Lemontree City Quest

> Other
The town idiot

>>58739
Supporting

>>58736
>>A noble, seeking refuge in Lemontree from persecution

>>58739
yeah town drunk, really good fistfighting and charisma ya know. your goal is to become king

>>58739
>>58759

THIS.

>>58759
Except he only has a 5th grade education.

>>58777
Perfect we will be a retarded drunkard with retard strength that people can't sayno to.

>>58794
>>58777
>>58769
>>58759
>>58743
>>58739
Town idiot it is. Writing.

>>58848

This better turn into a heartwarming tale about second chances and the redemption of a single man as he grapples with the mistakes of his past and eventually redeems not only himself, but the city as a whole.

No pressure OP

>>58848
>>58923
just make it fun and I'm happy

>>58736
>>58848
Fat Alan’s bar is a small bar in a large building. A big wooden hall, lit by a chandelier hanging low by a thick metal chain and further by candles and lanterns placed on tables and on the bar. Behind you are men drinking and playing dominoes and draughts; shouting, laughing, declaring bets, declaring each other whoreson cheats. You’re sitting at the bar, having drunk eight, maybe nine, tankards of beer. This is a royal feast, and you intend to eat and drink well! Well, drink well. And then avoid wells. You finish your tankard and turn to the barman. You realise in drunken inspiration, why Fat Alan is called Fat Alan. His name is Alan. And he’s the fattest man in the whole fucking city! You turn to Alan, and say:

>My loyal subject - no, no, my dear and esteem-ed friend-, wouldst thou serve me another tankard of beer?
>What’s the news around here? Has James got that rat out of his arse yet?
>Bang the tankard down and shout “ANOTHER!”
>Other

>>58985

"Alan, you lovely man! How do you boo - blue - how d'ya brew such good ale?? What's yer secret?"

>>59027
This

>>59027
this and also down a drink

>"Alan, you lovely man! How do you boo - blue - how d'ya brew such good ale?? What's yer secret?"

Alvin looks up from polishing a glass and glares at you. “It’s the product o’ mysterious elven magics o’ which you would have ‘ave no understanding.”

Eleven magics? You don’t even know one – perhaps you should show Alvin some more respect. But it’s not as though a king needs magic anyway. No, what a king needs – what this king needs – is another tankard of ale!

“Gimme another ale, Alvin. My thirsht... my th-ir-st is terrible.”

Alvin obliges and pours you another tankard of ale from behind the bar. As Alvin ducks down, you notice through your drunken double-vision that there’s something new behind him. A life-size statue, made out of some white stuff, like chalk or something! It’s in the shape of a naked girl. A pretty hot girl.

>Ask Alvin about the statue
>Just drink your beer
>Wait for your beer then visit a gambling table
>Other

I'm getting very bad captcha glitches on both my browsers. Also, the eleven pun came to me through a typo.

>>59173
>Wait for your beer then visit a gambling table

>>59173
>Other
Treat the pretty girl to a drink

>>59177
>Wait for your beer then visit a gambling table

Statues are just his fetish, you guess. Whatever, each to their own. You take the beer from Alan and take a big gulp, then make for one of the gambling tables.
“Oi!” shouts Alan. “Pay for your ale!” You throw down some copper coins onto the bar and head for one of the groups of gamblers, to a table where you see an empty seat. The gambling tables are circular and wooden, surrounded by stools. You cast your eye over the denizens of this table. A man of perhaps fifty-five years old, bald. A man in his twenties with long dark hair. Lastly, you notice your old drinking buddy, James. Taking a look at the tiles strewn haphazardly over the table, you notice that they’re waiting to start a round of Henges.

>Just sit down
>Greet James
>Banter

>>59296
>Greet James

How is henges played OP

>>59296
>Greet James

How is henges played OP?

>Greet James

“Alright, mate?” you ask him.
James gets up from his stool and gives a mocking bow. “You grace, we are all most honoured.”
Baldie sniggers at this, while the teenager looks confused.
“You mark me right,” you reply, “I’m th’ king o’ Lemontree. An’ all its lemons an’ all.”
“Can the king play Henges?”

