Modern Necromancy Quest Redux: Thread Fourteen

Continued from
>>1093864

You think, leaning back on your heels. It sounds an awful lot like Strega’s gunning for you to kill her summoner. Logically, that’s a win for both of you. Strega goes free, at least for a while, and you get out of here scott-free. You’re sure that between the two Courts, the cops won’t get near this case, so legal ramifications aren’t an issue.

But...you’ve never killed anyone before. The thought of it makes your heart race, and your stomach twitches, threatening to bring up what’s left of lunch. Even if you wanted to, you’re not sure you know how. There has to be another way.

“Isn’t there another choice? Some other way to end your servitude? I’m a magic user, there’s got to be something here that could help us.” You gesture vaguely around the basement, to the stacks of crates and the exhibits draped with plastic to keep the dust and the moisture off.

“If there is, I do not know of it.” Though her voice is measured as always, you catch a hint of desperation there, and anger. “If you do not help me, I doubt they will punish me for your death. Despite what you have said, they may yet keep their word.”
You feel the color drain from your face, struggling to keep your expression neutral. Sounds like Strega isn’t exactly the kindly grandmother sort you took her for at first.

“What can you tell me about the guards?” You ask after a moment’s pause, intentionally shifting the subject away.

“My master is taller, but thinner than the other. His hair is dark. Other summons are close, but not likely to find you in the stairwell so long as you are quick and do not allow him time to call out. He is not strong. The other is different. People do as he says, though he is small. I do not know if this is some other magic, or if he is the leader. Both carry a gun, but I have never seen them used. This is all I have been able to tell from watching them.”
You think for another few moments, trying to come up with some other option, but nothing seems to present itself.

>Agree to kill Strega’s master, ask her for help on how to do it.
>Don’t agree to kill her master, suggest a different plan (specify your ideas).
>Don’t agree to kill her master, attack her with the flashlight
>write-in

>>1114261
>Agree to kill Strega’s master, ask her for help on how to do it.

Shes a fucking necromancer, if killing was so horrible, she shouldn't of gotten interested and learned necromancy.

>>1114287
Writing.

You swallow down the lump in your throat.

“Okay. I’ll do it.” You’re almost surprised by how certain you sound, how your voice doesn’t betray any of the swirling emotions in your gut. “So...how do you kill someone?”
Strega nods, her head bobbing up and down a few times before she replies.

“Do you have a weapon?” the owl-demon asks, tilting her head curiously.

You empty your bag out on the floor, the shades clustering close to give you enough light to see everything. There’s the partially-full bottle of libation, two plastic bags that the offerings were in before you burned them, a bandana, a lighter, a baseball cap, your wallet...and a pocket knife. The blade is only a few inches long, but you keep it pretty sharp.

“Will this do?”
Again, Strega bobs her head in that imitation of a nod.

“Yes, yes, very good. Now you see, a human is a fragile thing...”
For the next few minutes, Strega coaches you. In the near-complete darkness, broken only by the flickering points of blue light that the shades offer, she circles around you, gesturing with a wing or a talon the best places to strike. Her language is carefully precise, never mentioning her master or anything to do with him, and being intentionally vague about certain subjects that you assume she’s not allowed to talk about.

Eventually, your target is narrowed down to three possibilities. The carotid artery on the side of the neck, the femoral artery on the inside of the thigh, and the subclavian artery underneath the arm. From what Strega’s said, they all have their benefits as well as their downsides. Head swimming with the flood of knowledge the demon shared, you start to make your way over to the Egyptian exhibit, planning to grab the scroll and then let Strega “capture” you so that the plan can continue.

As you reach the exhibit and begin rifling through the less sensitive artifacts and reproductions stored down here, you hear a creaking noise—the door! You stand on one of the crates and peer over the rows of boxes, just able to make out the silhouette of one of the guards as he calls into the pitch-dark room. You’re not sure, but he looks pretty short.

“Have you got the intruder yet, Strega? Or are you still playing with your food? Either way, Mike says to grab the fucker already.”

