Birdsie
Sharp Talons Cleave The Worthy
- Location
- Poland
I actually intended that from the beginning. I was gonna go for the Mass Effect-ish route where you get to choose
A Hero's Quest: Eye of the Demon Emperor
- Thread starter Birdsie
- Start date
- Original Fantasy
Terran Imperium
[French]
- Location
- Southern France
Doesn't our use of Enhancement for multiple hours get us an upgrade ? Good job Oshha, you are damn sharp , i didn't think the drake is perhaps Cervitou's gift *smirk* he is a tsundere in fact.
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Birdsie
Sharp Talons Cleave The Worthy
- Location
- Poland
Actually, I'm glad you asked!
I dropped in 5XP to the bar overall. Also, I'll tag the specific spell types with their appropriate skill levels.
Terran Imperium
[French]
- Location
- Southern France
Actually got an idea, can we use Enhancement on our armor, wait for it to fade then repeat until permanent upgrade settle in our armor ?
Infodump: Permanent Spells
Birdsie
Sharp Talons Cleave The Worthy
- Location
- Poland
It won't be permanent.
Enhancement works on the basis that you cast it once and pay the price, and it lasts for some time, typically an hour. And then the corrective impulses of the universe snap it into place, or, as I call it: the effects wear off unless you pay with more mana.
Permanency of spells is possible, but it typically requires extensive experience in either the field of magic you are trying to apply it to or magic in general.
For an example, making a clay golem is easy peasy lemon squeezy for most mages with the right materials and a manual covering the construction. Stone golems are naturally a bit more difficult, as are iron ones, but the thing with golems is they're not self-sustaining. Much like robots, they need a way to recharge their batteries, so mages make measures to allow them to.
Recharging stations.
Manually charging them up.
Long-distance mana transfer, etc.
It is only the most sophisticated of mages that can create a substitute Soul, (remember, I said the metaphysics are important,) that can produce and/or absorb mana to make a golem truly self-sustaining.
In this case, the core of the problem is identical; Artoria would need a sophisticated way of making the spell supply itself with mana rather than charging it every hour. This can be accomplished in a plethora of ways, but the most sophisticated one would be to literally bind a substitute soul to the spell to make it capable of generating mana. That said, the easiest way would be to find a spirit and bind it, but that would be dickish and bordering on black magic since spirits have Minds and are therefore capable of sentient thought. Therefore, it violates free will, it's really malicious, and generally not cool. Creating a Soul without a Mind is how the typical cool "Gandalf with a beard" would add permanency to his spell, because the spell gets mana on its own and he doesn't have to torture some poor elemental.
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Birdsie
Sharp Talons Cleave The Worthy
- Location
- Poland
1. Depends who you ask. The average commoner might have a vague idea of some organs, like lungs, the heart, and the brain, as well as where they are. You might have a better going with scholars, who should know biology roughly to the extent of a modern 6th grader unless they specifically study the subject.
2. Some of the stuff Artoria studied in her first few months.
Terran Imperium
[French]
- Location
- Southern France
One-sided victory, hope for the next update soon.
Chapter 2: Dragon Hunt - Part 2: Brawl Your Problems
Birdsie
Sharp Talons Cleave The Worthy
- Location
- Poland
"Hm."
You get off of Dullahan. The horse neighs as you begin walking in the opposite direction, past Tavish.
"Where are you going?" he asks, astonished.
"You know magic, right?" you turn and ask, suddenly.
"I... do?" his answer lacks confidence, "I guess I do. I can use Enhancement, Conjuration, and Analysis."
"Excellent. Let's give that guy a scare. What can you conjure?"
"For the most part, swords," he admits.
Your eyes widen. "Swords?"
"Yeah, it's kind of my thing."
"Isn't the whole point of conjuration to summon stuff? Where do you get them from?"
"You have the wrong idea about conjuration," he shakes his head, "It's not about summoning. Summoning and conjuration are two, entirely different things."
"What's the difference then?" you scoff, folding your arms.
"Summoning is about transporting something that exists to you. It's similar to apportation, if not identical. Conjuration, on another hand, creates something new, based on a template."
"A template? So you have sword templates?"
"Not exactly," he tries to explain, "For an example, you can summon a demon. With summoning, you get the real thing. An actual demon. If you can find, or make the template of a demon, then conjure it - what you get is a fake, hollow being. A copy of varying degrees of accuracy of the original. I could, in fact, conjure you, but that conjuration wouldn't really be you. It might not even think as you do."
"Never do that," you warn him. Losing individuality is the last thing you want, especially in a family where everyone is constantly trying to out-do each other's heroics.
"I wouldn't. Besides, that's impossible," he laughs nervously, "I can only handle basic stuff. Anyway, to do that, I'd need to analyze the subject and understand it, or even conceive my own template in my head. That's far above my level."
You nod, understanding.
"Another difference is that summoning can be permanent if the creature you summon doesn't need mana for its body. A self-sustaining spirit, or a living person. Conjurations on another hand are spells, so they require constant mana. You can't make them permanent or long-lasting unless you're really good. They degrade over time," he beams suddenly, "But I can handle the basics."
"Let's put your conjuration to use, then."
"What do you mean?"
"Think you can conjure a mousetrap?"
"Er, I can try..." he gives you a surprised look, "Why?"
"How about it? Let's conjure a bunch of them and set them in his house," you smile excitedly and kind of maliciously.
"That's a bad idea," he shakes his head, "He lives with his grandfather and sister. I don't want to hurt anyone, at least if they're innocent."
Your smile is replaced by disappointment, "Dang. Any other ideas?"
"You could just talk sense into him. He ought to listen to a Baragar.."
"That's boring, though," you object.
"Why does it matter?" he snaps back at you.
"Fine," you sigh, "You're no fun."
A blue-haired boy is telling a story to several other village boys. The four of them stand in a small alleyway between a tavern and a food store. Marinus is grinning proudly as he tells the story, one word after another, twisting it to make himself look great.
"And I told him: 'Didn't I tell you t–––" Thud. A pebble hits the back of his head, "What the?"
Marinus turns around. He sees you and Tavish. "Eh?! Tavish! And you! What do you want?"
The group Marinus is with direct their attention toward you. There's a wide mixture of expressions on their faces, from mocking smirks, to angry scowls. The biggest of them folded his arms and stood upright to appear bigger and scarier, but none of these losers bother you.
"I heard a rumor you tend to get rough on your sister," you answer sharply, "I came to set an example."
"You're just a girl, what could you possibly-" you walk up to him and twist his arm, making him fall to the muddy ground, "-d'aaagh!!!" he screams in pain. Your grip on his forearm is very strong. He can't get out of this. And just to make sure, you set your foot on his back to assert dominance.
