of the pollen left for later. We could also ask it to help us haul the carcass back. Otherwise the rock/moss hivemind might be convinced to help.

>>5176922
> Before the Black Horn tree leaves, ask for it to stop. Suggest that it forgets about Vermin as, instead, you can point it to where Black Bristleleaf tree is. Perhaps, with a new companion, it will leave the bridge and … then what? Who knows?

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> I was ready to write update as soon I made the roll but then I discovered that my sink was clogged and had to fix that. Now I need to leave for work. Apologies for this.

>>5177193
Later is fine, too.

>>5177193
Ooof. Good luck with that boss

You watched the tree depart from the marshland with a drifting trudge.

The satchel still had some elven pollen left inside its leather borders; not a lot, but an adequate amount to bring a couple more vegetations to enriched aliveness. “Wait, stop!” you stepped hastily to pursue the tree. It didn’t stop—the way it was maundering now, you knew it would fall behind and lose Vermin's sight. The man’s figure stood long gone in the scarlet marshes. You fell into and walked alongside the Black Horn tree's pace, “Forget about him! It’s unlikely you’ll be able to make him stay or to ‘make’ him travel with you.” Placing your hand inside the bag—pollen, like glue, clinging to your fingertips—you leered at the trees available nearby.

“Just the way he did to you, I can bring other trees of your kind to life; to keep you company. They’ll want to travel, as well and-”

“No … “ The tallest and mightiest of Black Horns persisted wallowing. Its hollow blinked and twisted, slipping over the sagging bark to focus its gaze from you towards where Vermin was last seen. Talking from within the branches, the Black Horn answered. Its uttering resembled a voice thirsting for water, “Even if they were to learn to talk and walk like me, the trees here are unremarkable. They are just like me. No, I want him, my -saviour-, to keep me company. No one else will do. I shall not drop until he is rewarded in full.”

You stopped trailing the tree, belatedly coming to a stop. Your fingers dragged against the leather skin to scrub and drizzle the precious pollen. You sighed, watching the Black Horn enter the deepening morasses of the Russet Swamp. Stridently, it soon vanished out of your view.

If there were any ‘magic’ words to convince this tree, you did not know them. It injured stomach-monstrosity the most. If it did not stay to help you haul the carcass back, you were already much obliged for its help.

“It’s not going to be as easy as I hoped,” you smiled at Vera, returning to the fallen beast. “Master Carinda is strong, but she’s injured” —you bit your lip— “but she’s strong.” You turned to face the split head: the fracture, as big as your whole body, seemed like an uninviting passageway inside. “I don’t think we have any other choice but to call her here, and then do our best to drag it to the waggon.” Were that to fail- no, you could come up with a backup plan or two, but you didn’t want to think about it. You bit your thumb, “Maybe Carinda can extract the stomach.”

With a gleam in her olive eyes, Veronica punched your shoulder, “Tell it to -her- how amazing she is, not to me, lardhead. I’ve heard it all before.” She pulled on her earlobe, “See? It’s getting all droopy and it’s all your fault.” With a smile and wink, she stepped towards the beast. Closing one of her eyes—cringing from the pain in her stomach—she gripped Tetreus’ sword and, following an impending swing, she made a thrusting motion with the blade beneath the broken scales, drawing blood.

“What are you-?”

She dropped the heavy edge of her now-bleeding sword, winking at you. With a single drop of sweat, Veronica tiredly inhaled and exhaled. “I’ll go meet up with Tetreus and Carinda, and I’ll bring her here. Julian … you stay and rest.”

Was that a good idea? You were the least injured of the two, but despite everything Veronica went through, then she wasn't coming across even half as exhausted as you. She would've had been able to do it quicker. You wondered what faces your beloved master and Tetreus would make.

You sighed. You did not want to argue with Vera who was this excited. “Very well, and you did that for …?”

She uprose the heavy blade to scale it over her shoulder, “So that the knight sees it was used in the battle!”

You held down a chuckle. If you didn't tell Veronica to hold back, she would have had ended up using the sword eventually. There was no harm in exaggerating the details a tad. “-to the waggon, don’t get into any other ‘adventures’.”

Your friend furrowed her brows. She stopped, rolled her eyes, and growled a promise. Soon, she left you all on your own … Well, not quite. Just a few minutes ago you animated not one, but two objects with a human-like consciousness. The axe-haft, breaking through the skull and then falling beneath the wide crack, laid n top of the muddy surface, covered in sludge and the beast’s blood. Since your pledge, it remained silent, uninterested in talking (?).

You turned around, with intent to lean on the beast’s body, but you stopped yourself a few inches off. The stomach juice was inside of it (for how long?), but much of the bluish acid was either leaking out of its throat or was spewed out during the battle. Even with clothes, you saw how potent it was; the last thing you wanted was for it to get on your skin.

You squatted before the sentient plant. With the large bent rock pushed upward, and a thick layer of lichen clinging to it and drifting beneath it, it looked a lot like a cone snail. “Do you want to come with me?”

In response, you heard a tuneful murmuring of hundred of grassy mouths. “Do we want to? Follow you where, why?”

“Are you interested in travelling outside this marsh? Or outside the Russet Swamp?”

“We were pretty satisfied with just growing and blooming. We weren’t. Now we are not sure, what can you suggest?”

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> “I can carry the stone if you feel fond of it, but you don’t have to be attached to it. Do you wish to look for a greater ‘home’?”
> “The only two other sentient things here—the axe-halt and that tree—are going to desert this swamp. If that’s not a problem, and from what I can see you are a crowd and not a loner, then you can stay here and explore the high marsh and the Russet Swamp or whatever else.”
> “I can use some of the pollen to bring some other mossy rock to life, then together you’ll be able to do what two colonies can?”
> “My hands are useless, but I can gift you to a greenskeeper. She’ll be ecstatic to take care of you, and grow you into a beauty.”
> “You can stick to anything, it does not have to be that rock. You can accompany me, I can use third eyes and voices of advice, it'll be fun!”
> [Write In]

> Sorry for the delay!

>>5179179
> “You can stick to anything, it does not have to be that rock. You can accompany me, I can use third eyes and voices of advice, it'll be fun!”
Though I'm not sure how much advice moss can give us if they want to come with it's the least we can do. They get to see more stuff that just the swamp plus if they get bored or decide what they want they are free to leave

> I could use one more vote if possible!

>>5179179
> “I can carry the stone if you feel fond of it, but you don’t have to be attached to it. Do you wish to look for a greater ‘home’?”

>>5179179
> “You can stick to anything, it does not have to be that rock. You can accompany me, I can use third eyes and voices of advice, it'll be fun!”

> Sorry for being a lazy ass. I am on holiday now, but I have my family visiting me. No excuses. I promise to post an update tomorrow and the following days.

