RE: Animated Quest 3

“Listening for breathing, my dear child!” you respond. “Now if you’ll give me a moment.”

One, two, three. One two three. You fall deep into concentration, trying to pick out the subtlest motion, the most meager rasp of wind flowing through organic pipes. Perhaps gorgons don’t have the same anatomy as humans, it occurs to you. Maybe they function off a completely different system altogether, but if there’s one thing a bard must have, it’s an impeccable ear. And like a well-trained hound, you find it: thump-thump goes her heart, pumping a dull and sluggish rhythm beneath the gentle rasp of her shallow breaths.

“She’s alive!” you shout triumphantly, feeling yourself smile from ear to ear as the relief sets in (though being a skeleton that doesn’t amount to much). “My dear girl, your mother is alive.”

“Ssso, Mama’s gonna be okay?” she asks pleadingly, and it’s at that moment you realize the battle is far from won.

“Never fear, young Cecilia,” you assure her. “I just need a moment to check on her a bit more.”

Your eyes briefly scan her form, now looking for the source of her condition’s suddenly downward spiral. Unfortunately, it doesn’t take long. You had been reasonably distracted during the course of yesterday’s proceedings but you had known the color of the bandages when they went on. Now, however, pristine white has turned to tones of red and black, the thick wrap around her serpentine half soaking into the mattress beneath.

The sight would no doubt turn your stomach, if you had one, but the source of the trouble is at least now evident. Her wound had opened wide at some point during the night, and her condition will likely not improve until that is taken care of. Unfortunately, you had not been a man of medicine in life, but nevertheless, you owe it to those pleading eyes to try to think of something.

> What do you do now?
> [] Ask the child. About what?
> [] Try stitching the wound yourself. Very risky (1d100)

>[] Ask the child. About what?
Does Cecilia know if her mother kept any healing potions for emergencies?
Does Cecilia know anyone in the lizardman village?
Does she know if they have a healer or druid?

Rolled 84 (1d100)

>[] Try stitching the wound yourself. Very risky (1d100)

>> [] Ask the child. About what?
>Nearby settlements with adept healers.

>be a cleric able to channel positive energy
>attack an innocent mother in front of her child
>get called on your murderhobo-ness
>use bandages instead of a simple heal spell to at least close the wound
Man, even when he's not trying human priests are assholes.

I dunno, man. Sure, that's a good roll. But what if the DC is 90?
It's a very risky choice, after all.

Well, someone else has to vote, though. Also, couldn't it be temporary until we get a healer?

You briefly consider stitching the wound yourself. Steady hands, needle, and thread, you have at least one of those, but the rest… It could get messy. You don’t know where her veins are. What you need is a doctor.

“All is well,” you assure the miserable girl after a moment, running a hand through the bronze serpents whipping around her scalp in what you hope is a reassuring fashion. “Your mother will be fine. I’ve seen people survive much worse. After all, just look at me!”

*Rattle-Rattle*

“I dun wan’ Mama to be a skeleton!” she sobs weakly. “I want her to be Mama. I… I…”

“Shhh…” you whisper, wiping away a newly formed tear from her face. “We just need to find her a doctor, my dear, and she’ll be right as rain again. Your mama needs you to be a big girl now and help me help her. So tell me, did she ever take you somewhere when you were sick or got hurt in an accident? Do you have any family or friends she visits occasionally?”

A long pause follows as the small girl tries to collect herself, more weeping and eye wiping and desperate attempts at catching her breath before she finally seems to settle down enough to speak.

“Auntie Sssasha m-might know…” she finally croaks out. “But she lives really far away…”

“How far?” you ask gently. “I may not look it, but I am a fast runner.”

“She lives in the forest…” she sniffles quietly as the rattle dies in her voice. “With the other lizards. Mama took me to visit one day an’ we didn’t get there till –really- late. She wanted to go to the human people instead, but she said…” She swallows hard. “Mama sssaid ssshe didn’t wanna cuz we’d make ‘em scared, and people don’t like being scared ssso we-“

“Shhh,” you coo, running your hand through her hair again. “None of that. We’ll figure something out.”

