>>6340366
Okay, elven femcel "wizard", right.
>In the mountains, where you can bicker with the dwarves.

The thought of eternal bickering amuses me.

>>6340366
>In the mountains, where you can bicker with the dwarves.
Ha Ha time for Dorf Fort

>>6340366
>>In the mountains, where you can bicker with the dwarves.

>>6340366
>In the islands, where you can shamelessly flaunt yourself.
More like given up hope.

>In the islands, where you can shamelessly flaunt yourself

>>6340366
>In the mountains, where you can bicker with the dwarves.

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You chose to build your tower atop Sunpeak Mountain for a number of reasons.

First, its position near to the equator - and more importantly, the Prime Dragon Vein that circles the World. All 9[9]9 Elfhomes sit upon the Prime Dragon Vein through which flows the memory of everything that was and everything that shall be at a distance of 3[3]3 leagues from one another, nails driven through Chaotic Oblivion by the Creator to hold fast the logical texture of reality upon which the world has been painted by the brush of History. Connection to any dragon vein would suffice for a Wizard's Tower, but connection to the Prime Dragon Vein is connection to the Prime Mover, the motion-in-sequence of time itself.

Second, its height above the Material. Physically it sits 2[2]2 leagues above sea level, making it an impressive peak, if not nearly the tallest in the World. Metaphysically... well, you could get to the complex geometries and paths apparent of the bodies celestial, but it sits remarkably close to both the Corpse of Aya-Sherida and the Bel-Sarbi borehole. One of the most important bodies celestial for necromancers, and the borehole made by the Ferryman when the gods fled the Material before it rendered them Mundane.

Lastly, its close proximity to the Mare Tropicale - a warm beach within dimension-door distance! - might help you change your image. If gloomy goth girl can't catch you a man, then you'll try transitioning to the style of those tanned thots from the desert. Flashy and tasteless they may be, they have no problem collecting harems of men.

Of course just because you're going to try being a "gal" from now on doesn't mean that you're giving up on necromancy.

You spent ̶4̶5̶0̶ 250 years perfecting the art of turning corpses into friendly bone boys that don't inherently hate the living, and you have no intent on throwing away that research just because some blonde bimbo with visible tan lines on her shoulders says that skeletons are gloomy. Skeletons are not gloomy, they are cute.

So you put some special oil into your silver hair to give it a rainbow sheen. Traded the black and red wizard robes for a bright pink swimwear - printed with cute skulls on the cups, of course - and a sparkling see-through wind breaker that's apparently all the rage among the "gals" of the desert. Traded the flat boots for high-heeled sandals, because apparently men like feet? Painted your nails a bright and sunny blue, with charming little skulls sitting at the center of each. Oh, and got a little ivory skull piercing for your navel, and decorated your skin with cute and shimmering skulls in every color that your arcane mark can produce.

Sitting on the beach in your new get up with a fruity beverage, being fanned by your bone boys as the others cart materials up to the mountain, there is just one problem that you've yet to resolve.

"Where have the men gone?" you ask the summer wind. "There should be hunky men on a beach..."

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>>6340680

"Ye scared off all tha village lads away wit' yer damry skeletons, ya daft knife-eared twat." The only thing that vaguely resembles a man on this beach accuses you of something terrible. "Leavin' yer jubblies hangin' out fer all ta see an' dressin' yerself up like tha most expensive prostitute on Red Lantern Road won' change tha fact tha yer average villager cannae see tha different twixt a blood thirsty bone pile and your animated ivory goobers. 'Sides which, I'm still here, and I'll have ye know that I'm quite popular amongst tha humie ladies..."

The dwarf flexes his muscles, showing off his stature.

You push your sunglasses up to your brow and level a flat look at him. Honestly, you can see the appeal. A face chiseled from marble and a well groomed ruby-red beard, with all the rippling muscles and broad stature that the rootborn are known. The height doesn't even bother you, many accounts of The Creator claim him shorter than average, and the rootborn usually reach about five feet tall. The problem lies below the belt.

"Come back when you forge yourself a man's sword and we'll talk," you tell him. Like Orcs, Dwarves are an all-male species of humanoid. Unlike Orcs and Elves, Dwarves have neither a man's sword nor a woman's scabbard. "Until then, I'm not interested in a walking potato."

"Hah!" the dwarf laughs. "Like I'd be interested in a rotten-"

"Fermented," you correct him with a click of your tongue.

"Fine, fine, fermented fruit like one o' yer get," the dwarf says, shaking his head. "Anyways, tha lads an' I've finished up preppin' tha material shipment fer yer tower. Where d'ya wan' it?"

"Bobby," you call for the most reliable amongst your bone boys, a Skeletal Champion born from the corpse of the great hero Robert Raytheon. "Be a dear and help Mister Mac Leod bring the materials up to the construction site. And let Morty know that he and the lads can begin work on the foundation once the materials are present and sorted."

Bobby rattles in affirmation and leads the dwarf away. What type of tower did you plan on constructing, anyways?
>A grand observatory where you can immerse yourself in your research.
>A palace of luxury where you can play the game of politics.
>A tower of self-indulgence where you can use machines to alleviate loneliness.
>A dock for a skyship that will lay the foundation for a trade network.
>A sprawling estate where you can play the self-sufficient frontierswoman.

>>6340681
>A grand observatory where you can immerse yourself in your research.
Space is cool

>>6340681
>A dock for a skyship that will lay the foundation for a trade network.
Traveling means meeting new people

Note for context that 9[9]9 is a unicode friendly notation of the H9 hyperoperation where a and b are both nine. Hyperoperations being an iterative series of operations where you do the lower order operation on a a number of times equal to b.

At its lowest level, h0 is the successor operation, adding 1 to the number. To put it in common notation...

9[1]9 = 9+9 = 18
9[2]9 = 9x9 = 9+9+9+9+9+9+9+9+9 = 81
9[3]9 = 9^9 = 9x9x9x9x9x9x9x9x9 = 387420489
9[4]9 = 9^^9 = 9^9^9^9^9^9^9^9^9 = too fucking big

In this case, the total length of the Prime Dragon Vein is 9[9]9 x 3[3]3 leagues, or to put more simply way too fucking big.

(My goal here is to make cultivation settings and their "million li" distances look small)

>>6340768
Why is it that lewd fiction has the craziest worldbuilding

>>6340784
It is a proud tradition going back AT LEAST to the Fate series.

>>6340681
>A dock for a skyship that will lay the foundation for a trade network.
A trade network sounds like an excellent way to find strange men.

>>6340681
>A dock for a skyship that will lay the foundation for a trade network.

>>6340681
>A sprawling estate where you can play the self-sufficient frontierswoman.

We have the labour, build the core around which a vast hinterland can be transformed. Attract strange and exotic men to this grand destination!

>A dock for a skyship that will lay the foundation for a trade network.

>>6340681
>A grand observatory where you can immerse yourself in your research.

>>6340752
>>6340937
Combine these, we're gonna need a place to make the Skyships!

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Your tower rises slowly but surely.

Sitting at the summit of Sunpeak Mountain, it will eventually extend for another hundred feet or so beyond the peak and into the Sky. Your own quarters will be right at the top once it has been complete, with all the amenities that a wizard of your stature could desire. Including a certain secret room with a very special window that allows you to see outside but will never permit anyone to see what lies within, which shall house numerous amusing devices crafted to your exacting specifications.

That, however, is a long ways off from now. The basement and the ground floor have barely been erected, the masonry having only just gone up around the frame work. The adamantine frame has been fully assemble for the tower, but the sheathing of marble, lapis lazuli, and orichalcum has yet to even arrive from the craftsmen.

You have a fresco of sorts planned for the exterior. The sheathing took quite some time to fully design with that grumpy old potato from the undermount, but you landed on a depiction of The Tale of St. John of Arc, the story of a famed Skeletal Champion who fought against a cruel slaver queen and liberated the people.

In life, a common man-at-arms.

In death, a heroic paladin who fought for the people.

Raising a skeleton like him is the dream of every good necromancer. Unfortunately, while you've a number of more intelligent bone boys among your undead retinue, you've yet to find yourself a corpse that rose as a proper Skeletal Champion. Nor do you exactly have the funds to arm such a champion if you raised one, having poured more or less every coin you had in reserve towards the construction of your tower.

Your stomach rumbles in complaint. The Ring of Sustenance upon your finger will let you get by without eating more or less indefinitely, but it won't stop your tummy from complaining about it from time to time. You're not a cleric who can simply conjure a bland loaf of bread and a pitcher of watered down wine, either; and nor would you want to eat the blandness that is conjured food.

The undermount would have good restaurants to buy something from, if you were willing to put up with the damned potatoes.

Dwarven artism extends to all of their crafts, making their chefs some of the finest in the world. Commanding the price of some of the finest chefs in the world. You can see how this might be a problem for someone who just emptied her savings to pay for the materials to construct a resplendent wizard's tower. While you can afford a meal or two for now...

You need to find some work.
>Time to break out the old Adventurer's Guild card and see what needs killing.
>You can gather ingredients and make some potions to sell for a decent profit.
>There might be some farmers who would pay to have skeletons help with the harvest.
>You'd need to hide your identity, but... working at a gentlemen's club could be fun...
>(Write In)

>>6341265
We have a lot of guest rooms, but not a lot of storage for our trade goods in that blueprint. Seems like a design flaw. How are we unloading it? Lots of guest rooms seems more appropriate for more politically orientated tower. Though I do understand we want our handsome men.

Anyhow, we're broke. What to do, what to do...
>There might be some farmers who would pay to have skeletons help with the harvest.
>You'd need to hide your identity, but... working at a gentlemen's club could be fun...

Boring, but effective. The natural use for necromancy. While we send the skellies off to do that, lets have some fun.

>>6341265
we have guest rooms on the ground floor? right above the NECROMANCY lab? No, change this to a waiting / reception room.

And the one nect to the kitchen is another guest room? above the alchemy lab? under the kings suit?

No, simply unacceptable. The kitchen needs to be a separate building. The kitchen/guest room as is needs to be replaced with a golem room or guard quarters or something of that nature

What about office space?

>>6341265
Yes, the guest rooms on the ground floor should probably be replaced by amenities for the guests. A ballroom, dining room, or another lounge, perhaps a gym, certainly a green space is missing. I think the King's room and Prince's room should be higher up, perhaps closer to our chambers...for reasons. While I'd understand if the tower narrows the higher you go for structural reasons, we're a wizard, surely we can manage. If that were an issue, we wouldn't have a massive, wide docking berth for skyships at the top(?) of the tower. Also, I'm surprised our library doesn't take up an entire floor, below our penthouse.

>>6341292
>How are we unloading it? Lots of guest rooms seems more appropriate for more politically orientated tower. Though I do understand we want our handsome men.
The thought there was the teleportation circles allowing the airships to send offloaded cargo to a warehouse carved into the mountainside, with access to the undermount by railcart. Basically, the place where all of your building materials are being stored at the moment. The tower would otherwise be used as an inn.
>>6341297
>>6341297
>we have guest rooms on the ground floor? right above the NECROMANCY lab? No, change this to a waiting / reception room.
Fair. This can be changed to a Reception/Lounge space with lots of plush chairs and an Eternal Flame fireplace in the center.
>And the one nect to the kitchen is another guest room? above the alchemy lab? under the kings suit?
>No, simply unacceptable. The kitchen needs to be a separate building. The kitchen/guest room as is needs to be replaced with a golem room or guard quarters or something of that nature
Not planning to remove the kitchens (they're magitech appliances for cooking, the only thing that burns wood is the smoker, which has a vent), but that room can be changed to a proper dining hall for your guests.
>What about office space?
The penthouse has a solar, an older term for the office of the master of the house.
>>6341301
>Yes, the guest rooms on the ground floor should probably be replaced by amenities for the guests. A ballroom, dining room, or another lounge, perhaps a gym, certainly a green space is missing.
See above; a dining room and a lounge/reception will be replacing those.
>I think the King's room and Prince's room should be higher up, perhaps closer to our chambers...for reasons. While I'd understand if the tower narrows the higher you go for structural reasons, we're a wizard, surely we can manage.
The King/Prince Suites are mostly just fancy names for more expensive rooms in the inn portion of the tower. Probably should be renamed, and an extra floor can be added to the space above the docks to accommodate a noble bringing a full household.
>If that were an issue, we wouldn't have a massive, wide docking berth for skyships at the top(?) of the tower.
The docking berth is actually just the roof of floor 10 with some piers sticking out of it. The ovular shapes are theoretical ships docked to it. It is located below the Penthouse (and potentially the "Lordly Household" and "Empty Library" floors).
>Also, I'm surprised our library doesn't take up an entire floor, below our penthouse.
You don't have enough books accumulated for that. You have a huge amount of books, mind, enough to fill a 6-700 square foot room filled with shelves, but not a "full floor" worth of books just yet. That said, no reason not to build for the future.