Tapping the edge of your chin, you gazed down at the sentient-moss-on-stone. “You know … you can stick to anything, it does not have to be -that- rock.” You lead your hand above your shoulders, “You can accompany me, I can use a dozen pairs of third eyes and the same amount of voices of advice.” You gave the sentient verdure a reassuring promise: you were unsure if you could keep that word: “It’ll be fun!”

“What do we think? As we said, we do not want to abandon the homestone; it is where we rest, where we hide for protection, it is our ancient home. We disagree, we are not -that- old to call it our ancient home. We think that we are not that young either, travelling with this human has caught our interest! We can’t say the same, ‘fun’ is a word of little value, we reask ‘What can you suggest?’”

“Sentient-moss-on-stone, you laid rooted here for how many years? A lot. I don’t know your likes or dislikes, or how much you will enjoy this, but …” You took a deep-relaxing breath. “Even I do not know what’s my fate going to be like after the next couple of days. I don’t know if I am going to be commanded to stay in my village to teach another apprentice, or if I am going to be sent to a far off, and completely unknown, town. I’m a blacksmith, and I doubt you’ll be that interested in watching me working the iron.

“But I am -certain- to travel outside of this swamp, and maybe, much further from those meadows and districts.” You examined the weather-beaten morass, and the Black Horn trees: not one had a single leaf present. “There isn’t much to the frondescence in this swamp, only those trees and mosses like yourself. Outside, there are hillsides overgrown with grass and blooming with flowers, and I won’t even mention the forests—kingdoms of untamed wilderness … I guess I did,” you smirked. “However, almost none of them are sentient, just the ones the two of us brought to ‘life’ with the pollen, no more than ten ‘plants’ in all of the human land. In the land of the elves—according to rumours—there are thousands of sentient evergreens. I could -try- and bring you there if that’s what you want? If not, you can just stay here."

A continuous deep, resonant sound—too quiet to hear intelligibly—murmured from the self-aware moss. At the end of their in-between discussion, they choired, “Together, we say yes. It does sound captivating—we are captivated—and in the unlikely occasion we’ll find a surface-stone much better than our current birthplace, most of us prefer moistness, wetness, and shadiness, truly, this is the best place we could hope for, but we expect that there are places even better than this. We don’t think you’ll lie to us. We do, but we’ll wait patiently to be proven correct. Never mind, lower your hand.”

You kneeled, stretching your arm and positioning your fingers on the soggy marsh. Separating off the stone with a scabrous crunch, the moss, like a happy slug, up-slopped over your arm and secured itself beneath your shoulders, neck, and back like a fluffy cowl. Close-knit, now you wouldn’t be able to ignore the words of your creation. “We ruled: until then, you’ll carry our homerock.”

You could not argue, you took the stone into your hands and, with a tight grip, you heaved it above the ground. It was heavy.

You put it back on the ground, it was for certain you were going to make -several- trips to here and back the waggon. Damn it.

As you stepped aside, the sentient-moss-on-shoulders began to murmur. “I-I’m not leaving it. I’ll take it when we’ll leave,” you assured your organic scarf; at this, the moss simmered down, although an endless murmuring you continued to hear, and it was not going to stop. You approached the axe-haft—dirty, unmoving, and mute—and reached for it.

“Do not touch, I was not kidding,” the stilted voice fluted. “I do not wish for you to ever grasp me with your sickening skin.”

You withdrew your arm, failing not to frown, “Alright.” You asked, “Are you going to follow me to where the tree is on your own?”

The axe-halt played a fool to your question; it ignored it, responding with silence.

“Are you going to follow me to where the tree is on your own?” you repeated, this time with a note of annoyance to your question.

“I did what you -sought- of me, human. You could see, I know you are not blind, that I moved-and-pressed-and-split the beast’s skull with my strength. I can move … but I can’t follow you. Know that my motions are finite-limited, and it is -your- fault. It is your fault for cutting me off, for tarnishing-whittling me, and for inserting and combining me with such burdensome axehead. -You’re- at fault, find a way to carry me without touching!”

You sighed, pushing your hands to wide-open the bag, “If I use a cloth to put you inside, will you be happy?”

The axe-halt didn’t respond. ‘For Gods’ sake,’ you thought, angrily squeezing the edges of the bag.

“Julian?” you heard a familiar voice arriving behind you: it was your dwarf-master Carinda. She was huffing with what you assumed to be a relief, and dry sweat was rolling down her skin as if she was standing under thunderous rain. She tried to stand up straight, but her crutch sank into the damp ground, smirching her attempt at a self-assertive and strong stance. Her eyes moved from you to the beast and then widened.

“That’s … “ she shook her head, wobbling towards you, “You two did great. I am happy you two are safe … ”

You approached your forge-master, offering her your shoulder and assisting her with her walk: she refused.

She was too proud. You nodded, taking a step back. You waved your hand at the killed monstrosity, “Do you think we can bring it back to the waggon?” You paused, “We only need the stomach, maybe you can cut it out?”

Carinda scrunched her dwarf-freckled face, “No, I doubt we can bring it back like this. And that’s a big shame, the people of the Quarry would be astonished if we brought a beast such as this in one-piece, and sold it to the butchers, or anyone else who would want it.” She placed her gloved hand over the crack of the beast’s gigantic teeth, “As for carving out the stomach … Julian, I can work with black metals, white metals, green and even red metals, I can engrave and inscribe and etch and chisel out infinitesimal details to absolute perfection, Julian. But I am not a butcher.”

“There’s -something- you are bad at?”

“Don’t make me scold you, if you paid any attention, you’d know that we don’t even have any butcher’s knife in the waggon.”

“You are making me regret the fact that we did not just run away towards the waggon,” you sulked.

“What’s done is done,” she pointed her crutch in your direction, “You two did a good job slaying this thing. I have to point that out, Julian … that’s a lot of trouble you are going through just to craft your masterpiece, but I have faint in you,” she grinned, “of course I do. I have ideas, but I’m curious if there’s anything you’d like to propose first.”

> Introduce the axe-haft to Carinda.
> Introduce the sentient-moss-on-neck to Carinda.
> Plea to Carinda that you’ll trust her with any decision she makes.
> Suggest that you cover the beast with branches and brushwoods as well as layers of mud to hide it.
> Suggest that you leave the beast as it is, and return to it after you have the Ecline Ore on yourself.
> Suggest that you cut off the beast’s tails, front, centre, and back legs, and anything else, and then carry it outside.
> Suggest that you ask Vera and Tetreus to stay to watch over the carcass as you travel back and forward to Quarry.
> [Write In]

> This post took too freaking long. I'm such a slow writer, lads.

>>5181125
> Introduce the axe-haft to Carinda.
> Introduce the sentient-moss-on-neck to Carinda.
Then:
> Suggest that you ask Vera and Tetreus to stay to watch over the carcass as you travel back and forward to Quarry.

Good chance for Vera to impress Tetreus, and to get him out of our hair. Oh, AND a good excuse to be alone with our waifu.