Henges
______

The rules of henges, a game of pure chance, are as follows: a set of dominoes are placed face-down on the table and shuffled. The players split into two pairs. If a player takes a domino with a 1 or a 6, he may add it to his pair’s henge, a group of 8 tiles placed like stones in a henge. If he picks up a domino with a 0, however, he must take a domino from his henge and put it back in the draw pile, along with the domino with a 0.

_____

“The King can WIN at henges!” you respond. "An' twenty copper knights back my claim!"

Roll 1d100 for the first round.

>>59447
* 6 dominoes make a henge

dice+1d100

Rolled 50 (1d100)

>>59456

>>59470
You pair up with James and barely win the first game after a long battle. You split the stake money and take half for yourself.

The young man with the long hair frowns.
"Light in here is shit. We should get a lantern or something. Ruins a man's eyes to play in this shit light. A chandelier? Who the fuck does he think he is? Where does he think this is? This piss-stinking hole isn't no gentleman's dancin' hall."

>Ignore him and play another round
>Leave the table; he's just being sour grapes over losing money
>You're not taking anyone talking shit about Fat Alan. Hit him one in the gabber.

>>59573
>Hit him one in the gabber.

May not be a dancing hall but a king can dance where he wants.

>>59573
>You're not taking anyone talking shit about Fat Alan. Hit him one in the gabber.
No one talks shirt of the fattest man in town in my kingdom, unless its funny

>>59647
>>59615
>You're not taking anyone talking shit about Fat Alan. Hit him one in the gabber.

“I’ll tell y’ where the fuck this is,” you shout, “this ‘s Fat Alan’s bar! In my realm! Yer nothin’ but a flea-bitten mongrel cur!”

You take a furious swing at him.

>Roll 1d100 – 20 (your drunkenness modifier). DC 30 to hit him.

Rolled 47 + 20 (1d100 + 20)

>>59712

>>59728
It's 1d100 - 20, not +.

Let's call that a misroll and try again.

Rolled 84 + 20 (1d100 + 20)

>>59754
syntax is "dice+1d100-20" right?

Or is my newfag showing?

Rolled 93 + 20 (1d100 + 20)

>>59808
Like this.

Rolled 83 - 20 (1d100 - 20)

>>59821
Oh, not like that. Like this, maybe.

>>59821
looks like subtraction isn't an option here, so i guess we just roll then subtract?

>>59831
oh. what's the syntax there?

>>59831
>>59808
Leave spaces between your roll and the modifier, like dice+1d100 - 20

Or if you prefer, we could use the first response's roll and subsititute the proper modifier.

Rolled 56 + 20 (1d100 + 20)

Getem

Subtract dont seem to.be working

>>59927
We'll get there! I believe in you!

Copy-paste this into your Options field:

dice+1d100 - 20

>>59831
>>59831
Tried this

Rolled 40 - 20 (1d100 - 20)

>>59941
roll to punch the syntax too

Rolled 36 - 20 (1d100 - 20)

Copy paste =

>>60024
>>59988
We conquered the syntax!

I'll take 40 - 20 = 20 as the roll.

You swing at his face, but he dodges out of the way. Could he be a wizard? If only you knew one of the eleven magics...


The man mocks you. "King? More like a base-born peasant."

"Shut yer mouth," you reply.

>Swing at him again
>Hit him with a stool
>Knee him in the balls
>Other

For all three options, roll 1d100 - 20.

>>60121
>Hit him with a stool

>>60121
>Knee him in the balls

Rolled 94 - 20 (1d100 - 20)

>>60164
>>60141
Rolling for both.

>>60164
>>60208
>>60141
>Hit him with a stool
>Knee him in the balls

You take hold of your wooden stool, pick it up and strike him with it powerfully on his chest. He grunts in pain and you bellow “I am the king!” He strikes a blow on your shoulder but you shrug it off and use your close proximity to grab his clothing and drive your knee into his balls. He cries out at the blow and you roar “Rebel swine!” and, casting aside the stool, punch him in the face. He slides, crying, to the ground. By now, the patrons of the bar – always on the lookout for free entertainment have gathered round. Your opponent pulls himself to his hands and knees, spits out a tooth and chokes out: “Fuck you!”

