Beep. Slide. Bag.Beep. Slide. Bag.Beep. Slide. Bag.“Ma’am. Ma’am.” Your eyes slowly drift up. The just past middle age woman jerks back as the full weight of your ‘two years of college debt and nothing to show for it’ dead stare drives into her. Alas, the just past middle age woman’s eyes do not begin to pour blood, and her face twists.Beep. Slide. Bag.You grunt, and the woman accepts that this might be the limit of your vocabulary.“Ma’am. Miss. Those eggs. Those eggs were on sale, miss.”Beep. Slide. Bag. Your gaze, choked lifeless by customer service, sweeps over to the carton of eggs.> Pick up the eggs. Move them back, then drop them. > Pick up the eggs. Move them back. Smash them down. > Pick up the eggs. Move them back. Charge her full price again. Don't remove the original charge.
>>6000901>RegretIf only you had voted for Bernie Sanders. He would have made everything better
>>6000904You pluck one egg from the carton and chuck it over your shoulder in remembrance of Bernie. Somewhere a customer squawks indignantly as they get egg on your face. It's hard to care.The customer stares at you. You stare back and pick up the carton of eggs.> Slam em> Drop em> Cook them in a stew
>>6000908>Regain your composure. Its one thing to find a better job, smart. Its another thing to lose your job with no plan, dumb. Big girl panties time. Salvage this encounter with, "So sorry. Cracked one, no good. Lemme take that off."
>>6000925Your face twists into a rictus. The customer stares."Slipped!" You squeak. "Slipped!" Your stomach twists. Your gaze twitches to the clock, just ten more minutes, then back to the customer. She stares. "Let's ring up that discount!" Your voice jumps a little at the end. Beep. Slide. Bag.The customer scurries away. Somewhere in the store people are screaming. > Hold it together. Ten minutes. You can handle ten minutes.> Nope. Sink below the checkout desk and sob. Shits fucked and you're tired of pretending otherwise.
>>6000943>> Hold it together. Ten minutes. You can handle ten minutes.
>>6000943>Hold it together. Ten minutes. You can handle ten minutes.
>>6000943>Hold it together. Ten minutes. You can handle ten minutes.>Try to count down the seconds until your corporate-mandated "free time", as a way to calm the nerves. Fail utterly.
>>6000943> Hold it together. Ten minutes. You can handle ten minutes.
>>6000943Breath. It's ten minutes. Ten more fucking wasted minutes of your wasted life. What's ten more. Another customer. Beep. Slide. Bag. The frontline supervisor catches your eye and nods tersely. She scurries over, smoothly takingly your place. She's been here for years."Go ahead and clock out, I'll finish out your line."You nod mutely and stumble away toward the back, where the little box that controls your life sits. The screeching of customers continues and someone rushes by you. You realize that the screaming is up ahead. Fuck, some jackass must be-You emerge from the aisles and see the blood and the kid pushed back into a stack of toilet paper higher than him. There is his mother and her intestines on the floor, face down. There is the golf club she had brandished before getting her stomach torn open.There is the soft growling to your side, the rising hairs on your neck, the whimper of the child that says how truly fucked you are. It's in the corner of your eye, and it's way too fucking big.> Run run run run> Give up. Give in. Accept. It's a relief really
>>6001302Morpork handshake. That is to say, elbow to the belly and knee into the jaw as the enemy doubles over
>>6001302>Fucking finallyThis is it. All the pent up rage, all the helplessness, the aggression, just waiting to come out. This...is a worthy way to go. You'd expected getting ground into dust by an uncaring moribund society, but a warrior's death, now that is something!>Dive towards the club, grab it, turn on the damn thing that probably looks like a dog, block its jaws with the metal club if it goes for the face, then hit it full force on the muzzle, get up while its reeling and generally BASH ITS FUCKING SHIT IN!Ii do wonder if it's an out of control dog (wolves don't growl, at least not Earth wolves last I was told) or if we're getting the South Korean Portal Apocalypse special.
>>6001302> Run run run runWe're not getting payed for THIS
>>6001302>Give up. Give in. Accept. It's a relief really
>>6001302You lunge for the golf club. Why? If you wanted to die it wouldn't have been easier to just stay still and wait for the hot breath on your throat. If you wanted to live it would have been easier to turn and run. But here you are, slipping on blood, fumbling with a shitty golf club (seriously, what sort of loser buys their golf club at fucking BIG Mart?) and turning with some vague idea of a parry-jab combo into a beatdown-what the fuck is that!The jaw snaps onto the shaft of the golf club, the claws slam into your chest, grinding into your ribs and your back slams into the ground. You stare at it, wrestling for control of the club as your shirt stains with blood. The stink of rotting meat rolls across your face. You're going to die, at fucking BIG Mart, in your stupid fucking tan shirt and tan pants, ten minutes from being off the clock, from stupid fucking hairless dog thing that some fucking customer probably insisted was their god damn support animal!Well fuck that! Your knee jerks into the thing's underbelly and you shove. It gags, letting go of the club and falls onto its belly and you slam the club down over and over until the warranty is definitely void and the fucking thing is just a heap of raw meat. You heave for air and immediately regret it as the stink of blood and meat and rot fills your lungs. Are you smiling? "Drop the fucking weapon! On the ground! Move!"Oh now the police show up.> Drop the weapon> Vomit. Messily.> Fuck that noise, you're clocking out.
