Winter Heart Quest

>>1126916
>I’ll have to get a shelter and a fire going, after that I can plan my next step.

Seems like a cool and interesting story base. Hope you continue with it.

>>1126916
>>Maybe I can spot smoke if I get up high enough. . . .

>>1126916
>I’ll have to get a shelter and a fire going, after that I can plan my next step.

You pull yourself out of the hollow tree trunk and into what now clearly seems to be the early light of dawn. Unfortunately this thickly wooded area appears completely alien to you, nor do you see any dead wood near by. At least it is not actively snowing, so losing track of your somewhat protected tree hollow won’t be a problem. You’re also quickly beginning to feel more healthy and can feel cobwebs lifting from your mind you hadn’t even realized were there.

You decide you’d best setup a basic camp so that if you can’t find a way out of these woods by tonight you won’t freeze out in the open. With that in mind you set out to find a dead tree small enough you can hack pieces off to potentially start a fire. A fire will be difficult to start, maybe impossible, but it might be the only thing that will keep you warm enough to survive another night in the woods. Uncertain of which direction to go, you shrug and set out into the morning sun keeping an eye out for the kind of wood you need.

It takes you until near midday, but you find a couple good sticks and one dead sapling you should be able to break up and burn. What you don’t find is much of anything to use as tinder. Arriving back at the place where you awoke, you carefully place your fire making materials inside your hollow and set about finding enough branches to make a framework to pack snow over to close up the gaps in the hollow you awoke in. The fire will wait until evening, since you don’t have much wood to burn in any case.

A few more hours of work later, and you’re probably set to survive another night in the woods. You have maybe two or three hours before dusk.
>There’s not much chance, but you could forage for berries (you saw none in your earlier trek)
>There might be enough time to find a taller tree, climb it, and mark the direction of anything unusual you spot.
>writein

>>1127050
>There’s not much chance, but you could forage for berries (you saw none in your earlier trek)
Food first

You’ll have more energy for tomorrow if you can find something to eat, and with that in mind, you decide to spend the next two hours before the daylight begins to fade searching for food. You spend the first hour and a half or so searching away from your camp in a zig-zag pattern in hopes of finding any manner of berry, or anything at all really that you might recognize as edible. No luck finding berries though. Coming round the side of a massive pine tree, you see a splash of red in the snow. Blood.

>Follow the trail of blood, it’s possible that some predator you could scare off like a snow fox has killed something, or simply that some animal is injured and dying.
>Head back to camp hungry, it’s too risky.

>>1127129
>Follow the trail of blood, it’s possible that some predator you could scare off like a snow fox has killed something, or simply that some animal is injured and dying.
Fashion a crude weapon first, at least a club

>>1127207
> you do have a knife, although it's not a big knife.

Rolled 41 + 1 (1d100 + 1)

>>1127218
Make a spear then.
Rolling a d20 and d100 for success, since I don't know what you want to use.

You decide to follow the blood trail, but you’d like to have a better weapon for this situation, maybe something with a little reach. . . . you’ll need to make it quickly if you want to follow the trail.

You scan the surrounding woods, and spot an appropriate tree. Striding over to it, you peel up several long strips of bark. Then searching through the low hanging branches you spot one long and straight enough that it could make for a makeshift spear in a pinch although not an ideal one. A few minutes of sawing and a few quick tugs break the branch free, and then it is but the work of moments before you have it stripped clean of any large twigs, and have notched the end so that you can lash your knife in place. It’s certainly no battle weapon, but you could probably use it to kill a rabbit.

Hefting your new weapon, you begin following the trail of bright scarlet splashes through the trees as the light greys into the early stages of dusk.

After a few minutes of fairly quick progress you can see an enormous thicket of brambles as high as a house and stretching for several dozen yards to either side down a slight slope ahead with a almost man sized opening in them. The trail of blood is clearly leading towards the opening, but you can’t see far inside it in the dim light. The wind is picking up, and eddies of snow swirl around you.

>Venture into the thicket
>Return to camp.
>Get closer and inspect the thicket without going in.

>>1127264
>Get closer and inspect the thicket without going in.

>>1127264
>Get closer and inspect the thicket without going in.

>>1127264
>Get closer and inspect the thicket without going in.

You pad softly closer to the thicket. The blood trail continues in drips and drops up to the thicket entrance. As you reach the entrance, you peer inside the gloomy thicket. You cannot make out any fine details, but you can see that the brambles open up into a dome shape with quite a bit of space inside. In the center of the dome is a humanoid figure with it’s back turned towards you. It appears to be very large, although hunched down in a crouch. A tattered shawl woven with bones is draped over it’s back and it has some kind of horned headgear that you can’t make out properly from behind. On the ground beneath it are intricate patterns of crimson in the snow, extending outward into some kind of circle covering the whole bramble dome.

