A Knight in the Zodiac Court Quest 4

>>45344319
Dexterity
3 in ranged
2 in lore

James Hart (Level 3 Human Knight)

Strength: 2
Dexterity: 3
Toughness: 5
Wits: 3
Charm: 2

Melee (S): 2
Forging (S): 2
Ranged (D): 6
Driving (D): 3
Unarmed (T): 5
Concentration (T): 5
Lore (W): 4
Knight’s Nose (W): 8
Persuade (C): 2
Intimidate (C): 2

It’s an uneventful flight back to Valencia, and when you arrive you mostly just collapse into sleep. Knights don’t need as much sleep as regular humans do, but the fight with the Wendigo exhausted you and you still haven’t gotten used to sleeping on planes.

By the time you wake up it’s the next day. You pull out your trophy from the hunt – the severed hands of the Wendigo. Gruesome, but potentially very useful. Unfortunately, you lack the blacksmithing experience to turn the bones into proper weapons, but you’re sure you can find someone who does.

You find Isabella seated at one of the kitchen tables. She’s got her laptop up and is surrounded by papers – you an only assume Zodiac Court business.

You pour yourself a glass of water. “Busy?”

“Insanely,” Isabella groans. “I’m coordinating scouting reports with some of the other houses and double checking our finances…and the rats are back in the cellar.”

“The rats?”

“The estate is built on a ley line,” Isabella says. “Which is convenient, mostly. But there are these rats…I don’t know what happened exactly, but I think the ambient magic made them smarter. Their numbers surge every once and a while and the cellar turns into a war zone.”

Huh. That wasn't what you expected. “Oh. I could…help with that?”
>(cont.)

Isabella shakes her head. “We have a guy. He can take care of it. I actually wanted to send you…this.” She types at her keyboard for a moment, and you feel you cellphone buzz in your pocket. “I figured you would need a place to get those Wendigo bones worked on, so I sent you the information for the best smiths in Valencia. They’ll be able to whip you up something quality.”

You could investigate the rats – it’s not like the bones are going anywhere. But then again, with how quick emergencies can come up in your line of work, getting better weapons as soon as possible isn’t a bad idea.

>Investigate the rats.
>Go to Isabella’s smiths.
>Write In.

>>45344754
>Go to Isabella’s smiths.

>Go to Isabella’s smiths.

“Thanks,” you say, checking the location on your phone. You still don’t know your way around Valencia all that well, but it’s relatively close and you have GPS. “I’ll head over there now then. No point in procrastinating.”

“Great. Take whatever you need from the garage,” Isabella says, not glancing up from her paperwork.

It’s only when you enter the garage do you realize how generous an offer that is. Lord Aries is a bit of a gearhead, and the garage is filled with vehicles that probably cost more than most people’s houses. Ferrari, Rolls-Royce, Bugatti – he probably could’ve bought a small island with the money he put into this collection.

You really shouldn’t take anything you can’t afford to fuck up. But on the other hand, you are a really good driver. And some of those cars are just begging to be taken out of the garage…

What do you take?

>Something inexpensive
>Something old school
>Something fast
>A motorcycle
>Write In

And…

As you peruse your choices, you feel Sif rub up against your legs. Little guy looks like he could use some fresh air. Should you let him tag along?

>Bring Sif
>Leave Sif

>>45345064
>Something inexpensive
>Bring Sif
He can ride shotgun

>Something inexpensive
>Bring Sif

As tempting as the more expensive options look, Lord Aries could literally kill you with a glance, and likely would if you left so much as a scratch on one of his cars. You grab a plain black pickup truck instead, give Sif a chance to get cozy in the passenger seat, and set out.

It’s a beautiful day – sunny, warm, with an ocean breeze coming in – and so you roll down the windows to take in the sights, sounds, and smells of Valencia. It’s been the home of House Aries forever, at least a thousand years. Like most of the Zodiac House estates, the location was chosen due to the massive ley lines that converge on it, huge resources of natural magical energy. They, along with the Court’s presence, attract a higher than average number of supernatural stuff to the city.

