Bladebound Retainer Quest #6

>Archive: suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive.html?tags=Bladebound Retainer Quest
>Previous Thread: suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive/47529644/
>Twitter: twitter.com/TaskForceKaz

[STATS]
>Combat: +++
>Social: +
>Knowledge: ++

[Traits/Perks]
>Indomitable, Rank 1: Ignore the penalties imposed by Blood Loss. Does not negate health loss.
>Atelier of Death: Craft your own Bombs and Poisons
>Nimble Fingers: +30 to non-attack actions involving your hands (lockpicking, pickpocketing, etc.).
>Knowledge: Nobility (Aderaveth): Take a flat 50 to Knowledge rolls concerning this subject.

Introduction from “On the Subject of the Ingulan Race”
A Treatise Written by Masgister Harim, - 129 BCR

Goddess, take this earthen child
As flames consume their vessel
Of mortal flesh, and uplift their spirit
From the smoldering ashes. Goddess,
Take your lost child to their final rest,
to that Realm beyond the Sky, beyond
this Earth to where Death has no power.
Goddess, embrace this child we send,
Envelop them with a shroud of night
And set the last spark of their eyes
To shine in the cloth of the Eternal Sky.
-Translated excerpt from an Ingulan Funeral Song

They call themselves “The People of the Infinite Mother who Dwells Among the Stars”, the literal translation of the word “Ingulan”, the men and women of the Moonlight Plains. Fortunately, for both my pen hand and the sake of the layman’s tongue, they do not take slight or offense to the abridged “People of the Sky” moniker. For the most part, they are a stoic and spiritual race, slow to anger and ire. Gods have mercy on the poor soul to invoke the wrath of an Ingulan.

(cont.)

Kaz its almost midnight. Go to sleep.

With brown, hardy skin from a life under the elements and the rigors of survival, they are a warrior race. Men and women alike, regardless of all ages, are instructed in combat from a young age. Their primary weapons consist of sword, spear and battleaxe. Bowmen are rarer, as they maintain the belief that to kill an enemy from afar is dishonorable. But we shall only touch momentarily on this subject as to have a more in-depth discussion about the warrior aspect of their race.

Perhaps the most iconic feature of an Ingulan is the intricate tattoos that they bear on their faces and backs, both of which have significant meaning among their people. The marks on their face identify the clan that one belongs to, coming in many differing shapes, patterns and colors. In sharp comparison, no two share the same marks on their backs, as that is the canvas for where tattoo artists inscribe an Ingulan’s life story. Occurrences such as birth, trials of youth, wars and other events of importance are recorded on the back in permanent ink from the age of ten.

(cont.)

I took a nap. I'm ready to go all night, user!

HAHA TIME FOR best Kaz quest

Sleep is for the weak. I am stronk. Like rock.

Be sure to take over for me in voting when I pass out eventually.

I am so stronk I can vote for all of you.

An Ingulan without face symbols are either one of two categories: Iathunan (lit. “People of no Clan) or Anuthan (lit. “People of Eternal Exile”). Iathunan are those of Ingulan blood who are typically born outside of a clan, to those who have chosen to leave their clans and settle in modern civilization. Commonly used as a derogatory term for young clan boys and girls who don’t have their tattoos, as well as for Ingulans who actually have no clan.

Anuthan are the transgressors, the criminals and offenders who perform a deed heinous enough to transgress banishment from the clan. Kinslaying is the most common offense, but rape, necrophilia and other transgressions against the People have their fare share of representatives as well. In front of the clan’s Ancestor Stone, with the Goddess Ingul and the clan as their witnesses, the elder priests of the tribe flay the tattooed skin from the face and back of the offender and cast him/her out in ritual ceremony. They are to wander the continent, forever denied the embrace of loved ones and kin and punished by death if they ever set foot inside Ingulan territory.