"I, Artoria Baragar, came here to kick your ass."
"That's not exactly what I meant by 'talk sense into him,'" Tavish sighs, somewhat perplexed why you have to be so aggressive.
"Oi-oi-oi-oi! Oi! She's a Baragar girl! A noblewoman whore! Get her!" one of Marinus' friends steps out, intending to push you.
You avoid him by forcing Marinus to stand and shoving him in his friends' direction. The force causes the two of them to fall on each other, with Marinus on top. The two squirm painfully before they gradually get up. Marinus breaks down in anger, glaring at you.
With tears of humiliation in his eyes, he points his finger at you. "Kill her!"
"You heard him!" you tease them into attacking, "Come at me!"
Several of the attackers run toward you. Fists fly, but you dodge all of their attacks, only to reply in kind with hard counter-attacks. Your strikes land almost perfectly, and you're confident you hear crunching when you hit some of their jaws, perhaps breaking them.
"Beat her ass!" one of them yells, dashing in your direction. He takes a swing.
You duck under his fist, punching him in the chest, then grabbing him by the shirt and lifting him into the air with the help of a kick to his midriff. You throw him above your head, into another one of the thugs. This display of impossible strength is made possible thanks to you using Bodily Enhancement momentarily and limiting it to your strength, rather than agility and stamina, as to not waste magical energy like your teacher told you.
As you perform the maneuver that seems impossible for a thirteen-year-old, half of them break in fear, and begin running away.
Marinus is the last standing. His jaw dropped.
"T-this... this isn't the end!" he points his finger at you, "My grandfather will hear about this!"
You raise your fist, pretending to take a swing at him.
Marinus covers his face, "Ah! No!"
Your look of anger is replaced by a smile of satisfaction.
Marinus opens one eye, realizing you aren't going to hit him. He screams and begins to run away.
"Score!" you shake your fist, "All that training paid off!"
You're happy. You're content of your victory, as meager it may be, since who you fought were just boys roughly of your age. It's still impressive for one girl to be so powerful as to make a whole gang of idiotic brutes run away, screaming in fear. They're like dumb pawns, and you hold the damn chessboard in this town!
"I'm not sure if all that was necessary," Tavish sighs from the sidelines.
"You're one to talk. You didn't do anything," you reply accusingly.
"Because I'm not an advocate for violence," he says, making you realize what you're so happy about.
Sheesh. You beat some of them bad. Anger, or perhaps self-justification took better of you. You aren't like this normally. You're an intelligent, responsible, and nice girl. That's got to be it, right? Then why did you let the urge to beat them up to take the better of you? And since you fought in these iron gloves, your knuckles hurt a bit now.
You frown. Tavish is right. All of this was unnecessary. All you did was show off.
"You're right, I'm... feeling dumb right now," you say shamefully, looking away. "Anyway, I got to go," you look up at him again, with a more indifferent face.
"Go where?" Tavish asks, curiously.
"I'm on a quest to hunt a dragon, so I'm on my way to Mora. Wanna come with?" you ask, perhaps subconsciously seeking companionship, but you quickly realize that it was stupid, "No, hang on. You probably can't," you say, instead of 'Wait, I'm dumb, I need to do this alone.'
"You're saying I can't hunt a dragon? Well, probably, yeah. Besides, leaving town isn't an option available to me."
Well, that confirms your theory. If he lacks the self-confidence to take a normal dragon on, he probably doesn't have many odds of beating a Greater Dragon. Besides, it was a stupid question. If there's anyone you'd take on a mission like this, it'd be Jaina.
"Pfft, of course," you reply, mockingly, before smiling, "I'll be off then, see you later."
You proceed back to your trusty mare and saddle up.
Several hours pass. Roughly six or so of constant travel. Needless to say, you are quite tired and you're hoping to get some rest soon enough. Dullahan, despite that, seems to be in pristine condition, thanks to you constantly refreshing the Enhancement spell on her. You're betting she feels little to no discomfort in this cold thanks to it, so at least you won't have to warm her up near some campfire, or anything like that. It'd be a waste of time. Besides, by now, mother probably sent someone to search for you.
And then, he appears. Dullahan stops in her tracks.
A black flash of smoke materializes on the road. The emerging figure in black robe looks to one side of the road, then the other, and its eyes stop at you. "Finally, I found you," Cervitou exclaims.
He walks a few steps in your direction. "Artoria Baragar, you were not in Megafni. I was greatly troubled by this, as I was looking for you for the last three hours."
"Did my mother send for you?" your hand lays on Excalibur, ready to pull it out, just in case your theory proves true.
He shakes his head. "No. As I said, I will maintain full discretion and pretend I cannot either locate you or bring you to her."
"Good. What do you want?"
"I need to perform some tests on you, to see something important. This will require that you come with me to my workshop. Because I understand you are busy, I will teleport you to Mora once we are done."
"Tests? What do you mean? What kind of tests will you run?"
"Nothing painful, I promise," he says assuredly. His voice sounds fairly sincere. "It will take roughly twenty minutes. No longer than half an hour. And even then, it seems tactically appropriate for you to teleport with me, since you still have two hours on horse to get to Mora. This would be much faster."
"No, that's not it," you respond, somewhat aggressively, "Why do you want to run them on me?"
"That information is strictly classified. I'm sorry, but asking will only lead to me selectively misinforming you, or not answering."
"Classified? What are you? A spy?"
"That information, too, is secretive."
"Damn you and your mysterious bullshit," you scoff, although his words seem rather... attractive.
The offer of getting there in twenty minutes instead of two hours sounds neat, but what if his tests aren't too pleasant, or what if he plans to kidnap you, or even take you to your mother? Maybe he betrayed your trust and he's doing this on her behalf? If you make the wrong move, you'll not only have to start over, but you'll have to deal with whatever punishment mother decides to throw on you. You're not sure whether it is a good idea or not.
"Let me think about it," you say, looking down and genuinely thinking, as you told him.
"Naturally," Cervitou nods, "I am probably as a stranger to you. I can understand that. Of course, take your time. I will not––and cannot––force you to come with me," Cervitou steps back and patiently waits in one, unmoving pose for you to make your choice.
So. That's it.
Either come with the suspicious if seemingly honest ex-black mage and get to your target in a few minutes or go there for two hours, possibly encountering some unfriendly, dangerous forest critters and other crap. Both choices have equal chances of getting you in some kind of danger. Time to pick.
[] Go with Cervitou.
[] Deny his request.