>>6341322
give me a hot minute I'm working on my suggestions

>>6341265
>You'd need to hide your identity, but... working at a gentlemen's club could be fun...
Definitely the most fun sounding option, and we get to be close to men.

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>>6341265

>>6341334
Holy fucking kek....

>>6341265
>There might be some farmers who would pay to have skeletons help with the harvest.
>You'd need to hide your identity, but... working at a gentlemen's club could be fun...

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"for your consideration mistressssss"

Ground floor + basement
-left guest room gutted to expand kitchen and dinning area
-dinning area changed to a communal eating location, and maybe even bar at night, for guests / visitors / sailors / passerbys
- bone boys working the kitchen and as staff
- possible income generation
- Flower garden surrounding the tower to make it seem more inviting and hide the "corpse smell"
- vegetable garden for eating and exotic garden for alchemy
- basement larder space added for supplies with CLEAR separation from necomantic area to prevent cross contamination
- sun room replaced with green house, additional glass table can be added for sitting
- right guest room gutted for multi purpose room
- most Teleporters removed, wizards' digest magazine quotes that 9 out of 10 adventurers prefer wizard towers with regular progression over teleporter zig zagging
- garden shed that is also a second entrance to basement for subtle corpse transportation
- discarded corpse matter used for fertilization
- alchemy room removed due to danger of EXPLOSION at the BASE of the tower, lack of ventilation, and danger to cafe area patrons (recommend placement much higher up)
- Panic room now placed behind 100000 waiting power liches

I got other opinions for the higher floors but didnt want to get too autistic

>>6341265
>You can gather ingredients and make some potions to sell for a decent profit.
>There might be some farmers who would pay to have skeletons help with the harvest.

either of these

>>6341377
Excellent. Good job butler bone boi.

>>6341265
>No access from penthouse to skydock or floors 3-10 unless we go to ground floor then outside
>No teleport or at least an escape tunnel in the panic room
>No backup stairs in case the concept of teleportation gets erased from reality
>No pool with a nice view of sunset mountains
We need to work on our house planning skills

>You can gather ingredients and make some potions to sell for a decent profit.
Helping agriculture is good and all, but those farmers probably don't have much money to pay us

Just wow
>No giant heated infinity pool + Jacuzzi filled with water elementals that make you nut while you swim
>No two story library with an interior grand staircase and an ancient restored automaton with an eidetic memory going back 10000 years to work as the resident librarian and tutor
>Too many guest rooms
>Ice cream machine is broken
This tower fucking SUCKS, take it from the top QM

I am being facetious, I think you're doing great. You have a rare strain of autism and a lot of personal diligence to be putting in this level of effort, I appreciate you going through the trouble to cook up these blueprints for us and don't actually have any complaints.

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>>6341334
>>6341377
I hope you realize this is canon now. Thanks for the fanart, I died laughing when I saw it.

===

Slumped upon your bone throne with your arms crossed beneath your bosom, a pout cannot escape your face. Sebonestian - first among your retainers and the most intelligent of your bone boys - just got finished roasting your grand designs. Okay, the names of the two largest suites might have been a bit ostentatious, sure, but eight floors worth of guest chambers are a necessity! Your agreement with the King Potato of the Sunpeak Undermount for the lands to build your tower necessitate its function as an inn.

The four skydocks were his request as well. They'll be seeing plenty of use once they're up and running, and you'll be collecting a fair toll.

A chamber for fanmail, bah. Maybe you'll take Parvana's advice and give "masked service" a try, you might actually need a fanmail chamber after that!

"In all seriousness, mistress..." Sebonestian's rattling breaks you from your thoughts. He hands you an altered design for the lower floors. "For your consideration..."

In all honesty, he makes a fair point. You really not ought to put guest chambers on the first floor, it's not done, and while you've no interest in brewing anything explosive it probably is best to separate out the alchemy lab to a separate building with better ventilation. He's right about teleportation circles, the latest edition of Manse and Tower Magazine notes that they can cause nausea. You'd have to seriously rethink the second floor if you want to put in stairs, but that might be worthwhile, given how expensive floating disks can be.

"Well, we can't make the Sunroom into a greenhouse," you tell him. "Not a proper one, at any rate. Vaulted ceiling and great glass windows aside, it's still below the tower proper, meaning it won't get enough direct sunlight. I like most of the landscaping ideas, but remember that the Sunroom will be opening to a path down to Suncrest Falls, so there won't be much room on that side of the tower..."

"Very well, mistress," Sebonestian gives a nod of his skull. You take the opportunity to adjust his top hat, as it had gotten crooked. "I shall bring the altered designs to Mr. Thimblebeard."

"I'm sure he'll apply his artism in full," you say. Rising from your bone throne with a languid stretch, you take leave of the camp.

There's work to be done, after all. Contracts for some simple skeletons to help the local farms plow and harvest their crops, and... Parvana's advice on how to make a quick buck is ringing in your ears. Desert Thot she might be, she's been a good friend for more centuries than you've officially been alive (having been 300 years old for the past two centuries).

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>>6341465
You're gonna do it. You're going to obtain male attention and coin by doing some discrete work in a gentleman's club under a false name. You just need to figure out how far you're willing to go... (Roll 1d100)
>One of those cafes where you dress up in a frilly maid outfit to serve the customers.
>One of those bars where you dress up in a bunny suit and deliver drinks and snacks to customers.
>One of those "clubs" where you dress up in a reverse bunny suit and deliver drinks to customers who will almost certainly grope you.
>One of those "clubs" where you'll be expected to get up on a stage and strip while dancing.
>No... you couldn't... you don't think you have the mental fortitude to work at an actual brothel...
>(Write in)

Rolled 33 (1d100)

>>6341466
>One of those cafes where you dress up in a frilly maid outfit to serve the customers.
If we enjoy it we can always go deeper in but let's start safe

Rolled 51 (1d100)

>>6341466
>One of those "clubs" where you dress up in a reverse bunny suit and deliver drinks to customers who will almost certainly grope you.
Be brave

Rolled 20 (1d100)

>>6341466
>>One of those cafes where you dress up in a frilly maid outfit to serve the customers.

Rolled 9 (1d100)

>>6341466
>(Write in)
Hauling clubs at the local golf club. The richest clients, the biggest tips.

>>6341334
lol, savage
>>6341377
you will look very professional sitting at your glass desk in the greenhouse, with your handsome bones all nice and polished

Rolled 12 (1d100)

>>6341466
>One of those cafes where you dress up in a frilly maid outfit to serve the customers.
If she had courage she wouldnt be such an elven femcel

Rolled 93 (1d100)

>>6341467
this

Rolled 12 (1d100)

>One of those cafes where you dress up in a frilly maid outfit to serve the customers.
>One of those bars where you dress up in a bunny suit and deliver drinks and snacks to customers.

No way young mistress would be a virgin without an onslaught of social problems of her own

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Your disguise is foolproof.

You wove a number of disguise spells and anchored them all to a little mark above your heart that looks like a single mole upon your otherwise flawless skin. Transmutation magic, rather than illusion magic as well, so even if any of the guests bear Trueseeing Eyes they won't be able to make out all of the details. Your become a few shades darker, not quite as tanned as Parvana but not your usual milky pale that has been untouched by the sun. Your hair lengthens and turns to an illustrious purple-black. Your ears retreat into your head, only to regrow atop it in two peaks of fluff while your tailbone extends into a silky cat's tail.

You bosom shrinks three sizes. Some might call them more manageable now, but frankly you took no small amount of pride that each of them weighed three kilograms.

The only real problem with your escapades into service is... (Min Roll: 9)

"You expect me to wear this?" you ask the proprietress of the Diamond Rose Maid Cafe. You expected a long, modest maid's dress, or maybe something that came up just past your knees with stockings and just a little bit of cleavage showing. The "maid outfit" you've been given care barely be called clothing, if anything it's more of a set of underwear. "While serving tea and crumpets to... to..."

"A crowd of lonely young men who want a cute girl like you to dote on them~" the proprietress - a friend of Parvana's - says. She's awful close and remarkably free with her hands. If she wasn't a woman you'd probably die of embarrassment. "I know your type. The gloomy sort who never got any attention from the boys, because she doesn't know how to appeal to them, right? Look, look, you decided to be a catfolk for this, right? Parvy told me about your circumstances, and nothing else, don't worry."

"What's being a catfolk got to do with this?" you ask, but you already know the answer.

"Don't tell me you transformed into one without knowing how they are!" the proprietress' elf ears wiggle gaily at your distress. "This is modest for them, so don't be embarrassed to wear it, okay~?"

Her advice... does not help.

You spend your time serving at the cafe embarrassed at your outfit. Timid as you approach the young men who frequent the establishment with their orders, barely able to squeak out the required chants of 'become delicious~!" and "moe, moe, kyun~!" without dying on the inside.

Of course, the young men eat it up and your tips are almost as high as the BIG THREE celebrity maids of the establishment. It all ends up getting split evenly, but being up there in the back office rankings as the fourth most requested maid is nice. (Max Roll: 93)

You have obtained 500 gold in tips. Roll 1d100 and...
>Continue working at the Maid Cafe until your tower is finished.
>Look for another part time job.
>Get a start on another one of your projects.
>(Write in)

Rolled 2 (1d100)

>>6341651
>Look for another part time job.
How scandalous! We'll become unmarriageable at this rate.

Rolled 91 (1d100)

>>6341651
We can retire from work as a maid with pride, knowing that we were one of the greats. Now lets make sure that record isn't spoiled.
>Look for another part time job.

We need more funds!

Rolled 72 (1d100)

>>6341651
>Continue working at the Maid Cafe until your tower is finished.
Attention from the boys TOO ADDICTING

>>6341465
>the Sunroom will be opening to a path down to Suncrest Falls, so there won't be much room on that side of the tower..."

explain further

Rolled 69 (1d100)

>>6341651
>Continue working at the Maid Cafe until your tower is finished.

Rolled 7 (1d100)

>>6341673
switching social milieu for another, even seedier, one? are you crazy?
>>6341675
this is my choice

>>6341675
>explain further
Consider Hermit's Rest, a structure built upon the edge of the Grand Canyon. While the north end of your tower (where the Sun Room is situated) does not face quite so steep an incline, it still is facing towards the sharper incline of the peak, not quite a cliff but a steep scramble. It gives you a choice view of Dawncrest Lake and Morningtown, the nearest human village to the Sunpeak Undermount.

A switchback path is part of the planned landscaping, which will lead down to a landing where there is going to be a view of Suncrest Falls, which is the outflow of the Mac Mahon Watervein, an underground river/spring that is the main source of fresh water to the Sunpeak Undermount and one of the tributaries to Dawncrest Lake and the Dawnflow River.
>>6341741
Nice.
>>6341742
>switching social milieu for another, even seedier, one? are you crazy?
The "other part time job" will not involve working at a gentleman's club/bar/maid cafe.

>>6341742
Who do you think this quest is about? A nun? MC is a degenerate, act like it!
>>6341760
>The "other part time job" will not involve working at a gentleman's club/bar/maid cafe.

Aww...shucks...

>>6341762
Now you wanna keep the job with the cute boys in it, right?

Rolled 91 (1d100)

>>6341651
>Continue working at the Maid Cafe until your tower is finished.
Needs more exp with the boys

>>6341673
me and anon here are high rollers

>>6341860
the experience in the hospitality industry will be very useful in running what amounts to an inn, too

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>>6341760
How is this?

Ground Floor:
- Changed the location of northern flowers and plants to facilitate cliff side tower
- Sun room left empty
- Stairs location changed to line up with tower
- Added small storage closet
- waiting room/lounge/ballroom gutted to make room for:
- Reception area to welcome guests, get payment, coordinate bell boneboys, and assign rooms
- Teleportation room for the movement of CARGO from sky dock and prevent stair congestion (special precautions should be taken to prevent accidents)
Reason: there is already a lounge on the second floor

Second Floor:
- Kings suit converted to second prince suite
- Two guest room on right side converted to Kings suit
- Added elevator disk (expensive but needed)
- Larger storage closet
- Lounge extended to add a reading nook
- Boneboy waiting to take drink requests

Floors 3- 10
- guest bath shifted for better space allocation

File: Janeway Renner.jpg (1.38 MB, 3541x2508)

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>>6342026
Holy shit, that's amazing, I am not worthy of the amount of effort you put into that.

===

You convince yourself that continuing your work as "Kitten, the Catfolk Bikini-Maid" will provide you with useful experience in the hospitality industry, giving you a head start on running the Inn that will occupy your tower. Never mind the fact that you'll be leaving the bulk of operational work to Sebonestian and your bone boys while you occupy directorship and will be focus on the trade logistics of your tower. Knowing how to pour tomato katsup into the shape of a heart and getting pats on your bum is extremely important to your future efforts.