>>5180496
No stress boss, think most of people are currently too ensnared by Warhammer 3 or Elden Ring for much else
>>5181123
>>5181124
Also really liking the personalities of these objects. Wonder how annoyed our tsudere little axe will get at the moss over time
>>5181125
>>5181146 +1

You were forced to push away your hand after scratching underneath your nape and incidentally doing the same to the sentient moss stuck to it. Hundreds of tiny voices whined: a shocking confusion to your beloved master. You hushed—your lips inches away from touching the lichen, caressing it with your lukewarm breath.

You hoped it would forgive. “Master Carinda,” you lipped, lifting your chest and arching the shoulders to exhibit the moss. “-I assume Vera did not tell you much about the entire fight? During it, there were a few things I was forced to do … one of them was to bring the collection of mossy layers to life. It saved -my- life as soon as it turned sentient, and” —your finger passed beneath your jaw, this time avoiding the soft-sided, hawthornish moss— “I made a promise to it soon afterwards.”

With narrow eyes, Carinda cast down her head and shoved her finger towards your new companion. “Julian here is saying you’re alive? What’s your goal? What did he promise you? I think that he already did you a favour by making you verbal; you are, right?!”

It talked back; in the same babel you, and Carinda, could peculiarly discern. “Don’t shout, we are mouldy, but not deaf. We have a good memory, dwarf, and we remember you being in the same spot here: you were ... practical. If you are afraid ‘Julian’ won’t be able to deliver on his promise, we agree. Quite the opposite: we think the human child can discover a great place to make a new home, or deliver us to the elven folk! We never asked to be brought to ‘sentience’.”

Carinda grit her teeth.

“Curse on your ancestors; you’re a riddle. Can’t you agree on something?”

“We agree to disagree.”

With a loud slap, your master veiled her face. You went up to Carinda, but your master raised her hand and shook her head. Delaying a moment, she said, “I can’t say I would do the same, but I can’t say I wouldn’t do it either. Other?”

You squinted to where the axe-halt laid, “-other was to bring one of your axes to life as well,” before the toothsome dwarf could respond, you specified, “but it did not work on the whole axe, but only the wooden handle. It is now angry.”

You nodded your head to where the sentient handle stayed. Dirtied, the carven-like flowery bloom decorated its surface. The handgrip rumbled, a high-pitched sound blowing from within its wood. “It is obvious that I am now holding a strong feeling of annoyance, displeasure, -and- hostility."

“Oh, do you now? I handled you with care; I made you with love.”

“This ‘love’ you speak of is twisted and factitious. I know that the child played his appalling role, but you, dwarf-of-kind, is who I’m most discontent with. Remember this: I am an unbendable and stout branch of a wonderful tree, not something you could-or-can abuse!”

She advanced, “I know you are stiff and thick, that’s the reason we chose you.”

“You’ll be silent! I am -through- of being disrespected by likes of you!”

“Master Carinda, wait!” you rushed to push your hand between her and the handle, “It said it’ll cut our hands if we try and grab it.”

Carinda’s deep purple eyes fell on your, before she pushed forwards, now glaring at the axe—like what it said was a challenge, “Oh really?”

Halfheartedly, you continued to keep her from trying the dare. You soughed, “Master, I promised to bring it back to the tree.”

This made your master halt. You saw how firm she gripped the handle of her crutch, although she kept her strangely-considerate smile. Unblinking, her eyes stared into your eyes before she shook her eyes and chuckled, “You make a lot of promises, Julian. There are much easier ways to get what you want. I taught you a lot, maybe even everything I know about working the forge and smithing, but it seems there are some things I can still acquaint you with.” Her knuckles cracked, “Let’s leave that for later.”

*** *** ***

By the time you and Carinda left the demesne of the ancient Russet Swamp, it began to darken. You were unsure of leaving Veronica all on her own, but if Tetreus were to join her, you would consider that problem dealt with. After so many walks, you were aware of a direct way to the high slough, where the Black Horn trees arose from the sunk marshland. The handle proved to be an annoyance to persuade, but in the end, sentient-moss-on-neck had clinched it with its tentacles and curled it within its dense foliate mats. Either Carinda’s and your hands were free of handling the helve but … it was now uncomfortably close to your neck.

When the frustrating situation with the sentient objects was dealt with, you discussed the ideas you had with Carinda and Vera—she arrived at least ten minutes after Carinda, and on her face was a forlorn look, one she tried her weakest to hide. You suggested for Vera and Tetreus to stay and watch over the carcass while you and your master journeyed forward and back from the Quarry. She did not agree initially, but after a heavy-silent pause, Vera seesawed her head, and said ‘Yes’. You made guesses: either because she still wished to be a part of the Quarry’s expedition, or because there was some kind of conflict with Representative Tetreus.

You knew that Carinda noticed it too, and you were also aware that she had semi-motherly care for Veronica.

You found Tetreus looming near the rasping mounts of the iron waggon. The night’s wind grew in its sharpness and strength. It could be it was not as obvious to see inside the protective hanging of the crimson swampland, or the weather was actually changing was the worst. There was no campfire—or it died out—so his spiring black silhouette shifted into view as if from the mist … ghastly white clouds covered and lingered beneath his neck and head, and then fell onto the ground like a senescent smog of frost. Once more, the man-at-arms had his tall sword in his arms.

“You have finally returned,” he said with a quiet voice, resting the knuckles of his gauntlet upon the enclosed doors of the waggon, “without the beast, or any progress.” He stepped back, “And now, it’s night; another day without any advancement.” He put his empty hand before you and Carinda, “I heard, you killed the beast, but there’s -nothing- tangible of your masterpiece to show, the kill did nothing to make it tangible.” Tetreus cast his arm, “You are obviously not going to travel during the night. I did my part protecting the waggon: I spend more time here than any-each one of you. Now you can do the same for me; I'm going to rest, rest well.”

> “Could it be you have not forgiven Veronica? She did most of the damage to that beast, she laid the killing blow!”
> “King’s Representative Tetreus, could you stay with Vera to watch over the carcass while I and master Carinda travel back and forward to the Quarry? If everything there is already dealt with, all we need to do is grab the ore I need. We'll return with it, and then we can solidify it in the stomach.”
> “King’s Representative Tetreus, you don’t sound impressed. Please, can you stay with Veronica? She is sorry for what she did, and I’m sure, once you see just how -enormous- that beast is, you’ll be impressed by her."
> Whisper to Carinda that you can make camp after you make some distance between you and the Russet Swamp. “No, we -are- thinking of travelling during the night, like you said, we don’t have the time, but I’m not sure if it’s smart for your horse to risk it, you know how dangerous and swampy the ground around the Russet Swamp is. I and Carinda here both think it’ll be best if you stay with Vera and watch that no one harms our special ingredient.”
> [Write In]

>>5181918
> “King’s Representative Tetreus, could you stay with Vera to watch over the carcass while I and master Carinda travel back and forward to the Quarry? If everything there is already dealt with, all we need to do is grab the ore I need. We'll return with it, and then we can solidify it in the stomach.”
> Whisper to Carinda that you can make camp after you make some distance between you and the Russet Swamp. “No, we -are- thinking of travelling during the night, like you said, we don’t have the time, but I’m not sure if it’s smart for your horse to risk it, you know how dangerous and swampy the ground around the Russet Swamp is. I and Carinda here both think it’ll be best if you stay with Vera and watch that no one harms our special ingredient.”