>Approach
>Attack
>Flee
>writein.

>>1127469
>Approach

>>1127469
>Approach

File: james-zapata-skulllake.jpg (121KB, 750x1000px) Image search: [Google]

121KB, 750x1000px

The figure in the brambles fidgets and you can hear it mumbling something. A strange sensation sweeps over you, raising the hairs on your arms and neck. Unsure of why, you feel compelled to approach the strange creature in its circle of blood. As you step across the outer line of the circle another wave of sensation washing over you. This time feeling like you stepped through a sheet of icy water, but one which left behind no trace of its passage. The moment your foot fell inside the line, the creature turned to face you. Although turned isn’t the right word; it had it’s back to you one moment, and the next these horrible blue eyes, like hard glowing ice are looking back at you from behind a mask of bone. What you can see of it’s body is covered in short brown fur, and it has cloven hooves in place of feet.

When your foot fell you heard a loud dry crack as well, and despite the monster in front of you your eyes are drawn down as if by some unseen force. The packed snow inside the brambles is uneven, odd protrusions from its smooth surface are everywhere. The protrusions are to sharp, too clearly defined to be more snow. After a frozen moment it comes to you; they are bones, bones as white as the snow around them, or close enough as to make no difference in the poor light.

The creature before you raises itself off it’s haunches, stretching up to the top of the dome of brambles, filling the space and yet still its lanky form is somewhat crouched in this confined space. A blood soaked fox falls from its long fingered hand as it reaches for a bone knife at it’s hip, chanting something gibbering and unintelligible.

>M-maybe diplomacy will work?
>Attempt to stab it in the leg and run
>Just run for it.
>Writein

>>1127625
Well shit, supernatural guff.
>Throw snow in its face and book it
If we lose our knife here we're fuuuucked, but we need some advantage to get out before it acts

>>1127625
>Attempt to stab it in the leg and run

File: RUN NIGGA RUN.jpg (8KB, 200x219px) Image search: [Google]

8KB, 200x219px

>>1127625
>Throw snow in its face and book it

>>1127625
>Attempt to stab it in the leg and run

File: bfd2481740ed2ecbb520138308c33d19.jpg (17KB, 236x333px) Image search: [Google]

17KB, 236x333px

You flinch backward from the towering abomination standing before you, and then as your mental gears catch and the adrenaline hits your system you spring into action. You step back, slapping the but of your makeshift spear against the ground and kicking bits of bone and snow up into the monster’s mask, then chop downward with the blade of the weapon at its thigh while it is, you hope, distracted.


Shit. The blade slaps into the thick fur of the creature and has no obvious effect. You may have cut it, but if so the wound garners no reaction from the monster, nor do the snow and detritus sticking to its mask.

You begin to step back and turn, preparing to sprint away when the it’s long arm blurs and something slams into your shoulder with enough force to spin you around the other way and knock you to the ground several feet back. Your vision swims and you struggle to focus through the pain. Your left arm doesn’t seem to be functioning properly, but you manage push yourself to your knees before a force like a kick from a draft horse impacts your side. The world spins around you and you feel a moment of weightlessness before your back impacts a hard rough surface and you feel your body spin dizzyingly before your fall to the snow.

You’re sure you must have several broken bones but the pain doesn’t register, you just know you have to get away from this abomination or you will most assuredly die.

As you push yourself to your feet shakily, propping yourself against the tree the creature advances on you slowly, raising its arms to the sky and chanting.

“S’thun Ta, gon tanya mai. Fa than ga mordu tu. Karaka. Karaka. KARAKA”

Blood drips from its long thin fingers as they stretch towards the sky and the wind begins to howl through the woods, whipping the creatures shawl about it and causing the bones to chatter and hum.

In this moment you feel

>Desperation. your situation is hopeless but you want more than anything to live
>Determination. You refuse to give up, you have to think clearly.
>Rage. You hate this creature for doing this to you, you won’t let it win.

>>1127838
>Rage. You hate this creature for doing this to you, you won’t let it win.

>>1127838
>Determination

>>1127838
If this is essentially going to be our class choice, I choose BARBARIAN!
>Rage. You hate this creature for doing this to you, you won’t let it win.

>>1127838
>Determination. You refuse to give up, you have to think clearly.
We Frisk now, motherfuckers!

>>1127990
woo a tie breaker.

It's not a class choice exaaaaactly, but it matters.

I'll get back to write'n now.

>>1128019
literally while I was posting fek.

Well I'mma wait for someone to come in here and decide this because I can't work two of these together.