>Miscellaneous notes about Tathal language
> “-an” – “People of X”, suffix that attaches to a root word.
> “Ingul” – “Infinite Mother who Dwells Among the Stars”, primordial Sky Goddess of the Ingulan pantheon
> “Iathun” – “Blank, empty”
> “Anuth” – “To strip, to remove”

>“-un” is a common ending for adjectives
>“-th” is the near-universal ending for verbs

--------------

>Marcus

You never needed that much sleep to begin with, so the swift coming of the dawn does not cause you too much pain. Four hours of sleep is the minimum you need, six if you performed something particularly extraneous on a given day. But it was irrelevant in the wider perspective of things.

(cont.)

You drift in and out of awareness as you maintain your vigil over Ellana from the window, eyes blank and senses amplified through concentration. In-between the lethal instruction and harsh beatings, Lucien passed on a meditation technique that enabled simultaneous rest and awareness. Where he learned how to do it was anyone’s guess, even the gods themselves. But there was little denying its effectiveness.

Your senses activate and cease to function seemingly at random throughout your vigil. At times, you can hear Ellana’s soft breathing, completely blind and unable to see clearly. At other intervals, you can see the dark room, dimly lit by the waxing moon, numb to any sensation along your skin. Your existence is a paradox: awake, yet not awake; aware, but unaware.

Ready to snap out of the trance at a moment’s notice.

>Specter’s Dream technique unlocked.
>You can now meditate to pass the time and recover
>4 Hours = Minimum Rest, no Fatigue penalties
>8 Hours = Fully Rested, no Fatigue penalties, +5 Stat bonuses for 12 hours
>12 Hours = Maximum Rest, +10 Stat Bonuses for 24 Hours

You manage to get enough sleep to function without any trouble by the time dawn breaks, and the guards come knocking at the door. Breaking the trance, you gently wake Ellana up, who rouses herself with a tired yawn, and open the door to let Emeron’s escort into the room. The princess’ servants quickly dress their lady in a modest white gown before passing her onto the entourage of knights.

You follow them to the courtyard, where a caravan is in the final stages of its preparation. With a quick looking-over, you estimate that there are about two hours before they will actually start moving. Ellana is the first of the royal family to arrive. Plenty of time for you to do something…

>Grab a book from the Archives
>Search for ingredients for your poisons
>Custom option.

>Grab a book from the Archives

>Search for ingredients for your poisons

>>Search for ingredients for your poisons

>>Grab a book from the Archives

>Grab a book from the Archives

>>Search for ingredients for your poisons

>>Grab a book from the Archives

>Search for ingredients for your poisons

>>Search for ingredients for your poisons

>Make an emergency ration pack
Just incase we come upon a situation where any food might be poisoned.

I'd consider an emergency antidote pack, but there's probably way too many different poisons for that.

10 minute voting period.

--

>Archives

“There’s always time for studying.” The voice of Ansell comes unbidden as you stalk towards the castle, politely excusing yourself from the princess’ company. Even this early in the morning, castle wide-eyed and alert. Twenty of Lord Pullman’s Eagle Knights stand vigilant, armed and at the ready for any sign of trouble. More than enough to keep her safe.

Lord Pullman and the other eighty riders to accompany the rest of the caravan wait outside the city walls, to avoid drawing attention to this secret exodus. By the time the sun would fully rise, the royal caravan would be gone, with no one the wiser for a good half-day at the best. Plenty of time to put themselves safely away from danger.

You don’t find it surprising that the archives are still open, even at this ungodly hour. The same clerk that greeted you when you came yesterday still sits in his chair, snoring into a pile of books and parchments. He had the good sense to put a pillow as to prevent drool from flushing the ink and ruining the documents.

A few of the cubicles are occupied by Magisters. Some are reading in the dim candlelight, the older and wizened figures squinting to make out the ancient, flowing script of the more weathered tomes. The younger ones, indicated by their light brown robes, sluggishly move to transcribe half-disintegrated pages and words onto new vellum.

They give you no regard just as much as you ignore them, moving towards the section you were particularly interested in studying. Ansell gave you permission to remove books from the Archives. Perhaps it is best to select a volume with multiple copies, something that no one will notice if gone.