>>5181918
> Whisper to Carinda that you can make camp after you make some distance between you and the Russet Swamp. “No, we -are- thinking of travelling during the night, like you said, we don’t have the time, but I’m not sure if it’s smart for your horse to risk it, you know how dangerous and swampy the ground around the Russet Swamp is. I and Carinda here both think it’ll be best if you stay with Vera and watch that no one harms our special ingredient.”
Don't think it would be smart to travel at night in a swamp. Probably won't lose too much of useful stuff from the corpse in just 1 night and everyone is tired anyway so best to stay put I say

You whispered, hoping for your master’s cooperation, “We could make camp after we make some distance between here and the Russet Swamp.” You kept your head straight; it was too ill-lit to see her reaction. Using a firm voice—you had to lie to the querying knight—you said, “No, we -are- thinking of travelling during the night. As you said, King’s Representative Tetreus, we don’t have the time, but I’m not sure if it’ll be smart for your horse to risk it; you know, with how dangerous and swampy the ground around the Russet Swamp is.” You lowered your chin in a solitary nod, “I and master Carinda both think it’ll be best if you stay with Vera here, and together watch that no one harms our special ingredient.”

Carinda’s pristine grin glistered in the night. Even though you three (four?) were standing within spitting distance of each other, she still spoke out with her distinctive loudness, “The boy’s right, you’ll only hold us back.”

God’s Gallop harrumphed, and Tetreus repeated it in the same, only more humanlike, huff, “Watch your words, dwarf” —he exhaled— “I am not holding anyone back, unlike you: trudging with a crutch and that incapacitated hand.” His armour tolled; you guessed that he, in condemnation, was pointing his hand at your master. “You know as much as I that it’ll be empty-head—stupid—to travel at night near a swamp, especially if beasts like the ones Jilyan described hang in there. I have no desire, neither is it my duty, to protect your ‘ingredients’, Jybaen.”

With an exhausted grip, you clenched your fists. “We can’t just leave the carcass here, unprotected. At best, it’ll get eaten by some other beast,” you said. “Vera agreed to stay and watch over it, but we can’t just leave her on her own.” Self-conscious and reserved, you urged, “King’s Representative Tetreus, could you stay with Vera? It is dark, but I’ll lead you to where she, and the slain beast, are. If everything in the Quarry is already dealt with, all I and master Carinda need to do is grab the ore I need. We'll return with it, and then we can solidify it in the stomach.”

“I no longer intent to instruct her on being a squire, so I don’t see why I should stay and watch over that girl.” Tetreus lead the fingers of his raucous gauntlet beneath the stiff ears of his warhorse. “You were supposed to have your masterpiece ready by the time of my arrival; since that is not the case, I will accompany you to watch every step of you-”

“-then he’ll show you the complete piece,” Carinda pushed her crutch beneath the chin of his helmet, “you understand? No one told Julian you were going to perch your knightly figure on the doorstep of our smithy; neither was I. If -your- majesty is going to be changing conditions of our deal, perhaps I need to visit him and say my piece?”

Like it was smouldering iron, Carinda forged the dead air. Unlike the man-at-arms, the whistling wind was the sole thing willing to break the silence. A minute, then two; at last, Tetreus pulled God’s Gallop to follow him.

With a smile your master was unlikely to see, you entered the Russet Swamp to diligently lead him and God’s Gallop through it to the Black Horn marsh. Carinda came into being behind you with a lit torch soon after. As it was expected, Tetreus’ struggled to remain afloat in the muddy waters because of the weight of his armour. He had enough strength, and perhaps something else, to pull himself out of the sludge and continue walking. “King’s Representative Tetreus, you said you wished to rest. I am sure that Vera will let you ... and she'll watch over your sleep.”

*** *** ***

Carinda’s ponies were well-fed and rested, but, as it was night-time, they were also drowsy—as if their sleep was interrupted (it was). You sat near your Carinda on the overhanging bench, as it was your typical place by now. You wore several layers of cloths and throws—a couple of more which Vera “left” you, but it felt cold nonetheless, like Winter itself was first-biting your flesh. Your master could see through the veil of the night better than you: she was the first to spot a large stack of steep and vertical forming a blunt and uneven column and park the waggon there.

She turned to you, “Let’s see: a beast as large as my waggon and loads of rare forge-wood. That sure was a plentiful day, but more for you, Julian!” Carinda playfully bumped your shoulder with hers as you stood up, “I will need to go to sleep last, or you won’t get any rest tonight—as you will not be able to wake me up—and you deserve it.”

> Tell Carinda the truth of the fight, the fact that you and Vera didn’t do much to the stomach-monstrosity.
> Tell Carinda that you are deeply sorry for the crack in her heirloom hammer; should you use pollen on it?
> Ask Carinda to tell you about her life back at home, or if she wants to share any interesting dwarven facts.
> Suggest to Carinda that you try making the campfire out of Black Horn firewood, to try and test how it goes.
> Keep all of the Black Horn firewood until you need to use it for the Ecline Ore.
> Admit to Carinda that Tetreus might not be satisfied with your masterpiece. Ask if she thinks it might be a good idea to make a different piece in the Quarry using some regular iron. Ask what she would suggest?
> Wait until it’s Carinda’s turn to sleep, and then weave her ashen braids into a beard braid of an ideal form. It will be even better than Vera's example.
> Wait until it’s Carinda’s turn to sleep, and then put some the pollen on her hammer: her ancestor’s skeleton arm?
> Wait until it’s Carinda’s turn to sleep, and then kiss her on her dwarf-forehead; this might be the last time you'll see her asleep like this.
> [Write In]

>>5183723
>> Ask Carinda to tell you about her life back at home, or if she wants to share any interesting dwarven facts
> Keep all of the Black Horn firewood until you need to use it for the Ecline Ore
Seeing how the axe ended up, awakening the hammer seems like a bad idea.

>>5183817
Agreed regarding the hammer. Why would we ever do such a thing, let alone without asking.

>>5183723
Supporting the above vote, but:
>Admire Carinda WITHOUT kissing her or touching her hair while she sleeps

> I have been busy all day today going through London and it's sights (the tube was on strike so I had to do it all on foot) so that's my long way of saying there'll be no update today!

>>5184025
> Why would we ever do such a thing, let alone without asking.
> Maybe you would want more friends?

You rubbed your aching shoulder, “I’ll take you up on that offer, master Carinda.”