Calendar: 1005-01-01
Time: Midday
Mana: 190/200
You get off of Dullahan. The horse neighs as you begin walking in the opposite direction, past Tavish.
"Where are you going?" he asks, astonished.
"You know magic, right?" you turn and ask, suddenly.
"I... do?" his answer lacks confidence, "I guess I do. I can use Enhancement, Conjuration, and Analysis."
"Excellent. Let's give that guy a scare. What can you conjure?"
"For the most part, swords," he admits.
Your eyes widen. "Swords?"
"Yeah, it's kind of my thing."
"Isn't the whole point of conjuration to summon stuff? Where do you get them from?"
"You have the wrong idea about conjuration," he shakes his head, "It's not about summoning. Summoning and conjuration are two, entirely different things."
"What's the difference then?" you scoff, folding your arms.
"Summoning is about transporting something that exists to you. It's similar to apportation, if not identical. Conjuration, on another hand, creates something new, based on a template."
"A template? So you have sword templates?"
"Not exactly," he tries to explain, "For an example, you can summon a demon. With summoning, you get the real thing. An actual demon. If you can find, or make the template of a demon, then conjure it - what you get is a fake, hollow being. A copy of varying degrees of accuracy of the original. I could, in fact, conjure you, but that conjuration wouldn't really be you. It might not even think as you do."
"Never do that," you warn him. Losing individuality is the last thing you want, especially in a family where everyone is constantly trying to out-do each other's heroics.
"I wouldn't. Besides, that's impossible," he laughs nervously, "I can only handle basic stuff. Anyway, to do that, I'd need to analyze the subject and understand it, or even conceive my own template in my head. That's far above my level."
You nod, understanding.
"Another difference is that summoning can be permanent if the creature you summon doesn't need mana for its body. A self-sustaining spirit, or a living person. Conjurations on another hand are spells, so they require constant mana. You can't make them permanent or long-lasting unless you're really good. They degrade over time," he beams suddenly, "But I can handle the basics."
"Let's put your conjuration to use, then."
"What do you mean?"
"Think you can conjure a mousetrap?"
"Er, I can try..." he gives you a surprised look, "Why?"
"How about it? Let's conjure a bunch of them and set them in his house," you smile excitedly and kind of maliciously.
"That's a bad idea," he shakes his head, "He lives with his grandfather and sister. I don't want to hurt anyone, at least if they're innocent."
Your smile is replaced by disappointment, "Dang. Any other ideas?"
"You could just talk sense into him. He ought to listen to a Baragar.."
"That's boring, though," you object.
"Why does it matter?" he snaps back at you.
"Fine," you sigh, "You're no fun."
***
A blue-haired boy is telling a story to several other village boys. The four of them stand in a small alleyway between a tavern and a food store. Marinus is grinning proudly as he tells the story, one word after another, twisting it to make himself look great.
"And I told him: 'Didn't I tell you t–––" Thud. A pebble hits the back of his head, "What the?"
Marinus turns around. He sees you and Tavish. "Eh?! Tavish! And you! What do you want?"
The group Marinus is with direct their attention toward you. There's a wide mixture of expressions on their faces, from mocking smirks, to angry scowls. The biggest of them folded his arms and stood upright to appear bigger and scarier, but none of these losers bother you.
"I heard a rumor you tend to get rough on your sister," you answer sharply, "I came to set an example."
"You're just a girl, what could you possibly-" you walk up to him and twist his arm, making him fall to the muddy ground, "-d'aaagh!!!" he screams in pain. Your grip on his forearm is very strong. He can't get out of this. And just to make sure, you set your foot on his back to assert dominance.
"I, Artoria Baragar, came here to kick your ass."
"That's not exactly what I meant by 'talk sense into him,'" Tavish sighs, somewhat perplexed why you have to be so aggressive.
"Oi-oi-oi-oi! Oi! She's a Baragar girl! A noblewoman whore! Get her!" one of Marinus' friends steps out, intending to push you.
You avoid him by forcing Marinus to stand and shoving him in his friends' direction. The force causes the two of them to fall on each other, with Marinus on top. The two squirm painfully before they gradually get up. Marinus breaks down in anger, glaring at you.
With tears of humiliation in his eyes, he points his finger at you. "Kill her!"
"You heard him!" you tease them into attacking, "Come at me!"
Several of the attackers run toward you. Fists fly, but you dodge all of their attacks, only to reply in kind with hard counter-attacks. Your strikes land almost perfectly, and you're confident you hear crunching when you hit some of their jaws, perhaps breaking them.
"Beat her ass!" one of them yells, dashing in your direction. He takes a swing.
You duck under his fist, punching him in the chest, then grabbing him by the shirt and lifting him into the air with the help of a kick to his midriff. You throw him above your head, into another one of the thugs. This display of impossible strength is made possible thanks to you using Bodily Enhancement momentarily and limiting it to your strength, rather than agility and stamina, as to not waste magical energy like your teacher told you.
As you perform the maneuver that seems impossible for a thirteen-year-old, half of them break in fear, and begin running away.
Marinus is the last standing. His jaw dropped.
"T-this... this isn't the end!" he points his finger at you, "My grandfather will hear about this!"
You raise your fist, pretending to take a swing at him.
Marinus covers his face, "Ah! No!"
Your look of anger is replaced by a smile of satisfaction.
Marinus opens one eye, realizing you aren't going to hit him. He screams and begins to run away.
"Score!" you shake your fist, "All that training paid off!"
You're happy. You're content of your victory, as meager it may be, since who you fought were just boys roughly of your age. It's still impressive for one girl to be so powerful as to make a whole gang of idiotic brutes run away, screaming in fear. They're like dumb pawns, and you hold the damn chessboard in this town!
"I'm not sure if all that was necessary," Tavish sighs from the sidelines.
"You're one to talk. You didn't do anything," you reply accusingly.
"Because I'm not an advocate for violence," he says, making you realize what you're so happy about.
Sheesh. You beat some of them bad. Anger, or perhaps self-justification took better of you. You aren't like this normally. You're an intelligent, responsible, and nice girl. That's got to be it, right? Then why did you let the urge to beat them up to take the better of you? And since you fought in these iron gloves, your knuckles hurt a bit now.
You frown. Tavish is right. All of this was unnecessary. All you did was show off.
"You're right, I'm... feeling dumb right now," you say shamefully, looking away. "Anyway, I got to go," you look up at him again, with a more indifferent face.
"Go where?" Tavish asks, curiously.
"I'm on a quest to hunt a dragon, so I'm on my way to Mora. Wanna come with?" you ask, perhaps subconsciously seeking companionship, but you quickly realize that it was stupid, "No, hang on. You probably can't," you say, instead of 'Wait, I'm dumb, I need to do this alone.'
