I lean toward Oggie. "Hey, so the innkeeper here is a good person, definitely not worth killing. She fed me well, and resents the soldiers who attacked Anglefork. So... let's not be rash." Then I enter the inn to see about getting some rooms.
Oggie continues to grin as you enter single file through the door. The doctor follows along at the back, hoping perhaps to intercept any kind of undesirable behavior on your odd companion's part.
The place seems much the way you left it. The hearth hasn't been lit though, and nobody seems to be in presently. The proprietor snaps suddenly to attention as the three of you enter, looking equal parts surprised and delighted at this sudden visitation. She rises from the stool by the counter and starts walking in your direction. When she notices it's you again, she tilts her head. Then she sees the much more immediately distressing sight that is your twisted friend. Taking all of this together, her reaction is an entirely sensible mixture of puzzlement and sense of impending doom as Oggie gives her a penetrating stare.
[A Trail of Broken Necks: 3]
She knows this one, Oggie rumbles in your direction. Worked here once under the innkeeper. Weary, but unbroken. The rebellion has worked out for her. She has the face of an eager collaborator, and the hands of one who held the knife. She would not call it murder - revenge, possibly. Oggie would hope to repay her in the same fashion - such betrayal should be punished most severely.
What
is that thing, the proprietor asks you sharply. Why did you come back here? You were going south, she narrows her eyes, did something happen on the way? And who is that woman you have brought with you, is she-
[A Place To Stay The Night: 3]
Oh, you fake a laugh, don't mind them. This is doctor, uh, the good doctor, yeah. She's cool. And that over there is Oggie, she's perfectly all right in her own unusual kind of way, don't mind the weird troglodytic adaptations, she's a very well-behaved woman in her own right, yes ma'am. You've been traveling! Up and down and in some other directions, you nod. It'd take a while to get the exact details across, suffice to say that things haven't gone as planned and you'd really like to get a place to stay for the evening. The roads aren't a place to be out on at night, you've discovered.
The stoatwoman scans the three of you suspiciously. There is room. But on one, no, two conditions - first of all, you pay in advance. Secondly, that thing, she indicates Oggie, that thing has to stay outside. She doesn't like the way it's looking at her.
The murderer does not like her, Oggie growls. Good. She smells her own death.
"By donation, do you mean of money or just helping you guys out? I can do either, I've got time."
Do the chefs want help? I've got pretty much the ultimate knife, after all.
Helping out? You are very kind to offer such a thing. They have just the series of delicate yet physically demanding jobs for you. First of all, there is the matter of the horse, just out back over there.
[Stay Out Of The Kitchen: 6]
You never thought taking care of a horse could be this easy, you say as you walk back in a minute later with several hundred pounds of meat on your back. To your credit, the cook says, that absolutely is an excellent thought-knife you have. It's great to have a skilled pair of hands around! Nothing goes to waste!
You spend the next half hour or so with a curious device in one of the corners of the kitchen. It smells intensely of ether, the fumes going to your head readily as you work. You're apparently quite good at this as well, swapping cultures of maggots and what seem to be bacteria around quite easily, picking out certain lovely strains by minute discolorations as a cook stands by and eagerly explains the fundamentals of his art, relishing in the attention.
That done, you deposit four select cultures into the horseflesh you harvested as one of the cooks sets up some incense for the right sort of ambiance and the other lights a few candles. One culture deposits salt, another desiccates. A third seems to be a kind of pyrogenic breed of creature, its gestation time finely tuned by long-standing culinary entomology practices. The fourth, naturally, is just for flavor. And once that's done, into the oven it goes for a bit - worry not, good sir, these things are very nicely optimized to produce results quickly. Alchemy has nothing on this, the cook taps his nose in good humor.
The next hour or so is spent preparing canapes. Apparently everyone loves those. The murder-thought seems awfully delighted with the notion of dicing various assemblages of flesh and bread into the tiny edible bits. You prepare the snack plates in such record speed that the cooks give you a standing ovation. They could almost hear the food scream as you did it, always a good sign that you're doing things the proper way! Speaking of, there's a bit of a whine in the air. Go and check the oven, will you?
You check the several hundred pounds of horseflesh incubating in there under several hundred degrees, opening the oven door an inch or two. Something slams against the inside of it and nearly pours out before you push it shut again. Yes, one of the cooks laughs, that does happen sometimes! You think this is a good way to haze an apprentice, perhaps? They've been experimenting with a few methods in case the captain gives them one or two to play around with. Anyway, the cheese plates!