>Fully reading books may unlock Traits.
>Successfully unlocking Traits requires passing a Knowledge Check

>Choose one to remove:
>A Traveler’s Guide to Aderaveth
>The Botanical World of Kaithe
>A Compleat Collection of Ribald Tales
>Reckoning: An Account of the Crimson Tyrant

>Reckoning: An Account of the Crimson Tyrant

>The Botanical World of Kaithe

>>A Traveler’s Guide to Aderaveth
Seems practical.

>>The Botanical World of Kaithe
Poisons and edible plants in case we need to run with the princess.

>The Botanical World of Kaithe
As much as I want Reckoning, I want a solid collections of anti-poison methods before committing to other stuff.

>The Botanical World of Kaithe

>The Botanical World of Kaithe

>>A Traveler’s Guide to Aderaveth

>>A Traveler’s Guide to Aderaveth

>The Botanical World of Kaithe

You pluck the book in question from the shelves without as much as a noise. As opposed to the other book you read yesterday, this primarily concerns itself with plants found both within and out of the Empire. Flipping through the pages with a haphazard glance nets you with some plants you’ve never even heard of.

Moonlight Blossom, which when properly distilled, creates a powerful antidote. Terribly hard to find, only grows in dimly lit places. Devil’s Tail, the juices of these thorns cause terrible pain and paralysis to those unlucky to get tangled within their snare. And many, many more.

The book itself is a reproduction of a ten-year old current edition, but it serves its purpose well enough. You quickly take it to the desk, checking out the book when you find the clerk still in the middle of his dreams. Given the wide smile and gyrations of the hips, you have little desire to wake him up, let alone touch him.

The process takes little more than an hour. By the time you come back to the courtyard, the knights are in the final stages of their preparation. The rest of the Crownguard sans Palme and Queen Mellianna’s sorcerer are present and accounted for, mounted atop horses adjacent to a plain carriage, presumably containing the royal siblings. A spare horse has been left without a rider, presumably for you.

You try not to show your apprehension as you mount the nickering mare. The only experience you had riding one of these beasts was an escapade in the slums, hijacking a burning grain cart to crash it into a gang hideout. To a certain extent, you know about the theory and execution of riding.

Hopefully your intuition and instincts pay off enough for you to stay on the mare, if to avoid not getting thrown off.

(cont.)

When the morning sun is halfway above the distant forests, the Knight Captain gives the order to ride. Slowly, but surely, the caravan makes its way out of Kathmire Keep and into the backroads of the capital. Less people are inclined to notice the path they take through this route given its relative cover and inaccessibility by a majority of the citizens.

As you exit through the gates, you can feel the heavy weight of someone’s eyes upon you. You turn your head, taking care to stay seated in the saddle. From a distant rampart, the calculating, emotionless face of Queen Melianna Crowmond stares right back at the procession. No, that is not correct.

She is looking directly at you.

>Keep a sharp lookout for the first few hours.
>Start reading your new book.
>Talk with a Crownguard [Choose one: Lupine, Silverow, Ingulan]
>Custom option.

>>Keep a sharp lookout for the first few hours.
Job is never done.

Get someone to give us pointers on riding. Like, holy shit we need to learn fast.

>Keep a sharp lookout for the first few hours.
We can read when we're not on the move.

>>Keep a sharp lookout for the first few hours.

We know how it works, we just havent done it, only thing we could do is practice m8.

>>Keep a sharp lookout for the first few hours.

>>Keep a sharp lookout for the first few hours.

help is always appreciated, seeing as Marcus is going in blind and has not displayed any skill with handling animals.

If you know how it works only way to improve is doing it. Pointers are needed when you dont know the theory behind it and as I understood it, we know that.

>Keep a sharp lookout for the first few hours

>To a certain extent, you know about the theory and execution of riding.

Like user said, the only way from here is to just do it and get used to it.

you need a little bit more than just the theory.

You at least need to know how animal temperaments work and possibly how these horses specifically were trained to get a better feel for how to order them around.

And that's understood by doing it, we have time in our travel to get acquainted with our mount and see how it goes, at this point we just need to just do it and we're forced to do it anyways so it goes without saying that we're learning how it works.

but someone could tell us how the horses were trained? You can't easily learn that by "just doing it".