"You're saying I can't hunt a dragon? Well, probably, yeah. Besides, leaving town isn't an option available to me."
Well, that confirms your theory. If he lacks the self-confidence to take a normal dragon on, he probably doesn't have many odds of beating a Greater Dragon. Besides, it was a stupid question. If there's anyone you'd take on a mission like this, it'd be Jaina.
"Pfft, of course," you reply, mockingly, before smiling, "I'll be off then, see you later."
You proceed back to your trusty mare and saddle up.
***
Several hours pass. Roughly six or so of constant travel. Needless to say, you are quite tired and you're hoping to get some rest soon enough. Dullahan, despite that, seems to be in pristine condition, thanks to you constantly refreshing the Enhancement spell on her. You're betting she feels little to no discomfort in this cold thanks to it, so at least you won't have to warm her up near some campfire, or anything like that. It'd be a waste of time. Besides, by now, mother probably sent someone to search for you.
And then, he appears. Dullahan stops in her tracks.
A black flash of smoke materializes on the road. The emerging figure in black robe looks to one side of the road, then the other, and its eyes stop at you. "Finally, I found you," Cervitou exclaims.
He walks a few steps in your direction. "Artoria Baragar, you were not in Megafni. I was greatly troubled by this, as I was looking for you for the last three hours."
"Did my mother send for you?" your hand lays on Excalibur, ready to pull it out, just in case your theory proves true.
He shakes his head. "No. As I said, I will maintain full discretion and pretend I cannot either locate you or bring you to her."
"Good. What do you want?"
"I need to perform some tests on you, to see something important. This will require that you come with me to my workshop. Because I understand you are busy, I will teleport you to Mora once we are done."
"Tests? What do you mean? What kind of tests will you run?"
"Nothing painful, I promise," he says assuredly. His voice sounds fairly sincere. "It will take roughly twenty minutes. No longer than half an hour. And even then, it seems tactically appropriate for you to teleport with me, since you still have two hours on horse to get to Mora. This would be much faster."
"No, that's not it," you respond, somewhat aggressively, "Why do you want to run them on me?"
"That information is strictly classified. I'm sorry, but asking will only lead to me selectively misinforming you, or not answering."
"Classified? What are you? A spy?"
"That information, too, is secretive."
"Damn you and your mysterious bullshit," you scoff, although his words seem rather... attractive.
The offer of getting there in twenty minutes instead of two hours sounds neat, but what if his tests aren't too pleasant, or what if he plans to kidnap you, or even take you to your mother? Maybe he betrayed your trust and he's doing this on her behalf? If you make the wrong move, you'll not only have to start over, but you'll have to deal with whatever punishment mother decides to throw on you. You're not sure whether it is a good idea or not.
"Let me think about it," you say, looking down and genuinely thinking, as you told him.
"Naturally," Cervitou nods, "I am probably as a stranger to you. I can understand that. Of course, take your time. I will not––and cannot––force you to come with me," Cervitou steps back and patiently waits in one, unmoving pose for you to make your choice.
So. That's it.
Either come with the suspicious if seemingly honest ex-black mage and get to your target in a few minutes or go there for two hours, possibly encountering some unfriendly, dangerous forest critters and other crap. Both choices have equal chances of getting you in some kind of danger. Time to pick.
[] Go with Cervitou.
[] Deny his request.
Calendar: 1005-01-01
Time: Midday
Mana: 190/200
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Terran Imperium
[French]
- Location
- Southern France
I vote for going with him. And the only reason to run tests on us is the curse or he is really a bad Guy... If it wasn't for the curse i will vote to refuse his request and hope to encounter easy magical beasts to grind EXP.
[X] Go with Cervitou.
[X] Go with Cervitou.
- Location
- Southampton, Great Britain
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Artoria decides to help and goes to magic as her first solution.
We find out what sort of magic Tavish is official capable of. Same as in my omake minus Anti-Magic, but it is possible that Tavish just didn't mention he had some skill in that to Artoria. And Tavish shows his origins.
Some information on Conjuring and Summoning and how they are different. They work pretty much as you would expect with Summoning being basically teleporting the real thing to you from somewhere else while Conjuring is magical creating something based off of your knowledge of the item and like all magic, it is temporary unless you are just that good.
Hmm, Tavish seems more well-rounded than Artoria when it comes to his magic, but as a self-taught mage, I doubt he is as good as us even if he has more variety.
Artoria wants to prank Marinus, but fails to consider that the boy might be living with our people who don't deserve it.
At least she understand that you can't punish the innocent alongside the guilty. Tavish wants to do the boring, but practical thing and Artoria objects on the grounds of it being boring, but goes along anyway. Or least she agrees to go along with it.
Proudly boasting and telling exaggerated tales, Marinus has like-minded friends and Artoria has the right of them.
Artoria decides to derail Tavish's plans right off the bat and poor Tavish is confused at why Artoria won't just try talking. I blame her mother's influence.
Whoa there boy, you do not want to call her that.
Well, the idiot got off more lightly than I expected for calling Artoria a 'whore'.
As expected, Artoria vs some village boys is a curb-stomp battle. Mildly surprised that Artoria saw the need to use magic against them.
Marinus threatens Artoria with his grandfather and is promptly put in his place. That threat might not be as toothless as Artoria thinks it is. If Marinus' grandfather is like who I he is, we might have a powerful black mage with several centuries of performing badassery looking to punish us for publically ass-whooping his grandson. Depends on how much Marinus' grandfather cares about him or his family being made fools of.
Artoria is pleased to finally put her training to test in the real world before realising how unnecessary what she just did was. Might be worth noting that Artoria doesn't believe that she is normally as a bloodlusty as she acted today. Also worth noting that her hands are rightfully hurting after punching people whilst wearing gauntlets.
Artoria makes an offer for Tavish to join her on her adventure, but he turns her down. This may not be the last of this however.
On the road again. Expected of several hours of travel, Artoria is getting tired, but she has kept the same happening to her horse via magic.
Cervitou shows up again and has been looking for us.
As he said he would, he has been keeping our secret and isn't helping Leona find Artoria.
Hmm, he wants to perform some tests on us and is offering to speed up our journey in exchange.
So he is deliberately hiding information from us, but is being open enough to acknowledge that. The usage of the word 'classified' makes me believe that Cervitou is part of an organisation.
And so we get told the pros and cons of each option in the vote. I don't think Artoria needs to worry about Cervitou bringing her back to her mother as if he seems powerful enough to just force us to go if he wanted to. Speaking of which, I am inclined to trust Cervitou for various reasons.