Cheese seems worth bringing your A-game out for, so you go buck wild here. Cheese roses, one of the cooks says, how charming! And is that a cheese carnation? And... grapes? Sculpted from milky soft cheese? Genius! At some point the two of them just stop speaking and watch you work at it, fashioning a variety of edibles from cheese until you've made a cheese bouquet, a cheese fruit plate, a cheese bowl of cheese cereal and a cheese diorama of a ship (the last one might be a bit much, they admit, but they nevertheless admire the potential for precise work a thought-guided knife affords).
There is another slam at the oven and a muffled shriek. Haha, says the cook, it's still going! How long has it been? The other cook purses his lips - an hour, wait no, two hours! A little too long for it to still be going like that, the first cook notes. Do check that out, good fellow!
You look inside the oven, and a human-sized roll of horse bacon smashes into the door again. Aha, one of the cooks says, looks like you got the whole juggler out of the deal! The other one has a paroxysm of laughter. Better wrangle it good, they say! That kind of attitude from your food is not to be engendered by any means!
[I Have No Mouth And I Must Scream: 2+1+1 vs. 6]
You grab onto the juggler in the oven. You did not count on several things as you did so. Firstly, the larval cultures inside it appear to have coated its outer bits with a thick layer of some kind of oily substance, presumably for climate control as it appears to be currently locked into a boiling temperature. This leads into the second thing, which is that you've just thrust your hands into a boiling mass of horseflesh (and not the water kind of boiling, this is at least a hundred degrees higher). And thirdly, whatever this has turned into, it's got a hell of a full-body bite as it snaps around your hand and breaks it very suddenly in half before launching itself straight out of the oven and onto the floor, where it leaves a large oily splat before surging in a random direction.
[Can't Take The Heat: 5]
Probability is rather fortunately against it as it slams into a stone wall and for a moment becomes terribly indecisive, wiggling every which way formlessly. The cooks continue to be endlessly amused at all of this. Though they have stepped well away and even jumped up on tables just in case.
Thomas sighed. This was getting annoying. "Gentlemen, I have no quarrel with you. That said, my friends and I are going up this ridge. Leave us be and you'll never see us again. Fighting is pointless; there are twice your number coming behind me. Just leave us alone." He kept the sword at the ready.
Roll for intimidate.
[There's A Million Things You'd Rather Do: 1]
They spring from the underbrush as you take notice of them, and look between each other as you try to make a sensible case for solving this peacefully. It's true, you command vast and probably infernal power they could not hope and do not even want to comprehend. You are about to be backed up by many more of your associates. This probably won't end well for any of them.
Nevertheless, there's seven of them and one of you right now. In lieu of any other advantages and in the face of horrible doom, well, at least you won't be able to say they did not try. They lift up their spears and charge!
[Battle At The Big Ridge: 5 vs. 3]
They're not trained fighters by any means. Neither are you, truth be told, but there's something to be said about having your back to a 150-foot drop and a sword of unclear length and power in your hand. As they charge forward desperately, you draw and swing with a flash of uniform gray that parts their numbers in half as they turn aside at the last moment and go past you as you try to follow through with a timely set of steps.
Distasteful and familiar, one can't help but whisper in complaint. Fodder, the lot of them.
[Mastery of the Field: 3]
You turn around confidently after the skirmish, sword ready by your side as you prepare to ward off another assault. There's only five now left. They look at each other again in increasing panic, having traded places with you in the exchange as you seem to have cut a path straight through them as if they weren't there to begin with. Your breathing feels controlled, and you feel oddly on top of things despite just being the would-be victim of a 7-man desperate charge.
You do hear others coming, however, the bushes shaking as others quicken their pace, the clatter of spears being passed around and readied.
Dispense some wisdom now that I'm suitably drunk and on good mood.
"Resounding success! Now, Lee, words of wisdom: I know you don't seem to have very high opinion of your bro, but his plan worked despite of his doubts. Give him some credit. I must admit I helped along a little bit, but the outcome was inevitable from the moment we found him. And when I say inevitable, I truly mean it." Leif says, trying his best to sound wise. "Denying one's self and potential of others is not a good thing in long run. You grow as a person if you accept yourself with all your faults and strengths, and you support growth of others by accepting that they can be more that they appear. Because appearances are like clothes we wear, hiding our insecurities and fears. Forcing change results only fractures, so do not try to force it either. With these seeds of wisdom planted in your mind I must now depart to... somewhere important, I'm sure. Say Morag, wanna find that perfect beer I made and lost and taste wisdom of the ultimate wine?"