I dont think anyone was a stable-boy or involved at all with that. It's just retinue right?

>Keep a sharp lookout for the first few hours.

It isn’t the journey proper that worries you as much as it is the actual early hours of the morning. It is under the cover of darkness when most assassins move to strike. It doesn’t necessarily mean that all hired killers, amateur or otherwise, would attack at this moment as much as it was the most common of times. But a smart assassin? They make their move in the transition from dusk to dawn, when no one expects it to come.

Is it healthy to think the world in those kinds of terms? Perhaps it is, perhaps it isn’t. Then again, paranoia is one of the many causes of gut feelings, instincts aside. And it’s done its fair share to keep you alive.

But you digress. As you make your way out of the city and past the outer walls, you keep a sharp lookout for the first critical hours. To anyone that would glimpse the unmarked carriage and the Eagle Knights flanking it closely, they would hopefully assume that Lord Kieran Pullman was within the transport. Hopefully.

No guarantees. The presence of the Crownguard complicated things somewhat, but Palme ordered the insignias removed or scuffed to illegibility to avoid attracting attention. If anything, you looked like exotic personal bodyguards to the Pullmans.

Your eyes dart across the changing landscape, across time-blasted walls and dark alleyways, along the rolling transition of stone to dirt, and the yellow thatch of rooftop to the green and rolling hills. Searching, scanning, for signs of any threats.

>Roll 1d100 Perception
>Best of three

-----
>Horses
I will add an option to let someone teach you how to ride properly when the opportunity presents itself. You won't become a master within the day if you pass the check, but it'll be enough to learn to keep the beast calm if nothing else.

Rolled 73 (1d100)

Here go bubby

Rolled 93 (1d100)

Nat 1

Rolled 4 (1d100)

Your natural 1s are lacking user. Need to work with that, maybe ask someone to give you pointers as to how dice behave and were trained.

Rolled 38 (1d100)

But I've got the theory and execution down. I just need to practice.

No user, you cant understand dice unless you ask.

then you'll endanger your life and have someone save you.

But then I'd owe them a Wookie Markus Life Debt.

I started to worry when I didnt see shitposting in between updates. Now I feel at home.

That's why you need to ask where them dice were bred and trained.

If that's what it takes to learn how to ride a horse....

>73, 93, 4
There are no signs of any danger, at least as far as you can see. Paranoia, again, prevents you from saying anything in absolutes. Life doesn’t work like that. Just as there’s no such thing as ‘perfectly safe’, there is likewise no such thing as ‘absolute death trap’. Look at your new lease on life for example. You were more than certain that you were dead and gone no less than two weeks ago.

Yet here you are, struggling to move along with the horse and avoid causing undue duress on your ass. You seem to be doing an alright job for your first official ride, if nothing else. Although this was only at a steady trot, and with a less-than-temperamental mare. All bets are off when it comes to a full gallop.

Your sore ass aside, you do notice the Ingulan making hushed inquiries in heavily accented Common. You’re not able to pick up the individual words with the clanking of the knights’ armor and squeak of the wheels, but it’s clear from the pointed gestures and thinly-veiled glances in your direction that he’s talking about you.

Two hours later into the ride finds your company meeting up with Lord Kieran Pullman and the other eighty knights. He cuts an imposing figure even with a tired gait, stern and imposing as the Great Eagle on his tabard. Greeting the Knight Captain with a salute and small inquiries about the journey so far, he casts a weary look towards the men surrounding him.

“We ride until two hours after midday,” He announces in a rough baritone, “Upon which we’ll find a field and let the horses rest. I want to make it to the Journeyman Bridge by nightfall. There's safe grounds for us to strike up a camp." He pauses, taking a moment to shout. "The bastards responsible for this mess will pay for trying to frame us, but until then, you know your charge. Am I understood?”

(cont.)

“Yes, milord!” The cry comes out from a hundred men, loud enough to wake up the dead and any sleeping occupants in the carriage. The latter, apparently, as a tired and yawning Allanus pokes his head out the window before being forcibly yanked back in. Doubtless by his older sister given the gloved and dainty hand.