> The question is what.

Where are the bone rattling humor at child.
>Start getting preddy spoopy

Okay, we can't move Cassandra.
So we'll need to run to get to Sasha (is there supposed to be a hiss in there?).
Wait, what about our adventuring party?
They likely didn't make it; were any of them carrying healing potions that might have survived?
We need to go and check, and maybe try to rouse some of the other skeletons to help us in excavating that area.

>Ask her if the human people are closer than Aunt Sasha
>If so, get a heavy cloak and a white flag. Time to go retrieve us a doctor.

Ask her to show us her genitals.
youtube.com/watch?v=qqXi8WmQ_WM

>Expecting help from the humans
>When we're a undead
>And the patient is a Gorgon
It's like you've never uncaring and mean humans are, and how unwilling they are to change their views Desu Baka

We need to
>A.Search the dungeon if there's any potions to be found just lying around, it's in a dungeon!

>expecting help from the humans
>when they were the ones who sent an adventuring party to kill the gorgon and her daughter, knowing full well they were innocent
Really? You think that's going to help the situation?

Whoops, forgot >B.Pray to the god(s) of kindness, mercy, and healing, see if we can't bum a heal.

If neither of those two things work, then we need to >C.Wrap the wound as best we can, cinch it tight to keep the bloodloss down, then run like the fucking wind for the village.

This.

Did you have any healing potions in your former life? The thought strikes the back of your mind like a brick as you bounce around possible solutions. Even now through the haze of your fragmented memory, you seem to remember that that sort of magic, the kind that mended flesh and set broken bones, was a rare thing indeed, its portable counterpart even more so. The largest cities had boasted only a few healing priests, if you recall. If nothing else, you recall the overpacked waiting room you had sat in after that damn falcon attack.

Anyway, you had scoured what you could from the room in which you found your remains, and at the rate your skeletal brethren were working, it seemed unlikely they would have had much more of that room cleared out by now. You double check just to be sure, sprinting through the halls to check chambers old and new, but are met with nothing but walls of mud and shattered stone, empty floors, and cracked cobbles.

Fortunately, that jog seems to have little effect on your patient, who still lies there motionless. Still, how much longer her condition will hold is anyone’s guess. So, it’s either the humans or the lizard folk. The closer or the further, to bring your patient or leave her here.

> What do you do?

Go to the lizard village, and leave Cassandra here after trying to redo the bandages.

We need to ask Cecillia which direction the lizard village lies.

Well, we leave. There's nothing we can do to help her, besides maybe put her out of her misery, and that's pretty horrible idea in and of itself.

We can't help the child either, considering we're both undead which means no ones likely to accept us, and foggy memoried.

We should >A.Escort the kid to the village, if we can convince her to leave that is.

Then, we should >B.Do some exploring to jog our memory, see if we don't have any inate Magic.

>Go to the lizard village and leave Cassandra here after trying to redo the bandages.

Pls no, this is a terrible idea. First, a kid isn't just going to mess up the bandages and agitate the wound further. And it's also a good way to traumatize the poor thing further. Especially if the mom dies while we're gone, which seems likely.

Then what is the better answer?

So leaving the mother to die here is the better option? You think that's not going to hit the kid just as hard?
And we already do have innate magic, we cast the light spell and went over rediscovering magic in the last thread.

Yes, leaving the mother there is the best option. We take the kid to the village, and if we aren't just driven away, send them to the cave, and move on.

That's literally the most helpful thing we can do for the both of them.

The humans weren’t going to be any help here, of that you’re fairly confident. In another life, a smile, a wink, and a couple of naughty jokes might have turned them around enough to where you could get what you wanted, but that’s a little more difficult without eyelids or lips. Maybe you could grab the priest and bring him back here to help, maybe throw on a disguise, but one slip-up and you’d be gutless before a mob.