>>1128028
Addendum: If it takes incredibly long for a 2-2 vote tie to break, I'll flip a coin for it.

File: red skeleton.gif (30KB, 200x200px) Image search: [Google]

30KB, 200x200px

>>1127838
RAGE

TEN THOUSAND SUNS OF RAGE

FOUR TRILLION SUPERNOVAS OF BLINDING HATEFUL RAGE

File: eb7c9a94e1adeb2f00308dbe67da8ed7-d5k7w8z.jpg (484KB, 1500x750px) Image search: [Google]

484KB, 1500x750px

You stare at the monstrosity as it gibbers in it’s insane tongue and a sensation begins to spread from deep inside your chest. Like molten lead burning through your veins pain like you’ve never felt before sears your nerves. You feel like the inside of your body is on fire as a burning rage takes over your mind. You refuse to die like this, you refuse to be killed by some piece of shit abomination that has no place existing in your world. You feel your chest heave as you suck in a deep breath, and see your breath billow out in front of you like a cloud of fog. The heat hasn’t left your body, if anything it feels intensified, you don’t feel the biting cold of the wind that now howls around you and the beast, nor the pain of your injuries.

You scream and your scream becomes a roar of hot breath billowing out of your mouth like you’re some kind of mythological dragon transfigured into the form of a man.

Then the creature moves. It flows like some kind of liquid, limbs bending in impossible places and at impossible angles to make its movement across the ground more silent and fast than any natural born creature. This time you’re ready, prepared, focused. You can see it coming even as it’s limbs blur, your eyes unable to track motion so fast as anything other than a continuous stream.

You duck under the sweep of its clawed hand and slam the fist of your good arm into its abdomen, then planting one foot forward you push yourself back, snapping your head backwards as it’s own face comes down toward where your upper body would have been had you followed through on the blow. Your joints creak is you whip your body weight back against your momentum twice to bring your forehead slamming into the creature’s bone mask in a head butt.

The creature reels back shrieking, and you swap your makeshift spear to your good arm and jam the knife into the monster’s knee. This time you have more force behind the blow and the knife goes into the double hinged joint point first. Still not too deep, but the shriek of surprise turns into a howl of pain and anger as it stumbles back from you.

Every fiber of your being is screaming at you to attack attack attack and kill your enemy, to rip it apart stomp on the remains, but you can see all too well that it is more surprised than truly injured, and in mere moments it will be able to attack you again. Sooner or later it’s greater weight, reach, as well as it’s unnatural speed and toughness, will be the end of you.

>>1128046
>>1127990
>>1127859
>>1128040
And so we invoke Grog Strongjaw, Avatar of Wrath.

We would like to rage.

You turn and run, the fire still pumping through your veins. Your breath exploding out of you in enormous gouts of steam so thick you feel sure the terrible thing from the brambles will be able to track you by the clouds of vapor alone.

The heat in your body burns hotter still and you run faster, though you still cannot remember much about your life, you feel sure you’ve never moved this fast before, perhaps not even on the back of a horse, but the burning desire to win, to survive overrides any questioning thought about how this is even possible for you.

Hours pass, and the heat in your blood begins to cool. As it does, you begin to think more clearly. All too suddenly you realize that although you have, you hope, escaped that nightmare creature, you are now completely lost in the woods at night, and still have a bone knife jutting from your shoulder as well as what feels like multiple cracked or broken ribs.

Well, shit.


>Find a tree hollow to curl up in
>Best just rest here rather than move anymore with these injuries
>No, you have to keep running until you can’t move anymore. That monster was fast, and quiet, it could still be on your trail, and if it finds you, you’re dead.

Extra(vote for one of the above, and one of these):
>Attempt to remove the knife and keep it
>Attempt to remove the knife and discard it
>Leave it alone for now.

(I have to run some errands, will continue for a bit longer when I get back).
I'll give a shout on https://twitter.com/WandererQM when I'm back if you don't want to just refresh endlessly.

>>1128157
>No, you have to keep running until you can’t move anymore. That monster was fast, and quiet, it could still be on your trail, and if it finds you, you’re dead.
>Attempt to remove the knife and keep it

>>1128166
second

>>1128157
>Find a tree hollow to curl up in
>Leave it alone for now.
We need to have something prepared to stop the bleeding before we pull out the knife

>>1128187
sacond

Alrighty, I'm back. Gonna take 10 then roll a tie breaker if needed.

Rolled 59 (1d100)

high is >>1128166
low is >>1128187
high starts at 51.

You decide if you’re going to keep running, the knife has got to come out sooner rather than later. Putting the haft of your makeshift spear between your teeth, you wrap your fingers around the handle of the bone knife, suck in a deep breath, and pull. . . . it doesn’t hurt as badly as you expected, although it’s hard to say if that's good or bad, but you manage to keep to a low groan as the knife slides free.