A stack of ashen-black branches filled the waggon; when you left Carinda on her own with the man-at-arms, she cut up the ones you gathered into lighter-smaller pieces—even now, they barely fit in. She drained the overflowing shining-white sap, but it seemed to you as if it was endless, with sticky puddles forming underneath the cut wood. To take it out to dry, for the duration of this frigid overcast night, was a fruitless endeavour, so you did not even bother. You left the wood inside.

Instead, Carinda found a lonely medium-sized tree withering not too far from your campsite. She cut most of it down, and quickly set up a blazing and warm bonfire, leaving nothing for you to do. Using the parched foliage, she fashioned a place for you to sleep, but not for herself to rest; does the cold not bother her bum?

You slid into a hive made out of warm cloths. With your eyes hidden by both the night and the kindles’ shadow, you admired your master’s face without coming off as hopelessly awe-struck. The open flames made the tips of her braided ashen hair look like burning cinders, and the skin of her cheeks and nose glow like molten bronze. Granted, the dazzle was much milder than when she walked unconcealed beneath the sun: one would have to stare … as you were doing then. There was no ale left—she drank the remains waiting for you and Vera to return from the marsh— so she sat with both her hands beneath her stomach within a tight grip. “Master,” —you spoke to her softly, not to alarm— “are you maybe tired yourself?”

She threw her hair, her two braids juggling from her shoulders to her back like devil-sticks. “Julian, even if I was—and I’m really not(!)—it’s not a problem. I’ll rest after you do, and we both should be freshly-forged. Just the two of us.”

Her words rose your lips. You asked Vera to come, yes, but without Veronica and Tetreus here, even such a small part of your journey felt extra intimate. For sure, you shared and you both slept in the smithy, but you had your own chambers, and your master had hers. Your master always was impossible to wake, so even if it was an emergency, you dealt with it on your own; you almost never entered her room to bother her. You knew that for Carinda this journey was personal, but in a completely different way: the last one between a master and her student. You were Carinda’s first student, and considering how long it took to train you, you supposed that you'd be the last one.

“Carinda. I want to know more about your life back at Vag Ladur, or maybe an interesting fact about dwarfs?”

“To fall asleep to?” The tone of her voice suddenly rose, “That’s a bit insulting, don’t you think?” She went silent, but just for a short-hung moment. She tossed a log to stir the flames and laughed. “I’m kidding. Haven’t I told you enough?”

“No. You don’t like to share much of your life,” you pursed your lips.

With motherly humour, she said, “I like you, Julian, but I’m one of the very few dwarfs in your human lands; a long time ago we were enemies. I’ve shared with you some details even people knee-deep in dwarven politics don’t know.”

‘I don’t care about dwarven politics, Carinda. What I want to know more about is -you.’ You kept your words unsaid.

She tucked and pushed one of her legs against her chest, perking her knee to her chin, with her hands gripping it halfway between. Her eyes fell on you, with the fire rolling around the red-wine irises. “Don’t take it like I distrust you or anything, Julian … Fine, I’ll bare with you something ‘unimportant’.” She put her thumb to her chest, “About dwarfs -and- me. We dwarfs have two surnames. Our forename is decided before we are born. The second surname is the name of our clan … mine is Pristineiron; we get to wield (like a weapon!) it properly once we become part of it. Coming of age, rituals, stuff. The first surname is a playful-insulting nickname given to us by an adult. Usually, it's for the earliest amusing misdemeanour we do.”

She stalled as if she waited for you to ask. “What was yours?”

“Would you like guessing?”

> “I can’t imagine. Please, master Carinda, just tell me.”
> “‘Aledrowned’. You -really- wanted to try the taste of ale, and reached inside the keg only to fall into it.”
> “‘Earsplitter’. You are loud, master Carinda, so, I am guessing, even as a child you had a deafening voice.”
> “‘Forgebreaker’. They let you use a hammer and using it you accidentally broke an anvil or part of a forge?”
> [Write In]

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>>5185552
>“‘Aledrowned’. You -really- wanted to try the taste of ale, and reached inside the keg only to fall into it.”

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>>5185730
> Dwarf girls!

>>5185552

>“‘Aledrowned’. You -really- wanted to try the taste of ale, and reached inside the keg only to fall into it.”

You mustered her question; what could it be? “‘Aledrowned’. You -really- wanted to try the taste of ale, and reached inside the keg only to fall into it,” you speculated. It was the first thought you had. You gazed at her reaction.

Your master was amused. She rejected your answer with a shake of her head. “Good guess, that -does- sound like something I would do!” She scratched her cheek, badly holding down a chuckle, “But not at that age. I was about three when I got my surname, and I haven’t tasted ale until I was nine and a half.” Carinda’s head angled as if waiting to see if you would try and guess again.

You shrugged your shoulders.

Without removing her hammer from its sheathe, she took it off her belt and rested her family’s heirloom on the ground; she firmly held it down—the fossilised haft within her uninjured grasp. “It happened when I just learnt how to jump and climb; beforesaid. I was accompanying one of my brothers into our local smithy, and he did a lousy job of watching over me. Our father left it” —her eyes fell on the hammer— “above the forge, and maybe it’s not the shiniest of things, but it lustres just enough to catch a three-year-old's attention.” Carinda closed her eyes.

She softly inhaled with her nose, making it tremble. Was she melancholic? “I reached for it!” she said suddenly, as if having to catch up because of the brief pause, “but I was a little woman, and it was far too high, so I, then, climbed onto the steps of the cold fire-pot, and, after, on the very top of the hearth. I lugged the hammer towards myself, and—of course—it slid off, dragging me down with it. It shattered the flat hardstone of the chimney, fell through the fire-pot and split the centre of it with several deep cracks. I was covered in ash and soot, and so was the rest of the smithy.” Your master effortlessly lifted the hammer—she looked at it until she winked, placing it back above her overalls. “I think I was in shock because I wasn’t crying, even though it hurt bad; it was really painful!”

You pulled the pile of cloths closer to your neck and face.

“You broke the forge, then … ”

She nodded. “‘Forgebreaker’ is how they clept me, and I doubt they’ll ever let me forget it.” She turned to you, “Anyway, I think that’s more than enough. You know how much I don’t like talking about embarrassing stuff, Julian.”

You hid your smile, turning your head away from the fire. “Good night, master.”

*** *** ***

You felt tired, a lot. The weight of yesterday choked you to sleep with zeal. As you rested—too beaten to remember your dreams—Carinda watched over you; it was unlikely she did it as closely. As you agreed, your master woke you up about four hours later: the next day. You were drowsy and befuddled. You knew that, unlike you, Carinda would be hibernating for as much as she needed to: the potency of her sleep being the reason; you couldn't be angry at that!

She gathered enough firewood to last through the night, so you did not have to do so while she waited. You shifted the schedule, and soon, your master was the one asleep and you were the one keeping an eye on her and the campsite. The sky above hung unclaimed: the waves of gloomy clouds wedged against each other like landslides. The sun was hours from showing its might and radiance. It felt that, even once it did, the overhang of clouds would attempt and hide it from you vehemently.