“Can you remember the way to the village?” you ask Cecelia, to which you get a tiny, not-overly confident nod. “Then I think we’re going to go there and try to get help. Just wait outside while I tighten your mother’s bandages.”

The girl scampers away quickly as you set to work trying to find the seam that’ll let you unwrap her to wrap her tight again. The whole experience is rather nerve-wracking and nauseating, feeling the pull of dried blood as you tighten the soiled bandages back over her wounds, a feat far easier when she isn’t thrashing like a demon. At any rate, it’s the best you can do for now.

So with a couple more tugs to make sure the bandages are tight, you exit, strap on your sword and cane, doff your beaten hat and look to Cecelia.

“Well, my dear, lead the way.”

To your surprise, as though remembering something, she immediately runs back into her mother’s room followed by the clatter of a chest being opened and items being ruffled. After a few moments, she steps back out in a small traveling cloak with boots on her feet and a small bag in hand.

“Mama said, to take this if anything happened,” she says and you here the rattle of a small amount of coins. “To Auntie Sasha, cuz she’d know what to do.”

“A smart woman,” you say. “Well, then let’s be on our way.”

“This way, Mr. Bones!” she pipes up, taking a deep breath running for the door. “We gotta hurry.”

We're a goddamn Bard skeleton with a fondness for skelepuns.
We pick that Bitch up with our CHARM and DETERMINATION and we run our bony-ass to the lizard village like a Kenyan at an Aryan Convention with the Lady and her daughter.

More incoming. Longer update.

Oh, good. If she has a cloak, then she can put it on our back.
It'll be more comfortable for her as we carry her that way.

Dammit

So, for the first time in your undead life, you head out into the world beyond the dungeon, eyes flashing painfully as the warm light of the sun beats down on top of you, piercing into your bones.

The sea of light beckons…

And you tell it to shut it. Now isn’t the time for that, not when there are concerns in the world of the living that need to be attended to. You force yourself to stand up straight, to look in front of you and- A sea of graves lies before you, far as the eye can see. Rows and rows of grey wardens lie against a field of green grass through which the small child now runs, skirting toward the tree line and in the exact opposite direction of human fields you can see far off in the distance.

“Hurry up!” she calls.

You shake your head and follow, quickly catching up to her shorter strides.

It goes on like that for a little while, traveling in the morning sun beneath the veil of trees. The shade offers some relief from the lightheadedness, the darkness helping you gather your thoughts as the child follows what seem to be familiar trails like some sort of nervous bird, flitting and darting back and forth. And predictably, as with most children, that means you wind up carrying her yourself before long, the child shouting a “There Mr. Bones” or just “There” as you blast through the woods at a tireless pace.

Say what you want about your new condition, but there were at least some definite improvements. You’d never been much of an athlete if you recall correctly, but now you don’t have all of that tired meat to slow you down, no muscles to burn and sear you like acid or lungs to ache from the strain of breathing. So, you just continue to push up the throttle, to test your limits, sprinting down trails, hopping over obstacles, taking great care not to jostle your precious navigator while you are at it.

Of course, with haste can come unforeseen complications. So it comes to pass that a rocky obstruction lies in the road ahead. Thinking nothing of it, you simply plan to vault off of the top and continue on your merry way. However, something occurs to you as you soar through the sky like a skeletal bird, namely that rocks aren’t partially made of fur. You try to will yourself to stop, to hover and recede, but transmutation had never been your strong suit. So it is that with one foot you come slamming down on the grizzled hide of a most horrific looking bear, one that quickly stands with a roar at your unwelcomed intrusion, red eyes following you with a fierce intensity as you make to flee.

> What to do?
> [] Commence evasive actions! (2d100)
> [] Illusions and evasion! (2d100)
> [] Stand and fight! (2d100)
> [] Other

Rolled 98, 36 = 134 (2d100)

>> [x] Illusions and evasion! (2d100)
Can we dance our way out?

Rolled 69, 2 = 71 (2d100)

>[] Commence evasive actions! (2d100)

>> [] Illusions and evasion! (2d100)

We untouchable

Rolled 15, 61 = 76 (2d100)

>Illusions and evasions!
Mustn't let the precious cargo be harmed!