You hear that soft, nearly inaudible sound of wings, and just catch Strega’s outline as she alights on the ground next to you. She doesn’t say anything, but you get the message.

>Tell Strega to stall for time while you search
>Go along with the plan, and kill the guard. You can come back down and get the scroll after, but if he alerts the others…
>write-in

>>1114399
>Tell Strega to stall for time while you search

>>1114468
Please roll 2d20. Best of three, crits take precedence over other rolls.

Rolled 5, 18 = 23 (2d20)

>>1114496
Catching up now...

Rolled 9, 18 = 27 (2d20)

>>1114496

>>1114507
>>1114537
Writing.

“Stall!” you hiss, and Strega immediately takes off, landing a few moments later directly in front of the guard. You catch bits of the conversation as you dig around, frantically searching for the scroll.

“Hello. Yes, the intruder is here, and I can capture her at any time. What were my master’s words?”
You groan—you doubt she’s going to win any Oscars any time soon. You continue to search as quickly as you can, the rest of their words swallowed up by the distance between you two. That is, until a shout echoes down the stairwell, barely a minute after Strega left.

“What’s taking so long? Strega, do I have to come down there?”
There’s a muffled curse and the sound of footsteps. You risk another peek at the doorway and see the other guard standing there, presumably ordering her to grab you. You redouble your efforts, hands sweating with nervousness. Where is it, where is it...there! Your hand closes in on the scroll, an item totally out of place in a box full of ancient weaponry. Just as you grab hold of it, you hear Strega’s wings behind you.

Talons strong as steel wrap around you, constricting your chest until you can barely suck in a breath, and you’re jerked up into the air. Moments later, you hit the ground in front of the door, wind knocked out of you by the sudden impact.

“Well, well, well...looks like we found our intruder, huh?”
It’s the taller of the two guards, Strega’s master. You start to look up at him and wince, the bright halogens that light the staircase seeming like miniature suns after spending so much time in the dim basement room.

The other guard grabs your arm and hauls you to your feet. You stand, but stagger, pretending to be as weak as possible as they drag you through the door. The shorter guard is asking if he should “soften you up”, but you block it out, focusing on the plan. As soon as you get up the stairs, you can attack. Thankfully, the short guard grabbed your left arm, so you should be able to slip your hand into your pocket and attack the taller guard as he walks in front of you.

They’re both wearing heavy looking vests. Bulletproof? You can’t tell for sure, but the handguns holstered on their belts seem to suggest it. Thankfully, the targets Strega suggested aren’t covered by the vests. You run through them in your mind, palms slick with sweat.

cont.

The carotid artery. Easy enough, slash at the neck a few times and you should be able to clip it. He’ll bleed out pretty quickly, and because it’s so close to the head, the loss of blood pressure will put him unconscious almost right away. Only problem is, he’s a lot taller than you are. It’ll be a bit of a stretch to get close enough to make sure you have a shot.

The femoral artery. A little more complicated, to get at the inner thigh. It’s covered by his pants as well, so you’ll have to be strong to cut through the material and into his leg. If you manage to get it, though, he could bleed out as quickly as ten seconds...or so Strega assures you.

The subclavian artery. You don’t think you’ll have a good shot to start stabbing at his armpit unless he raises his arm for some reason. That said, because of the anatomy in the area, you have a near certain chance of hitting it. If you do nick the artery, he should bleed out in a minute or so.You shiver, stumbling slightly as you go up the first step and the short guard tugs at your arm, pulling you off-balance. You never thought you’d be trying to figure out the best way to stab somebody to death, but here you are, between the devil and the deep blue sea.

>Attack once you get to the first landing (specify target)
>Try to slip away and get out the service door on the landing without attacking.
>Wait for a better opportunity, even if it means getting pulled further into the museum

>>1114648
>Attack once you get to the first landing (specify target)
Some other day we will go for a mage's kneecaps.
Today. We cut that neck open.