>Kick him
>Glass him with your tankard
>Banish him from your kingdom
>Walk away

File: 1461789521024.jpg (29KB, 720x480px) Image search: [Google]

29KB, 720x480px

>>60324
>Walk away

>>60324
Banish that mofo

>>60335
You walk away from your bleeding and battered adversary. You drink one last drink with Fat Alan as you tell him how you defended his honour.
Then you step out onto the street and into the night. This night is colder than usual and the moon is obscured by a layer of cloud; it may be that great spiders will wind their way down from the towers above you and tie you in their silk, but you're pissed to care about old wives' tales. The night is young!

>Go to a brothel
>Go to the docks
>Go to a friend's house
>Go to another bar
>Other

>>60467
>Go to a friend's house

I may be the village idiot, but damned if I'm not the most well-liked village idiot in Lemontree!

We can hit the bars after I regale my friend with tales of my heroism.

>>60467
>>60467
>>Go to a brothel

>>60507
>Go to a friend’s house

A story as good as the one which you have acted out deserves to be told more widely, and thus you decide to visit a friend of yours who lives some streets from Fat Alan’s. You stride through the chilly night, through empty streets and abandoned houses, past whorehouses, dodgy bars and the sort of inns you call ‘ throatslits ‘. Eventually, you arrive at a tall stone tower that stretches far into the sky. It is crumbling and vines have taken root upon its walls, but it maintains a minimal elegance. Around it lies a thin ditch half-filled with water, and a wooden bridge drawn across it. Your friend lives at the base of this tower. You walk up to the wooden door and knock twice, but no-one answers.

>Wait for your friend to answer
>Try to smash the door down
>Chill out and look around the tower outside
>Try to climb the tower and enter through a window

>>60705
>Try to climb the tower

Since when is a king stopped by doors, or restricted to the two dimensions of pedestrian politesse? This is a tale needs telling, and in what better context than a heroic entrance?

>>60753
>Try to climb the tower. Since when is a king stopped by doors?

You look around the tower for any foothold that could help you lever your way to the window on the second floor. Here and there a brick has half-crumbled, or vines have intertwined and grown thick – eventually you decide upon a route of access that takes you up the side of the tower’s white stone to the window. There are a few birds’ nests, even a rain gutter: the ascent should provide little challenge for a pwissant – a puisente – a powerful and noble king such as yourself. Luckily, there has been little rain lately and the stone is relatively dry.

>Roll 1d100 - 10

Rolled 32 - 10 (1d100 - 10)

>>60976

spider-drunk, spider-drunk, does whatever a spider-drunk thunk

Rolled 23 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

>>60976

>>61009
>Rolled 32 – 10 = 22

You set your foot firmly upon a recess in the wall and push yourself up. You grip a vine here, a notch there and begin to scale the tower’s wall. After some struggle, you find your feet to be twice your height above the ground and you are close to entering the window. But then, a fucking huge bird swoops down out of nowhere and rakes its talons over your face! It flies away upwards as fast as it arrived, but in your shock you lose your grip on a handhold. Blood from your forehead flows down into your eyelashes. You think you hear sounds coming from the window of the tower…

>Wait outside for the bird to return
>Continue climbing to the window
>Other

>>61171
>Continue climbing to the window

I ain't gon get got by no fuckin bird.

>>61222
>Continue climbing to the window

You quickly clamber up the wall of the tower and haul yourself through the window. By this point, your friend has walked to the window to investigate the commotion and lends a hand to pull you into his room. Your friend seems healthy, though his beard has grown unkempt. Inside the tower there is a small fire in a hearth which warms the room, and several lanterns hang by slight chains from the low ceiling. Around the room on tables are strewn dominoes, chance tiles, chessmen and boards of varying sizes populated with warring armies or jostling pebbles. There’s a bookcase, yet piles of books lay outside it in squat towers or wait open for consultation. A large map is spread open and by it is a half-drunk bottle of spirit. Taking a look back out of the window, you are struck again by his good view over the district. He looks at your forehead.

“What the hell happened?”

> I was attacked by a fucking bird. Probably a harpy or a dragon or something.
> Patch me up, doc.
> Don’t worry about that. Let me tell you this story…
> Got any booze?
> Other

^got any booze?

That fall tho

>>61416
Fucking dragon almost got me for good. Probably sent by one of my rivals for the throne.* Don't worry, I'll be fine.

Speaking of, lemme tell you what just happened...