Rolled 90, 40 = 130 (2d100)

Dangit I'm bad at this.

“Well, brave Ser Lee, he ran away!”

He’s gaining on you in an instant, one lunge of those powerful black paws turning him into a hateful blur. In response you kick your foot back, getting a solid connection with a nearby oak that gets you out of the way of his second lunge.

“Bravely ran away, away!”

The third swipe tears off a chunk of a tree and eviscerates a skeletal copy of you so recently born.

“When danger reared its ugly head.
He bravely turned his tail and fled.”

In a blast of brilliance, you hurl a ball of concentrated stench down his flaring nostrils, sending the beast reeling.

“He very quickly turned about
He very bravely chickened out!”

“Brave, brave, brave, brave Sir Stanley”

You wince at using your full name, but you’d sooner the world know than break the flow of your song or your stride as you hurdle along your way, over roots and beneath branches, vaulting this time with extra care of sleeping bears.

“You sing?” comes your passenger’s question after the screaming has run out.

“Of course, my dear Cecelia,” you retort. “I am a bard, after all.”

“Does that mean Mama is a bard too?” she wonders aloud. “She sings sometimes.”
“It’s a little different, I fear,” you say while dodging an irate family of chipmunks. “See, bards… well… it just is…”

“That’s dumb,” she points out.

“Well, I can’t argue with that,” you admit. “Anyway, are we getting closer to the village?”

“Mhm,” she confirms, pointing ahead of you. “Look.”

Ahead of you, looming above the tree line, you can see a thicker copse of trees, scratch that, maybe just one huge one. You strain to wrap your head around that, but instead decide to busy yourself picking out the faint traces of houses on the trunk. Interesting, without a doubt, but not as much as the arrow that then comes pounding into the dirt by your feet.

“No move, dead thing!” comes the hissing command from the unseen tree tops. “Why you here?”

> How do you respond?

I urgently require aid, erm, well it's not for *me* it's for her mother. She's injured and I fear not long for this world.

"Good sir, I mean you no harm! I have a child with me, so if we could simply talk instead of resorting to brutish pugilism, that would make these old bones very happy.
"Do you perhaps know of my Lady, Cassandra, the gorgon who lives in the dungeon some distance from here? She has been badly injured and we are in dire need of a healer."

"I'm here to make sure that this lass' dear mother doesn't join me in the grave! Pray tell, I beg of you, please don't consider me a common knave!"

Well, I've brought this happy little lass to see her aunt! And also to tell you her mom needs immediate medical attention or she'll.. die.

“Good sir, I mean you no harm!” you answer to the tree tops. “And if you would hold your fire while I have a child in my care, it would make these old bones very happy.”

“Why dead thing have child?” it hisses back.

“She’s been my trusted navigator in a most unfortunate situation,” you call. “Do you perhaps know of my Lady Cassandra, a gorgon who lives in the dungeon some distance from here? She’s been badly injured and we are in dire need of a healer!”

A heavy thud accompanies a blue scaled lizard man jumping down from a nearby tree, axe held loosely in one hand as he comes toward you, feathered head dress adding to his intimidating bulk.

A happy hissing noise comes from behind you, melodically shifting up and down, as your passenger bounces in place.

“Uncle, it’s me, Cici!” hisses Cecelia in serpent speak.

“So it is,” laughs the large warrior. “Though you’ve come with a strange friend. Is it true what he says?”

“Momma’s hurt!” confirms Cecelia. “She needs help really soon! Is Auntie Sasha here?”

“Auntie ‘Shasa’,” he corrects is here, he confirms, “tending her garden. I’ll take you to her immediately, if you could translate for your undead friend.”

“I can speak the tongue of serpents!” you hiss back indignantly.

“Apologies,” he says, obviously taken aback. “Though truth be told I was surprised you could talk at all. No offense intended.”

“None taken,” you sigh. “Let’s just get on with it.”