You follow your GPS to the location Isabella sent you – a small shop located next to a mattress store and a foul-smelling Thai food place. La Plata. You’re pretty sure that’s Spanish for silver, which you suppose would be as good a front as any for a magical weapons shop. With the Wendigo bones tucked safely in a duffle bag, you let Sif out of the car and push open the door.

A small bell tinkles above you as you enter, and you’re greeted by a young Spanish couple. Silver of all sorts litters the store, everything from forks and knives to picture frames.

The man begins babbling at you in Spanish, forcing you to shake your head awkwardly.

“I’m sorry, I don’t- I don’t speak- English?”

The woman says something in Spanish, and the man falls silent. “I’m sorry sir,” she says in heavily accented English. “My husband gets overeager occasionally. What will you be needing today? Silverware? Some jewelry?”
>(cont.)

“Not exactly,” you say, putting the duffle bag on the counter. “I work for Princess Isabella.”

Apparently, the man recognizes Isabella’s name because he explodes in Spanish again. “Yes, yes,” the woman says, waving her hands to force him to quiet down. “You’re the Knight Lord Aries purchased. Talk of the town, it’s lovely to meet you.”

>Exchange pleasantries
>Straight to business
>Write In.

>>45345490
>Exchange pleasantries

>>45345490
>Exchange pleasantries

>>45344319
>Lore (W): 3
>>45344468
>2 in lore
>>45344736
>Lore (W): 4

?

>>45345684
Ah, sorry. I'll fix that. Writing the next post now.

>Exchange pleasantries

“Lovely to meet you also,” you say, nodding to both of them. “I hope you’ve heard good things.”

“Oh all good things, all good things,” the woman assures you. “I’m Laura, my husband is Daniel. If we’d known someone from House Aries would be visiting, we would’ve cleaned up better…the store has been a bit of a mess recently.”

Now that she mentions it, you can see some spots that could use some dusting – but you came here for a reason, and it wasn’t to critique their cleanliness. “I think everything looks great.”

“Well aren’t you polite,” Laura says, smiling. “What did you need today? Silver bullets? My husband actually just finished a machete with both silver and iron worked into the blade, useful for werewolves or fae.

Now that you think about it, you could use some more gear. But best to get the important stuff out of the way first. “Actually, I had a custom order,” you say, unzipping the bag. You remove the Wendigo bones and place them on the counter. “I was wondering if I could get these forged into gloves.”

“Hmmm…” Laura murmurs, inspecting the bones. “What are they?”

“Wendigo bones.”
>(cont.)

Laura’s face goes pale. “Madre de Dios!” She shrieks, rapidly back peddling away from the counter. “No!”

“No?” You ask.

“I am sorry, sir. But neither I nor my husband will work…these.” She crosses herself. “Not even for someone in the employ of Lord Aries. It is bad, bad fortune to construct something from a creature so evil.”

“I can pay you,” you say. “A lot of money.”

“It’s not money,” Laura says, shaking her head. “It is…well…” she pauses, glancing over at the undusted spot on the counter. “Perhaps…perhaps we can come to an arrangement.”

Of course. You should’ve remembered half the supernatural economy was composed of a bartering system. “What were you thinking?”

“Up until recently, David and I received help maintaining the shop. From local…” she pauses, “cookies? No. Brownies. Little fairy creatures.” She clears her throat. “Brownies, well, you know brownies. Very picky. Difficult rules to follow. When I became pregnant, I stopped drinking, yes? For the baby. But the brownies, they did not like that. They left, and for a while David and I thought we could do this on our own. But with the baby…cleaning the forge is very complicated, and time consuming. The brownies are very good at maintaining such a delicate environment. Sir, you work for House Aries. If you can convince the brownies to return, I will gladly craft your order for you, cursed as it may be.”

>Threaten to take your business elsewhere.
>Accept the offer.
>Write-in.

>>45345931
>Accept the offer.

>>45345931
>>Accept the offer.

>>45345931
>Accept the offer.

>>45345931
>Accept the offer.