Besides, the pay's excellent for the effort that you're putting in. The men - and occasionally woman - who stop by seem to adore the gap between the flashy "catfolk appropriate" maid outfit and your shy personality.

The incident occurred shortly after you put in your two-weeks' notice, just as the last fiddly bits of the Tower were being installed. (Min Roll: 2)

The perpetrators filed in over the course of the day. None of them first timers, but all of them relatively new faces at the Maid Cafe. An orcish man with wide rimmed glasses, whose smile always seemed a little forced. An aasimar man who always came in with the orc, his expressions fake instead of forced. A pair of human fraternal twins - brother and sister - who always seemed more interested in one another than their servers. A tiefling woman who always asked for you, and always stared in ways that made you feel extremely uncomfortable. A cheerful gnomish woman with violently blue hair, who always left a heartfelt note of sympathy with her tips.

At 6 PM, right as the third round of drinks for the evening were getting underway, they all stood up as one and pulled blasting rods out from their coats. Shouts of nobody fucking move and keep your hands where we can see them rang out through the dining hall and straight over your head. Your eyes found something far more interesting than the idle threats of the young and brash.

Namely the model of blasting rod.

The Renner 45, a reliable favorite of wandslingers that has been in use for longer than you've been officially alive. Powerful enough to put down a goblinoid in a single shot, cheap enough that dumb kids like these could afford them, and abundant enough in parts and ammunition that more folks than not have one in their homes. If, hypothetically, you were not a spring maiden of 300 years and were in fact a 500 year old hag caught in a two century long midlife crisis, there's a good chance you would have met its inventor: the famed artificer Janeway Renner.

Janeway believed that the Almighty himself gave her the mission of putting a blasting rod in every home, that all good people had means to defend themselves. That's why she aimed for cheap and reliable in her designs. Materials even the lowest peasant could afford, reliability for the highest king to envy.

>>6342085
You're not sure she'd be happy to see what this collection of misfits was getting up to with her life's work, though.

"Pick-me's and patriarchs, today is your liberation day!" The gnomish woman doesn't sound so cheerful as she shoots out one of the Cafe's windows with her blasting rod's magic missile. "Throughout our beloved undermount, vile establishments just like this have done the work of Asmodeus in spreading a rot of degenerate misogyny that grips the heart of our populace! Women have become objects to be used by fools who knowingly or unknowingly serve the Nine Hells by leading good men into the sin of lust! And who profits?"

Well, you are. (Max Roll: 69)

You've made something in the realm of 500 gold pieces each week for the past six months, on a 25 hour schedule. Normalize that to an hourly rate, and while you're not making as much as you did adventuring, you're also not spending anything on equipment or reagents.

"That's right, the elves," the gnome spits. "Those long-eared succubi whose very nature is to exploit other women and lead men astray. Who form cabals with one another, and seize control of banking, industry, and trade! Or run establishments like these, where men and women with shorter lifespans are exploited for their filthy profits!"

She gestures to you, and for a moment you think she knows you're in disguise. "Tell me, my short-lived bretheren! Do you think a timid and wholesome girl like our beloved Kitten wants to dress like that? In a maid outfit that barely qualifies as linegerie, used like a sexdoll to lead goodly folk into opening their wallets for a vat-grown harlot's profit!?"

Her goons let out a booing no, joined by a few intimidated and uncertain customers.

For further emphasis, the gnomish woman shoots out another window.

"Right now, your brothers and sisters are conducting liberation operations all throughout the undermount," she declares as though her actions were great and heroic. "The host club, the maid cafe, the brothel, and the bordello! Run by elves or their stooges, it doesn't matter. Today the Public Morals Society shall end all exploitative lewdness in our beloved undermount! We will drive out every single long-eared whore and take these caverns back for the people!"

Roll 1d20
>What in the goddamn- (Just stand their nonplussed, and let this blow over)
>Confront the... PMS... with your words and attempt to talk them down.
>Confront the... PMS... with your magic. You have a shield spell anchored to your earrings, they literally cannot hurt you with a Renner 45.
>Well, you suppose you - the example of their exploited woman - should leave, being a 'long eared whore' and all
>(Write in)

>>6342087
>Confront the... PMS... with your magic. You have a shield spell anchored to your earrings, they literally cannot hurt you with a Renner 45.
This is textbook Elf-phobic nonsense taken to its deranged ultimate conclusion, this woman has probably been reading 'The Elfers of Zion's and other such texts. Now she is preaching genocide and posturing as a feminist while dismissing the lived experience and bodily autonomy of hard working women. Radical lunatics like this can't be reasoned with and she has a live weapon in her hands, so let's be The Good Guy With A Spell that this fiasco needs...
>Write-in
I also think we should offer skeletal security to the cafes, clubs, and brothels targeted by these terrorists. We can offer a reduced rate if they can provide us with legally sourced cadavers.

>>6342085
Ah, the cult of .45 lives on even in fantasy.
>>6342087
Are we the not!Jews, suffering a misguided 'liberation' attempt from a bunch of commie!nazis?!?
I'm confused by the rolls, but I guess it is only the rolls of the choice that wins? Or maybe the first three of the choice that wins? But that isn't consistent with the previous time we rolled. So, I guess it is just whatever is the funniest? Or 69 is like a special crit number for our lewd shenanigans, and 2 is within crit failure range. Argh, I don't understand! Help me understand senpai!
>Confront the... PMS... with your words and attempt to talk them down.

No, girl, you don't understand...we want to be here. Swear to fantasy!Jesus and hope to die. Please just let us swing our hips, collect tips, and gets hits on our ass. Please, just go away.

Rolled 15 (1d20)

>>6342087
>Confront the... PMS... with your words and attempt to talk them down.
"violence is not the answer..! Nya..?"
cant risk our disguise and do magic, the public shaming would be too great if we are discovered!

>>6342096
knowing how the rolls work doesnt change the outcome

>>6342093
>>6342096
I have done my best to give this group insufferable traits from both extremes of the looney tunes spectrum. Insufferable moral busy bodies promoting "women's dignity" or some such who hate on a group of people they see as having a structural advantage against them... while simultaneously being weak despite oppressing everyone.
>>6342096
>Ah, the cult of .45 lives on even in fantasy.
And you were besties with slash the hugpillow of Big Tiddy John Moses Browning, yes. Big Tiddy John Moses Browning may or may not still be alive, I haven't decided yet.
>>6342096
>I'm confused by the rolls, but I guess it is only the rolls of the choice that wins? Or maybe the first three of the choice that wins? But that isn't consistent with the previous time we rolled. So, I guess it is just whatever is the funniest? Or 69 is like a special crit number for our lewd shenanigans, and 2 is within crit failure range. Argh, I don't understand! Help me understand senpai!
69 is equivalent to a 100 in all circumstances.

13 is equivalent to 1 in all circumstances.

76 is considered a special "blursed" roll because IT JUST WORKS.

To encourage everyone to roll, the High Roll and the Low Roll will both get used in the post. Low Rolls will largely be used for circumstances/adding conflict (such as your choice in disguise leading to you dressing like a bordello worker despite it being a maid cafe, or this terrorist attack), while High Rolls will generally be used for outcomes (like the massive amount of money you made both times).

That said, their exact use will more or less be whatever I think is most interesting.

>>6342087
>(Write in)
Join them in their liberation efforts. Begin your bitter femcel arc. Down with lewdness!

Rolled 19 (1d20)

>>6342108
Thank you for clarity.
>>6342180
Traitor!

Rolled 6 (1d20)

>>6342087
>Confront the... PMS... with your words and attempt to talk them down.

Rolled 1 (1d20)

>>6342087
Well, we actually didn't want to be dressed like this
And we are actually exploited for profit by an elf (us)
So I guess
>What in the goddamn- (Just stand their nonplussed, and let this blow over)

Rolled 3 (1d20)

>>6342087
>What in the goddamn- (Just stand their nonplussed, and let this blow over)

I have to ask, just how much wealth and power do Elves in general have? Having a centuries long life span is very conducive to using figurative vampire sorcery to make massive profits and corner the market. (I say figurative because this is a fantasy universe so there might be literal vampire sorcery.)

>>6342240
>>6342295
>>6342407
Holy fucking hell the rolls........

Rolled 9 (1d20)

>>6342093
Also this was my vote, I didn't understand that you wanted us to roll with the vote rather than vote for which roll we want to attempt so...

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Rolled 16 (1d100)

>>6342026
wow
just... wow
>>6342085
>Knowing how to pour tomato katsup into the shape of a heart and getting pats on your bum is extremely important to your future efforts.
Ab So Lutely!
>>6342087
>What in the goddamn- (Just stand their nonplussed, and let this blow over)

>Write-in
but if they start looking like they'll be actually harming folks, the lace gloves come off

Rolled 20 (1d20)

>>6342533
ah shit I rolled wrong dice
here, correct roll

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What in the god damn..?

You stand there for a moment, nonplussed. A deer in the headlights. Between being called out by these loons and attention being drawn to the state of your dress - which you certainly would never pick for yourself, but also it's kind of exciting to wear about while people look you over? - you are at a loss for words. The woman and her cadre would almost seem a harmless group of ranting malcontents, had they not brought blasting rods into the establishment. You aren't really sure how to respond. Keep your head down, or kick them out of the cafe?

(Low Roll: 1) Unfortunately that question gets answered for you when you hear Vida hiss in indignation, "What the hell are you doing? Get your hands off me you-"

When the orcish man and his angel-faced friend drag the proprietress - Parvana's friend, your friend now - a switch flicks inside of your. Your expression flattens, your eyes deaden, your posture shifts from demure to dangerous as every insecurity flees your mind, body, and soul. You are not Kitten the Bikini Maid anymore, heart singing at the merest sliver of male attention, be it from someone handsome or someone cute and chubby.

(High Roll: 20) You are the Morrigan, Queen of Phantoms and the Ferryman's Beloved Daughter.

The men throw Vida before the gnomish woman, whose cheerful eyes shine now with a most peculiar madness. With joy and pride, she raises her blasting rod and declares, "From the rivers to the inland sea, our homeland shall be free from the rot and degeneracy sewn by these long-eared succubi. Let this shot be heard around the world, the bell tolling revo-"

"Wither."

Your voice speaks with the voice of the 7[7]7 phantoms bound in your service through oaths of eternal fealty. It is a testament to your mastery of death that a spell of nine stanzas has been reduced to a single word. You need no mantras to center your mind, no wide and circular motions to circulate the Blood of the Dragon to your ends, neither array nor sigil nor evil eye to do the heavy lifting of the spell. To you, the sublime art of weaving death is as simple and natural as taking a breath.

At your command - for your spell is not a plea to the higher mysteries to actualize your will upon the world, but an order given to the Blood of the Dragon - the gnomish woman dies. The death spoken into her soul overwhelmed the life she had accumulated and returned her spirit to the blood. Her mind shuts down immediately, her flesh returns to dust, and the polished bones that remain drop to one knee, as if awaiting your command.

Vida's scream of horror passes over you like a gentle breeze.

Not at the gnome's skeleton, which rises to protect her, but at the shouts of the gnome's companions. Their words are the inane bravados of men and women who do not comprehend how severely they fucked up by holding a blasting rod to the head of your friend. Sebonestian knows how few of those you have.

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>>6342584


"Kill her!"

"Light her up!"

"I'll tear your heart out and stomp on it, you bitch!"

Their words pass over you with as little effect as the bolts of force that crash into you. The Renner 45 is a perfectly serviceable side arm that has one particularly fatal flaw: its force projection mechanism is based on the ever reliable first order spell, Magic Missile. A mainstay of every mage worth their salt, due to its unerring precision and ability to apply 0.35 kilothaums of magical energy as pure force. Janeway's blasting rod even ups that to 0.45 kilothaums, enough to drop a goblinoid at 40 paces.

The flaw lies in the bolt's unstable frequency. It puts plenty of power down range, but another first order spell known by every mage worth their salt can easily disperse that force: the aptly named Shield. You need not even vocalize the aria to bring up the screen of force, and with a slight tweak to its frequency you can simply walk through the barrage as if their rods had not activated.

"You know, I usually don't dirty my own hands with this sort of thing," you say in the cold and distant voice of the Morrigan. Your fingers gentle pierce the guards of the horrifically slow orc and aasimar, brushing against their heart before their fists can swing at you. Both drop dead with a heart attack, the precise injection of death rotting their organs from within. "My cute skeletons would be more than enough to deal with the likes of you, but still... there's something satisfying about cleaning up a mess with your own hands, isn't there? Especially when that mess thought they could get away with threatening my friends..."

Your eyes shift to the twins. Where the tiefling woman stands there in shock and horror, they have taken hostages, "And the dearly beloved patrons of her cultured establishment."