Embark on another quest of discovery if I can get company.
Well, Lee just left to get changed with May, which does leave you, Earnest, Morag and Bruce just hanging out around here. Bruce seems to get rather talkative as he stumbles to his feet. The extreme round of vomiting back there, he says in a weak voice, that was... a cunning distraction, yeah.
He didn't need a cunning distraction, Earnest chides him, Lee just went and asked May about her robe and that solved the problem!
So what he's saying, Bruce furrows his brow, is that he went and got alcohol poisoning to make sure this worked and it wasn't actually- he is about to say more, but is cut off by another round of extreme purging. You pat him on the back reassuringly as Lee comes back, still stone-faced and distinctly unimpressed. You figure it's time for a speech to celebrate your success!
[Speaking Words Of Wisdom: 3]
Lee merely stares at you impassively as you relate your wisdom to her, Earnest oscillating between side-eying you awkwardly and glancing at her, Morag producing exactly one tear from her eye as she listens more to the sound of your voice than what you're actually saying. Well said, Morag compliments a little too soon after you're done, now you were saying something about booze!
Words of wisdom, Lee responds to you, do not presume you know something about her brother that she does not. You have known him for two hours, she has known him all his life. And now that this debacle is done, she will be leaving now. Only so much of you that she can take.
Yeah, uh, Earnest says, he'll be going as well. He was thinking about getting lunch and, hey, he tries to bravely segue, does Lee have any lunch plans? Lee looks at him uncomprehendingly for a moment. No, she legitimately does not. Maybe they could have lunch together then, Earnest ventures to say, and leave these two to, like, whatever nonsense they were doing. Out of sight, out of mind. She meant she was not planning on having lunch, Lee corrects. There is something else she has to do. Earnest sinks a little in response to this - oh. Oh well. He'll just go have lunch on his own then.
Bruce shuffles up, wiping the last flecks of sick from himself, he'll take that lunch invitation! He kind of went and lost his in advance. Earnest gives him a withering glare - oh piss off already, Bruce. He's had just about enough of all this weird crap. He shakes his head, and you notice Lee smile just a little bit before she walks off, Earnest vacating the area in a different direction. Bruce, not to be denied, crawls after Earnest.
That leaves you and Morag, sitting next to the gorge. Ideal booze, she says thoughtfully. Sounds like a dream. Maybe a memory. You sure you didn't just imagine something like that again? She gets the feeling you might be the kinda guy who occasionally doesn't differentiate very well.
Leif Erikson, Miner and Lush
- Sealed alchemist's brass box
- Half-basket of apple-like mushrooms (hallucinogenic)
- Paper party crown (worn)
- Moth-robe (worn)
- Itchy Woolen Britches (worn)
- A Word: INEVITABLE
- A Word: APOCALYPSE
- A Word: DRINK
- Body Count: 228
- Mead of Poetry (4 shining revelations remaining)
- Enders' Friend: The Grave of Red Clouds Parting
- Inscribed Wooden Stylus
- Iron spear
- 1.03 gp
- The Box: ?