>Accept the offer

“If it'll get my gloves crafted, I’ll do it,” you promise. “Do you know where these brownies are?”

Laura smiles, and her shoulders sag as if she had finally put down a heavy weight. “I can put it into your phone. We know they’re still there – some of our other friends spoke to them on our behalf just last week, but they didn’t have any luck. I’m sure you’ll be different.”

“I hope so.”

“I’ll put my number in your phone, and we’ll hold the bones here. That way you can call us once you get this all sorted out,” Laura says, handing your phone back to you.

You check the location. It’s within walking distance, which you guess it would have to be if the brownies had been visiting regularly. You snap your fingers to get Sif to heel and head out the door.

>roll 1d20+5 for Lore (DC Variable)

Rolled 7 + 5 (1d20 + 5)

>>45346252

Rolled 18 + 5 (1d20 + 5)

>>45346252

>>45345931
>Brownie
She meant Duendes?
Goblins

Rolled 20 (1d20)

>>45346252

>>45346360
oh baby

File: 1446348265160.png (17KB, 202x184px) Image search: [Google]

17KB, 202x184px

>>45346360
Forgot to put the +5... It still counts right?

>>45346346
Not exactly. Similar, but there are distinct differences.
>>45346390
It counts, nice roll. Writing now.

>25 (20+5) (DC Variable)

Brownies. Come to think of it, you know quite a bit about brownies. Which is surprising, because you’re pretty sure all the camp ever taught you was that they’re great bait if you’re ever hunting a Cait.

You know Brownies originated in Scotland and England, but were so useful that they were eventually captured and sold all across the world. The Zodiac Court had had a stranglehold on the Brownie trade for a while, but eventually competitors weaseled their way into the market and the Zodiac Court lost their monopoly. Thanks to their influence, however, you can find brownies all across the world. The little guys clean like nobody’s business, but they have crazy rules about how they’re supposed to be treated that nobody really understands, especially since different brownie tribes have different rules. It’s kind of a nightmare.

Most importantly, however, you remember that they love sweets. Honey, candy – you even remember some older Knight who swore by Zebra cakes. You wonder if they have zebra cakes in Valencia?

>Drop by the grocery store.
>Skip the store.
>Write In.

And, how will you approach the brownies once you reach them?

>Respectfully
>Intimidate them
>Write In.

>>45346779
>Drop by the grocery store.
>Respectfully

>>45346779
>>Drop by the grocery store.
>>Respectfully

>>45346779
>>Drop by the grocery store.
>Respectfully
take the time to buy some stuff for Sif

>>45346779
We're really playing the nice guy aren't we?

>Drop by the grocery store
>Respectfully
>Take the time to by some stuff for Sif

You have to leave Sif in the car while you grab what you need from the grocery store, but you manage to grab chocolate bars, starbursts, and even some Zebra cakes. You also get some dog food, treats, a bed and some toys for Sif – he especially takes to a rubber sword that squeaks when he bites it.

You pull up to an abandoned warehouse. The note Laura left on you phone informs you that the brownies actually live in an old cafeteria below ground, so you search for a bit before finding a door that opens to a staircase. When dealing with fae, especially the easily offended ones, it’s best to keep your manners, so you assemble your treats into a nice little pile and knock three times on the door.

For a few minutes, there’s nothing. Then you smell something, just on the edge of your senses – the tiniest whiff of illusion magic. “I’m just here to talk,” you explain to the seemingly empty room. “I brought gifts.”

As soon as you finish speaking, three small figures appear in front of you. They’re human-ish, dressed in rags, with wrinkly faces that lack a nose. Just like the brownies you were taught about…except too small. Brownies are supposed to be about knee-high, but these are only six inches, at most.

“Ahahahaha!” One of the brownies shouts, pointing up at you. “Loot at his face! Look at his face!”

“Shut yer yammerin!” Another says, slapping the back of the first one’s head. “He’s a Knight, can’t you see it? That’s how he knew we were here.” He looks up at you. “Watcha want, ya big bully?”

>What does he mean by bully?
>Mention Laura and Daniel.
>Mention you work for House Aries.
>Why are they so small?
>Write In.