"You're going to let us leave, and then you're going to skip town," the... you can't tell if it's the brother or sister speaking, really. If they had both black hair, they'd be identical to one another. "Saving one little whorehouse won't stop the revolution. It's already here, the pimps, the pornographers, and all the patrons propping up their debauchery will die, tonight. Take your whoremonger 'friend' and get the hell out of our undermount, for I promise you... after tonight, everyone in this city will be hunting you and your ilk, and there will be nowhere for you to hide."

You can't help it.

You've already woven a shield of Dragon's Blood about every patron in the establishment. There is no one they can harm. Not the handsome fellows at table three, or the chubby cuties at table four, or even the hopeless lesbians they currently have at the end of their blasting rods. For the next half and hour, the weapons they've been relying on are useless.

So there's no harm in laughing, right?

It's therapeutic.

All eyes turn to you, staring, wondering what happens next.

And then your laughter stops.

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>>6342588
"Hide?" Your voice is suddenly as dead and cold as your eyes. You've a tower tapped into the Prime Dragon Vein, and are a named necromancer, the Queen of Phantoms. Do they really not understand that the gap between you and them is far greater than the gap between your love-shy personality and your flashy maid outfit? The temperature drops as you gather death into your throat. "Who is it that's going to hide?"

No one moves or says a word.

"Who are they hiding from?"

No one can move or say a word.

"AND WHY!?"

Death leaps from your throat in a spell of your own invention, as once again your voice takes on the legion-tone of your uncountable phantom subjects. All their fury at the lack of respect these lunatics, these revolutionaries, these wanton criminals disrespecting their fills your words and resonates in a banshee howl. But here is where it becomes your opus, for it is not an indiscriminate thing that causes all life to wither whomst can hear it. Death resonates with rage, and focuses on the twins who thought they could give you an ultimatum.

Their brains run out of their noses in a river of blood, the focal point of death and rage stopping their hearts and bursting their grey matter like an overripe melon on the beach. Their corpses collapse moments later, the blasting rods falling out of their hands as they fold into a heap.

Your ice-blue eyes snap to the tiefling.

"Oh..." for the first time, the look she gives you is not something uncomfortable, lustful, and predatory. Rather, it's the fear of a prey-beast that has happened upon the wolf. "Oh fuck this shit, I'm out!"

Turning tail, she flees as fast as her legs can carry her.
>She is not so far away that you cannot end her with a finger of death.
>Entrap her with Hold Person and rip all the secrets you can from her mind.
>Follow her to whatever safehouse or hideout she thinks to flee to.
>Breathe. Breathe deep. And then have Kitten the Bikini Maid apologize for letting everyone see her scary side. Tehepero~!
>(Write In)

>>6342589
>Entrap her with Hold Person and rip all the secrets you can from her mind.
I don't really wanna deal with these psycho third positionist prudes, but it sounds like they have like, a while /thing/ planned, yaknow? Let's learn what they're up to and send some skellies and ghosts to stomp em.

>Your voice speaks with the voice of the 7[7]7 phantoms bound in your service through oaths of eternal fealty. It is a testament to your mastery of death that a spell of nine stanzas has been reduced to a single word. You need no mantras to center your mind, no wide and circular motions to circulate the Blood of the Dragon to your ends, neither array nor sigil nor evil eye to do the heavy lifting of the spell. To you, the sublime art of weaving death is as simple and natural as taking a breath.
I am squaring that we are a cute big teddy femcel and ALSO simultaneously the Lich from Adventure Time.....

>>6342589
>Entrap her with Hold Person and rip all the secrets you can from her mind.

Truly the goth femcel mafia is the most powerful of all! Hags up biggly!

>>6342589
>Entrap her with Hold Person and rip all the secrets you can from her mind.

>>6342603
>Breathe. Breathe deep. And then have Kitten the Bikini Maid apologize for letting everyone see her scary side. Tehepero~!

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>>6342407
>>I have to ask, just how much wealth and power do Elves in general have? Having a centuries long life span is very conducive to using figurative vampire sorcery to make massive profits and corner the market. (I say figurative because this is a fantasy universe so there might be literal vampire sorcery.)
Healthy working lifespan is a strong predictor of wealth more for when it comes to building intergenerational wealth, as the extra ten to twenty years of working time allows them to pass on more to their children when they die. Elves do not do inheritance because elves are brewed rather than born, and so they don't have family units in the same sense. That said, given a decent paying job where they can save money, it's inevitable that once they reach a certain age, they'll have enough money to never work again and can live off capital gains.

A larger proportion of wealthy individuals are from long-lived races like elves, aasimar, and tieflings. No real predisposition for "vampire sorcery", and more just from snowballing effects. Aasimar and Tieflings also tend to save more than elves, as they do procreate (and only live for a few centuries, rather than having an indefinite lifespan).

Elves themselves get more flack because they spend big and tend to be hedonists due to their extremely long working years. When you don't really need to plan for old age, why not blow your money on, say, a several million gold skyport tower that doubles as an inn and is furnished with ultra-modern amenities? Or invest it in opening a fancy brothel where you're the owner-operator and can indulge in your hedonistic tendencies?

Most elves just stick to living in their Elfhomes though. Probably the biggest "memes" that cause things like this uprising to target elves specifically is a certain "eternal consort" whom everyone thinks is the power behind the throne of the largest Human kingdom (she's actually just a charming dumbo who lazes about the palace and acts as a relationship counselor and threesome partner for each generation of King and Queen).
>>6342603
>I am squaring that we are a cute big teddy femcel and ALSO simultaneously the Lich from Adventure Time.....
Congrats you now have a giant macabre phantom possessed teddy bear as one of the undead walking around among your undead hordes. Pic Related.

But yeah, immature as she may be, she remains a five hundred year old necromancer who has polished her craft to a mirror shine. She also has a bit of a 'work personality' that she mantles whenever she's in a dungeon or an otherwise threatening situation. Her cold and serious side is one of the reasons why she has had trouble getting men, they're offput by her "scary side".

>>6342667
ooookay...
>>6342589
>Breathe. Breathe deep. And then have Kitten the Bikini Maid apologize for letting everyone see her scary side. Tehepero~!
Is the owner okay? What about the patrons? Maybe they need comforting?

>>6342589
>Breathe. Breathe deep. And then have Kitten the Bikini Maid apologize for letting everyone see her scary side. Tehepero~!

>>6342667
>"eternal consort"
> just a charming dumbo who lazes about the palace and acts as a relationship counselor and threesome partner for each generation of King and Queen.

Oh man I can see it now:

"You seem troubled my King."

"Oh Consort, the Kingdom is in crisis! I know not what to do. If only I had the political acumen of Rudyard IV, who ushered in the last golden age over three hundred years ago..."

"Oh! Rudy! I remember him!"

"Really? What would he have done in my place?"

"I unno... but I clearly remember his technique for making me cli-"

"NOT WHAT I NEED TO HEAR RIGHT NOW!"

>>6342589
>Breathe. Breathe deep. And then have Kitten the Bikini Maid apologize for letting everyone see her scary side. Tehepero~!
Well that got dark quickly. Was killing them really necessary? I thought we were a member of multiple hero parties.

>>6342824
>Was killing them really necessary?
yes? they had opportunity, means and intent to murder civilians. shoulda maybe dropped the tiefling too just for being part of the gang, but we can sic a boneboi on her or something to find out where she ran to, or maybe the owner of the esteemed establishment we're working at has connections who can do that?

>>6342824
>member of multiple hero parties
For tax purposes only, I bet.

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>>6342589

>>6342824
Heroes kill bandits, brigands, and yes, terrorists every day of the week.

>>6342888
:3

>>6342853
>>6342889
Surely you can recognize the difference between situations where they remain a genuine threat to the public and this one, where we even had the quote
>You've already woven a shield of Dragon's Blood about every patron in the establishment. There is no one they can harm.
Sleep and incapacitating spells would have worked just as well.

>>6342895
I think it would be astoundingly out of character for a 500 year old necromancer known as The Queen of Phantoms to have a spiderman No Kill Rule.

>>6342895
>There is no one they can harm.
this is an in-character assessment of the situation not the Word of God (QM)... and it's wrong
a blade wielded by one of them could still have killed someone, for example.
>Sleep and incapacitating spells would have worked just as well.
be sure to vote accordingly next time

>>6342900
>be sure to vote accordingly next time
actually only a single person voted to engage the culprits so its a non argument

>>6342902
I was being facetious, indeed
as I understand the rules our gracious QM has laid down, massive strife and bloodshed was guaranteed from the moment someone rolled that 1

>>6342902
Two, technically, an anon said the gloves come off it they look like they are actually going to harm someone.
That's when our hero stepped in to put a Shield spell on everyone before eliminating the assailants.
This also allowed the QM to reveal an important aspect of our character's story and personality - she is immensely powerful, deadly, and scary. This is part of why she has struggled to get laid. You may have preferred that our character be merciful, non-lethal, and cute at all times, and that's fair. But she isn't.

>>6342907
I kinda think it makes sense, no way hundreds of years of violence don't leave deep marks upon one's personality, especially a personality so fascinated with death and its aftermath that she chose to be an adventuring necromancer
I like to watch interviews with war vets, sometimes they dive deep into their memories and you can see the killing machine switch on for a bit, then it's back to mild, doddering grandpa mode

>>6342896
We toiled for centuries to develop raised dead that didn’t inherently hate the living, so I don’t think it’s OOC to spare people that are no longer a threat.

>>6342900
We could have reacted to a knife, come on. We’re a caster who just statued the orc and aasimar.

>>6342904
The rules were laid out for d100, not d20, and even if this happened on a d100 I’d think it excessive.

It does seem like I’m the only one who thought this was a comedy quest and just had the vibe killed by this event though, so I’ll take it as a case of not the intended audience and stop.

>>6342919
ah cmon... why don't you take it as a case of very dark humor?
>just statued the orc and aasimar
with the power of surprise
>We could have reacted to a knife
any one of three uncontrolled baddies could have pulled a fast one
all in all I think this could have gone much worse, innocents could have been killed

>>6342888
Well, now I can't NOT vote for it.
>>6342589
>Breathe. Breathe deep. And then have Kitten the Bikini Maid apologize for letting everyone see her scary side. Tehepero~!

>>6342919
I refer you to
>>6342888

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You let the Tiefling woman run. She didn't try to escalate the situation. She didn't take a hostage and give you an ultimatum. She didn't try pulling another weapon that would not be so easily negated by a Shield. She recognized the futility of her actions and made the decision to retreat and deescalate. At the very least, she won't be shooting anyone with the blasting rod that fell from her hands as she fled the scene.

Still, you cannot drop your guard just yet.

The gnome spoke of revolution, meaning violence in the streets, so you must do your job and secure the camp from monsters and brigands. None of your bone boys followed you to work, as they might have spooked the patrons of Vida's establishment. So you will have to make due with the materials that you have on hand.

A flick of the wrist shapes the Dragon's Blood into a weave of life and death, a balance of the positive and the negative energies that creates a faint echo of the mind to animate the fallen body. Not pure death, for such beings are anathema to the living and seek only to spread death until their own destruction. Not pure life, for without the hand of an angel to guide the soul back to the body, such resurrections are a hateful and empty blasphemous mockery of the living.

With a perfect balance, you raise the corpses before you as skeletons that do not struggle against the leash. Friendly and adorably macabre things that you can put to task and trust will not murder you in your sleep.

"Secure the weapons and guard this place," you order your new skeletons. Your voice remains cold, distant, professional. "Direct anyone fleeing violence to enter this building. Check them for weapons. Let no one armed enter unless they belong to the City Guard, or if they allow you to secure their weapons. Block entry, but only attack if they attack first. Treat attacks against the people within this building as attacks your own person."

When they move into position, you can finally let your guard down and relax.

You take a deep breath and let all the tension fade, you body shifting out of its battle posture.

You take another deep breath, and allow your senses to relax. Your mind no longer ignoring the things it deems unimportant, the stimuli that it does not recognize as a threat, or someone who needs to be protected.

It's at that moment that you see the eyes of all the patrons locked on you. Uncertain, scared, fearful. The same wariness in their eyes that you've seen in every companion you've worked with, every civilian you've rescued, every quest giver who saw your work up close. As the Morrigan you curled away from such looks, put up distance and acted cold and aloof, as if those eyes didn't bother you as much as they did.

But right now, you're not the Morrigan, are you? You let that part of yourself spring loose to protect your friend's friend, and the lovely patrons of her establishment by eliminating the danger, but now that they're gone you can pack all of that away.

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>>6342953
After all, you're Kitten, the Bikini Maid.

She might be shy and awkward, but that's just part of her charm. Part of your charm. You don't know if it will work, but you might as well try embracing it and see if that will make those accursed eyes go away.