One, two, three … four would do. You slid off and put some of the warm shrouds on top of Carinda. She wasn’t shuddering from the cold, and you made sure to keep the fire fiery-hot, but you wanted to keep your master warm, even if she said she already was. You sat back to your spot.

The weather was relatively brighter: dusky yet clear. By the time your master was awake, it would’ve been daily enough to continue your journey to the Quarry. Your thoughts loomed over you for a moment: they were fazed by loud armour rattle and a horse’s whinny gait. You jumped. Had Tetreus followed? The late-night was silent, so the sounds came clear, and from the horizon's far away. This was not a direct route to the Quarry, as you detoured, so it was suspicious for him to follow you here.

> Wait patiently for Tetreus (?) to walk towards you. Apologise for lying to him about travelling the night.
> Wait patiently for Tetreus to walk towards you: had he abandoned the carcass and Veronica?
> Your waggon is well hidden behind the tall stone formation. Ask sentient-moss-on-neck to cover Carinda as if she was a hill (would that work?) and then yourself quickly destroy and hide the presence of fire.
> Ask sentient-moss-on-neck to catch the attention of Tetreus (?) and lead him away from the camp.
> [Write In]

>>5187883
> Your waggon is well hidden behind the tall stone formation. Ask sentient-moss-on-neck to cover Carinda as if she was a hill (would that work?) and then yourself quickly destroy and hide the presence of fire.

>>5187883
>> Your waggon is well hidden behind the tall stone formation. Ask sentient-moss-on-neck to cover Carinda as if she was a hill (would that work?) and then yourself quickly destroy and hide the presence of fire.
I doubt it could be anyone else but you never know. If it is Tetreus he could probably sniff us out anyway

You came to a quick decision. You scampered past Carinda towards the waggon standing sheltered behind the rocky outcrop. With a huff—your fingertips scrapping the cold iron—you slowly pulled the doors of the stagecoach open. Everything inside stayed the way you left it the night before, aside from the sentient, but inert, axe, stored un-clutched by the likewise-sentient carpet of moss; before, the sentient-moss held onto it.

With the upper half of your body pushed into the waggon, you hushed at your newborn companion. “Sentient-moss-on-neck?”

Mellow and tiny grass scrapings turned to barely-passable whispers, “The axe had threatened to cut us, and some of us presumed, it would’ve had destroyed its surroundings in the process. We said it wouldn’t be able to slice any of us if we just kept the sharp-end of it away. We agreed it was easier to let go of it.”

That handle was going to be nothing but trouble; you had pollen left, but you felt the reluctance to use it again. With a sigh, you offered your hand to the snailing lichen. Like thousands of tiny teeth—thankfully you slid on your gloves right after opening the waggon—the clump of seedless plants bit into your fabric and then moved upwards, to retake their yesterday’s place. You snuck out, leaving the axe-haft together with the pile of ashwood.

Your master slept, muttering words into her missing beard. You lifted and pointed your arm at her. “We are short of time, but I need to ask you to help me here. Could you cover her body and make it look as if she’s a hill, a mound?”

“ … We could attempt, human boy. We are not big enough, if he is short of time, it will be a waste of it. We won’t know unless we attempt—she is a dwarf, and half of her is already in the ground. She is bigger than our stone, and we could not surround it. We covered half of our rock, all we need to do is the same.”

In her sleep, Carinda was repeating the things you and the sentient-moss were saying. You’d have to cover her mouth too (Sorry, Master!). Past the bickering, the moss came down and fell on top of her like a sack of slime. You turned to the fire; you trusted the moss it to do its own thing. After picking and tossing solid lumps of cooled mud on top of the flames, you jumped on top to pestle the remaining embers underneath your booths.

You had no way to deal with the lingering heat, you held to that whoever it was, he wouldn’t examine. You scattered the branches around the campsite. You allocated handfuls of grass to cover the camp’s remaining presence. You turned away from the destroyed fire. The sentient-moss-on-neck hid your master well, but parts of her body, particularly above her chest, came across as unnatural—near-exposed. Damn it, damn it, damn it; your head darted from the horizon and back: you could see the approaching shapes. You had to hide!

You hurriedly tossed more grass on top of the sentient moss (you would apologise later). You rushed to where your waggon was, laid your back against the cold stone, halted your breath, and listened to their approach.

They were passing directly through your campsite; it was obvious, up by then, the figures weren’t going to change their course. Without carelessly exposing yourself, you could see very little. Louder and closer they came: six horses and six fellows—neither was Tetreus. In the front rode three of them, each one of them as majestic as God’s Gallop, but only one of the same breed, and only one of them—different—of the same size. On top of each was a knight, wearing similar armour to the King’s Representative.

It was hard to say whenever they were as tall as Tetreus. Their helms were just as ornamental as his but lacked the pair of opaque black and silver stripes of cut gems on their forehead. Behind them, on breeds of smaller, less-impressive stallions, trailed three children, neither appeared older than ten. Unlike the knights, they had no armour or weapons on them, but they wore ornate clothes such as overcoats and feathered hats.

You heeled back when one of the horses came to a sudden stop pace from the destroyed campfire. Another knight turned around to pull over by his side; their warhorses huffed at each one, exchanging unfriendlinesses. The first one was taking slow glances at the camp, while the second one looked more carefree.

The knight held down a yawn, “What’s the matter Eudor? This isn’t the way to the town.”

“I know this isn’t the way,” “Eudor” whispered, “but I saw a smoke here."

-Now- would be a horrible time for Carinda to wake up.

> Continue to listen to their conversation.
> Walk out of your hiding spot. Explain that you hid yourself as you thought they might have been bandits. Tell them about Carinda.
> Walk out of your hiding spot and introduce yourself. Pretend that you are a traveller all on your own here.
> [Write In]

> Apologies for the delay!

>>5190743
>Walk out of hiding, explain yourself, and tell them of Carinda

Tetreus is a tool, but I see no reason to fear or mistrust knights more broadly.

>>5190743
>> Walk out of your hiding spot. Explain that you hid yourself as you thought they might have been bandits. Tell them about Carinda.
Probably here to deal with whatever is in the mines. Or just passing through. Either way no reason to make them more suspicious

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> Update later today :)

You cleared your throat aloud and then revealed yourself to the men-at-arms. Not unexpectedly, they turned to face you when you walked out of hiding; Eudor reached for the handgrip, abruptly stopping prematurely.

You kept them at a distance, raising your hands and offering both, and the third knight just in case he could see you, a nod. “Hello,” you said, your voice seeped by uncertainty. You answered the questions you spoke too soon for them to ask. “My name is Julian. I camped here through the night. I thought you were bandits—or worse—so I got rid of the fire and hid myself.” Softly, you rubbed your forehead with your palm. “I’m happy to see that it was you, men-at-arms, it's not often one sees you here!”