“My apologies,” he begins. “It’s just-“

“And if it isn’t my little Cici!” she croons sweetly. “Why, wherever could your mother be? I seriously hope she didn’t send you with nothing but one of her bone heads to keep an eye on you. Might need to tan that little missy’s hide.”

“No, Auntie! Mama’s sick. She needs help!”

“An unfortunate run-in with the business end of some adventurer’s tools of trade,” you elaborate. “Her wounds opened during the night.”

“Jumpin' Jahosaphat! I done told her those humans weren’t going to do her any good,” she huffs before vanishing into thin air, reappearing a moment later with a cane and shawl draped over her shoulder. “Well, what’re you waiting for? Scoot! We gotta get going! Galblassa, grab Yesh, might be good to have a spare set of hands that know the pointy end of a needle from their own rump!”

We should probably run back to Cassandra with just Shasa.
And be careful of the demon bear on the way back.

Once we drop off Shasa to tend to Cassandra, we can run and pick up Yesh.

Cecilia should probably stay with Uncle Galblassa for now.

The large man trudges off, tail swinging and feathers bouncing, but no sooner is he out of the gates than he’s shuffling back inside with a smaller looking green lizard by his side.

“The spirits told me that you would need me today, among other things,” he responds.

“Well, you can tell yer Uncle Gethro to stuff it. He couldn’t see that dire gopher comin’, he sure as heck didn’t see this! Anyway, Ms. Skinny Britches needs stitches in a hurry. So let’s get a move on!”

“The woods are dangerous,” you warn. “Just on the way here, I encountered a large bear.”

“A bear?” she questions, hardly slowing her stride as she makes her way into the backwoods of her house toward a large lake. “That ain’t gonna bother Gus none. GUS! GET YER SCALEY BUTT OUT HERE!”

Bubbles surface on the serene pond a split second before a tremendous form explodes up out of it, something like an alligator grown far too large. With no concern for the giant maw gaping in front of her or the brittleness of her frame, the old woman scrabbles up top.

“Well, come on then! Ain’t got all day!”

Picking a spot between the scales that’s not too uncomfortable, you gently deposit Cecelia in front of you, prepared to catch her should this hellish ride get out of control. The first languid lunge at the cry of giddy up has your spine bending uncomfortably backward as the creature goes crashing through every obstruction in its path with the grace and fine finesse of a batter ram. Surprisingly though, once it strikes out on the beaten path, it’s almost impossibly smooth, nothing but the gentle sway as it rolls back and forth.

It occurs to you now, you might be able to get a word in edgewise.

> Who do you talk to?
> About what?

>Who do you talk to?
Galblassa
> About what?
"So, I take it your uncle Gethro is a shaman or oracle of some kind? A thrower of bones and reader of stars? Has he mentioned what powers the dungeon that Lady Cassandra nows lives within?"

This

+1

To clarify, the small green lizard is the one that talked about the spirits.

Ah, you're right. I meant Yesh, not Galblassa.

Well, you have quite the roster of companions for conversation for once, but granted the older lady is presently keeping the organic death machine on course and Galblassa is holding up the rear, you decide instead to strike up a conversation with the beady eyed gentleman who keeps starting at you when he thinks you aren’t looking.

Is it even a gentleman? You were never quite as sure with the goodly lizard folk as you would like.

“Pardon,” you say. “Yesh, wasn’t it?” You get a surprised jump as he turns to look at you. “I couldn’t help but here mention of an uncle of yours. Gethro, wasn’t it? Was he a shaman or oracle of some kind? A thrower of bones and reader of stars?”

“Ha!” calls the old woman. “That idiot couldn’t tell a star chart from the bottom of his own keester!”

“Uncle Gethro was a good man,” Yesh answers, apparently unperturbed. “Though prone to certain… eccentricities. He went to join the ancestors early and left what wisdom and strength his spirit could offer in my care.”

“Well, that’s unfortunate to hear,” you console. “Though I must admit, your phrasing is a little odd. Could you elaborate?”