*if i have any of those or think i do

>>61222
trips!

>>61416

>>61477
>>61448

>A fucking dragon attacked me! The bastard nearly got me. Maybe it was sent by one of my rivals… Get me some booze and I’ll tell you a good story.

Your friend walks over to the bookcase, pulls out a few books and then takes out a bottle of whisky from the space behind them. He places the bottle on the desk, goes downstairs and re-emerges holding a pair of engraved fluted glasses. He pours out the whisky and you sit down on a reclining chair to tell the tale of how you defended a friend and subject’s honour and crushed a rebellion. Midway through the story, you rise from your seat and begin to mime the action, delivering majestic slow-motion punches to the air. At the end, your companion says “Your Grace, a fine tale and most worthy of your journey. But I have also a shtory of sortsh for you.” Turning to the large map spread out over the table, he drunkenly knocks over the whisky bottle (which is now somehow empty – could magic have been involved?). He gestures to the map… it doesn’t make much sense to you, but that could be because you’ve both started a bottle of refreshing peach brandy.

>Wha’s all this?
>A-haaaaah, this is a map, isn’t it?
>Mmmmm, I see.
>Both players have strong poshishionsh… it’s too early to count the score yet. White hash played well wi’ his horse.
>Other

>>61744
>A-haaaaah, this is a map, isn’t it?

So are we a drunkard King. Trying to be king. Thinks he's King. Foreign king or what here?

>>61744
>>61769
>A-haaaaah, this is a map, isn’t it?

“A-haaaaah, this is a map, isn’t it?”
“Indeed, Your Grace. I have come upon a map - a map t’ some gold. A big, fat chest of shining gold gold.”
Ah, you realise, that’s why gold is called gold! Because it’s gold! Or maybe gold is called gold because it looks like gold…
“Well, where ish all this gold, then?”
“Well, that is the point that we’re working towards. This map is of an area of Lemontree and details the location of a chest of gold hidden by a wealthy miner of the city. But I’m struggling to find the exact location of the chest.”
You take a gulp of the brandy. “What are our clues?”
“A few place names and some rather abstract drawings… this map was originally penned before the city was abandoned so the geography might have changed.”
‘ Geography ‘ is a long word. You hope this isn’t hinting that graphs might be involved. They’re too tall for your liking.
You peer at the map. It seems to show a courtyard, with what looks like a fountain inside. A ring has been drawn around the fountain. There seems to some rings and crosses on areas, and labels. Reading is not your forte.

>Examine the map further
>Ask your friend how he got it
>Head out onto the street straight away
>Abandon the search as a wild goose chase
>Other

>>62009
>Ask your friend how he got it

>>62009

>>62036
>Ask your friend how he got it

“How’d’ya get hold of that map, then?” you ask him, as he opens a small bottle of red wine.

“It was tucked between two pages of a book I got from a gambling club, called A Study of Strong Play Strategies in King’s Escape. I don’t know if you know the game… some call it Tafl?”

“Uh-huh.”

“It’s around here… oh, somewhere… I read it last week….” He rummages through the piles of books covering his floor and tables until he produces a faded book. It looks rather dull.

“After that, I looked through the whole book but there was nothing else tucked in there.”

>Press him for more information
>Examine the map further
>Go out onto the street
>Other

>>62223
>examine map further

>>62223
>Go out onto the street
Why are we even still here? Treasure is at hand, dammit, lets fill our kingly coffers.

I'm going to call an end to this session because I'm getting a little tired. Thanks for playing despite my tiny updates and forgetting of names.

>>62487
No problem, OP. You better come back though, nerd, or I'll never forgive you.

>>62487
I also like this,

>>61926

all of the above

Let's have a go at starting the next session! I expect more captcha glitches.


>Go out onto the street. Treasure is at hand, dammit.
“There’s no time to lose! Treasure is at hand, dammit!” you shout.

You down the last of your tankard of wine and snatch the map from the table. You stumble downstairs and find a shortsword laying on his cheeseboard. You pick up the sword as your friend rushes down the stairs with a lantern and the rest of the bottle of wine. Then after undoing his stupid amount of door-latches, you run out of the door heroically with sword in hand, on the trail of a huge golden treasure horde!

“Better watch out for that dragon,” says your friend.