One, he comes off as trustworthy to me and seems to be genuine in his concern for us. In the last update, he was acting to keep us safe from some black magic by destroying the orb and casually mentioned that it would be annoying for him if he had to bring us back to life, implying that he would just bring us back to life as something standard. Additionally, he seems to be powerful enough to force us to do something if he had bad intentions, especially since he used magic to force us to tell him what he was doing last time we saw him. Since he wants us to voluntarily to come with us rather than using his superior magical abilities to us kidnap us, I believe he is sinecre in his good intentions.
We can see the skill level that we have in each area of our magic. Enhancement seems to have gone up due to us using it in this update.
- We may have angered a powerful and ancient black mage by publically humiliating his grandson. However, Marinus' grandfather might not be a powerful black mage and/or he might not just care enough to punish us for making fools of his family.
- Something might be off with Artoria's personality after the encounter with the black magic orb on her birthday. However, it could just Artoria hasn't got a proper handle on her personality.
- Tavish may show up again as we haven't had a chance to recruit him as a companion as the QM said that would be an automatically option for us to take from my omake introducing him being canon here:
- Has our Enhancement leveled up from using it in this update?
- Is Tavish not going to be Artoria's companion for this adventure or will there be a future vote for us on the matter? I am inclined to believe it is the latter case as this seems like the sort of thing that the voters should get a chance to decide rather than it automatically being decided for us in the update. Or it is that we did offer the chance, but Tavish automatically declined it like he would have if we had gotten to vote on it?
And my vote:
[X] Go with Cervitou.
Birdsie
Sharp Talons Cleave The Worthy
- Location
- Poland
1. It did.
2. I feel like he's not insane enough of a child to leave behind his fairly normal, if decent life behind to go dragon-hunting, so he would decline any such offers at once. That whole section was there to show that. In the future, however, things may be different...
Terran Imperium
[French]
- Location
- Southern France
I'm for getting Tavish with us when he is older and actually have a reliable combat skill, Actually does Tavish have a family or did they get killed like Shirou's ? It will be irresponsible of him to leave them not that we are much better.
And i am the only one a little bit worried about what Marinus is capable of ? I mean he did order his minions to kill us or is it just a child talking in the heat of combat ?
And i am the only one a little bit worried about what Marinus is capable of ? I mean he did order his minions to kill us or is it just a child talking in the heat of combat ?
Last edited:
Birdsie
Sharp Talons Cleave The Worthy
- Location
- Poland
Depends on race and culture.
For an example, being an elf younger than 30 and you're still considered "barely a child," with 100-year-old elves being young adults by their standards.
It goes similar for Dwarves, but theirs is less extreme, with the mid-30's being the equivalent of a young adult.
For humans, it goes either way. Some tribes might consider you need to kill your first beast or participate in a hunt to become a man/woman, while some villages might say that "if you think about sex, you're ready for sex."
That said, most civilized human places go with roughly 16-18, like in our world, but as I said: variations exist.
- Location
- Canada
[X] Go with Cervitou.
- Location
- Southampton, Great Britain
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Terran Imperium
[French]
- Location
- Southern France
Tired today, i will check the update later tommorow.
Chapter 1: Dragon Hunt - Part 3: Rich Black Mage
Birdsie
Sharp Talons Cleave The Worthy
- Location
- Poland
"Okay, I'll come with you," you agree, but your mind still holds some doubts about this.
"Very well. Shall I take this horse with us?" Cervitou asks, walking up closer.
"That'd be neat, yes," you answer.
"Naturally. Please, get off of her, then," Cervitou steps back.
You hop off of Dullahan and look at Cervitou as he gently places his hand upon the creature's head. He offers you his other hand, but you aren't quick to take it.
Finally, you break through your anxiety and accept it.
"Listen well. We will now undergo a teleportation spell; It will take roughly two seconds on our end, but not a second will pass in the real world. The spell will be very unpleasant, and perhaps just slightly painful. It will have the sensation of being forcefully squeezed through a very, very tight tube from head to bottom and moving at high speeds simultaneously. You may feel ill, or feel the need to vomit afterward, but all of these are normal and will cease to bother you in two minutes of time. The more you teleport, the more said symptoms will weaken until they finally disappear."
Although he spoke concisely and quickly, you didn't exactly catch everything.
"Do you understand all that?" Cervitou asks to make sure.
"Urm... yes," you nod nervously.
"Good."
You feel a tingling sensation entering your hand through Cervitou. In less than the fraction of a second, it moves through your arm to the rest of your body. Shadows explode all around you, covering everything in darkness. Before long, you feel the symptoms that the mage mentioned; you feel sick, your stomach hurts slightly, and your head feels dizzy.
You find yourself in an interesting place.
The calm, dead trees of a forest surround you, but you find yourself in a long, vertical dirt opening leading to some kind of castle in the distance. The road is, despite that, brightly lit. There are very little flowers to speak of, with the place bordering to a true wasteland, with no flowers anywhere. Despite that, the place doesn't have even a snowflake in it, and it is significantly less cold than where you were before. The only plants to speak of would be some inert, off-colored grass growing at the edges of the road, as well as very small shrubs. You don't see any animals, nor any bugs or insects.
You follow Cervitou while investigating your surroundings in curiosity and making sure Dullahan is following you.
With that, you look forward, to the castle. It is fairly large, about the size of your mansion, if not bigger. It is protected by a fairly deep moat dug around it, with water in it. Swimming in it is, what you are quite certain are magical leeches of some kind. It has walls, roughly eight meters tall with four, square towers at their edges. The battlements don't seem to have any soldiers on them, despite the fact that remote fortresses and castles away from cities are meant either for nobles of military status or to hold troops to protect an area.
"I don't get it," your thoughts get side-tracked.
"Hm?" he ponders.
"If you're no longer a black mage, why do you live out in a dead hellhole like this? And why does your teleportation spell produce that... shadow thing?"
"They are not shadows, merely black smoke. Shadows are an absence of light. It would be hard to bend it in such a way as to make a tangible shadow, but it is possible with the right abyssal magic, although what it makes isn't quite shadow. Regardless, it is a cosmetic effect I used to apply during my days of... unglory. I still use it, because it's..." he's ashamed to utter the next word, "Cool."
The drawbridge lowers itself, while the iron gate rises. You walk inside.
Cervitou instantly greets a dwarf who comes forth to welcome you.
"Take the horse to the stables. Give it water, food, and-" Cervitou turns to you quickly, "Does it require anything else?"
You think, then shake your head. Dullahan should be rather warm because of the Enhancement.