"Oops! Kitten let out her scary side, didn't she? Tehepero~!" You bop your self on the head and make a dopey face, winking at the patrons and letting your tongue loll out from the corner of your mouth. Your voice goes up a few pitches, cute and bubbly and far, far away from the Morrigan's frosty chill "Sorry if Kitten spooked you, dear customers. But Kitten promises, no more mean and nyasty people will be coming through those doors for the rest of the nyaight! Rawr~!"

With the dopey little roar, you bring your hands up like a pair of paws, batting at a non-existant ball of yarn with all the ferocity of a housecat that thinks it's found the enemy.

The silence hangs in the air for a moment, but the eyes soften.

The fear disperses.

And then, cracking the silence like a pane of glass, the adorably chubby nobleman who heads the 'Society for Appreciating the Cuteness of Kitten' downs his drink in a single gulp, slams the cup onto the table and declares with full certainty, "KITTEN'S THE CUTEST AND THE STRONGEST!"

===

With that, a sense of normalcy returns to the Maid Cafe. A simple mending repairs the broken windows. Vida retreats to her office with a very stiff drink in hand, while you and the other maids return to serving your dear patrons as if nothing happened. Well, some of your patrons as for you to doodle a little skull on their omelet rice, but thankfully that's the only change in how they treat you. That and a few looks of awe that you get from some of the aspiring wizards.

Though you do notice two things as the evening turns to night. Few of the patrons take their leave, and more and more patrons are directed in by your crew of skeletons. Patrons who look weary, frightened, and beaten down. Patrons who've never been to a maid cafe before, who are non-plussed by the cutesy demeanor of your fellow maids, smiling awkwardly and slowly forgetting their troubles.

A few whispers about you go around, you can see it in the looks people give you.

Those eyes, though, are not wary and fearful. They are the same eyes that looked to the Hero Paradis when he brought back the head of Sangre the Slaughterhouse to the village elder of Warblestown. Eyes of relief. Eyes of praise. Eyes that are happy to have found a someone strong to protect them.

Somehow, those eyes make you feel as light as a feather. Is this how your old companions felt, you wonder...?

Past closing, no one wants to leave... and no one wants to make them go. (Roll 1d100)
>Go talk with Vida, check in on how she's doing.
>Go talk with the guardsmen, who've set up a barricade on this street.
>Continue serving your dear patrons until the all clear is given.
>Go check on the path home.
>(Write In)

>>6342954
>>Go talk with Vida, check in on how she's doing.
As it turns out, we just needed to stop aurafarming and suddenly we're 20x more approachable.

>>6342793
The Eternal Consort is not actually very lewd. She's just so lovable and charming that everyone around her ends up falling in love with her, and because she's kind of a dummy she continually ends up in bed with them (often with the King and Queen not-quite-fighting over her). Her sweet and caring nature also invariably leads to her being the peacemaker in every royal marriage, and often among the Royal Council as well. Basically Bakarina if she was immortal.

More than one king has said "the peace and stability of realm can be placed at her feet" not because she dictates policy but because she manages to make everyone get along. Not because she gets them to put aside their egos or seduces them, but because no one has the heart to make her upset.

She'd be really dangerous if she was at all a schemer. Happily, her ambitions end with a comfy place to be a cute layabout.
>>6342824
Probably not, but she has a tendency to fall back on extreme measures, especially when it's not her being threatened, but someone weaker whom she's fond of. Blame the Nat 2 from the previous post, really, the Nat 1 from that last was a bit "what the gnome doing?" and "Morrigan fails her save against going overboard". A Nat 1 on the previous post would have had the revolutionaries be an actual threat.
>>6342888
Once again, I am not worthy of this. That's wonderful, I love it.
>>6342915
This is exactly it, the falling back into old habits and context switching to "Oh, civilians are being threatened. This is just like old time, better eliminate the threat. And... did they just give me an ultimatum? That's both hilarious, AND infuriating!"
>>6342964
It's hard for a natural introvert as powerful as she is to stop giving off the JoJo Intimidation Aura.

>>6342954
>write in: escape into the night and never come back, there is no way you can let worlds collide and have someone figure you out! It would simply be too embarrassing. Have the skelingtons crumble to dust come morning leaving no evidence.

>>6342966
I wonder if we couldn't get more customers at our inn by saying "Oh Nyo~! Kitty has a work offer somewhere else!" and then "Kitty" ends up "working" at our inn.

On a more polite note, if Vida and the other workers feel a bit intimidated by the goings-on we ARE going to have work openings for our inn soon. Sure, the skellingtons are going to take care of most of the grunt work but I can't help but imagine that the patrons would appreciate a softer touch when it comes to interpersonal stuff like a receptionist or a server or a bartender.

>>6342983
I think it would be funnier if they figured it out themselves

>>6342968
+1
We have a tower to run

Rolled 39 (1d100)

>>6342954
>Go talk with Vida, check in on how she's doing.

>>6342954
>>Go talk with Vida, check in on how she's doing.

Rolled 78 (1d100)

>>6342983
>>6343026
Maybe Kitty can put in guest appearances at our in, when the mood strikes or some need arises?
>>6342954
>Go talk with Vida, check in on how she's doing.
>(Write in) and if she's doing well enough, focus the conversation on getting some more information about the goings-on.

>>6342983
Our inn is for the skyship crews, we don't need to attract more customers from outside. Also we're building a career as a merchant, not a waitress.

>>6343114
>crews
I imagine there will be passengers as well
wealthy ones, up for exotic and expensive entertainments

>>6343116
Dude, I understand you want to see more lewd Kitten. But given the premise and setting of this quest, do you really think there will no more opportunity for lewd shenanigans?

>>6343117
I was honestly mostly thinking about money

>>6343118
I'm sure we'll earn more money as an owner of a trade empire

>>6343119
but sex trade IS trade, anon
and ports are traditionally pretty lewd places
unless you want to lean heavily on the necro vibe, all business, deathly serious?

>>6343120
I knew you weren't actually thinking about money

>>6343121
(˶˃ᆺ˂˶)

File: Vida.jpg (867 KB, 2892x4096)

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You head into the back to check on Vida, leaving your bone boys out to continue their work in guarding the cafe.

You do not find her in her offices, where she can usually be found when she's not checking in on her employees or helping out during the busy hours. Nor can you find her in the kitchens or the walk-in refrigerator, where she might have retreated to obtain some comfort food and relax. The locker rooms and the showers, where you and the other maids change into your uniforms, apply your makeup, and enjoy some skinship with one another to are not empty, but...

Well, Minna and Tiff are in the showers together, but they're not exactly showering. The two of them always went a little bit than the others would in the locker room, their hands wandering a bit further than the rest when most of you were just comparing the size and softness of your bosom and the bubbliness of your butts. So it's no big surprise when you catch them sharing a shower, their lips locked and their hands all over one another in ways that are certainly more than just appraising.

Good for them.

You turn right around and pretend you didn't see anything. Given where their hands were wandering and the sounds they were making beneath the running water, you doubt they even realized that you entered the locker room. They seemed very distracted, even more so than the Hero Rudiger would get when it was your turn to keep watch, and the rest of the party joined him in his tent, uncaring how thing the cloth walls were. You kindly lock the door behind you so that no one else interrupts their fun.

Sex-havers should go explode.

Where did that thought come from? Probably your memories of Rudiger. You understand his lecherous ways eventually calmed down and he got married (to three women) and became a family man, but still. You may have been desperate for male attention, but not from an incorrigible philanderer like him. You have some standards. He had a good side, for sure, but how his wives put up with his bad sides...

Shaking those thoughts away, you go up and check on the cafe's second floor. Gerty - Vida's right hand woman - opened up the event space when things started to get cramped on the first floor, and a few families have camped out there. A handful of nobles and rich merchants also bought out the private lounges, shoving money into Gerty's hand to avoid mingling with the masses (and the security headache that would have been for their guards).

Which leaves her loft in the attic, more or less a studio apartment for her personal quarters. She hasn't locked it up just yet, though for some reason one of her stockings has been left hanging on her door handle.
>Weird. She must be really discombobulated if she's leaving her clothes lying around like that. Good thing you're checking on her.
>Wait. You've seen this sort of thing before. You should probably go do something else, she won't want to be interrupted.
>(Write In)

>>6343680
Use magic to see in there, wizard eye or divination or whatever.

I'm still for escaping into the night

>>6343680
>>Weird. She must be really discombobulated if she's leaving her clothes lying around like that. Good thing you're checking on her.

>>6343680
>Wait. You've seen this sort of thing before. You should probably go do something else, she won't want to be interrupted.

>>6343680
>Weird. She must be really discombobulated if she's leaving her clothes lying around like that. Good thing you're checking on her.

>>6343680
>Wait. You've seen this sort of thing before. You should probably go do something else, she won't want to be interrupted.

>>6343680
>Wait. You've seen this sort of thing before. You should probably go do something else, she won't want to be interrupted.

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Wait, you've seen this sort of thing before. Should you be thanking the incorrigible Hero Rudiger for teaching you that a sock on the door handle means that the occupants are getting busy?

Just to avoid jumping to the wrong conclusions, you conjure forth a scrying eye and send it through the keyhole to check on Vida without disturbing any goings-on within her bedchamber. A part of you is very pleased to report that she is quite alright, and that she hasn't done anything too regrettable with all the stress that she's been put under. The rest of you is quite embarrassed to find her engaged with as many men as the Hero Rudiger would take women to bed with him. You never thought about the logistics of that before, but seeing it play out before you it as three men skirt the line between gentleness and exuberant vigor makes it...

You shouldn't be watching this. As much as you want to look away and give her privacy, you cannot help but find your gaze transfixed upon them. How their speed adjusts to Vida's rhythm, how their hands are so gentle upon her even as other things of theirs are not. How you friend moves her body to respond to them, acted upon by three men twice her size and yet acting all the same. Coordinating the dance, even, to bring everyone to satisfaction. The smile on their faces, the playful light in her eyes, the way her worries have all melted away...

To a virgin of five hundred years, the sight is far too stimulating.

Your hands cannot help but wander as your scrying eye drinks in the sight. This is not the first time your hands have wandered in such a way, nor is it the first time your gaze has fallen upon the copulation of those you would name companion. Yet your eyes have never lingered upon them for this long. Your mind has never raced to imagine what it would be like to be in her place, instead of watching from behind a closed door. Your hands have never failed to swiftly bring such urges to an end, your body never yearning so very much for something far the greater.

Pathetic, jealous noises escape from your lips. Your pleasure normally passes in silence, a flash of overwhelming bliss followed by sweet relief and the bitter taste of loneliness. Yet here and now as you hide in the corner of the stairs, your hands pinching and grabbing at those most delicate places, you must struggle to keep your voice down. Struggle to keep anyone from hearing your shame, which escapes in soft whimpers as the need in your chest and the itch betwixt your legs grows so terribly painful.

Release eventually comes, but it's hardly enough. Not for you, not for Vida.

Some switch inside of you must have flipped, your lusts have never been this great before. Be it the far-too-stimulating sight of your friend and the men enjoying her, or the lingering warmth of your Patrons' adoring gaze, something has lit a fire in your belly. Your hands find the vigor to wander your body for as long as those men have their way with a very happy Vida.

File: Randolf, Winston, and Ran(...).jpg (1.74 MB, 3377x2890)

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>>6344001
Or, well, they would if you had food and drink as they did. As they refresh themselves before continuing on, you cannot bring yourself to stop. The fire cannot put out, the itch refuses to go away. You teeth clench hard enough to shatter steel to keep your voice down, your mind's eye has long left Vida's bedchamber and fled to your lurid imagination, and your body makes a terrible mess of the floor and the wall with how much lust escapes you. You lose count of how many times relief takes you, only for the fires of lust to spark back into life...

And eventually, weariness catches up, leaving you to slump down with a thud upon the landing. Bow legged and breasts spilled out from your maid bikini, your disguise surely to fade the moment sleep takes you. With every fiber of your being you struggle to stay awake, but weariness is winning.

"Master Randolf, you should be abed..." you hear the voice of an old man approaching the stairway.

"Her skeletons are still here, but no one has seen Miss Kitten in hours," the head of your fanclub can be heard, though his voice is different than usual. Serious, less playful and energetic than usual. You cannot imagine a man that cute and chubby having a voice like that, but apparently he does. "I heard from the other maids that she went to check on Madame Vida, so we'll check there first. If anything were to happen to her-"

"I would get you out of the undermount before there was a threat to your safety, young master," the elderly man says.

"It's not my safety that I'm worried about," Randolf says. "The 'Public Morals Society' will want Miss Kitten's head when they find out what she did, for one. For two... her presence is reassuring people. 'The timid kitten is a powerful necromancer, who gives life to our ancestors' bones that they may defend us', that's what people are thinking about her. If she were to be harmed, or disappear in the night..."