>Huh? Is he taking the piss? Make a witty comeback.
>Ignore him; there are more important things to do.
>Indeed; we must be cautious - dragons despise kingly justice! Well noted!

>>67210
>>Huh? Is he taking the piss? Make a witty comeback.

>>68169
>Huh? Is he taking the piss? Make a witty comeback.

“I think you’re more skilled with flagons than dragons,” you reply.
That was a damn good pun.
You both enter a bout of laughter. “Enough of this tomfoolery!” you say. “Are we not on a quest?”
“We are, your grace!”
“Then two such skilled equestrians such as ourselves shall not be afeared…”
“Don’t worry; you’re not feared.”
“Shut up. Use your brain and tell me where this courtyard is.” You pull the map out from a pocket of your clothes and he gathers close to you, casting the lantern’s light over the paper.
“Well, you notice this river?” he asks, pointing to a thick squiggly line.
“Doesn’t look like a river to me.” You respond. “It looks like a giant shnake.”
“Hmmmmmmmm.”
You turn the map upside down.
“Could be, could be.” He says non-committally.
“But, supposing it was a river,” you say, “that’d give us a landmark t’ work from.”
“More ‘n one river in Lemontree and canals besides.”
“Then let’s pick one and start looking. I suggest…”

>West River
>Ice River
>New River
>King’s Canal

>>68574
King's Canal

>>68843
>King's Canal

“I suggest King’s Canal,” you say.

King’s Canal is a long canal, narrow relative to the city’s rivers, which once ran through the city. It was intended to provide a passage for boats carrying gold to travel from the mines in the west to the port at the east of the city. But a hundred and fifty years ago, King’s Canal’s artificial banks crumbled and decayed, allowing the water to flow out from the canal into the flooded districts. You don’t know the area well, but as part of your realm you feel it deserves a royal visit. What a good opportunity!

Your friend looks a little worried, but says nothing and you set firmly off west towards King’s Canal.
It takes you four hours until you reach the edge of the districts. A level of cold water has emerged and steadily grown as you walked nearer. Now you are ankle deep in dark water. The light of your lantern isn’t strong enough to penetrate the layer far; sometimes you fancy perhaps you can see small dark fish swimming around the street. The dominant architecture of the area is rows of stone houses sporting bird’s nests and crawling vines. Small twigs and leaves float aimlessly around your feet and you can hear the ribbiting of frogs and toads and the cries of birds.

>Continue deeper into the district
>Take a closer look around the local area
>Consult the map
>Other

>>69068
>>Take a closer look around the local area

>>69191
>Take a closer look around the local area

“Gimme th’ lantern,” you say. Your friend passes it to you and you hold it high to cast its light over the shadowy water. Luckily, there is no fog; but the moon still hides behind the clouds and refuses to shed her light. Around you are tall, crumbling stone tenements covered in climbing plants. You see a few birds roosting on their nests. You look down at the water beneath you; you see darting fish ranging from the less than the size of your thumb to more than the size of your whole hand. You think you see even larger fish further off, but they might just be tricks of the lantern’s flickering light on the water’s surface. They swim away fast when the light is brought near to them. As far as you can tell, there are no birds flying through the air, though some perch on balconies and rain gutters – there even seems to be some sort of hawk sitting far above you. Plants that look like long grass or have long flat leaves sprout from cracks and crevices in the walls. You can still hear toads and frogs – perhaps they’re inside the houses?

>Carry on looking around
>Travel further into the flooded districts towards the canal
>Call out to see if there is anyone here
>Other

>>69439
>Travel further into the flooded districts towards the canal

although I hope we brought some more booze!

>>69831
>Travel further into the flooded districts towards the canal. And what happened to all the booze?

Oh, no. You’re beginning to sober. You dig deep into one of your pockets and pull out a small leather flask which you filled with your friend’s excellent peach brandy. You take a deep swig from the flask and feel the warmth course through your body. “Come on!” you encourage your friend as you slosh through steadily deepening water. You hold your shortsword in your right hand and the map is rolled up and stuffed deep into your pocket. Your companion holds the lantern and has broken the wine bottle to make an improvised weapon. Now and again you see ripples in other areas of the stagnant water which slightly wobble the lilypads; you’re both wobbling more than slightly yourselves. As you wade nearer to the canal, the water begins to slowly flow. As you walk along another long-abandoned street, where moss and bird shit cover the walls of the houses and the roots of climbing vines make little mangroves; you hear a big splash from your right.