With that, the knights reform their ranks and begin to march once more. You’ve made at least seven miles with the small escort since the early morning. Maybe you’ll make another ten come nightfall. But first…

>Ask a Crownguard to help you ride. [Ingulan, Lupine, Silverow]
>Start reading your new book, learn about the plants.
>Custom option.

>>Ask a Crownguard to help you ride.
>Lupine
I guess asking the Knight would make the most sense. Specially since the Ingulan can't talk.

>Ask a Crownguard to help you ride. Lupine,

>Ask the mage to help you ride
because it sounds like a terrible thing to try.

>>Ask a Crownguard to help you ride.
Lupine

>Ask the mage to help you ride
Sounds good.

>>Ask a Crownguard to help you ride. Lupine,

Ask he knight

>Ask Lupine to give you pointers on horse riding

Silverow seems to be busy studying his spellbook, occasionally checking the surrounding environs every few pages. The Ingulan is taking a more active role in protection, scouting around the perimeter as he guides his horse seamlessly through the ranks of the knights. Out of all the Crownguard, Lupine is the one that seems to be the one that is not preoccupied.

Not to mention the fact that out of all three of the current Crownguard, not including yourself, she seems to be the best one to be able to handle riding. Just the seamless transition from turn and the slightest of nudges to get the beast to move gives you all the information you need about her competency.

It’s approaching her with the question that proves problematic. In spite of your eagerness to learn new things, you’ve never been one to admit your inadequacy in a humble fashion. It isn’t an issue of pride as it is mortification. You’re a Crownguard, for the goddess’ sake. How come you can’t ride a horse like all the others?

You didn’t exactly go through the proper channels. Not to mention that your particular skillset lies in a more subtle and insidious method of carrying out your duty. But you digress. You need to learn it sometime sooner or later. Better to be safe than to be sorry.

“Wait, hold up,” She says when you ask her, a serious look on her face as she scrutinizes you. “You mean to tell me that in spite of your unparalleled combat skills with the knives, you don’t know how to ride a horse.”

It wasn’t a question as much as it was a declaration. One that she thankfully kept to a disbelieving sotto. You don’t flush. You don’t get embarrassed like that. You just roll your eyes at her words and send a very dry retort.

(cont.)

“Aye, so don’t make that big of a fuss about it. You seem to know it the best out of all of us.”
Lupine considers that for a moment before breaking out into a wry grin. “I suppose you’re right. But how am I going to be compensated for this? My duty is to Princess Adrianna, to be at her side for the rest of my life, not including breaks and allocated respite. You’ll have to offer me something very good to make me consider abandoning her side for the briefest of moments.”

It’s more than obvious that she’s teasing you, trying to get a rise out of you. You can’t help but rise to the occasion, offering a critical eyebrow. “I was under the impression that the Crownguard are immune to bribes.”

“This isn’t much of a bribe as much as it is an equivalent exchange,” She laughs, wheeling her horse around you in circles. Show off, she’s doing that on purpose. “A favor for a favor, and one to help you protect Ellana better.”

You think about what you have to offer…
>A spar as soon as we reach Pullman’s keep.
>Kill one target of her choosing, no questions asked.
>Quit screwing around and just teach me how to ride.

>>A spar as soon as we reach Pullman’s keep.

>>A spar as soon as we reach Pullman’s keep.

I mean we were eventually going to do that anyways I think but now we get something out of it.

>>A spar as soon as we reach Pullman’s keep.

>>A spar as soon as we reach Pullman’s keep.

>A LIFE DEBT!

>A spar as soon as we reach Pullman’s keep.

>never much occasion for riding a horse in the slums, more useful as food than on the ground. Sides a quick man can move faster on the roofs than the ground.

>A spar as soon as we reach Pullman’s keep.

She hasnt saved our life user, get your memes together.

My bad.

It's okay, we pass them out like candy anyways!

user should compensate you in some way for this mistake...

Perhaps swearing you a life debt?

...