"One building worth of people would panic," the old man says.

"That's one building too many," Randolf replies. "Now, where is the switch... ugh, nevermind, By the Grace of God, bring forth the shadow of the sun, Light."

A light appears at the foot of the stairs, shining directly onto your disgraceful self. Your frog-like poise, your dopey smile, your exhausted lust-ridden eyes... and worst of all, your slowly fading disguise. Why did you decide to indulge yourself so much, you could have just saved those memories for later, when you were safe and tucked into that special secret room of your tower with all the toys that no one but yourself is allowed to see? Now you've shown something terrible to your biggest advocate, and he will-

Unclasp his fine velvet cloak and throw it over your body. What's a cute chubby guy like him doing with such an expression on his face, huh? You're a pathetic and self indulgent mess of a woman, you don't deserve to have anyone looking at you like that, not the way that you are right now.

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>>6344003
"Winston, Miss Kitten appears to have left the cafe to confront those trouble makers," Randolf tells his butler. He scoops you up into a bridal carry, and brings you down the stairs. He has very strong arms... that's nice... "She left this elven woman in my care. I'm afraid I'll have to lend her my bed for the night. It would not reflect well upon the von Leon household to do anything less."

"It is as you say, Master Randolf," the old man - whom you can now see is wearing a rather dapper butler's uniform - says with a sigh. "Let us avoid mentioning to Captain Milo that I allowed you to sleep amongst the common folk..."
>Mutter that he can join you if he wants.
>Remain silent.
>Try to give Randolf a kiss.
>Try to give Randolf a kiss on the cheek.
>(Write In)

(Vote was a tie when I started writing this up aaaaaaaaa)

>>6344004
>Remain silent.

>>6344004
>Remain silent.
the disguise failed!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

>>6344003
wait... a Priest?!??!

>>6344004
>>Remain silent.

>>6344004
>Write-in
>Cast teleport and GTFO of dodge, we can approach Randolf later under more decent circumstances
maybe use magic to rewrite his memory a bit later on too...

>>6344004
KILL HIM and or capture him and wipe his memory i suppose

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>>6344004
>Try to give Randolf a kiss on the cheek.

Gotta try making a move sometime, this guy is as good a guy as any since he's already seen our scary side and our secret AND he's still being a gentleman towards us.

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You are torn.

A part of you wants to kiss him on the cheek, in hopes that he might take the initiative and ravage you like the lustful big beautiful beasts in Parvana's lurid eastern tapestries. Big men have big lusts, don't they? Don't they?

Another part of you wants to run into the night and escape this place, pretend none of this happened, and maybe retreat to your special room where no one can find you and your machines will help you forget this humiliating evening. Your disguise hasn't failed yet, only the ears have changed back, so it is salvageable.

The smallest, ittiest-bittiest part of you is tired. Maybe the best thing you can do right now is to end him and his butler so that no one can learn your secrets. The Morrigan gooning herself into a stupor on the stairway, in the guise of a bikini maid catgirl would be something that would haunt the rest of your days. Yes, ending him rightly - and his little butler too - would without a doubt clean away the stain here forevermore.

Though he is cute.

Maybe you should kidnap him instead, lock him up in your tower, wipe his memories of this entire night and do all sorts of terrible things that an evil witch would do to a man. Preferably with a riding crop, while wearing black leather and a thong. Tie up the butler too and make him watch. That'd be extra spicy if they were secretly lovers and you used a mix of potions and raw charm to correct his deviant tendencies and convert him to-

Wait, what on earth are you thinking? Almighty above, you must be sleepier than you thought if your thoughts are trailing off in strange directions like that.

You need to focus. Focus on keeping what remains of your disguise up and active, so that no one sees the silver haired Queen of Phantoms in such a pathetic state.

The head of your fan club - Randolf von Leon - carries you into one of the rooms that your fellow maids set up for the nobles who paid for them, and lays you out on the bed. Once he's tucked you in, he takes a seat on a rather plush armchair and pulls his hat down over his eyes, waving off any complaints from his butler.

Of course, the moment your head hits the pillow, all your weariness evaporates. Sleep is impossible to come by. Not only is there a man in your room - and who knows what terrible and exciting things he might do to an elven maiden in the spring of her youth, like you - but everything else that colors the night. Thoughts race through your head, of running away, of taking advantage of this opportunity, of how many corpse clones you have prepared... (Roll 1d100)
>You should leave. Quietly, in the night. Just leave a corpse clone.
>You should leave. Cast some magic to make sure Randolf and his butler sleep soundly, and then leave a corpse clone.
>You should leave. Cast a spell to make sure Randolf and his butler have "good" dreams, and then leave a corpse clone.
>You... can stay. Probably. Tie off the disguise, and try to get some shut eye.
>(Write in)

Rolled 78 (1d100)

>>6344336
Uh... Yaknow what

>Write-in
I vote that we wait until we feel sure that we are alone with Randolf, we get up, and then we wake him.
Thank him for his kindness, chivalry, and admiration, and then tell him who we really are.
Tell him why we took this job.
Tell him that we... Well we just aren't sure how this stuff works but the way he's behaved really surprised us, even endeared us... And we'd like it if he would come have dinner with us at our tower. Ask him not to tell anyone about our true identity, trusting him to remain the gentleman he has been thus far and guard our secret.
Then go home to get some real rest.

We can get to know him better. Maybe we will become great friends.

maybe we will get plowed sideways in a maid outfit

That's my vote. I think we could do a lot worse, we will HAVE to be vulnerable eventually, and it feels right.

Rolled 69 (1d100)

>>6344336
>(Write in)

>>6344342
I like the general idea but I feel we shouldn't go straight to full disclosure.

Instead:
Since Randolf has already seen us as not Kitten, let's freeze the disguise as it is now.
Wake Randolf up, introduce us as Kiteriel, Kitten's friend who just so happens to look just like Kitten except she is an Elf.
Thank him for his kindness, chivalry and patronage of the establishment.
THEN offer him a complementary "special service" if you know what I mean.

Randolf will likely know something's not right, but that's fine, we can slowly tell him the truth if and when we get to know him better.

>>6344400
I will change my vote to back up yours but only because of the 69

I think offering a 'special service' is a bad idea and a very bad way to go about this. He seems like someone we could get cracked by AND actually establish MUTUAL respect with. I don't want to fuck that up.

But I will go with the dice on this one.

>>6344402
>He seems like someone we could get cracked by AND actually establish MUTUAL respect with. I don't want to fuck that up.
You're not wrong but you're thinking too much like a normie.

Remember; we're a romantically stunted femcel gooner and he's clearly a "Man of Culture".

...this'll probably work out just fine.

>>6344336
>You... can stay. Probably. Tie off the disguise, and try to get some shut eye.
What could possibly go wrong?

Giving some notice that I've come down with a cold (in no small part thanks to someone who was rather audibly ill on public transport the other day) and am going to postpone the update to tomorrow.

Rolled 32 (1d100)

>>6344400
>Wake Randolf up, introduce us as Kiteriel, Kitten's friend who just so happens to look just like Kitten except she is an Elf.
he'll go with it because he's a smart man and he likes Kitten a whole lot but he already has our clark kent / superman shtick figured out
but I'll go with this because holy shit who can deny all these numbers of yours

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This went better in your head.

The first thing you did was tie off your disguise. Obviously you should have been doing that this entire time, but you weren't exactly expecting to ever fall asleep or lose consciousness on the job, and maintaining it with a constant flow of mana is less of a pain in the butt. You don't replace the cat ears or the fluffy tail that faded, but you keep your hair long and dark, and your skin a few shades more tan than your dermatologist-approved healthy pallor. You also let your bosom out a little, transmogrifying the maid bikini to fit half your natural size without too much strain.

Then you woke him up.

Introduced yourself with the name... Kiteriel because you hadn't thought of one until he asked. Kitten's friend, you told him, who definitely was not the same person despite the near identical facial features absent Kitten's fluffy ears and tail. See, yours are much bigger than Kitten's, where would she have been able to hide them in her maid outfit? It doesn't leave all that much to the imagination, she wasn't exactly swimming in fabric.

You thank him for his kindness in lending you his bed for the evening. His chivalrous refusal to take advantage of a vulnerable young woman that he came across, not so much as copping a feel on his way down (not that you would have minded, though you don't say that out loud). Of course, his patronage of the establishment as well, and his support of your dear friend Kitten.

And then you - rather foolishly - try your luck. [Low Roll: 32]

"As a reward for everything you've done..." you try your best to put on the voice of a sultry, experienced woman who knows how to make a man very happy, as it were. It's an utter failure, your entire face has lit up red like the coals of a blacksmith's forge. "W-Well, it's only right that I o-o-offer you a special service that m-m-most guests wouldn't even hear about. Anything you want, I'll g-gladly do it~"

You press your bosom together, emphasizing their size and weight. That's what women do when they want to catch a man, right? You're pretty sure the saintess did that to charm the last hero you partied up with...

A gleam lights up in Randolf's eye, a gaze that makes your heart skip a beat. "Anything I want, you say?"

"A-Anything I can do for you," you tell him, once more emphasizing your bosom, "all you need do is a-a-ask, and you shall r-receive."

"Anything?" he asks you once more, to confirm.

You swallow dryly, "Anything at all. It doesn't matter what. Even if it takes all day before you're satisfied... or even a week... it's fine."

He clasps his large hand on your shoulder. Soft, but with a strength beneath it - a strength of character as well as physical strength. Looking in in the eye once more, he asks for the final time, "Anything?"

"Yes," you breathe. Your heart flutters with excitement beneath his hard gaze.

"Then let's get you into something more comfortable."

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>>6345130

===

"Huh...?"

This wasn't how it was supposed to go. You were supposed to get pinned down on the bed by a big, beautiful man. Feel deliciously helpless beneath his superior strength and greater mass (that sure, you could overcome with a buff spell, but where's the fun in that?) as he takes what he wants from you. You were supposed to be ravaged by a heavy-set lecher whose perversion hid behind his charming and serious exterior, getting to delight in the gap between the well mannered man and the hidden sadist who would make you do all sorts of things during a twenty-four hour marathon graduation from your virginity.

Instead his butler tailors you a dress with so much fabric that you're practically swimming in it, leaving your greatest charm points hidden instead of flaunted. It's a beautiful thing, for sure, black silk over an exceptionally poofy white shift, with a gold argyle pattern for the trim. Fur lining as well, to keep you warm outside the heated interior of the cafe, where the undermount can be very chilly indeed.

He also rightly saw how uncomfortable you were wearing you hair long, and offered to cut it himself. "I served as ship's barber and doctor on one of my father's merchant vessels for a few years, I assure you there are few men as skilled as I in treating hair right..."

And he's right. He's really good. You normally have your bone boys cut your hair, and they do a good job, but there's something in how Randolf does it that...

"Another successful job, young master," Winston says, showing you a mirror.

You look adorable. Rather than the straight and scraggly silver hair you wear beneath your wizard's hat, he's made the dark hair of your disguise bounce and come to life, while still leaving it short as is your preference.

"So you wanted me to play dress-up doll?" you ask. He didn't give you a straight answer earlier, and when he helped you get out of your clothes you really thought your were finally going to hand in your maiden's certification and become a refined woman of experience in such matters.

"No, but your..." Randolf has the grace to turn a bit red in the ears, "Delightful maid outfit would not be appropriate for what I would ask of you, Sorceress Kitten."

"Kiteriel," you correct him. "Kitten is just a friend of mine, that's all."

"I'm sure she is," Randolf has - for better or worse - seen through your disguise. But at least he hasn't seen all the way through to the Morrigan. That would be an absolute disaster. "Just as I'm certain that she left those skeletons in your control, meaning you're at least half as good a sorceress as she."

Right. He uses divine magic capably enough to cant a spell of first order as a mere orison, wasting no mana. He can probably sniff out the tethers of life and death that connect you to your minions, so there's no point in lying to him. "I suppose you could say that..."

"Very good," he says with a nod. "Now, as for my special request..."

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>>6345131
The request has you waiting outside with Randolf and Winston for the arrival of a horseless carriage. Things seemed to have calmed down from last night, the chaos replaced by an uneasy tension that fills the air as Undermount's Peacekeepers and the Revolutionaries settle into equilibrium. Waiting for someone to make the next move and continue the violence of what people are beginning to call the Purity Revolution.

You see a few posters passed the barricade of men and women raising their fists. Black and Red and Gold, with words stamped: "Purity of Body. Purity of Mind. Purity of Soul. Reject the Sins of the Long-Lived Races! Reject Debauchery! Reject Greed! Join the Revolution for the Future of Our Children!"

Randolf did not ask you to end the revolution, at least.