You examine the strange knife, and immediately realize something is of, something other than the strange runes carved into the hilt, and the fact that the bone appears suspiciously human. The blade is blackened, as if it had been tarred or someone had heat hardened it. Can you even heat harden bone? It’s odd though, you could have sworn that when the creature had held the knife it was pure ivory. Still, the blade seems to be very sharp and none the worse for being inside you for a significant period of time. You tuck the blade into your belt, although you make a note to yourself to keep it out of sight of any other humans should you make it back to a town.

You also take a moment to look at the wound, which also seems a bit off. Very little blood is leaking out, and it’s blackened around the edges as well as hot to the touch. This can’t possibly a good sign, but there’s little you can do about it in the woods with little memory or supplies.

Deciding that there’s nothing more you can do at the moment for your injury, you begin to run again. The frenetic energy that helped you escape the beast is all but gone now, but you do not yet feel truly tired, and you’re oddly warm despite the freezing temperature. The only thing really slowing you down is the ever increasing onslaught of aches and pains you didn’t even realize you had. Your chest is one massive ball of pain and there’s a deep ache in your shoulder wound. One of your ankles is also beginning to protest as well, and you’re starting to suspect you’ve broken or fractured something in your right hand.

Hours pass and your strength begins to fade, truth be told you find it difficult to believe you’ve been running for this long. Still, you keep staggering forward. The trees are beginning to thin ahead of you, you think. Some thought or memory tugs you forward, eluding your conscious mind yet demanding you keep going just a bit farther.

Finally, chest heaving and limbs trembling, you collapse to your knees at the edge of the forest. Memory pulling at you, you know this place for some reason, although in the darkness and snow it’s hard to say what is so familiar about it.

Your mind no longer able to stay focused, you sag back against a tree, and in spite of the cold, lose consciousness.

File: frosty-winter-morning-in-the-mountains-28785-1920x1080.jpg (483KB, 1920x1080px) Image search: [Google]

483KB, 1920x1080px

You wake up under what feels like a warm thick blanket, and initially try to roll over and return to sleep, however the sharp crackling of ice breaks the illusion of a warm cozy bed. In fact, you’re completely covered in snow save for a bit of your upper chest and face. Your eyes crackle open only with great difficulty and you have to brush off your ice encrusted face.

To be honest, you didn’t really expect to wake up again, or at the very least, you ought to be short all your fingers and toes. However you can’t see any signs of frostbite, and if anything you feel much better, well rested and refreshed. Your cracked ribs don’t even bother you unduly.

Absent the haze of total exhaustion you can also grasp why this part of the woods felt so familiar. You have in fact, been here a number of times before, and you feel certain this is where you entered the woods before losing your memory. Which means. . . . . peering into the distance you see what has to be faint wisps of smoke. A village not too far distant, although there may be a copse of trees or two between you and it.

You must have lived there, or been visiting and stayed for a time. . . but what were you. . . . the thought skitters away from your mind and you try to hold on to it. You were


>A hunter
>A soldier
>A guide
>A caravan guard.
>Other: Writein

>>1128837
>A hunter

>>1128837
>A soldier

Yes. . . . when you were a boy your father taught you to hunt, you remember that now, and you truly became a man when he was gone and you began to provide for your family in his stead. Then. . . . a blank, an absence of memory where something important happened you know it, but it escapes you. Later you became a soldier and learned how to hold a sword or spear. In your heart though you know your soldiering days are behind you now, as much as they ever can be.

Although all the world you’ve ever known has had a cold and bitter winter, you had a reason for coming to this northernmost frontier of the kingdom what was it. . . .

>Just a merchant’s bodyguard
>Seeking your fortune.
>To go back to your roots, to settle down and become a hunter again
>Looking for someone
>writein

>>1129035
>Looking for someone

You were looking for . . . someone. The details slip away from you, shadowy faces and muddled words bubbling up into your mind in a confused jumble. You aren’t sure who you wanted to find, or why you wanted to find them. Considering your sorry state in the woods, you half suspect you already encountered what or whoever it was you were seeking and got the short end of that encounter.

Regardless, more answers probably await you in the town, or at the very least someplace to sleep besides the snow. You set off towards the village. . . .


>And that's all for tonight. I'll be back around the same time the quest started or so tomorrow.

<bump>

Hey guys, I have to postpone the quest due to RL stuff. I -hope- I'll be able to continue tomorrow. at about this time.

Beginning again in 2~ hours.