Try to seduce him or something. Flirt with him, try to caress his face with the knife hidden between our fingers, then cut the bastard.
We could use the ghost too to create a window of opportunity, like disabling his partner while we do the deed

>>1114648
>Attack once you get to the first landing
Have Cat pull the fucker down where we can reach him, then cut and fucking run.

>>1114648
>Attack once you get to the first landing (neck)

>>1114665
>>1114648
Agreed
>Attack the carotid

We are going to be one mentally scarred lilttle girl.

Definitely swinging over into BBEG territory now..

>>1114712
>>1114703
>>1114665
Roll 3d20. Best of three, crits take precedence.

Rolled 6 (1d20)

>>1114719
>

Rolled 12, 17, 8 = 37 (3d20)

>>1114719

Rolled 6, 6, 5 = 17 (3d20)

>>1114719


>>1114717
Ain't no little girl

Rolled 20, 19, 5 = 44 (3d20)

>>1114719
This is gonna suck.

Rolled 7, 13, 14 = 34 (3d20)

>>1114724
Oh, i feel like an idiot now

File: 'sallgood.jpg (10KB, 294x320px) Image search: [Google]

10KB, 294x320px

>>1114751
>>1114752
Writing for 20, 19, 8.
This'll be interesting.

>>1114760
>We cut the neck so well the splatting blood blinds the guard's partner
>We don't leave behind a shred of evidence
>We trip on the way out

You suck in a deep breath, heart pounding away. It’s now or never. As the two go up the stairs, the narrowness of the landing forces the shorter guard to hang behind, leaving no obstacle between you and Strega’s master.

You yank your arm free of the shorter guard’s grasp, pushing him backwards. He flails desperately, trying to grab hold of the railing or regain his balance, but fails. He shouts and tumbles down the stairs, landing at the bottom in a bruised and bloody pile. The taller guard turns, and you dig in your pocket for the knife, flipping it open. He jerks backwards, hand scrabbling at the holster for his gun as he tries to draw. Without thinking, you shout for help.

“Cat!”

And it comes. Acting immediately, Cat dashes through the man’s head. He’s dazed, and it’s barely half a second before Cat reappears and dives into the man’s stomach, staying solid long enough to land a blow. The man doubles over and you seize your change, running forward and getting him in a headlock, your arm wrapped around his neck from the top. It’s the perfect position. He can’t really struggle or draw his gun because of the awkward angle, you have the knife in your hand, you can see the artery. Without hesitation, you bring the knife down--

--and miss.
Whether it was nerves, the heat of the moment, or just inexperience, you miss completely. Instead of slashing the artery, the knife goes too far forward, sticking in his windpipe. The guard slumps forward and you drop him, bile rising. He scrabbles on the floor, hands tugging at the knife. It slides out and clatters to the grating of the landing, blood dripping from the wound. He tries to take a breath, but instead, air hisses through his throat. He clasps both hands over the gaping hole in his windpipe, and manages to snatch a gasp of air. No sound comes out when he tries to shout, and some far-detached part of your mind figures you hit his vocal cords.

He sits there, staring at you, life slowly trickling out of him. Too slowly. You hear footsteps, shouting, from the other side of the door to the stairwell. The knife is by your feet, the guard sitting there against the wall, in front of the stairs leading up to the museum’s first floor. He stares, and doesn’t say a word.

>Run. The guards are coming, and the odds that he’ll die are pretty good. No way an ambulance could get here in time...probably.
>Finish the job. You made a deal with Strega, and if you leave him alive, he’ll remember you. The legal system might not get involved, but you don’t doubt he’ll take things into his own hands.
>Write-in

>>1114847
>Finish the job.
>Apologize.

>>1114847
>Grab the knife
>Run

I just don't feel like I can force Liz to murder a man, even if we end up having to run and flee into the winds. I think it would change her too much and I don't think she is mentally prepared for it.

Then again maybe she is, maybe it will make her feel all tingly, but I am really struggling with turning her into a cold blooded killer.

>>1114847
>>Finish the job.
>>Take something off his body for summoning.
Maybe use the gun or something.