Had that been his requested special service, you would have denied it flat out. Even though you probably could have brought an end to it last night, had you put your mind to it, what would it say to the citizens of the Sunpeak Undermount that the present power-structure was insufficient to deal with these puritanical malcontents? That a single wizard could do what they could not? The common folk - who want nothing more than a guarantee of safety, stability, and sustenance - would turn to that wizard and proclaim her their new king, her own desires be damned.

Honestly, you wanted to turn down his request. Your offer of special service to him, the allowance you made to do whatever he wanted you to do, was given out of your own selfish desires to taste the intimacy that you failed to achieve over these past five hundred years. Yet before you could tell him "no chance" and make your intentions plain, the voice of the Hero Paradis came to you.

You want to help people, don't you, Morrigan? That's why-

That's why you're standing here, waiting on the arrival of the Von Leon Household's horseless carriage. It's what Paradis would have done. Leave the bickering political factions to work things out and club eachother over the head until one of them submits, and protect the innocents who are uninvolved. In this case, the younger sister of your alter-ego's biggest fan. You can keep a kid safe until this whole thing blows over, without stepping down your protection of Vida and her establishment, that's a piece of cake.

"Though why not wait infront of the Cafe?" you have to ask. Instead of the Cafe, you're standing out infront of a tavern, inside which there are numerous rowdy looking adventurers being directed by the Peacekeepers. "We could have gotten coffee and breakfast while we wait. And it's not like we're a brothel, Vida would have thrown a cold bucket of water on us and kicked us out if you actually picked up what I put down."

Randolf tugs at his collar. "Trust me when I say that's it's more convenient for the both of us this way."

Before you can ask him to elaborate, a fine horseless carriage comes to a halt infront of the tavern.

File: Leona von Leon.png (1.43 MB, 1012x1397)

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>>6345133
Polished oak set with brass, a shield upon the door marked with the emblem of a rampant lion on a field of diamonds. The slogan of the Adventurer's Guild writ in the old tongue, marking them as at least having been founded by a very old hand at the trade. Ad Astra Aetherosque. More commonly these these days, to the Stars and the Aetherium. Frosted windows writ with enchantments, the same that lay upon the wood and make the vehicle as armored as an unenchanted Atlassian Knightwalker.

A girl less than half her brother's age steps out from the carriage, giving him - and the tavern behind him - a suspicious eye, "I'm impressed, brother. Given the circumstances, you still managed to conceal your philandering. When you called for me, I half expected to find you hiding buried in a fluffy pile of catfolk maidens... or strung up by the puritans."

"Where does my dear baby sister get this image of me," Randolf complains, though there's a playful note in his voice. "What have I done to deserve such cold words?"

"I believe she found another one of your private galleries the other day, young master," Winston says.

The girl gives a loud sigh, "The one hidden behind the false bookcase in his library. Seriously, brother, if you wish to play at being a patron of the arts, at least commission works that would not be an embarrassment to the family to have displayed in public."

The fond smiles do not match the words either of them are saying, so this must be some sort of sibling back and forth... you think. The girl's eyes finally stop on you, before darting back to her brother suspiciously. With a curtsey, she gives you an apology appropriate for one of her station, "Forgive me for getting caught up with my oafish brother, miss. I apologize on behalf of the family for any ill conduct he has subjected you to. I know him to be a horrific womanizer and notorious philanderer... though, as of yet, I have been unable to prove it."

"Because I'm not," Randolf complains.

"No one has that many statues of naked women squirreled away without being a pervert, dear brother."

You understand now why Randolf moved you from the Maid Cafe. It would have given his sister a little victory in whatever game they're playing with one another. The thoughts of nobles were almost as mysterious to you as human family dynamics, and this appears to include both. Well, at least you've been promise a extensive compensation package [High Roll: 69]. (Roll 1d100)
>Though you suppose, if you're going to be playing bodyguard, ganging up with her on Randolf would make things easier.
>You should probably come to his defense. You know for a fact that... okay, pervert he may be, but philanderer he is not.
>Feign outrage at your "darling" Randolf having such "art" squirreled away when he has you. Are you not good enough?
>Nope. Just leave these two to there thing and get down to business.
>(Write In)

>>6345134
>You should probably come to his defense. You know for a fact that... okay, pervert he may be, but philanderer he is not.
We shoulda just been honest, guys, we look like a bit of a dweeb now for trying to maintain the bluff... I am gonna keep pressing for us to actually make a connection with this guy, I like him(:

Rolled 34 (1d100)

>>6345133
>Vida would have thrown a cold bucket of water on us and kicked us out if you actually picked up what I put down.
hardly, but I can see where the words are coming from
>>6345134
>buried in a fluffy pile of catfolk maidens
HE ACTUALLY... ahh nevermind!
>Nope. Just leave these two to there thing and get down to business.

Rolled 68 (1d100)

>>6345142
And a roll

>>6345152
MEOW SO CLOSE!!!

>>6345142
umm... we sort of are? on a totally non-sexual level, to be sure but... we're meeting his family, that's gotta be quite a thing for Randy

>>6345154
>MEOW SO CLOSE!!!
pretty much how it's been going since being put to bed by prince Chubbing yep

>>6345130
>Pic Rel
Holy shit that is dummy thicc. And gawd damn those tiddies are fat even for me.

I was thinking of your quest the other day while at the super market. Out of curiosity I picked up cantaloupe and put it on the scale; it was 1.7kg... and the MC's boobs are 3kg each. She's gotta be using anti-gravity magic or some shit to prevent them going saggy.

>>6345134
>Feign outrage at your "darling" Randolf having such "art" squirreled away when he has you. Are you not good enough?

For goodness sake Morrigan, flirt!

------------

Gotta say QM I'm really loving your quest. It's got that precise blend of comfiness, lewds and honest to god plot that's just so hard to find.

Rolled 23 (1d100)

>>6345134
>Though you suppose, if you're going to be playing bodyguard, ganging up with her on Randolf would make things easier.

>>6344091
He's a Cleric by magic training, though not a priest by trade.

As the third son of the von Leon household, and with no interest in succeeding the main house, he went into medicine and is a doctor. He has very steady hands and is part of the Royal Surgeon's Society.
>>6345155
>umm... we sort of are? on a totally non-sexual level, to be sure but... we're meeting his family, that's gotta be quite a thing for Randy
You have no idea how close Leona was to asking if he was finally bringing a woman home when she saw you. An elf is even better because she won't muck up the succession! The only reason she didn't was because she wasn't certain if you'd take offense or not.
>>6345172
Why thank you, anon.
The fruit to compare them to would be a large honeydew, each.

>>6345180
>He has very steady hands
I see..

>>6344405
>he's clearly a "Man of Culture"
very good call btw

The cold came back and kicked my ass today. If there isn't a tie breaker by tomorrow, I will roll

>>6345681
Wait, did I mistype my trip...?

>>6345682
there's something fucky going on with trips, I've seen complaints from others in the past 2-3 days

Rolled 3 (1d4)

1 >>6345142
2 >>6345151
3 >>6345172
4 >>6345177

rolling 1d4

File: More Leona von Leon.png (1.61 MB, 1000x1000)

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With a cat-like smile, you latch onto Randolf's arm and press his arm up right between your girls. The tips of your ears and your cheeks darken, as this is the closest you've ever been to having a man grope your bosom. Working as Kitten the Bikini Maid got you used to having your butt squeezed and pinched, but that guise was rather flat in the chest, compared to this one. Fifty percent of your full power is a lot, and the expression on Randolf's face is enough to make you wonder what using one hundred percent would do to him.

It's enough to make you commit to the bit, at the very least.

"Mou, why do you need to have a private gallery when you have me, darling~?" You thicken your voice until its as a sweet as honey, batting your eyelashes like a lovestruck schoolgirl. His reaction is delicious enough to push back against any embarrassment you feel, so you're able to land the finisher. "Am I not good enough for you~?"

Randolf chokes with the expression of a man who's found both hell and heaven. "C-Cute... Too cute..."

Winston gives a cough and says, "Madame Kitt...eriel, if you continue much further, it may be dangerous for the young master's health."

"Hooray," the younger sister cheers in monotone. No excitement lights up in her eyes, but there's a glimmer of satisfaction as she claps her hands together. "With this, the success of House von Leon shall be secured."

"But I'm an elf," you say, turning to the girl without separating yourself from Randolf. "Elves can't bear children."

"Yes, that's why it will be secure," the girl says with a nod, her blue eyes shining. "We all were worried that Randolf's proclivities would see him siring many bastards upon the poor working girls of Sunpeak. Getting ensnared by an elf of the desert-kith, with your legendary appetites, is the best thing that could have happened to him. Now he'll have a partner who will outpace him, without the headache of a branch family from the male line."

She then turns an arched brow to Randolf and asks, "Is that why you called for me, brother? Really, you should have called for mother and father, they will be thrilled to hear that you're finally settling down."

"Settling down with Kitten..." His thoughts still stirred up by the power of your bosom, he calls you by your... stage name, you'll go with stage name for that. Winston quickly appears and separates the two of you with the ease of a seasoned adventurer, and once he does, Randolf is able to gather his thoughts. "No, no, no, Leona please think better of your brother. If you hadn't noticed, the city is something of a warzone right now, and Kitten here has agreed to serve as your bodyguard for the time being."

She looks at you. Then back to her brother. Then back to you. [Low Roll: 23]

With a sigh, she says, "Brother, if you needed protection for you lady friend, you don't need to make up an excuse. I told you, mother and father will be thrilled that you've found someone... a charming elf no less!"

File: Morrigan Dawn.png (1.04 MB, 1464x2387)

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>>6346962

The very portrait of an elegant noble girl, Leona step towards you with bright and shining eyes and takes you by the hand. Her voice is soft and elegant, filled with the practiced charm to be expected of someone who one day shall run her husband's home with an iron hand covered by a soft silken glove. "You need not fear the violence in the streets, Madam Kiteriel. The von Leon household employs the Golden Lion Company for our security, as well as a number of Black Gloved Butlers like dear Winston. They will not allow a single hair upon your head to be mussed out of place, not when you are the woman I shall one day call my sister."

Golden Lion Company... that name sounds familiar. You know the Black Gloves descend from the teachings of Hero Rudiger's half-sister, the first 'Combat Maid'. But where does the Golden Lion Company come from?

Oh! (High Roll: 68)

"Your family employs Arty's girl?" the question slips out of your mouth before you can think about it too hard. The Hero Arthur was a good man, perhaps a bit more uptight than Hero Paradis, but the two were cut from the same cloth. "How is dear little Momo doing? My, the last time I saw her, she was such an eager student in the yard! Always so grim faced, she was just adorable! Hold on, I think I have pictures..."

As you fish around in your purse for the old photo book, Leona's charming smile freezes onto her face like a stone carving. Slow and uncertain, she turns to Randolf and Winston to ask, "Brother, dear, who is this woman and why is she calling the founder of the Golden Lion Company 'Momo'?"

You pull out a picture book from your pursue, which has all of the lovely images inscribed to paper by the scrying magics of your flying eyeballs. You would not call the expression on your face grandmotherly, as you as a spring maiden of only three centuries (plus an addition two hundred years that you don't count), but others might just. Flipping through the album, you find it among the more recent additions.

"I mean just look at her, isn't she adorable?" you say, showing the picture.

The photo is a portrait of the grim-faced young Momo standing atop her defeated foe in triumph. Clad in heavily padded armor, including a well padded leather helm meant to keep young pages like her safe during sparring practice. Wielding a heavily padded practice sword, so that her sparring partners would also not get get hurt/ Her green eyes - an inheritance from the woman who stole Arty away from you - piercing ever forward. Her father on ground, defeated, trying to play dead while holding back his laughter.

Something in both Leona and Randolf's expression cracks at the sight of the image. Randolf is the first to speak, asking, "Are you sure that's Morrigan Dawn, daughter of Arthur Dawn, the hero known as the Sword of the Morning?" (Roll 1d100)
>Yeah, he and Aesc were good friends of yours!
>Arty's kind of hard to mistake, isn't he?
>You're pretty sure she is...
>No. No you are not.
>(Write In)

>>6346963
>Arty's kind of hard to mistake, isn't he?

Rolled 18 (1d100)

>>6346963
>Arty's kind of hard to mistake, isn't he?

Rolled 38 (1d100)

>>6346962
>protection
HMPFH!
>>6346963
>Arty's kind of hard to mistake, isn't he?

>>6346963
>Yeah, he and Aesc were good friends of yours!
Time to give up on hiding our true identity if we're this careless.

Rolled 34 (1d100)

>>6346963
>Yeah, he and Aesc were good friends of yours!
It's too funny to not accidentally slip up here.

Also, rolling because goddamn these rolls suck.

Rolled 79 (1d100)

>>6346963
>Arty's kind of hard to mistake, isn't he?