File: 2011-12-29(24858)_WinterTravellersII.jpg (524KB, 1500x885px) Image search: [Google]

524KB, 1500x885px

Though the relatively short walk took you much longer than it should have in your poor condition, you’ve arrived at the small village still in the early morning. The grey of morning still seems to hang over the land, likely due to the cloud cover rapidly growing thicker and darker as it came up from the south. You feel sure this is where you came from before waking up in the woods, but little about the dreary place feels familiar. A poorly maintained wooden palisade surrounds the village, but no guards stand at the open gate, and it appears as though the gate has not been moved into the closed position for some time, the base buried in snow although the path through is a mixed of compacted snow and frozen mud.

As you walk through the gate you begin to notice signs of life, mostly a few people going about their daily tasks in a depressed silence. In the otherwise quiet morning air you can hear what sounds like impassioned and loud speech coming from the far end of the village where a small crowd of people has gathered in front of a man in brown robes standing on some kind of slight mound or platform that cannot be seen behind the crowd. The faint sounds of metal on metal echo in between the strident notes of the robed man’s words indicating the existence of a smith as most such remote towns have.

The air carries on it a variety of smells, most unusually that of burnt wood and meat. Although the smell of cooking meat is not so strange in a village, neither it nor the wood smoke from fires are usually so powerful, especially at this time of day.

The smell reminds you of your most pressing concern as your stomach rumbles noisily. Unfortunately, you have no coin, and little memory to tell you if you know anyone here who might feed you, or how you might acquire some money on short notice.

>Investigate the robed speaker.
>Find the town inn or whatever passes for one here.
>You seem to remember that even most backwoods towns have some kind of temple, perhaps you could beg for food and shelter there?

>>1137310
>You seem to remember that even most backwoods towns have some kind of temple, perhaps you could beg for food and shelter there?

>>1137310
>Investigate the robed speaker.

You walk forward towards what appears to be the town square and the crowd of people there. As you get closer a few of the robed man’s words begin to be understandable, and you realize he must be a priest a priest of the Father, the first man you now remember. Although you feel sure the religion was familiar to you, the particulars escape you. The, the priest's words take on full form over the whistling wind:

> “ . . . the flame of the Father burns away the impurities of heart. We must always be vigilant against the vile influence of heretics and the the corrupted, and root out such evil wherever it grows.”
>”Know that none of you, pure of heart, children of the Father are to blame for not recognizing this evil in your midst. The spawn of the deceiver can tempt any man or woman, and there is no shame in falling prey to such vile beasts!”

The preacher begins to recite what you now recognize as standard verse about purity of the heart and how evil must be fought in all walks of life, and so on and so forth.

Your eye is drawn to what the man stands in front of, which is a wide pile of ashe, and where the faint burnt wood and meat smell is coming from. You shiver despite not feeling very cold at present at the memory of the dream you had before waking up in the tree. Reminded of the screams of the figure in the flames.


You turn away from the preacher, and now recalling what a temple to the First Man looks like, trudge towards the local temple. The man in front of the crowd is likely from outside the village, perhaps apprenticed to an inquisitor.

The temple is a modest structure, much larger and in better repair than the small one room huts and cabins that make up the rest of the village. Likely having a modest alter as well as several back rooms for the priest and any guests, whether they be beggars or other visiting members of the church.

As you push the door open, an odd sense of disquiet falls over you, though you do not know why. The main hall is lit by a few candles and a torch in addition to the great hearth behind the altar, which burns with a continual flame. Although you hadn’t felt truly cold since awaking this morning, the oppressive warmth of the temple is a welcome change. A man is kneeling before the hearth, almost touching it, at the end of the hall. His brown robe is much more tattered than that of the priest you saw outside, and his feet are bare. As you enter he rises and turns to face you.


The priest is not an old man, perhaps thirty, although there are already streaks of iron-grey in his hair and beard. He is thin, and bares no other clothing or symbols besides his robe.

“F-father, I am in need of aid.”

Your voice croaks and breaks, and you realize since awaking, you have never once spoken, even to curse to yourself. The feeble tone and rasp surprises you, although thinking back on the fact that snow has been your only access to water, that may be the cause.

You cough, and manage to speak more strongly.

>”I am afraid I have lost all my coin and other worldly possessions, save my clothes. I hoped I might perhaps beg some bread and water of you?”

The priest frowns at you, but his voice is kindly.

>”Of course you may, the Father always provides for his wayward children so long as they are pure of heart and virtuous in the fight against the deceiver.”

He smiles thinly as he says this and gestures towards a side door in the hall.

>”Why don’t you tell me your name and how you ended up here while I get you some food?”

Your name, well. That’s something you hadn’t thought of before, although the priest asking it brings back a vivid memory of another man in a brown robe, raven haired and stern.