Shit posting makes me type faster, but try and reign it in a little.

One more update before I go to sleep and we'll pick up tomorrow.

Writing...

“A spar as soon as we reach Pullman’s Keep,” You bluntly tell her. “No delays, no excuses, nothing. Just you, me, and our weapons clashing against each other until one of us wins.”

That actually manages to surprise her, for a moment at least. She blinks once before her smirk returns in full force, this time with what you suspect is…bloodlust. The sheer feral intent behind the grin manages to give you pause while at the same time wishing in the deepest, darkest corners of your mind that you didn’t offer it in the first place.

“Well now,” Belatrix licks her lips with a sound, tongue sliding over skin with a very audible and unladylike noise. “If that’s what you’ve got to offer, then I’ll be more than happy to take you up on that exchange. But don’t forget, you promised me this. There’s no backing out when we make it to the keep, Painel.”

...you have the sinking feeling that you’re going to regret this.

“But we’ll let that come when that comes…now, you said you wanted to learn how to ride? Alright, here.”

The knightess guides her horse next to your mare, grabbing your shoulders roughly and straightening you up. “You’re mounted well enough, but your posture is shit. Keep your back straight. You should have a clear line through your ear…” She traces a gauntleted finger down your body with every name she whispers. “…shoulder, hip and heel. The weight of your body is supposed to be resting on your ass.”

You can’t help but bristle this time around at her touch. Not with arousal, but with deep unease. Serena was the last woman to ever get this close to you, and Lupine’s hands-on lesson isn’t helping that ache go away as much as it is bringing it to the surface.

But you keep your breath even and calm as she continues to (discretely) give you instructions. “Legs turned inward, toes pointed upward. Hold the reins like this, and pass your fist so the loop…”

>Roll 1d100
>Best of three

Rolled 21 (1d100)

HORSE, OBEY MY COMMANDS AND FOLLOW MY WILL

Rolled 33 (1d100)

go horsy ridin

Rolled 69 (1d100)

Forgot me dice.

Rolled 48 (1d100)

...sigh, i'm a child for laughing at that result, oh well
>69
*snerk*

Heading off to bed. Will resume thread at around 5 tomorrow.

----
“You know you can relax.”

“…”

“I don’t think I’ve seen you eat ever since we’ve come back.”

“…”

“Please tell me that you haven’t been starving yourself…”

“…is that an order, your highness?”

“If it will get you to eat, then yes, it is.”

“No, I have not been abstaining from meals.”

“…yes, quite right. Then explain why you’re looking at my meal like a starving layman.”

“…it is delicious. Even though I do not feel hunger pangs, the rich smell of the mutton and the spices infused into the meat are a heady combination.”

“Then you’re feeling hungry and you’re in denial about it. Come, sit down. There’s more than enough for the two of us to share.”

“...it is not proper.”

“Nonsense. It’s just the two of us, and you’ve saved my life more than enough times to sit at my table, propriety be damned.”

“There is no higher reward for a Crownguard other than its own service and honor-”

“You, Palme and every selfless bastard in this keep are going to be the death of me.”

“I would rather have that than poison or a dagger to the heart.”

“…point taken. But I'm giving you the order to sit down and eat. You can do your job just as well even as you dine.”

“As a member of the Crownguard, I am able to use my personal judgment to override any opinion that my charge-”

“I’m not ordering you as your charge. I’m ordering you as Crown Prince of the Empire to sit down and have lunch with me.”

“…yes, your highness.”

“There. That wasn’t too bad, was it?”

“…”

“…please don’t insult my intelligence. I know how demanding your…particular skills are on your body. Especially with your…Dance, I believe it was called?”

“…yes.”

“Then this should compensate your exertions during the bandit raid, Morgan. You can have whatever it takes to get your strength back up.”

Five in the afternoon, I meant to say.

See you then.

Thanks for running. See you then.

I see the name Morgan actually has significance beyond the html.

Bump

Bump

Is Kaz in GMT?

EST, I think.

Also, bump.

Bump for thy lord and saviour.

Going by the comment at the start of the thread he seems to be around GMT-5.