We probably shouldn't let Randolf date us(as in figure out our age) so soon but knowing someone a generation away isn't too sus.

BTW QM why doesn't anyone want to marry an elf older than 250? Children are a moot point and if they always look young and hot, why would any of the other races care?

Also, Arty's daughter is called Morrigan Dawn, the hero Paradis called us Morrigan, and we sometimes think of ourselves as THE Morrigan.

Will the real Morrigan please stand up!

(WHAT IS MY NAME!?)

>>6347330
Arty named his daughter after us, awwwwwww!

>>6347334
Gay

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(Low Roll: 18) "I mean, Arty's kind of hard to mistake isn't he?" you say, ignoring the strange looks your words earn you. "Sunny blonde hair, dreamy blue eyes, and let's not forget his heroic build! He's the sort of man who leaves an impression no matter the encounter. There's a reason why the bards named him the Sword of the Morning, and it's not just because he grew up near Morningtown. His presence was the dawn of hope... and I forget the rest of the poem, Aesc wrote it down in that tome of hers, I think she published it as The Fellowship of the Dawn..."

As you ramble and reminisce about your old friends - even that man-stealing she-devil Aesc - Winston, Leona, and Randolf all share a look with one another. For a moment, Randolf looks like he wants to say something, but his sister elbows him before he can ask the question on his mind.

"Well, Lady Kiteriel, I would love to hear more stories of Grandmaster Morrigan and her father." Leona curtsies far too deeply for a girl of her stature. It honestly reminds you of how people who didn't know Arty would always be so formal. Also, where did 'Lady' come from? It's not like a photo of young Momo was rare, everyone who lived near Dawntown met Momo the Scamp and her father! "Though I must ask, what did my brother promise you in exchange for your protection?"

Your eyes narrow slightly.

Wasn't she just going on about being the one to protect you?

"A hundred gold a day and a cozy place to stay until things blow over," you tell her. She gets a suspicious look on her face. The price of an elite bodyguard, to be sure, or the average weekly stipend for a third or fourth son, but she knows there's more to it than that. Your ears darken under her gaze, just a little, and you explain, "Though it was more what he didn't do, when given the opportunity, than anything he promised. Your brother is quite the gentleman."

Winston coughs, but keeps silent as expected of a butler.

"What," Leona's voice cracks, a flicker of panic on her face as she snaps towards Randolf. "Brother what did you do?"

"I did what any gentleman would do, and-" Randolf looks as calm as he did the other night, when his butler was nowhere to be found and a mook was waving a blasting rod in his face. Which is to say, remarkably steady for the situation, his face more a mask of disbelief than being veiled with shock and panic.

Unfortunately, his younger sister assumes he must be speaking in code. "You WHAT!?"

Leona's voice is so shrill and high-pitched that a nearby window breaks with the crack of her vocal chords. She scurries to you, apologetic and scraping, words pouring out from her mouth so quickly that they could cross the circumference of the World in but a flickering moment. "Lady Kiteriel, please forgive my brother's lecherous ways. He knew not whom he took advantage of. Rest assured, the von Leon household will provide any recompense demanded by the Dawnflower for his crimes..."

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>>6347418
Oh, so that's how it is. (High Roll: 79)

You can almost see it, too. In your current guise, your skin is a rich tanned, your hair cropped short, your bosom constrained to half its normal size and hidden beneath the clothes Randolf lent you. With the long, flowing sleeves of the garb, it's hard to tell that your arms lack the strength of the woman known as the Dawnflower, and female adventures are always built a bit different than their male counterparts anyways. Never quite so muscular, even when strength matches.

She'll also have pointed ears, when she finally emerges from the Fruit of Al'Baeth in another century or so. Not born an elf as you were, but remade into one upon her path to immortality. Anyone who understands what the Al'Baeth does, without understanding how long it takes to digest the body and process the soul, could almost mistake you for her. She even incorporated some necromancy you taught her into her martial arts.

You need to cut that right off. Hurayra was a very serious woman.

Even if her name means 'Kitten' in the tongue of the desert, she would never be caught dead moonlighting as a bikini maid.

Before Leona can work herself up into another panic, you give her a light chop to the head. "You're making some terrible assumptions, Lady Leona. Your brother is a gentleman, and I am not Hurayra the Dawnflower."

You don't like the expression that both Randolf and Leona make, the gears turning in their heads. Why does it feel like that only cemented the assumption in their heads? Especially when Leona nods vigorously and says, "Right, it is as you say Lady Kiteriel. I have mistaken you for someone else, and it would be foolish of me to think that my lecherous brother could do anything to a woman of your caliber that she did not desire. My apologies."

You darken several shades as Randolf's face turns a bright cherry red.

"We didn't-" Randolf says.

"He didn't-" You say in the exact same moment.

Winston, the traitorous scoundrel, remains deliberately silent with an amused smile curling its way across his face.

"Oh, that was rude of me," Leona says, puffing up happily, as if your protests only confirmed the conclusions that she has jumped to. This girl is going to be an even greater problem child than Paradis' brats, isn't she? "I should have known better than to speak of such things out loud, I merely wished to apologize for my error. Now, 'lest you and brother would like to share the happy news with the family, I would ask for your escort to..." (Roll 1d100)
>She wants to visit Morningtown, well away from all the nonsense in the city.
>She wants to go shopping in the Glowshroom District, one of the safer areas.
>She wants to climb the summit of Moonpeak, Sunpeak's sister mountain that lacks an Undermount.
>Why is she directing the carriage into one of the more dangerous parts of town? Did she miss the memo on the revolution?
>Might as well peel the bandage and meet the family.
>(Write In)

Rolled 85 (1d100)

>>6347420
>She wants to climb the summit of Moonpeak, Sunpeak's sister mountain that lacks an Undermount.

Rolled 52 (1d100)

>>6347420
>Why is she directing the carriage into one of the more dangerous parts of town? Did she miss the memo on the revolution?

Rolled 79 (1d100)

>>6347420
>She wants to climb the summit of Moonpeak, Sunpeak's sister mountain that lacks an Undermount.

Rolled 16 (1d100)

>>6347420
>She wants to climb the summit of Moonpeak, Sunpeak's sister mountain that lacks an Undermount

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She wants you to take her to the summit of Moonpeak, the neighboring mountain.

On the plus side, she will be well and truly away from the business in the city, making your job of keeping her safe much easier. You do not envy Winston, who will be guarding Randolf as the dear man provides his services as a healer and doctor pro bono to anyone who needs them until this whole thing blows over, no questions asked and no care for their faction. The humanoid races are far harder for you to detect than monsters, as they are not born of the Dragon's Blood, the magic flowing through the Dragon Veins.

For an elf, sniffing out magic is a simple thing. Anything born of it, anything woven of it - that has not yet been tied - or anyone holding it for use, you can sense as surely as you can see candlelight in a dark cave. That talent is where the cliche of the Elven Ranger came from, for none of the mortal races can track monsters half as well as your sisters and cousins. Not without tools.

But there's the negative side. You do not expect to encounter any humans who might empty themselves of magic to shroud themselves from notice to sneak up on you and stab your charge in the back, or put a knife to her throat. You do expect monsters, however. None that could truly challenge you, for sure, but more than enough to be an annoying pest that you don't want to deal with.

Like the mated pair of Dire Gale Ursa that are uselessly clawing at your Emergency Force Bubble. (Low Roll: 16 and High Roll: 79)

"EEK!" Leona lets out a screech that came far too late. If you had not been around, the young noblewoman would be dead. If you did not insist her attendants remain at the guard outpost at the foot of the mountain, you'd probably be a bit cramped in your favorite defensive spell. At the moment, Leona is tucked safely beneath your arm. Looking up at you, she says, "L-L-Lady Kiteriel, what are you doing? These savage beasts are going to tear us apart if you don't slay them!"

You give Leona a puzzled look. "Huh? No they're not. They'll give up once they realize that they can't break through the force sphere."

For some reason, a very worried laugh enters Leona's throat, her expression twisting into a smile filled to the brim with fear. "Grandmaster Morrigan ranks Gale Ursas as a C-Rank threat, a monster you should never fight without a full company of soldiers."

As if to emphasize her point, the claws of one of the bears crash down upon your force bubble. It doesn't do anything to the invisible barrier, as you're not that out of practice, but the wind does tear up some mildly impressive gashes in the bedrock. Maybe you should kill them, just for the sake of your client's nerves? Though honestly her reactions are kind of funny, so with a smile you tell her, "Those are Dire Gale Ursas, actually."

"Those could wipe out a whole town," she squeaks, her voice cracking in a most amusing way. "Two of them could threaten a small city!"

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Another claw slams into the force bubble. It almost hit hard enough to make the sphere move. That's actually rather impressive, for a monster as weak as they are... though what is Momo thinking, ranking these so high as a threat? You remember Arty telling about an incident where she beat one up with her practice sword. Something about running off in the night because there were no cookies, and coming back with a new rug.

"Oh come now, that's not true," you tell her, casting a small bubble of silence to deafen the beasts' annoying roar. "Little Momo slew one of these when she was six or seven..."

"Lady Kiteriel, ordinary people should not be compared to the children of a Hero!" Leona shrieks again, squirming in your grip. Did they lace death and fear into the weave of wind that amplified their roars? It's a primitive thing, but you could do something with that... "Especially not Grandmaster Morrigan! She's so strong that diplomats need to negotiate her passage if she's to cross a kingdom's border!"

Huh. Do they do that, these days? You wonder if you should be registering your presence here... eh, but that would involve paperwork. Maybe you can have Sebonestian file it for you. Still... "You're probably right. One moment."
>It's overkill, but you can make them [Wither]. Plus, zombie bears!
>[Harm] will certain end them both, with the raw death that you'll be piercing them with.
>A split cast [Finger of Death] should be enough to kill the both of these.
>Just pulse a weave of death within them and rot their organs from the inside out, like you did with the mooks!
>You know, you really want to try that new spell, the one that's making Leona freak out. Mimic the weave and send it back at them!
>You wonder what would happen if you supercharged the death in their fearsome roar weave. Best to cast [Death Ward] on young Leona first.
>(Write in)

Rolled 83 (1d100)

>>6347826
>It's overkill, but you can make them [Wither]. Plus, zombie bears!

Yeah

>>6347826
>>You know, you really want to try that new spell, the one that's making Leona freak out. Mimic the weave and send it back at them!
maybe they'll just fuck off?
literally every other option sounds like overkill

>>6347826
>You know, you really want to try that new spell, the one that's making Leona freak out. Mimic the weave and send it back at them!

>>6342584
>Your voice speaks with the voice of the 7[7]7 phantoms bound in your service through oaths of eternal fealty.
7[7]7 huh? How did we get that many?

>>6347826
>You know, you really want to try that new spell, the one that's making Leona freak out. Mimic the weave and send it back at them!

>>6347826
Can we roll over them with the force bubble? I wanna roll over them with the force bubble.

Rolled 76 (1d100)

>>6347826
>You know, you really want to try that new spell, the one that's making Leona freak out. Mimic the weave and send it back at them!

Since we're clearly not a murder hobo, might as well get a new utility spell out of this.

>>6347314
>BTW QM why doesn't anyone want to marry an elf older than 250? Children are a moot point and if they always look young and hot, why would any of the other races care?
Because no one eats Christmas Cake after the 25th.
>>6347953
>7[7]7 huh? How did we get that many?
You don't personally know all of them. Rather their oaths are part of your inheritance as the Ferryman's Beloved Daughter. That is not a title that is for show, but a very literal statement of your relationship with the entity that guides souls across the metaphorical river that serves as the boundary between "life" and "death".

Each elf is brewed for a very distinct purpose, their are no accidental fermentations of the Fruit of Life. It can rot, and from that rot birth abominations well beyond the coagulated clumps of Dragonsblood called "monsters". A proper fermentation is a highly controlled process, carried out quite rarely in the elfhomes.

As it happens, the Ferryman requested your brewing. He is a somewhat distant father figure, and your emulation of his behavior is probably the source of most of your social problems. You spent the first 3[3]3 years of your life learning the nature of life and death upon his boat.

The phantoms are the folk of your feudal demesne in the afterlife, that you will inherit upon your natural death. Large enough to claim the title of Queen, small enough though that you will not become a major play in the Afterlife unless you work for it. The phantoms still owe fealty to you as their Queen, and answer your call as loyal vassals do, but you will not truly rule that land until your natural lifespan runs out.

As an elf, that will take a while.
>>6348043
Yes that is allowed.

No posting tonight, I'm going to be busy with social obligations leading up to the holiday.

>>6348224
>You spent the first 3[3]3 years of your life learning the nature of life and death upon his boat.
Woah...
Wait, that's just 27.

>I'm going to be busy with social obligations leading up to the holiday.
Ooof, enjoy.