>”What’s your name boy? Spit it out!”

My name, yes it’s

First
>Hawk
>Jack
>Lee
>Karn
>Tristen
>Writein

Last
>Thorne
>Smith
>Hammerfell
>Hemlock
>Jackson
>Writein

>List any combinations of first/last you like in order of preference. Preferably 3+ combinations so we can get one more than 1 vote.

>>1137559
>Jack Hemlock

>>1137559
>Karn Hemlock
So, you also a fan of M:tG Wanderer?

>>1137621
I used to play a whole lot, now I mostly just have an appreciation for the art and flavor text. :P

Rolled 2 (1d2)

alright rolling a coin flip for name since we've only got two.

>>1137583
1

>>1137621
2

>” My name is . . . Karn Hemlock.”

The priest smiles and begins walking over to the side door.


>”It’s always a blessing to meet a fellow child of the first man. Especially one who has served in the King’s army such as yourself.”

He motions you through the side door, through which is a small room with a hearth containing a bubbling cookpot, as well as two stools and a tiny table, and a small cupboard above the table.

As the priest begins rummaging through the cupboard he asks,
> “So, how did you end up here?”

As he says this, something else occurs to you, how did he know you were a soldier?


> How did you know I was a soldier?
>(lie) I was robbed on the way to this village
> I woke up in the woods with nothing and no memories.
>Writein

>>1137960
>How did you know I was a soldier? I woke this morning with no memories, save that of my name and childhood.

File: 1486136251781.jpg (130KB, 500x778px) Image search: [Google]

130KB, 500x778px

>How did you know I was a soldier? I woke this morning with no memories, save that of my name and childhood.


The priest looks surprised at first, but his look grows more concerned as you explain how you woke up in the woods with a head injury and few memories of your past.

“I can see why you wouldn’t realize that had any significance then” the priest says, pointing at the back of your right hand.

Confused, you look at the back of your hand, and realize the priest isn’t pointing at your hand, but at an odd scar on the back if it. A vertical line topped with a small burn scar, as if you’d had a large ember land on the back of your hand somehow.

“It means you were a veteran of the Father’s holy knights. It’s not a position in the clergy, but rather an honor granted to exceptional soldiers who have spilled blood both their own and of their enemies in service to our king and our great Father, the first man.” the priest hands you a heel of bread and begins spooning what looks a lot like mud into a wooden bowl from the pot above the fire.

“It’s also how I knew you were one pure of heart and did not need to bother with the usual tests and why I’ll let you sleep here a night or two rather than give you a crust of bread.” He sets the bowl in front of you and further hands you a flagon of what turns out to be water.

The ‘mud’ might not have been particularly appealing had you been full, but given the grumbling from your stomach it might as well be a lord’s feast.

As you wolf down the meal you think on what the priest said. It only really raises more questions really, as you have no idea what all this pure of heart business is about other than that it has to do with the Church of the First Man. You still can’t remember much about your time as a soldier either although when you concentrate, flashes of what you think are battle come to you. There is at the very least, more than enough screaming in your memories. You also can’t remember much about the kingdom or how you came to be here, even the memories of when you were a boy, which are now your clearest, mostly consist of fragmented moments of your father teaching you about the woods and how to shoot a bow.

Since you have this opportunity to find out more about the world, you might as well make the best of it.

>What did you mean by, “The usual tests”?
>Where are we? What. . . . goes on in this town?
>Why was the preacher out in the town square? This village seems a bit small for an out of town preacher
>writein

>>1138223
>Where are we? What. . . . goes on in this town?
>Why was the preacher out in the town square? This village seems a bit small for an out of town preacher

>>1138223
>Where are we? What. . . . goes on in this town?
>What did you mean by, “The usual tests”?

“So just where are we? Where is this town and what, or I suppose, why is it here?”

The priest fetches himself a bowl as well and sits down on the stool across from you. “We are in the farthest northern reach of the empire, and it mostly exists at the generosity of the king.” The priest takes a moment to sip from his bowl, “although generosity might be a bit misleading. The king provides shipments of supplies and neglects to collect taxes so that this town can exist, but he does so in order to give his own servants, as well as members of the church a place to stop, rest, and resupply when they have cause to be in the north. It also makes it more feasible to track down corruptors and heretics who attempt to hide in the untamed north.”

“There is also a small amount of business done up here, primarily by trappers and hunters who go after rare, sometimes magical game.” he concludes.

You nod pensively. This makes a lot of sense, as the sorry state of the village and the seeming impossibility of any attempts at farming made it’s existence without outside support questionable at best.

“Then that preacher out in the town square. . . . he’s the sort of person this town exists to give a place to sleep?” you ask.