File: [Witchering Intensifies].gif (112KB, 500x500px) Image search: [Google]

112KB, 500x500px

>James lets his hair grow and die them white.
>Draws some scars on his face and yellow contacts.
>Attach Sif on a necklace

File: The great grey pup.jpg (45KB, 500x500px) Image search: [Google]

45KB, 500x500px

>>45347217
>he especially takes to a rubber sword that squeaks when he bites it.

>>45347217
>>What does he mean by bully?
>>Mention Laura and Daniel.
>>Mention you work for House Aries.

>>45347217
>>Mention you work for House Aries.
>What does he mean by bully?
>Why are they so small?
Better to give them a treat before each question

>>45347217
>What does he mean by bully?
>Mention Laura and Daniel.

>What does he mean by bully?
>Mention you work for House Aries.
>Mention Laura and Daniel.
>Better to give them a treat before each question.

“What, I bring all this and you don’t even appreciate it?” You ask, motioning towards the treats you bought. “Go on, have some.”

“He’s got Zebra cakes!” The first brownie says. You can practically hear the longing in his voice.

“You can have one,” you say, grabbing the box and opening it. “One for each question.” You remove a Zebra cake and hand it to the brownie, who caresses it with an almost religious reverence. “First,” you say, “I’m not a bully.”

“All Knights are bullies!” The second brownie says, crossing his arms. “They come in where they’re not wanted an’ make us move! Or they grab us an’ take us away forever! Just least year a Knight even bigger ‘n you grabbed six of us, and we ain’t never seen ‘em again!”

“It’s true,” the first brownie says through a mouthful of Zebra cake.

“Well I’m not here to take you away or make you move,” you explain. “I work for House Aries.”

At this, the brownies fall silent. “You live in the castle!” The third one finally says.

“That don’t mean nothin’” the second brownie says. He still doesn’t seem happy.

“Look, I swear I’m not here to harm you,” you say, handing them another zebra cake. “I’m just here to talk to you about Laura and Daniel.”
>(cont.)

“Not them again!” The second brownie groans. “We just had people last week talkin’ about Laura and Daniel! They were fun, and now they’re not, so we don’ wanna do no cleanin for them anymore!”

“Yeah!” the other two chime in. “No fun means no cleanin!”

“Laura only stopped drinking because she was pregnant,” you say. “She’s not anymore. She can drink again.”

“That’s what the other people said! We don’ care!”

“Sides,” the third one mumbles. “We can’t even go over there anymore. Not without Wionna.”

“Who’s Wionna?”

“Wionna’s a pixie!” The first brownie says. “She’s the one that taught us how to get all small like this so that people can’t see us!” As if to demonstrate, he stretches his arms high above his head. You watch as they keep stretching and stretching, the rest of his body going with him, until he’s at knee height. “She always says that the human world got big, so we had to get small! But you can’t clean when you’re too small!” He looks up at you eagerly – you roll your eyes and give him another Zebra cake.

“Wionna scouted for us,” the third brownie says as the first stuffs his face. “She’s the best birdbacker around, so she’d fly up real high and make sure nothing saw us! We can hide from dumb ol’ humans, but there’re…” he shudders “other stuff too. But she disappeared yesterday! She ain’t come back! And if she can’t scout, it don’t matter if Laure and Daniel are fun again.”

>Offer to find Wionna.
>Intimidate them.
>Write In.

>>45347758
>Offer to find Wionna.
Let's get this quest chain going.

>>45347758
>>Offer to find Wionna.

>>45347758
>>Offer to find Wionna.

>Offer to find Wionna.

“Okay, okay,” you say. “It sounds like you guys need some help.”

“Do not!” Says the second brownie. You just kind of stare at him for a moment – he wilts under the pressure. “Maybe a little.”

“Sif here’s got a pretty good nose on him,” you say, scratching Sif behind the ears. “And mine’s not half bad either. I can find you Wionna, if you promise that you’ll go back and help Laue and Daniel once you’re able.”

The three brownies huddle up, debating amongst themselves for about forty seconds. Finally they turn back to you. “Deal,” they all say at once.