Cervitou gestures to the dwarf, who carries out his orders. You observe as the stumpy man with his red beard as he proceeds to lead your ride to a wooden building with no doors near the entrance to the castle. The drawbridge soon rises while the iron gate on the inside falls down slowly.
Cervitou, once again, gets your attention. "You coming?"
You look at him and hurry up to him, following the cloaked wizard into the insides of the castle. "You have a dwarf as a servant?"
"They are functional creatures," Cervitou chuckles, "Very good sense of humor, too."
"You own this place?" you inquire, looking at the hall.
There is a red carpet with yellow-colored decorative lines on them, as well as numerous paintings and unused knight armors with their swords standing in the place. Knowing mages, these armors are probably alive and can come to protect their master at any moment. The walls are mostly made out of large, stone bricks, completely undecorated. On another hand, what welcomes you is a pair of curved stairs, leading to what you presume to be the second floor. Together, these stairs form a crescent shape and between them is something similar to a living, but not really, room with a few chairs, a table, a clock, and a bookshelf, as well as some other things.
Suddenly, Cervitou unpins his coat. "Yes," he replies solemnly. "My family lives here too, please, avoid interaction with them."
"Why?" you ask.
Cervitou stretches his hand outward with his coat in it, then drops the coat. Before it can even fall it is... caught, by some invisible force. It hangs in midair, then floats over to a small hanger, four meters to the right of the entrance. This reveals what he wore under it this whole time - a black, padded tunic, a few straps, buckles, and utility belts. He has two books of magic, a few alchemical potions and solvents, and a sack of what seems to be alchemical ingredients, a coinpurse, a pouch of some kind, and a few other, typical things, including a small, serrated and curved ritual dagger.
Amazed by the trick, you try to replicate it with your own, leather, winter coat of blue color with white trim fur at the edges. You take it off, then drop it, but it falls to the ground.
Cervitou looks at you as you do that. "The castle doesn't seem to register you as a guest. Weird," he flicks his wrist twice. As he does, your coat is lifted from the ground, moved over to the other side of the room, and it is hung next to his.
You are amazed further, and can't help but smile like a child. "Your castle is sentient?"
"In a way, yes. It's a spell. The castle maintains, cleans, and prepares meals by itself. Do not be frightened when you see a broom flying around on its own."
Cervitou takes off his mask and hood, revealing black hair, a pale face, very dim blue eyes, and spiky ears. An elf, or perhaps a dark elf? It's hard to tell because his features match bits and pieces of both races. Perhaps he's half this, half the other? It'd be rude to ask, but it is a possibility. On his ears, he has a pair of red, glowing earrings, and there is a very small, soft scar on his neck as if someone cut his throat.
"If you are wondering, yes. I am a half-breed. It is the first thing that comes to mind when I take my mask off," he asserts.
"Oh, no-" you defend yourself, "I didn't..."
"You did. There is nothing wrong with that. Of course, elven society hates nothing more than a half-elf. But I am on a whole new level of persecution," he says, a hint of bitterness in his voice, however, his facial expression doesn't change. He stays with that indifferent, cold look.
Cervitou looks up, to the stairs. "Follow me. Also, don't touch anything. The items here may, or may not be cursed or possessed," he adds. "And if you see a spirit, try not to scare it off."
"Scare it off? A spirit?" you follow the mage upstairs.
"Yes, they are easy to frighten, trust me."
"What kind of spirits?" you ask.
"I allow spirits to dwell in here. In exchange, they provide safety should my residence be under attack from..." he stops speaking, searching for the right word again, "assailants."
"Assailants? Is that what you were busy with yesterday?"
"Perhaps."
Finally, the two of you come to a stop before a large, wooden door. Cervitou opens it, then lets you go in first.
You find yourself in a very dim, darkly lit room. There is only one window, letting some sunlight in. Through it, one can see a courtyard with some flowers and trees, as well as stone pathways and a well. The room itself is full of bookshelves, drawers, wardrobes, and cupboards, as well as various magical devices; some of which you recognize as alchemy tools, both advanced and mundane.
He closes the door, then walks over to one of his desks.
"By the way, who put the curse on me?" you ask out of curiosity.
"I can't tell you. It is forbidden."
"Why is it?"
Cervitou walks up to you with a glass vial in one hand and a wooden cork in the other. "Spit in this," he requests, bringing it close to your face.
You comply, gathering spittle and shooting it into the vial, which Cervitou then takes to his alchemical tools. First, he pours some green fluid into the vial, closes it, shakes it, then he pours it into a vial of another fluid, which promptly turns purple. "Hm, inconclusive."
"Care to answer my question?" you walk up to him.
"I can't. I'm not allowed to talk about this," he replies, staring at the substance, observing and seemingly analyzing it with his eyes. He looks back at you. "I need some of your blood."
"Give me a dagger, then," you say.
Cervitou hands you the curved, serrated blade he had on his belt, as well as another vial. He then reaches onto one of the shelves and hands you a small, wooden box. "Healing gel inside, apply it to the wound to close it."
You cut your wrist like teenagers do it nowadays. It stings like hell, but his dagger is apparently neat for cutting, as blood flows from your wrist like a fountain. You gather it into the vial, but some unlucky drops spill to the floor. You hand him the vial and take the box in return.
You get some white paste from it, onto your right hand's finger. You smear it gently across the wound, which begins to hurt even more. Soon, the pain recedes and it is replaced by a rather decent, comfortable feeling of light airness in your wrist. In ten seconds, the wound closes up almost fully. You put the box back where it was because the elf seems rather busy.
Cervitou tampers with the blood, pouring bits of it into another vial of fluid, which turns into a very distinct, dark purple, different from the one he got from the spit. He takes the vial of the distinct dark purple, then mixes it with a small, metallic appendage, before pouring it into a bottle.
He takes the bottle and lays it onto a calcinator. He heats it up for half a minute, then takes it off again and adds some kind of powder to it. The substance remains unchanged, to which Cervitou's eyebrows jump in surprise. He makes a very distinctive, whispering noise, almost like a grunt of denial.
Cervitou does something uncharacteristic of him, "Damn it," he curses quietly. He blinks, realizing you're near him. He looks at you with wide, open eyes. His voice is uncannily nervous. "T-that's all. I'll send you on your way."
Cervitou puts on his mask. You follow him outside, not asking what the conclusion of his test was, as it didn't appear very... good.
He teleports you and Dullahan to Mora.
As Cervitou leaves behind in a cloud of darkness, you ride forth through the snowy road, once again wearing your cloak. It takes you only fifteen seconds to arrive at the gates of the city.
The sight of a rich city embraces you.