The priest grimaces, a shadow of anger coming across his face. “No, he’s not the sort that usually come through here. Once in awhile a warden of the flame will come through on their rounds across the north to keep the ice witches in check, and every year or two we get a holy knight aiming to slay some monster with a bounty on it that was reported to be in the region.”


He sets his bowl aside, appetite gone. “That wind-bag out there is here because we discovered a witch. One of the huntsmen found the place in the woods she was living and managed to capture her, and thought she’d done her best to conceal her true identity, she failed the tests. The preacher is the son of some noble or other who’s apprenticed to the inquisition and he’s making a great point of proving out righteous he is every time he gets the chance to speak out against heresy.”


>(I may have written way the fuck too large a single segment, oops. Getting tired.)

File: cursed_by_god_by_lavam00-d9t1i4i.jpg (157KB, 1052x760px) Image search: [Google]

157KB, 1052x760px

You remember the pile of ash, and your dream, shuddering inwardly. “You mentioned tests twice now, what did you mean by that?”

The priests brows unfurrow as he seems to clear the matter of the noble preacher from his mind. “Ah of course, you will have forgotten that too. I suppose it’s a good thing you asked me, as few others would have mentioned it given your scars. I meant the test of pure heart, to prove that your bloodline is pure and traces in unbroken or diluted chain back to our Father, the first man. Here, I’ll show you.”

The priest reaches into the cupboard and pulls out a candle, then lights it from the hearth and places it on the table. He then draws his belt knife, and pricks one finger. “Watch closely.” He sets down the knife, then puts his right hand over the pricked left hand, then closing his eyes, he squeezes a drop of blood into the flame of the candle

The flame leaps much higher, up until it covers his finger. It changes hue as well, becoming an unbroken golden color from base to tip. The priest waits a moment, then withdraws his finger from the flame, showing it to you. The blood as well as the small cut it formed from are both gone.

“Alas, it can only be performed by a priest of the Father, and requires a little magic so it’s difficult to test everyone. If the flame bits and injuries instead of heals, it’s a sure sign of a child of the deceiver.” The priest snuffs the candle with his index finger and thumb, then puts it and his knife away.

You stare at the fading smoke of the candle, something triggering a memory . . .

This rebellion was the most serious in the history of the kingdom. A few south western lords had foolishly made a play for power, hoping to use their slaves as a means to defeat the usually superior numbers of the king’s army. Over ten thousand slaves had stood before you at the dawn, and that only accounted for the portion that had been willing to fight. The Father knew how many might have dispersed throughout the countryside and into the north. It would be the work of decades to root out the impure and kill them, or return them to servitude where they belonged.

It had done the rebel lords no good in the end, as their heads were now piked outside the rebel army and it had announced no quarter would be given or taken. You had little doubt they spoke the truth, and indeed the day had been constant bloodshed for hours as the rebels retreated in the city they had taken as their stronghold, and you pursued them inside, slaughtering anyone thought to be with the rebellion. This was difficult, given the large population of the pure of heart that still lived here.

Which was how you found yourself in this horrible mess.

“We should just slit her throat and move on to the next building, look at her ears! Those scars can only mean one thing.” said Ashok, the member of your squad you’d been paired with to search building to building killing or capturing any rebels. He gesticulated to a terribly thin pale girl who had been cowering in the corner of the room when you came in.

The tops of her ears were indeed scared, and she had the rest of the look. But the rebels have begun scaring the children of the first man in the same way to discourage this exact type of immediate certainty.

“We can’t just kill her, you know as well as I what the rebels have been doing to the captured populations.” you reason, “I can perform the tests, there’s a candle on the mantle there.”

Ashok frowns, obviously irritated not to simply be getting things over with and moving on, “You’re no priest last time I checked, a priest has to perform the test and we don’t have time to fetch one.”

You walk over to the mantle and take the candle, then take your ember box from your belt pouch to light it. “The priests took me in for a few years when I was still a boy, I learned it then. It’s not really true that you must be a priest you know, only of the faith and with a little practice in simple magic.”

File: nicolas-avon-witch-hunt.jpg (317KB, 1600x650px) Image search: [Google]

317KB, 1600x650px

Ashok spat to the side,”you’re still a gods damned boy now. Fine. Just get it over with.”

You walk over and crouch down in front of the girl, though in truth she might only be a year younger than you.”Don’t be frightened, this will barely hurt at all, and if it’s true that you’re one of them, you’ve surrendered, so we’ll take you prisoner.” Ashok snorts over this last part derisively. Looking back at the girl you can already tell what the result will be. An icy dread begins to worm it’s way up your spine. You’ve killed a few rebels in battle, but nothing like this. They were after all, trying to kill you at the time. This time you’ll be killing a defenseless girl, mostly because Ashok hates all the rebels.