You clap your hands together. “Great. Do you have anything of Wionna’s that Sif and I can use to track her?”

“Mmm...granny might have somethin’,” the second brownie says. “Wait here.”

After about two minutes he returns with what looks like a tiny, sky blue scarf. “This is hers,” he says. “Find her! Find her!”

You blink, and then they’re gone – along with all of your treats.

“Let’s get to work then, Sif,” you mutter, holding out the scarf. “Sniff, boy.”

Sif sticks his nose into the scarf, proving once again that he is a far smarter dog than you probably deserve. After he gets acclimated to the scent, he trots back outside, and you follow him.

“They called her a birdbacker,” you murmur to yourself as you and Sif emerge into the midday sun. “So there won’t be a trail along the ground for us to follow. And the brownies probably would’ve checked the closer areas. So we can spread out a bit further from their home, most likely.”

Sif yips in response.

“Great point, Sif.”

You both get into the car, keeping the windows rolled down. Sif sticks his snout into the open air, and you start driving.

Luckily there isn’t much traffic, and you’re able to drive through the streets relatively unimpeded. You begin to circle around the brownie’s home, moving a bit further out each loop – time consuming, but there’s no point in hurrying if it makes you miss. You keep your own nose on alert, but unless Wionna is actively using magic, you’re not going to be much help, so instead you let Sif do his thing.

Finally, after nearly three hours of slow, monotonous searching, Sif perks up. He barks at a back alley, and so you pull up to it and hop out of the car. Sif follows you.

>Roll 1d0+8 for Knight’s Nose (DC 22)

>>45348498
>that he is a far smarter dog than you probably deserve.
but he's not a dog..

Rolled 14 + 8 (1d20 + 8)

>>45348523

>>45348523
>1d20+8

Rolled 11 + 8 (1d20 + 8)

>>45348523
>1d0

Rolled 19 + 8 (1d20 + 8)

>>45348523

>>45348544
He's close enough.

As far as you know.
>>45348569
I really wanted you guys to fail.

>>45348661
>I really wanted you guys to fail.
Next time.

>27 (19+8)

You take a moment to smell the area, carefully analyzing everything you get. There’s something in the air, something that reminds you of the magic the brownies were using to hide from sight. It tickles your nose very slightly, but you can’t quite get bead on where it's coming from.

“Where is she, boy?” You ask Sif, and the dog leads you to a small pipe entering a concrete wall. You bend down. “Wionna?”

Nothing. Sif approaches the pipe and cocks his head, curious. He pokes his snout into the pipe to investigate, then pulls it out with a yelp of pain.

“Back!” Screams a tiny voice from within the pipe. “Back, foul creature!”

Sif covers his nose with a paw and makes a noise that sounds suspiciously like a grumble.

>Wionna?
>You hurt Sif!
>It’s clearly her, just reach in and grab her.

>>45348843
>>Wionna?

>>45348843
>Wionna?
Oi. Don't hurt my pup

>>45348843
>>Wionna?

>Wionna?

“Wionna? Wionna, is that you?” You ask, moving Sif’s paw aside to make sure he’s okay. He’s got a little spot of blood, but it looks like Wionna only grazed him with whatever’s she got in there.

“Who’s asking?” The voice says. “And don’t you dare get any closer, or I’ll give you a taste of my blade!”

You forgot how much you hate pixies.

“My name is James,” you explain, taking a seat just outside the pipe. “I’ve been looking for you. Your brownie friends are worried.”

“They are?” The voice asks. “They shouldn’t be! I’m the best birdbacker in the whole city, I can take care of myself!”

>Remind her she’s holed up in a pipe.
>Just agree with her.
>Ask her if she’ll just come out already.
>Write In.

>>45349022
>Just agree with her.
Your friends can't though. They need you.

>>45349022
>>Just agree with her.

>>45349022
>>Just agree with her.

File: Wionna - Brownies.jpg (157KB, 808x988px) Image search: [Google]

157KB, 808x988px

>Just agree with her.