The walls are wide and tall, with numerous towers full of armed archers and guards. Yet the gate itself is very welcoming, with the flags of Albion absolutely everywhere. You enter through and leave Dullahan at the stables so she can get some proper rest. You're looking forward to sleeping too, but you can't do so until night falls.
The bustling city streets are crowded with people. From merchants of varying degrees of success proceeding to the bazaar, to some rather shady thugs, to the common craftsman, blacksmith dwarf, or the robed scholar and mage. There aren't many farmers to speak of, at least not that you recognize because Mora is more well-known for extensive woodcutting and mining rather than agriculture and it indeed seems a few lumberjacks and miners are moving through - both dwarven and human, with their wares loaded on carts or on their backs.
You should consider where to find rumors about any Greater Dragons, or Wyrm Dragons to speak of.
[] Go to the tavern and talk to the keeper. Adventurers ought to spread rumors around here. He may want a tip, though, and he may question the fact you're only thirteen years old.
[] Go to a diviner, clairvoyant druid, gypsy woman, or some other kind of scrying specialist. They will certainly find you a dragon in no time, although their services may be costly.
[] Go to the closest library and try to look at anything that comes close to being witness reports of dragon sightings. They may not be accurate and give you the wrong type of dragon, though.
[] Ask around.
[] Write-in.
Do you do anything else in here? (Buy what/do what?)
[] Go to a blacksmith.
[] Go to a general shop.
[] Go to the noble that owns this city and request an audience.
[] Go to the town elder, who may talk to you if the official owner doesn't.
[] Go to the guildmaster.
[] Write-in.
Calendar: 1005-01-01
Time: Midday
Mana: 191/200
Money: 50GP
"Very well. Shall I take this horse with us?" Cervitou asks, walking up closer.
"That'd be neat, yes," you answer.
"Naturally. Please, get off of her, then," Cervitou steps back.
You hop off of Dullahan and look at Cervitou as he gently places his hand upon the creature's head. He offers you his other hand, but you aren't quick to take it.
Finally, you break through your anxiety and accept it.
"Listen well. We will now undergo a teleportation spell; It will take roughly two seconds on our end, but not a second will pass in the real world. The spell will be very unpleasant, and perhaps just slightly painful. It will have the sensation of being forcefully squeezed through a very, very tight tube from head to bottom and moving at high speeds simultaneously. You may feel ill, or feel the need to vomit afterward, but all of these are normal and will cease to bother you in two minutes of time. The more you teleport, the more said symptoms will weaken until they finally disappear."
Although he spoke concisely and quickly, you didn't exactly catch everything.
"Do you understand all that?" Cervitou asks to make sure.
"Urm... yes," you nod nervously.
"Good."
You feel a tingling sensation entering your hand through Cervitou. In less than the fraction of a second, it moves through your arm to the rest of your body. Shadows explode all around you, covering everything in darkness. Before long, you feel the symptoms that the mage mentioned; you feel sick, your stomach hurts slightly, and your head feels dizzy.
***
You feel cramped for the duration of two seconds, before the shadows fade away, revealing slight distortions to space as you appear in another place.You find yourself in an interesting place.
The calm, dead trees of a forest surround you, but you find yourself in a long, vertical dirt opening leading to some kind of castle in the distance. The road is, despite that, brightly lit. There are very little flowers to speak of, with the place bordering to a true wasteland, with no flowers anywhere. Despite that, the place doesn't have even a snowflake in it, and it is significantly less cold than where you were before. The only plants to speak of would be some inert, off-colored grass growing at the edges of the road, as well as very small shrubs. You don't see any animals, nor any bugs or insects.
You follow Cervitou while investigating your surroundings in curiosity and making sure Dullahan is following you.
With that, you look forward, to the castle. It is fairly large, about the size of your mansion, if not bigger. It is protected by a fairly deep moat dug around it, with water in it. Swimming in it is, what you are quite certain are magical leeches of some kind. It has walls, roughly eight meters tall with four, square towers at their edges. The battlements don't seem to have any soldiers on them, despite the fact that remote fortresses and castles away from cities are meant either for nobles of military status or to hold troops to protect an area.
"I don't get it," your thoughts get side-tracked.
"Hm?" he ponders.
"If you're no longer a black mage, why do you live out in a dead hellhole like this? And why does your teleportation spell produce that... shadow thing?"
"They are not shadows, merely black smoke. Shadows are an absence of light. It would be hard to bend it in such a way as to make a tangible shadow, but it is possible with the right abyssal magic, although what it makes isn't quite shadow. Regardless, it is a cosmetic effect I used to apply during my days of... unglory. I still use it, because it's..." he's ashamed to utter the next word, "Cool."
The drawbridge lowers itself, while the iron gate rises. You walk inside.
Cervitou instantly greets a dwarf who comes forth to welcome you.
"Take the horse to the stables. Give it water, food, and-" Cervitou turns to you quickly, "Does it require anything else?"
You think, then shake your head. Dullahan should be rather warm because of the Enhancement.
Cervitou gestures to the dwarf, who carries out his orders. You observe as the stumpy man with his red beard as he proceeds to lead your ride to a wooden building with no doors near the entrance to the castle. The drawbridge soon rises while the iron gate on the inside falls down slowly.
Cervitou, once again, gets your attention. "You coming?"
***
You look at him and hurry up to him, following the cloaked wizard into the insides of the castle. "You have a dwarf as a servant?"
"They are functional creatures," Cervitou chuckles, "Very good sense of humor, too."
"You own this place?" you inquire, looking at the hall.
There is a red carpet with yellow-colored decorative lines on them, as well as numerous paintings and unused knight armors with their swords standing in the place. Knowing mages, these armors are probably alive and can come to protect their master at any moment. The walls are mostly made out of large, stone bricks, completely undecorated. On another hand, what welcomes you is a pair of curved stairs, leading to what you presume to be the second floor. Together, these stairs form a crescent shape and between them is something similar to a living, but not really, room with a few chairs, a table, a clock, and a bookshelf, as well as some other things.
Suddenly, Cervitou unpins his coat. "Yes," he replies solemnly. "My family lives here too, please, avoid interaction with them."
"Why?" you ask.
Cervitou stretches his hand outward with his coat in it, then drops the coat. Before it can even fall it is... caught, by some invisible force. It hangs in midair, then floats over to a small hanger, four meters to the right of the entrance. This reveals what he wore under it this whole time - a black, padded tunic, a few straps, buckles, and utility belts. He has two books of magic, a few alchemical potions and solvents, and a sack of what seems to be alchemical ingredients, a coinpurse, a pouch of some kind, and a few other, typical things, including a small, serrated and curved ritual dagger.