>Investigate the noise
>Hold your ground
>Carry on walking
>Other

>>69983
>Investigate the noise
this seems like a kingly act, for I am indeed a king

>>70064
>Investigate the noise

You whip around to the right, but you see nothing there.

Well, you won’t let villains rest easy in your realm!

“That sounded like something big,” you say. “Let’s have a look.”
“As y’ say, your grace,” agrees your friend. “But give me that flask first.”
You pass the flask to him and he takes a gulp before handing it back to you.
You stride – uh, wade ARDENTLY towards what you guess to be the direction of the mysterious sound. Then there is another splash, and you judge it be coming from a large building at the side of the street. Now that you look with more intensity, you notice ripples emerging from its doorway. You grip your iron shortsword tightly and hold it before you in readiness of combat.

>Rush into the building
>Wait to see if anything emerges
>Drink some more booze
>Other

>>70248
>Drink some more booze
kek

drunkenness should always encouraged in sotries such as this!

>>70264
>Drink some more booze

If something eats you, you decide, it’ll catch on fire or lose its liver. You grab the flask from your pocket, put it to your lips and down its entire volume. Losing your balance, you stumble but are kept on your feet by the pressure of the water.

As the alcohol enters your veins, you find yourself entering a drunken rage!

“REBEL!” you bellow. “Show thyshelf or be marked as a traitor to your king and kingdom and justly deshtroyed!”

In response you hear more splashing a low, loud RIBBIT from the darkness behind the doorway.

>Rush into the building
>”Come out ‘ere and fight me, wretch!”
>Hold your ground
>Other

I'm going to end this session here. I'm not sure whether I'll pick this quest up again, and if I do then it might be in a different timeslot - this is ~4AM for me.

>>70762
I'll miss you OP, you've got a real knack for settings and atmosphere, and I'm willing to believe you might actually have a worthwhile plot.

>>70762
enjoyed it bro

hope this duznt end here thanks op!! good one i dig lemontrrree

>>70762

Thanks mate, it was a great read. I look forward to more drunken king.
also, for the record


>>”Come out ‘ere and fight me, wretch!”

>>71474
>>71622
>>71819
>>72293
Thank you, guys, and thanks for playing as well.

If / when I run the next session, it'll probably start at ~ 5PM GMT. I'll announce the session in /qtg/ a while beforehand.

File: 9e55635e943741042b0bde7d921a18551947a7d8.jpg (708KB, 1200x631px)

708KB, 1200x631px

>>72293
>Come out 'ere and fight me, wretch!

"Come out 'ere and fight me, wretch!" you roar. "Or are y' too craven?!"

For a moment, there is no sound but the flow of the water around your knees and the cries of gulls above you. Then splashes and sploshes can be heard from within the building. You draw your sword and strip off your shirt, throwing it dramatically into the water. Being a cono-sir of alcoholic beverages numerous and diverse, you physique is not all that it might be, you are strong and powerful nonetheless. A cold wind blows in; but as your blood is 70 proof, it doesn’t chill you.
Then your opponent shows himself – a vast toad begins to squeeze itself through the building’s doorway, which crumbles and sheds white dust. You estimate the beast at eight foot tall; its slimy skin is a dark grey-green and you think its bulging eyes have not yet focused upon you.

>Rush the toad
>Run away
>Hold your ground silently
>Insult it

>>75793
Insult the toad.

>>76013
>Insult the toad

“Beast!” you shout. The toad’s big round eyes turn and focus on you and you can see it breathing in and out, its body swelling and deflating.
“No, not beast,” you continue, “I spoke wrongly. You ‘ave none of the features that make a beast. No boar’s tusks sprout from y’ jaw; no long claws from your toes. Upon your back I see no sturdy scales, nor any spike or bludgeon upon y’ stubby tail. VERMIN I mark you, scum of the waterways. I’ll crush you under my heel and carry on my way.”

The giant toad’s breathing quickens; after a moment of static tension, it rushes at you.

> Defend yourself
> Dodge
> Run away
> Other

Roll 1d100 for any option.