Eudor tightly grasped the reins, angling himself forward, “Are you here on your own, Julian?” He wasn’t convinced.

You shook your head. Watching the knights with an unbreakable gaze—shifting from one of them to another—you closed to where your master slept. You caressed the sentient-moss, bothering it to awaken. Without words, it grabbed into your wrist and glid up further over your arm, hanging off your neck like a loose cowl. Carinda’s slumbering body was left unsheltered, the sentient-moss-on-neck pulling with it the grass you added to hide her additionally.

It was hard to discern the man’s expression beneath the thick iron helm. “Well, I’ll be darned, a sleeping dwarf.”

Carinda yawned. The second man-at-arms yawned too, with his helm echoing the insomniac cry. He let go of the reins with one of his hands, pulling the sides of the helmet downwards: it was doubtful he could pull it any lower. “I can’t say I’m not jealous of her. I wish I could sleep as carefree.” He returned his hands on the reins, “Is she an appointed?”

Like the two before him, Eudor mirrored them with a long mocking yawn. “Of course she is, Prissus. Do you think you’ll just stumble on a sleeping diplomat here” —he rolled his head— “in the middle of nowhere? This must be where Tetreus went to.”

Prissus didn’t exhibit any reaction to the banter of his co-knight. The third knight, and the child squires, stayed away at a distance. Grunting, he continued to vainly turn his helmet to adjust and fit it. “If Tetreus is around here somewhere, I wouldn’t mind him taking care of the thing we were called here to dealt with. Maybe he did. Boy, have you seen him around?”

> Tell the knights in detail the relationship between you and Carinda, and your current journey to make the masterpiece.
> Tell the knights what you remember about the monster-in-the-mines.
> Ask the knights if they had met and dealt with dwarf-appointed before?
> Tell the knights about Tetreus’ incursion, his current “duty”, his journey with you, and where he is right now.
> Ask the knights about Tetreus’ squire. Does he have one? Perhaps they know the reason they didn’t accompany him.
> [Write In]

> Please pick two or less.

>>5191971
>Scoff, and tell them that Tetreus not only did not deal with the monster-in-the-mines, but actively rejected calls to aid the poor people it affected
>Tell them where he is, but ask that they not tell him that they found you resting -- explain that he has been an active detriment, in many regards, to your efforts to finish a masterpiece and yours and Carinda's duty to The King

>>5192014
> If you send them to the swamp, especially inside of it, Tetreus is sure to know you or Carinda send them, as there's no other way they would just stumble that far off road.

>>5191971
> Tell the knights about Tetreus’ incursion, his current “duty”, his journey with you, and where he is right now.
> Tell the knights what you remember about the monster-in-the-mines.
>>5192014
As much as I think he is a tool, he is still the king's rep., slagging him off to his peers might not be the best display of character.

> I'll be honest, I need a second comment from w6sbw3Lr or a third opinion. I'll wait until then.

>>5192562
>>5192316
>>5192014
As long as we in some way communicate our distaste for Tetreus and disapproval for how he's been handling (or not handling) his duties, I can support >>5192316

You bit your lip, barely holding yourself from grinding your teeth.

“The reason we are here is to gather the resources I need to finish it: I’m making something complex. He said he was going to follow and watch me through all the way. He did -nothing- but follow me. Almost … ” You clutched the bridge above your nose: you wished to cover the pretentious knight in insults, yet you somehow knew it would be of little value. You chewed his name, “Tetreus said his one and only mission here was to ‘judge my masterpiece’.” You pointed to where the mining-town supposed to be, “We were in the town you are going to, the ‘Quarry’, and I know the request they made for you, and I heard about the monster-in-the-mines. So did King’s Representative Tetreus. But when they asked him to help, he rejected their plea. He refused to help them!”

With a grunt, Prissus finally let go of the sides of his helmet. “That does sound like Tetreus,” he paused as if studying over the thing you said. “If he said he was going to follow you, then where is he now?” you saw the orange glint beneath his helmet’s visor.

“It’s a long story … but I’ll make it short,” your lips barely rose. “I just want to mention that even -I- needed an ore from the mines of the Quarry, and until the beast inside was dealt with, I couldn’t get it. And even -that- did not convince him to help.”

You glanced at Carinda: your master was quietly repeating after you and the king’s men. You exhaled into your interlocked hands. “So, there is a nasty swamp not far from here; about an hour, or maybe even half. From there, I needed wood of a specific tree, which we got, and a stomach of a beast, which we killed. The thing was far too large to carry, so I asked him to stay and look over it while we return to the Quarry for the ore, and back.”

“It sounds like he did as you asked,” the knight said calmly; he was now fiddling with his gauntlet.

“So -you- are one of those darn they call a dwarfsmith in the king-towns! No, ‘dwarfsmith’ does not sound right.”

“They do call them dwarfsmiths,” Prissus corrected, but Eudor was lost in his thoughts. “It makes sense, why a dwarf is here, and why you are here as well. We didn’t know Tetreus was going to be here, but from what I understand, he originally was not supposed to travel to the town we are going to now. He has free reign as King’s Representative.” he yawned.

You scoffed, “Is it such a big deal that he can do whatever he wants?”

He worked with each of the gauntlet’s clamouring fingers. “Essentially. You carry the title for the duration of tasks, or rarely, many tasks; ones of vital importance to the kingdom,” there was no ambition in his voice. “Investigating an apprentice of a dwarf Appointed is one of those tasks, although it is taking longer than usual because you are still working on your … thing.” He shrugged his shoulders, pausing. He turned to fix the pauldrons. “Must be a grand thing .”

You decided against saying more about Carinda’s future beard bead. “Are you not upset that Tetreus refused to deal with the beast when he could? He’d help me, help the miners, and you wouldn’t have to deal with it right now.”

“We were tasked to deal with it, and he’s a ‘King’s Representative’, so there’s no point of being upset.”

“It's not dwarfsmiths” —Eudor shook his head— “but nevermind. They did tell you your responsibilities, right?”

“Somewhat … a little,” you shrug. “I will either get an apprentice myself or will become a master in a lord-town.”

Eudor laughed, “I hope you really learnt to enjoy smithing, Julian.” You stared at the man, what was he implying?

“If Kleon heard anything the boy said about Tetreus, he’ll want to go and meet him before we go to deal with the problem in the mines, and I’d rather not …” He told Eudor. The last sentence, he whispered, “I wish I had a smart squire who could fit my armour the way it is -suppose- to be fit. Every day, it needs to be refashioned.”

You heard him, and so did Eudor. “It’s not poor Petronia’s fault, Prissus. The way your body and bones are, they might as well be jelly.” He looked at you with a devious glitter in his eyes, “Maybe once the boy is smithing for the crown, you can ask him to make you an armour that’ll finally fit you, using those dwarven secrets of his.”