- Induced Lucidity: A Map of Things Real and Imagined
- Compatibility: Minding
- Tricks of the Mind: Perception, Memory
- Tricks of the Mind: Engagement, Negation, Abstraction, Prestige
- Tricks of the Mind: the Self, the Other
- Gods of the Underground: Did You Just What
- A Visit From The Stork: Is What You Yes
- The Voracious Dark: Two Deals Made
- The Voracious Dark: The Promised Sixth
- Moth's Flight: Honorary Clansman
- A Night That Burns Forever: Juicy Gossip
- The Miracle of Life: Wayward Rabbit
Eileen Minett, Vinyl Collector
- Wounds: 1
- Traces of Mischief: Plasma Scars
- Distilled alcohol (in flask)
- Spirits of salt (in clay jar)
- Soaps of elk, bear, bat and snake
- 4 flasks of lamp oil
- Oil lamp (lit)
- Linen stoat shirt (worn, plasma-scorched)
- Stoat trousers (worn)
- Comfy slippers (worn)
- Never-made scimitar (blackened, slightly dull)
- Tooth-handled hunting knife
- Black leather boots
- An assemblage of amber and amethysts
- Silver thread-necklace
- Onyx spiral earrings
- 2 oaken rings
- Rusty, bloodstained knife
- A Word: HUNGER
- A Word: SYNTHESIS
- A Weapon: Explosive Cysts
- Grenade Jumping: A Solid Technique
- The Good Doctor: Secret Histories
- Sword of the Sand People: Cleaning Supplies
- Sword of the Sand People: The Services of a Minder
- Higher Tonight: There And Back Again
- The Old Mistress: Like A House On Fire
Jack Daniels, Karate Man
- Wounds: 1
- Red and gold vest and breeches combo (worn)
- Leather boots (worn)
- Rubber mattress (filled with water)
- 14031 gp (in sack)
- Poor Unfortunate Soul: Forever Captive
- The Queen's Guard: Actual Asset
- Powers of the Beyond: Gardener of Thoughts
- Garden of Thoughts: the Stoat-Magistrate
- Dusty Wooden Speaking-Trumpet
- Crossbow Bolt (in throat)
- A Word: REND
- A Word: SILENCE
- A Word: EXECRABLE
- A Weapon: Murder-Thought
- Uncoupled: Strength
- Wooden Door
- Induced Lucidity: The Silent Garden
- Elongated Affairs: Enemy of the New State
- A Place In History: Vastly Unreliable
- 2 rats, crushed
- 1 rat, strangled
- 1 rat, live
- Doomstones: So High Up But Such A Bitter View
- The Majordomo: A Great Divide Between Us Now
- The Voracious Dark: Decreasing Demand
- The Voracious Dark: More Specific Requests
- The Vault of Heavens: Special Treatment
- Scars of Time: Practiced Acquaintance
- The Night Sky: A Useful Fellow Is He
- Petty Crimes: Minded For Safety
- Fires, Pines & Day, Minions At Law: On Retainer
- Body Count: 3
Thomas Minstep, Insurance Agent
- Wounds: 2
- A Word: ABSENCE
- A Word: GOODBYE
- A Word: WORM
- A Weapon: The Sword They Fear
- Insurance contracts, signed in triplicate: 13
- Gamble
- Nobody Cares
- Helen Clampitt
- Lily
- Undine and Prosper Eke
- Silver
- Tabernacle, treefisher scout
- Treefisher elder
- 4 treefishers
- Make A Man Out Of You: Battle-Tested
- The Grip of Tharn: Insurance Against The Storm
- Ranging fork
- 2 feet of sinew-thread
- Tooth-needle
- A Bowl, Black and Knobby
- Tight Leather Pants (worn)
- Incredibly Tight Blue Dress (worn, mutilated, mildly provocative)
- The Queen's Guard: A Reward Well Earned
- The New Queen: Lasting Gratitude
- The Box: Absolutely Delightful
- Bloody Well Kicked Off: An Existential Threat
- Body Count: 5
Oscar Wilde, Chemistry Teacher
- The Mind, It Goes A-Wandering: 1
- A Word: REVELATION
- The Wicked King's Missive On Economic Reform (in massive silver scroll case)
- Wounds: 1
- Traces of Mischief: Glowing Facial Rift
- The Serpent's Egg: Dissemination
- Body Count: 4
- Cornerstone Helm (worn, collecting light)
- Time-ender's measure (wrapped, processing? stopping?)
- 10 m of rope
- Half a candle
- 1 rat, skinless and smoked
- 6 gp
- Poor Misshapen Dice
- Lock of Hair (unidentified)
- Iron nail, unused
- An Inauspicious Key
- Burlap Foot Wrappings (worn)
- Burlap Hand Wrappings (worn)
- Moth-Eaten Hat (worn)
- Respectable Brown Skirt (worn)
- Old Brown Waistcoat (worn)
- Bright Yellow Tunic (worn)
- A Wealth of Burlap Ribbons
- The Winding Path of Inspiration: The Less Dangerous Friend
- The King's Court: The Greatest Gift of All
- The King's Court: The North Wind's Gift
- The King's Court: The East Wind's Gift
- The King's Court: The South Wind's Gift
- The King's Court: The West Wind's Gift
- The King's Court: A Gift For The Wicked King
- Wizzards Bargins: A Spool of Copper Wire
- Wizzards Bargins: A Roll of Your Finest Sticky Tape
- Wizzards Bargins: A Hunk of Exquisite Graphite
Author
Topic: Our Salvation: It Is Written (Read 244084 times)