Rolled 4 (1d100)

>>76223
> Defend yourself

Rolled 44 (1d100)

>>76223
>Dodge

>>77902
You're gonna get us killed man.

>>79704
me too

>>79716
>>79704
>Dodge (rolled 44)

The giant toad rushes towards you, its splayed legs throwing up plumes of water around it! You dodge quickly out of the way, throwing yourself to the side. You splash down onto the water and are briefly submerged; water gets into your nostrils – you surface and cough. The trousers have been soaked and have become waterlogged, weighing you down. The toad turns around and RIBBITs, then opens its mouth and fires out its long tongue.

> Dodge
> Cut off its tongue
>Rush in underneath the tongue and try to flip the toad over
>Other

Rolled 85 (1d100)

>>82469
> Cut off its tongue

>>82516
>Cut off the toad’s tongue

You use the sturdy iron shortsword to strike at the toad’s tongue as it lashes out towards you like a whip. You wing the sword round and slice off the last foot of its tongue. The toad quickly turns away from you and hops away at speed, splashing through the water and casting large ripples over the surface. You friend has turned a little pale and is just as drenches as you are, but he looks to be unhurt. Your clothes are all sodden… the map! You delve into your pocket – it’s not there! Fuck!

>Search for the map (1d100)
>Pursue the toad (1d100)
>Ask your friend if he’s okay
>Other

Rolled 43 (1d100)

>>82641
>Search for the map (1d100)

>>82691
>Search for the map (rolled 43)
Shit! Where the fuck is the map?!
You bend down low over the water, whilst your friend casts the flickering lantern over the surface of the water. The candle inside it is running low, you note, and the light it sheds is less constant. There! There it is! You snatch the map from the surface of the water as a fish swims over to pull it down - it looks like you were just in time. The map is pretty soggy and the inked lines have blurred a bit. You roll it up very carefully to avoid tearing it and place it back into your pocket.

You slap your friend on the back. “This gold won’t jump into our pockets o’ its own accordion! Let’s get back on the job.” You grab the toad’s tongue, which has been nibbled by small fish, and wrap it around your neck. You both wade slowly into the slow flow of the water. Small leaves, petals, and pieces of light stone dust float gently past you and you trudge onwards. Then, in the distance, you spot some orange lights in the darkness and the sound of music just reaches your ears.

>Investigate the lights. Maybe they have booze.
>Investigate the lights cautiously so as to conceal your presence. (Roll 1d100)
>You’ve got no time for distractions. Onwards to the canal!
>Other

>>82994
>Investigate the lights. Maybe they have booze.
Kings must announce their presence for sneaking is beneath them

File: atmosphere image 01.png (3MB, 1200x2000px) Image search: [Google]

3MB, 1200x2000px

>Investigate the lights. Maybe they have booze.

You wade towards the orange lights, taking no effort to conceal your presence. Sneaking is beneath you! As you wade closer, you can make out a wooden building lit by large lanterns, and then a wooden patio extending on stilts over the water. On the patio are people eating and drinking at small tables; while a girl sits by the edge of the water, singing and strumming a mandolin. The smell of cooking fish floats out to you over the water. You near the patio and you take a closer look at the girl. She has short dark hair and small breasts, and is wearing a dull brown shirt and trousers. She stops singing, lays down the mandolin and smiles.

“Is that a toad’s tongue?” she asks..

>”Yes, it is. Fresh.”
>”Is this some sort of bar?”
>”Yes, it is.” Then continue on your way towards King’s Canal.

Bump. I'm still around.

>>83399
>Is this some sort of bar?

>>83399
>”Yes, it is. Fresh.”

>>89302

>>83399
>>88529
>>89302

>Is this some sort of bar?
>Yes, it is. Fresh.

“Yes, it is. Fresh. Is this some sort of bar?” you ask the girl, ignoring her question.
“That’s right. The best in the flooded districts!”
“It’s certainly cozy,” you respond. “Pretty nice place. Can I get a tankard of ale? If there’s no ale, wine is fine. Or cider. Or whisky. I’m a flexible man.”
The musician gestures to a brown-haired, busty girl who stands next to a set of wooden barrels behind a long, thin, eight-legged wooden table which seems to function as a bar. “Talk to Lavender; she’ll get you a drink.”
You approach the ‘bar’ and stand dripping in front of the table. It’s warmer here than in the… street? It was more like a cold bath out there. Here at the bar, though you’re still outside, the air is warmed by heat from a makeshift barbecue on which several fish are cooking. After your long journey and fight against your aquatic opponent, they smell really good. When she notices you, the girl’s eyes grow wide with excitement.