“Death will eventually come for everyone,” he says in that pleasant drone, “But when members of my family have died, their spirits remain with me rather than passing on to the other side. They are faint for the most part, but I can hear them whispering from beyond the veil and give them form with magic for a time if I have need. It is… convenient.”

“I see,” you say. “So a spirit shaman among the Aosh clan. Are there many of you?”

“Some,” he answers. “Though fewer in recent years. The spirits called them elsewhere.”

“So what is it like,” he now asks you, “being back on this side of the veil?”

> [] What do you say?

"Do know that feeling, of having come back to work and drudgery after having the most marvelous of vacations in the an utterly relaxing resort? Something of that sort. I apparently had lived a good enough life to have one of the nice afterlives, and even now the light of that distant shore calls to me.
"But I have things to do. Responsibilities to uphold. Regrets to mend.
"And of course, new songs and tales to hear and sing.
"One day, I shall go back. Yes...I shall go back. Until then, there must be no further regrets, no tears, no anxieties. I must move forward, and make right what I can."

Why it's terrific!

The sun on my old bones, a spring in my step, and a song in my...ribcage..

Just they way I like it.

“It’s a lot like having left a splendid vacation,” you say. “You know, basking in the eternal sun of some distant land on a warm sandy beach and then getting slammed back into the work and drudgery of this waking world. Apparently, I wasn’t so much a charlatan in the previous life so as to earn damnation.

“For the moment, however, I am content. It’s good to feel the real sun on these old bones, a spring in my step and a song in my… ribcage. Plenty to catch up on since I’ve been away, I’m sure, and it wouldn’t hurt to do a little bit of good while I’m up and about.”

“It is good to know that you are not back hungering for the flesh of the living instead,” he says. “That could prove troublesome.”

“Flesh of the living? Ha! I haven’t got the stomach for it!”

*Rattle Rattle*

“That is the condition many spirits strike with the gods of death to come back to this side,” he says. “Usually the only way they can do so without powerful magic becoming involved. Life for life, death for death. The scales must be balanced.”

“Well, I’ll let you know if I starting getting peckish,” you assure him. “Until then, I’m feeling fit as a fiddle.”

You continue swapping banter for some time, trying to peer into the depth of his craft and maybe learn a little bit about spiritual manipulation. Obviously, necromancy had never been something you had the chance to study, even the bonding rituals used by willing participants. And you quickly find yourself absorbed in trying to pick out the particulars of what makes his craft tick. You almost don’t even notice when the croc finally pulls to a stop, the dungeon looming in the distance.

“Well, let’s get a move on,” grunts the old lady as she lands on the ground. “We got a long night ahead of us.”

And that's where I will end it for tonight, folks. Probably the same bat time, same bat channel next week, though afterward, I'm going to try to start earlier and during the week. I know these late nights are hell on some people.

Alright, see you next week.
Thanks for running.

Thank you fo running.

Thanks for running.

Thanks for playing, folks.

Huh, I screwed up and left out a chunk of text. My bad.

From there, the talk is minimal, and the pace brisk, the burly lizard tearing through brush and gently pushing aside would-be question askers on his way through the village proper. Eyes turn on you and Cici as you pass, their stares inscrutable as your body guard rushes to get you through, eventually shepherding you out of the marketplace and toward a tiny cottage.

“Shasa,” calls the man forcefully. “You’re help is needed.”

“Well, no need to yell,” comes the gentle chide from seemingly nowhere. “After all…” From the green patches of the garden suddenly the outline of a woman emerges, weathered and wrinkled, small horns and seemingly too large eyes stemming from her head. “I’m right here.”

Like many QM's, I write quest text first in word for editing, and then copy-paste into Veeky Forums. Hope the issue wasn't too glaring for people reading along with me. As is, it kind of seems like teleporting Auntie Shasa just showed up and started talking, which would fit given her MO, but still.

Anyway, insert the following between the noted posts for it to make more sense.

Thanks anyway dude, got here late but still enjoyed the read. Have a good one!