Amazed by the trick, you try to replicate it with your own, leather, winter coat of blue color with white trim fur at the edges. You take it off, then drop it, but it falls to the ground.
Cervitou looks at you as you do that. "The castle doesn't seem to register you as a guest. Weird," he flicks his wrist twice. As he does, your coat is lifted from the ground, moved over to the other side of the room, and it is hung next to his.
You are amazed further, and can't help but smile like a child. "Your castle is sentient?"
"In a way, yes. It's a spell. The castle maintains, cleans, and prepares meals by itself. Do not be frightened when you see a broom flying around on its own."
Cervitou takes off his mask and hood, revealing black hair, a pale face, very dim blue eyes, and spiky ears. An elf, or perhaps a dark elf? It's hard to tell because his features match bits and pieces of both races. Perhaps he's half this, half the other? It'd be rude to ask, but it is a possibility. On his ears, he has a pair of red, glowing earrings, and there is a very small, soft scar on his neck as if someone cut his throat.
"If you are wondering, yes. I am a half-breed. It is the first thing that comes to mind when I take my mask off," he asserts.
"Oh, no-" you defend yourself, "I didn't..."
"You did. There is nothing wrong with that. Of course, elven society hates nothing more than a half-elf. But I am on a whole new level of persecution," he says, a hint of bitterness in his voice, however, his facial expression doesn't change. He stays with that indifferent, cold look.
Cervitou looks up, to the stairs. "Follow me. Also, don't touch anything. The items here may, or may not be cursed or possessed," he adds. "And if you see a spirit, try not to scare it off."
"Scare it off? A spirit?" you follow the mage upstairs.
"Yes, they are easy to frighten, trust me."
"What kind of spirits?" you ask.
"I allow spirits to dwell in here. In exchange, they provide safety should my residence be under attack from..." he stops speaking, searching for the right word again, "assailants."
"Assailants? Is that what you were busy with yesterday?"
"Perhaps."
Finally, the two of you come to a stop before a large, wooden door. Cervitou opens it, then lets you go in first.
You find yourself in a very dim, darkly lit room. There is only one window, letting some sunlight in. Through it, one can see a courtyard with some flowers and trees, as well as stone pathways and a well. The room itself is full of bookshelves, drawers, wardrobes, and cupboards, as well as various magical devices; some of which you recognize as alchemy tools, both advanced and mundane.
He closes the door, then walks over to one of his desks.
"By the way, who put the curse on me?" you ask out of curiosity.
"I can't tell you. It is forbidden."
"Why is it?"
Cervitou walks up to you with a glass vial in one hand and a wooden cork in the other. "Spit in this," he requests, bringing it close to your face.
You comply, gathering spittle and shooting it into the vial, which Cervitou then takes to his alchemical tools. First, he pours some green fluid into the vial, closes it, shakes it, then he pours it into a vial of another fluid, which promptly turns purple. "Hm, inconclusive."
"Care to answer my question?" you walk up to him.
"I can't. I'm not allowed to talk about this," he replies, staring at the substance, observing and seemingly analyzing it with his eyes. He looks back at you. "I need some of your blood."
"Give me a dagger, then," you say.
Cervitou hands you the curved, serrated blade he had on his belt, as well as another vial. He then reaches onto one of the shelves and hands you a small, wooden box. "Healing gel inside, apply it to the wound to close it."
You cut your wrist like teenagers do it nowadays. It stings like hell, but his dagger is apparently neat for cutting, as blood flows from your wrist like a fountain. You gather it into the vial, but some unlucky drops spill to the floor. You hand him the vial and take the box in return.
You get some white paste from it, onto your right hand's finger. You smear it gently across the wound, which begins to hurt even more. Soon, the pain recedes and it is replaced by a rather decent, comfortable feeling of light airness in your wrist. In ten seconds, the wound closes up almost fully. You put the box back where it was because the elf seems rather busy.
Cervitou tampers with the blood, pouring bits of it into another vial of fluid, which turns into a very distinct, dark purple, different from the one he got from the spit. He takes the vial of the distinct dark purple, then mixes it with a small, metallic appendage, before pouring it into a bottle.
He takes the bottle and lays it onto a calcinator. He heats it up for half a minute, then takes it off again and adds some kind of powder to it. The substance remains unchanged, to which Cervitou's eyebrows jump in surprise. He makes a very distinctive, whispering noise, almost like a grunt of denial.
Cervitou does something uncharacteristic of him, "Damn it," he curses quietly. He blinks, realizing you're near him. He looks at you with wide, open eyes. His voice is uncannily nervous. "T-that's all. I'll send you on your way."
Cervitou puts on his mask. You follow him outside, not asking what the conclusion of his test was, as it didn't appear very... good.
He teleports you and Dullahan to Mora.
***
As Cervitou leaves behind in a cloud of darkness, you ride forth through the snowy road, once again wearing your cloak. It takes you only fifteen seconds to arrive at the gates of the city.
The sight of a rich city embraces you.
The walls are wide and tall, with numerous towers full of armed archers and guards. Yet the gate itself is very welcoming, with the flags of Albion absolutely everywhere. You enter through and leave Dullahan at the stables so she can get some proper rest. You're looking forward to sleeping too, but you can't do so until night falls.
The bustling city streets are crowded with people. From merchants of varying degrees of success proceeding to the bazaar, to some rather shady thugs, to the common craftsman, blacksmith dwarf, or the robed scholar and mage. There aren't many farmers to speak of, at least not that you recognize because Mora is more well-known for extensive woodcutting and mining rather than agriculture and it indeed seems a few lumberjacks and miners are moving through - both dwarven and human, with their wares loaded on carts or on their backs.
You should consider where to find rumors about any Greater Dragons, or Wyrm Dragons to speak of.
[] Go to the tavern and talk to the keeper. Adventurers ought to spread rumors around here. He may want a tip, though, and he may question the fact you're only thirteen years old.
[] Go to a diviner, clairvoyant druid, gypsy woman, or some other kind of scrying specialist. They will certainly find you a dragon in no time, although their services may be costly.
[] Go to the closest library and try to look at anything that comes close to being witness reports of dragon sightings. They may not be accurate and give you the wrong type of dragon, though.
[] Ask around.
[] Write-in.
Do you do anything else in here? (Buy what/do what?)
[] Go to a blacksmith.
[] Go to a general shop.
[] Go to the noble that owns this city and request an audience.
[] Go to the town elder, who may talk to you if the official owner doesn't.
[] Go to the guildmaster.
[] Write-in.
Calendar: 1005-01-01
Time: Midday
Mana: 191/200
Money: 50GP