You reach out and take her hand, then prick a finger and hold it over the flame, The flame sparkles and burns a hard blue color, leaping up to her finger. The girl yelps and pulls back.

“Heh heh heh,” Ashok chuckles,”that means she’s an elf, which makes this my lucky day.” he licks his lips,”you know I think you have a point, why kill her now if we can have some fun with her first, and then kill her.” He grins wickedly.

Your gut twists as his words leave no doubt as to his intentions.

You feel

>Rage
>Determination
>Desperation

And

>You let Ashok have his way. After all, the impure are of no consequence.
>You give her a quick death, even a impure heretic doesn’t deserve such torment before death.
>You murder Ashok, you cannot allow this to happen.
>Writein

>>1138863
>Rage
>You murder Ashok, you cannot allow this to happen.

>>1138863
>Rage
>You murder Ashok, you cannot allow this to happen.
>Turn to the girl and say "He was killed by a fleeing rebel, understood?"

You feel a boiling anger suffusing your body, this is wrong. The girl might be a rebel, but that didn’t make murdering her in cold blood right, and what Ashok intended was far worse, evil even. You’ve felt this way before, the fire of the Father raging through your blood in battle, and you know what you have to do, and that it is the right thing, the only thing you can do.

Even so you hesitate. You never liked Ashok, but he stood with you during the bloodbath earlier in the day, a brother in battle, and a brother in the Church of the First Man.

Ashok sets aside his spear and draws his dagger as he steps towards the elf girl. As he looms over her she let’s out a pitiful whimper of terror, and the inferno inside you breaks free of your indecision. Before you can reconsider, your spear is driven up through Ashok’s spine and into his upper chest, probably destroying his heart completely as you impale him. Blood briefly sprays from his lips as he gurgles once before sagging into lifelessness.

The girl fortunately does not scream, but merely stares at Ashok’s corpse as you rip your spear free and let him fall to the side.

You set your weapon aside and approach her cautiously, open hands in full view. “You need to hide those scars. I’ve heard your people have a way of doing that, but until then you’ll just have to use the old fashion way.” You step to the side and gather some soot from the fire then step back over to the girl.

Slowly you reach out towards her. She doesn’t move away, although you suspect it’s because she’s afraid you’ll kill her if she moves. You wish you could be more careful with her, but there isn’t a lot of time. “Here, like this,” you say as your stretch out one hand and rub the soot on the scarred portion of her ear, and then move to her hair and cheek, “you’ll have to cover as much of yourself as possible, make it look like you’ve been in a fire. Maybe roll around in the mud if you get a chance. Soot tipped ears is suspicious, soot and mud covered peasants escaping the sack of a city are not.” she still hasn’t so much as twitched, and sighing you begin marking her other ear and the rest of her face with the soot while intentionally being none to careful about spilling it on the rest of her.

Eventually you’re done, and it’s time to go yet she hasn’t done more than begin looking at you, rather than staring at Ashok’s lifeless body. “Look, you need to get moving fast if you’re going to get out of this city. At all.” She doesn’t react to your words, although her eyes focus directly on you. “ Look, if you understand me, and will at least escape once I leave, just nod ok?”

She nods

“Alright, good. Now if anyone, and I mean anyone, rebels, peasants, your family whoever, asks, I didn’t help you. A rebel soldier came by and saved you. There can’t even be a story about a kingdom soldier helping an elf or I’m dead.”

She nods again.

Alright, well, at least she won’t get you killed by telling stories about how there’s a sympathizer in the army. Probably.

Taking in a deep breath, you haul Ashok’s corpse up into a fireman’s carry and stagger towards the door. You take one look back at the girl, who is now standing, having moved while you had your back to her. She’d be quite pretty really, if you didn’t know she was an elf.

“Thank you,” you hear, almost a whisper. You might have thought you imagined it if you didn’t see her lips move. The expression on her face is impossible to identify, and her voice is stronger than you expected although quiet and afraid sounding still. You nod, and leave the house.

. . .

“ . . . arn. Karn? Are you alright?” The priest’s voice returns to you through the haze of the fading memory, or vision. . . . you aren’t quite sure how to respond.
>(and that's all for tonight folks, I gotta sleep).

>>1139191
This is quest has me interested

>>1145794
QM moved the quest to Akun.

>>1151095
Link? And what's Akun?

>>1151095
Link pls

>>1151224
>>1151517
https://anonkun.com/stories/winter-heart/zmi8sPGwjd4cjL2Xc/chapter-1-awakening/446Dmebm94SRiozsR

>>1151540
Thanks