“That’s a giant toad’s tongue, isn’t it?”

>”Yeah, it is. Let me tell you the story o’ how I bested that aggressive amphibian...”
>”First, a tankard of ale. Sobriety rides ‘ard on my heels.”
>”We’ve travelled far to get ‘ere. What d’you stock?”
>"This 's how a REAL man makes a scarf!
>Other

>>89760
>>”Yeah, it is. Let me tell you the story o’ how I bested that aggressive amphibian...”
After we have impressed them with our heroics we can fish for information, hopefully without showing them the map. I'm sure she'll hand you an ale somewhere during this tale.

>>89302
this.
also, hit on her. she's just my type

>”Yeah, it is. Let me tell you the story o’ how I bested that aggressive amphibian...”

“Yeah, it is. Let me tell you the story o’ how I bested that aggressive amphibian...”

You sit down onto a plain wooden bar stool and lean in towards her over the bar. Your friend sits down on the stool next to you.
“I am the king of Lemontree. This ‘ere is my loyal friend. We are… tourists. Together, we embarked on a perilous voyage into the flooded districts, in search o’, uh, souvenirs. And postcards, wi’ drawin’s on the front…”
As you tell your heroic tale, brimming with excitement and danger, the barmaid takes out a deep wooden bowl and fills it with what looks to be a dark ale. Midway through recounting boldly investigating the source of the noise, you pause to take a deep drink from the bowl. It is not like the ales you’re used to: it’s got, oh, it’s, uh, seaweed! It’s a beer made with seaweed! It’s pretty good, and you grow more cheerful as you make your way through the bowl.
You decide to poke around a bit, see if you can get a bit of information out of her.

> ”Where do they make this beer?”
> “Do you get many travellers through here?”
> All these people in ‘ere, how do they the money f’ their drinks?
> Other
>>89760
>ignoring her question

This bit shouldn't have been in the update; I edit my updates as I go along far too much.

Rolled 9 (1d20)

>>90232
> Other
"Say, lass, [insert ridiculous flirting here, rolling for effectiveness] have you seen [describe the next landmark on your map.]"

>>90232
where do you make this beer lass?

>Flirt and fish for information (rolled 9 on 1d20)

Social skills? You bastards; I’ve barely socialised with strangers for a year.

“Say, your hair is such a beautiful shade of brown… it reminds me of a tall and graceful oak tree that shelters a fatigued trav’ler wearied on ‘is journeys… but it seems to me a shame that I, alas, see but that part which warms your neck.”
The barmaid blushes. “What are you saying to an innocent maiden?”
You smile and ask “By the way, there’s a place I was recommended to visit. Very scenic, I’m told. A courtyard by the banks of the canal…”
“Hmmm….”
She leans onto the bar table on her elbows, lost in thought.
“None of them are used nowadays, of course. It’s said that there are maneating fish near the banks of King’s Canal – well, where the banks were. Though that should be no trouble for you, eh?” she says, looking at the foot of cold, slimy toad’s tongue wrapped around your neck.
“There are a few ruined courtyards by the banks of the canal, and the rise of the water has obscured most of their peculiarities to the casual observer. There isn’t much that would mark them out from another, and I’ve never been that close to the canal myself. Are there any defining features? Like some benches or a statue, maybe.“

> There’s [feature]
> I wasn’t told anything about that
> Show her the map; make an excuse for it
>Other

>>90753
> There’s [feature]
SHOW NO ONE THE MAP

I'm running out of battery on my laptop and it's 4AM here, so I'm going to end this quest session here.

As always, thanks for playing.

Feel free to ask me any questions about background scenery and things.

>>90824
Are you gonna start it up again someday?

>>90824
And if not can you spoil me were we secretly literally the king of lemontree fallen to drinking after the ruin of our city?

>>90903
Yeah; I'll probably start it up again. Maybe today, maybe tomorrow. Or I might write updates at irregular times.

Glad to see you liked it enough to ask me.