“Yes, clearly,” you say, rolling your eyes in Sif’s direction. “Your friends aren’t quite as capable, though. They need you.”

“Aw, they’re all hiding, aren’t they?” Wionna groans. “I’m working on my escape attempt! I just…I can’t move every well right now. And neither can Pepperjack.”

Pepperjack? “Pepperjack?” You bend over to get a view inside the pipe, making sure to keep yourself a safe distance away. Inside is curled up a small pixie – pointed ears, overlong eyes, hair the color of leaves in autumn. She’s wearing a small hat a goggles, most likely to help with flight, and is mostly wrapped up in brightly colored ribbon – some of which is clearly bloodstained. Behind her sits a small robin, apparently sleeping, its left wing hastily bandaged with more ribbon. “Oh.”

“Pepperjack fell, and hurt his wing,” Wionna explains. You notice that she’s gripping a small sword that looks like it was made out of a thumbtack in one hand. “And I hurt my leg.”

“Well, we can get you out of here now,” you say. “If you promise not to stab me, I can get you and Pepperjack back to the brownies.”

“What about the Cait?” Wionna asks.

“There’s a Cait?”

“There’s a Cait,” says a voice behind you.

You turn your head slowly, carefully. Behind you sits a cat the size of a dog, even larger than Sif. It’s seated and calm, black fur relaxed, pupil-less eyes staring right through you towards the very vulnerable pixie.

“There’s a very hungry Cait,” the cat clarifies. “A very hungry Cait that’s been hunting a very delicious pixie.”

>Roll 1d20+5 Lore (DC Variable)

And…

>Sic Sif on the Cait
>Shoot the Cait
>Punch the Cait
>Keep the Cait talking
>Write In.

Rolled 16 + 5 (1d20 + 5)

>>45349454
>Keep the Cait talking

Rolled 13 + 5 (1d20 + 5)

>>45349454
>Sic Sif on the Cait
Sif. This is your duty as a canine. Make me proud.

Rolled 11 + 5 (1d20 + 5)

>>45349454

>>45349454
just give him money to go buy himself a sandwich or something

>>45349596
This is a cat anon.

>>45349454
>"Can't you eat something 'other' than another sentient being?"

>>45349699
some catfood then.

File: 100 dosh.png (155KB, 500x375px) Image search: [Google]

155KB, 500x375px

>>45349596

>21 (16+5)
>Keep the Cait talking.

Caits are predators, you remember that. Unlike the Wendigo, however, which was at the very top of its food chain, Caits have to suffer somewhere in the middle – using wits and tricks to keep themselves alive and fed rather than sorcerous or physical might. They tend to eat magical creatures smaller than they are, feeding off the magic they posses. Most importantly, they’re fae creatures, meaning they hate the touch of cold iron. If that thumbtack sword Wionna has is iron, it’s probably the only reason she’s still alive.

You should’ve seen this coming – Wionna obviously wasn’t using the illusion magic you smelled on entering the alley, it had to be something.

“Could you eat something that isn’t a sentient being?” You ask, keeping yourself between it and Wiona. Next to you, Sif growls – you place a hand on his head to steady him.

“But the sentience tastes so much better,” the Cait says, tail swishing back and forth, back and forth. “Knight, I have no desire to fight you. I simply want the pixie. If you leave now, I promise I can make it worth your while.”

>Worth my while how?
>Sic Sif on the Cait.
>Shoot the Cait.
>Punch the Cait.
>Make a counter offer (what?)
>Write In.

>>45350101
>Make a counter offer (it leaves we don't kill it)
Turn around and run and i will consider letting you go.If it refuses or moves closer shoot it then sic Sif on it.

>>45350101
Counter proposal:Feck off and nobody gets hurt

>>45350101
>>Make a counter offer (what?)
Work for me and you will eat 'till you burst, or get killed when I take you on missions

>>45350297
We're not gonna be fighting any magical creatures small enough for it to eat very often though. Also,
>trusting cats
>ever

>Make a counter offer (Back off and I won’t hurt you)

“I’ve got a better deal for you,” you say, slowly working your way up to a crouch. “Walk away, and I don’t kill you.”