“And I am telling you, the armour is just fine. If we change the squires even for a day, you’ll see …”

“You know his mother will not forgive me if we do that,” Eudor said, half-jokingly. He turned his head to the three squires, and the one they called Kleon. He put one of his iron fingers to his visor and looked back at you; it was comical. “As for Tetreus, I agree; let’s keep it a secret for a while. And don’t let Kleon hear you complaining about him, the two are ‘friends’. We aren’t friends, we’re shifted around for every new task that’s needed. I do consider you a friend though, Prissus, a half-friend.”

“And so do I,” Prissus said as if completing Eudor’s sentence. Without a wink, he followed, “You said you heard about this ‘mine-monster’, boy. What can you tell us?”

You told them all you knew, and what you remember from the miners’ hearsay. About how deep it dwelt in the new-lower levels of the mine. About the shadowy-spider shape it took, and the hostile uncanny way it reacted to the fire of the torches. You mentioned how many it killed, and the last survivor.

Both listened with silent intent. Eudor leaned back, watching over the sunless sky. “Another one of -those- missions.” He shook his head before you could ask. “No, we don’t deal with mine-beasts every Thursday, but hostile monstrosities are one-third of our work. We’ll deal with it quickly.”

“As you said, it’s nothing we haven’t dealt with before. It might not be as horrible as the miner described. Perhaps it was just a collapse, and he imagined the rest. It is too early to be on edge.”

Eudor pulled the reins to pull his horse closer to Carinda, “Although, if you too need to go to the mines, how about she and you join us? Considering the fact that she’s a dwarf, she could be of great assistance.” He was looking at her too close for your liking. “She is a bit injured, isn’t she … ?”

You nodded, “In the last few days we fought a giant bear, a giant sentient tree, and a giant swamp beast,” you rose your left arm, the bandages Eryn put were rugged and dirty, “you’ll get a few injuries after all of that.”

Prissus mocked, “Are you just adding ‘giant’ for the sake of it? You don’t need to-”

“No! They were -big-, you can ask Tetreus. As for Carinda, it’s up to her, and she is sleeping right now. I can’t move until she wakes up, knights.”

“You could just wake her up?” Eudor suggested.

“I can’t, my master is a heavy sleeper. She only wakes up when she’s rested.”

Prissus meddlesome looked at your master, “ … Is that a dwarf thing?”

> “Yes, all dwarfs are like this, so there’s no point trying to disturb their sleep.
> “No, it’s just my master.”
> “I’ll point you again towards the Quarry. You can continue first, and we’ll be there by the time you’ve dealt with it—hopefully.”
> “If you want, you can wait here, a few more hours, and we can continue to travel together.”
> “If you want, you can wait here—a few more hours—and we can go to the town together. However, I am against my master going to the mines in the state that she is. -I- will go with you.”
> [Write In]

>>5192830
> I hope that's enough distaste.

>>5193418
It is

>>5193397
>“I'm not sure, but I think it’s just my master.”
>“If you want, you can wait here, a few more hours, and we can continue to travel together.”

> I should probably archive this thread? Sorry. There won't be an update today. I promise I'm not going into one-update-per-two-days schedule, just been feeling off the last few days. I was hoping to finish it by now. Thanks for playing along with every post, anons.

>>5194235
Archiving probably isn't a bad idea. Don't sweat the schedule: you've been doing pretty darn good, QM. Thanks for running, and for not flaking. very invested in this one!

“I’m not sure, but I think it’s just my master.” The dwarven kingdom would be rather defenceless with her sleeping schedule. You kept your eyes upon Carinda’s noticeably blatant injuries: the risk would be far too big for her to go into the mines. “It is my master’s decision whether to join you or not,” you said, “if you want, you can wait here ... a few more hours, and we can continue to travel together following that.”

Eudor turned his eyes to Prissus, as if asking for his opinion. The other man shook his head, “As much as I would like to just stay here and rest some more, we already spend a whole night doing just that, and also, almost a week travelling here. She’s injured, so she might not even be that much of a help.”

You huffed; he was right, but you didn't like him saying it. Prissus yawned, diverging his warhorse.

“It’s your loss—shouldn’t have got injured, Julian,” a low chuckle echoed from the holes of Eudor’s helm. He followed his companion, pulling the reins to turn away from you and your master. The knight paused for a moment in rumination, nudging his head back, “According to you, you dealt with enough ‘monsters’ just today to last you a lifetime. Don’t feel bad, we’ll handle it ourselves!”

Your glance fell on the larger group in the background, and then back to the two men-at-arms. You courtesied a nod, “If we do catch up, and my master feels like helping you out, we will convene again.”

*** *** ***

Following their departure, you returned to your master’s side to clean her off any dirt and soil. You felt uncomfortably chilly, but not cold enough to need to recreate the bonfire. It was Carinda who made it yesterday night; the morning dew of the day would’ve made it more difficult to start anew.

“We were silent. We contemplated talking, but we didn’t know what to say to those human men. We thought they looked important, we would only scare them. We tell you this now, human child, we won’t be the dwarf’s ‘blanket’ again. We did not mind. They were going into something called a mine?”

You led your hand to caress the leafy stalks of your companion—only just. “You would’ve scared them, for sure. Then, I’m certain, at least one of them would’ve been thrilled to learn more. I would’ve had to explain about you, about the pollen, about the sentient trees—far too much hassle.”

Sentient-moss-on-neck made a sound closely resembling a chuckle. “We did well. We did well.”

Before you could decide between complimenting the moss or leaving it without, you heard a loud trembling noise from where your waggon stood. You rushed behind the slim shadow of the overhanging megalith. A relieving exhale left your lungs: nobody was around the waggon, trying to plunder or steal it. Yet, the noise turned more cacophonous the closer you came to it…

You slam-opened the doors to look over the insides, peering through the cut twisted black branches. The handle, left undisturbed for the night, was now shaking—practically screeching—like a ghost.

“Oh,” your eyes feel on the axe-haft. You kept your hands far away from it, sitting on your thighs.

“Do not ‘Oh’ me, you!” it rumbled, scrapping the floor with its iron, “You left me here, and I don’t trust you.”

“There was no other way to transport you,” you dismissed its complaints, “I am listening: what do you need?”

The etched flowers weren't there, instead, the haft’s surface reformed into beautiful engravings of another, twin axe, and pointing arrows (they too, had many inscriptions). “Another part of my being was used by you to crudely carve an ‘axe’ just like me. I saw it—I felt its pain—it is here. Give it conscious, and do the same for it!”

> Maybe it’ll be less of an ass with a “friends” of its own. “Very well.”
> “I don’t have any pollen left to do that.”
> “The tree is not sentient either, did you not think that’s going to be a problem?”
> “No, I need a proper axe, one that won’t threaten to cut my arms if I try and use it.”
> “I promised to return you to the tree I took you from. I made no other promises.”
> [Write In]

> Will be last post in this thread.

>>5195429
>I need a proper axe, and I didn't promise you anything else anyway

>>5196133
>>5196133
>>5196133