>>1114872
I think there would not be any hesitation if she were a dude.
poor guy

>>1114866
>>1114872
Damn....

I guess I will change my vote to
>Finish the job
>Apologize

I doubt this is just a test, and this guy could come after us and our family, fuck.

We gonna kill a man tonight I guess.

>>1114879
>>1114847
I would have voted to let him be, and even hoped for him to survive... But we made a deal with Strega, and she'll kill the fuck out of us if we don't kill him.

Time to kill-a-bitch

>>1114879
>>1114866
>>1114877
Writing.
For the record, you can't summon someone with one of their possessions alone. You also need remains from their body, usually a bone.

>>1114934
If the bastards bleeds on us, can we use our bloody rags as a tribute instead of bleeding over the bone?

>>1114934
Fuck, got my shit messed up, meant kill him with the gun.
Can we take his ears for summoning?

>>1114946
No, jesus christ no, let's not use the gun. We want to do this quiet.

>>1114946
>Make it look like the guard killed his companion, using his service gun to do the deed
>Steal his ears

I know, i know. It is still hillarious.

>>1114942
At least some of the blood used in a ritual has to belong to the summoner.
>>1114946
Sorry, voting window's closed for now. Maybe next time.

That's all for tonight, folks. I'll try to post irregularly throughout the day tomorrow, but no promises.

You pick up the knife. You know you’re moving quickly, but it feels like everything’s in slow motion. You kneel next to him, eyes locked together. He doesn’t seem angry, sad, even scared. Just a little curious, maybe confused. You lean forward and speak, softly.

“I’m sorry. Good luck.”

With that, you drag the knife across his skin, blood spurting out at once. You look away as the door at the top of the stairs opens, but somehow you know that he didn’t look away. Even as he slumped over, even as you dashed out into the alley, you know that he didn’t look away.

An hour later, you’ve made it to the car, scroll still in your backpack where you managed to tuck it before Strega snatched you up. You managed to wash your hands and the knife, but you’re sure there’s still blood on your pants, dried until it’s almost impossible to distinguish from the black fabric. You want nothing more than to fall asleep, to put all of this behind you. But you still have the scroll...and Oberon’s waiting.

>Drive to the Unseelie Court. You started this, and you’re going to finish it yourself.
>Call the young chauffeur you talked to earlier for a ride. You’re not sure you can make it on your own.
>Drive home. Oberon can wait a little longer. You need sleep.

>>1115021
>Take the car near home and away from the museum, call the chaffeur to take us to the court and then back to our car again.

I don't want to explain why we didn't brought the old thing back or to go back to the crime scene to retrieve the car

>>1115039
Also, send the remnant of our shades into the building to fuck up the security recordings before we leave.

Just because the police is not going to look into it, doen't mean the guards don't have friends who won't take matters into their own hands

>>1115021
>>1115039
>Take the car near home and away from the museum, call the chaffeur to take us to court and then back to our car again

Yeah that sounds smart.

Fuck I kinda hope that guy lives and doesn't come after us, I don't want Lizzie to have killed a dude yet! Heck, the guy was probably unseelie anyway, Fuck we killed one of our own.

>>1115021
>>1115039
>>1115046
Seconding.

>>1115021
>>1115039
>>1115052
hi Skelly
seconding

>>1115039
Sounds good

I can probably run tonight at 6:30pm EST, but it would be close. Is there any interest? I'd hate to schedule it and not have any participants

>>1120589
I can try to be here. No promises though...

>>1120589
ill probably be around

>>1120589
I would love to, but I wont be able to show up until later in the evening, I got class from 7:30 Central to 9:30 Central, but that can change depending on how quickly I am done with my work, so I will be here tonight, just not at the beginning.

So long as no one takes poor Lizzie down a path of wanton degeneracy too rapidly it should be okay

I'm sorry, it doesn't look like I'll be able to run tonight after all. My apologies, but (and this IS a promise) I will post when I can on friday and over the weekend. Thanks!