>Roll 1d20+2 Intimidate (DC 18)

Rolled 6 + 2 (1d20 + 2)

>>45350656
move bitch get out the way

Rolled 8 + 2 (1d20 + 2)

>>45350656
check my 20

Rolled 20 + 2 (1d20 + 2)

>>45350656

>>45350703
haha fuck we roll too well every time

>>45350703
Oh anons. Writing.

>>45350703
Man, I'm on a roll today (ba-dump tsh).

>>45350821
and then you proceed to critfail the humor check

>20 (Critical Success)

“Abandon my hard-won food, and you’ll deign not to kill me?” The Cait asks. “How generous of you.” Its fur bristles and it crouches, preparing to throw itself forwards, but you don’t even move.
“You do realize I’m a Knight, don’t you?” You ask the Cait, staring it straight in it’s pupil-less eyes. “You mentioned it before, so you must. Then you know that I’ve been training my entire life to kill things that make you look like a joke. The only reason I haven’t already shot you so full of iron is that you’re not worth reloading my gun.”

The Cait stares at you. It’s hard to read its expressions – human-esque but decidedly not human – but you think it’s actually reconsidering. Still, it doesn’t move.

Your hand twitches, and suddenly the Cait is gone.

You stand there for a few long seconds, breathing in through your nose. You can smell the illusion magic fading from your range as the Cait flees.

“It’s gone,” you say when the smell fully fades. “Let’s get you home, Wionna.”

“That was amazing!” The pixie babbles as you pull her out of the pipe, careful not to upset her injured leg. “You were like, wah wah wah wah wah! And it was like, aaah no please!” She bursts into hysterical laughter.

It’s not a long drive back to the abandoned warehouse the brownies have made their home. They’re overjoyed to see Wionna alive and relatively well, and even offer you some Starbursts, which you take so you don’t seem rude. They assure you that they’ll return to Laura and Daniel’s house tomorrow, which you relay to the gleeful couple over the phone.

“Bless you sir,” Laura keeps repeating. “Bless you sir, bless you sir, bless you.”
>(cont.)

You hang up the phone and sigh. It’s been a very long afternoon, but thankfully, everything you’ve set out to do is resolved. You’ve scared off a Cait, rescued a pixie, helped a couple with their business, and gotten someone to work on your Wendigo bones. You are the master of the task-based economy. Clearly, you deserve a burger. One that you will pay money for, rather than rescuing the lost artifact of the burger lords.

You walk back to your car and get in the driver’s seat, Sif hopping into the bed so as not to inconvenience the man sitting in the passenger seat.

“Where are we going?” Asks the man.

“I was thinking of getting a burger.”

“Oh, you should go to this one place I know about, overlooking the beach. It’s wonderful, best burgers in Spain.”

You smile and nod. “Sounds good.”
“I’m starving,” the man admits as you begin driving. “But more importantly, I’m glad we’re getting this chance to talk, James. I’ve been hearing a lot about you.”

“Right, right,” you say, nodding. “I just…I’m sorry, I can’t remember your name.”

The man laughs. “Oh, shit. I forgot I’m kinda strangling your brain right now. Promise you won’t shoot me when I let go?” He snaps his fingers, and suddenly your mind is clear again.

>Shoot him.
>Slam his head into the dash.
>Jump out of the car.
>Ask him who he is.
>Write In.

>>45351241
>>Slam his head into the dash.

>>45351241
>Ask him who he is.

>>45351241
>>Slam his head into the dash.

Well, it isn't shooting him, and he was kind of fucking with our brain instead of just talking to us like a normal person, so we do kind of owe him.

>END OF THREAD 4

Since this vote's currently a tie and my next post was going to be the last of the night anyway, I'll go ahead and call thread 4 here. Thanks to everyone for participating, and thread 5 will be up either Thursday or Friday, 6 pm EST.

>>45351241
Sif, bite 'em nuts

>>45351573
>>45351574
That's what I get for not updating. Thread 5 will begin with >Slam his head into the dash.