>>6001302>> Run run run runSheeiiiit!
>>6001508>> Drop the weaponPolice showing up within 3 hours, snooty customers? Oh yeah we're in an upper-middle class neighborhood.
>>6001508> Drop the weapon... at themWhat are they gonna do? Shoot us?
>>6001508>> Drop the weapon, raise our hands, comply, try not to vomit, at least for now.Less than 10 minute response time? Definitely rich neighborhood. Especially since this is probably happening elsewhere. I'm still thinking portal bullshit.
Rolled 14 (1d20)>>6001508>drop the weaponwe're not paid enough to deal with this kind of customer for sure.also rolling fortitude(?) to avoid puking at the thing.
>>6001508> Fuck that noise, you're clocking out.
>>6001508Oh shit, its a pitbull!
>>6001508The golf club clatters to the floor. You turn your head and cock an eyebrow. "Took your time Blarty." One of these days you'll bother to learn his name."On the floor Jones! Jesus, I knew you were going to snap but fuck!"You gingerly drop to your knees and feel the blood seeping into your stupid tan pants. "Are you even allowed to keep that thing loaded?"Blarty's face turns a little redder and his mustache bobs up and down like the insipid yes man he was. Yeah, you didn't think so."What the fuck happened Jones? Is that someone's pet?" He jerks back when he sees the woman on the ground. "Holy shit, is that her-" You tune him out and wait for the rent-a-cop to get his shit together. What the fuck was that thing? Dogs had eyes. And fur, but you could at least chalk that up to dumbass yuppy trends. You were still bleeding down your front, apparent not as...as bad as...You tilt and crash to the ground.
>>6001735You wake up to the taste of blood and nasty in your mouth, but when you move to scrub it your arm stops, chained to the hospital bed. No, handcuffed to the bed on one side, IV on the other. Fuck, you're in a hospital. You can't afford a hospital. Oh god, it's an emergency room. Fuck. Fuck."Fuck!""Ah, you're awake. Miss Jones was it?"Your gaze jerks over to find an actual cop watching you."I didn't catch your name Miss Jones, someone scribbled 'fuck the police' over your first name on your ID."Fuck. You hate your first name, and cops didn't rank much better. You try a weak grin and a bad lie."Oh, those uh...kids?""Mmmhmm. First name Miss Jones?"God you hate your first name. Shouldn't this shit be on record anyway?> Priscilla. Who the fuck names their kid Priscilla!? Am I an antagonist in a period piece?> Allegra. Yeah, thanks mom for naming me after dick pills.> Valentina. Seriously, was I supposed to be an assassin or a stripper? Both?> Chrysanthemum. Holy shit mom, how am I even supposed to fucking shorten it?
>>6001751> Chrysanthemum. Holy shit mom, how am I even supposed to fucking shorten it?We'll call him Chrys kek
>>6001751>Hibiscus. Your parents thought it was neat because the flower is also called a 'Confederate rose.' Eh.
>>6001751> Chrysanthemum. Holy shit mom, how am I even supposed to fucking shorten it?Chrysalis, chris, Christ, Cman, saman we got options.
>>6001820Salis, Sal, Lis, Salt, Santh, Mum, Chry, Chrysan, Themum, ... I could go on for days thug
>>6001751>> Priscilla. Who the fuck names their kid Priscilla!? Am I an antagonist in a period piece?
>>6001751>Valentina. Seriously, was I supposed to be an assassin or a stripper? Both?
>>6001751>Eunice. Named after a great-aunt you don't even like
>>6001751>Allegra. Yeah, thanks mom for naming me after dick pills.
>>6001751> Chrysanthemum. Holy shit mom, how am I even supposed to fucking shorten it?
>>6001751Chrysanthemum. Holy shit mom, how am I even supposed to fucking shorten it?
>>6001751“Chris.”“Chris?”You sigh. “Chrysanthemum. Just...call me Chris. Or Jones. Or fucking anything else.” You rattle the handcuffs. “Am I under arrest?”The cop smirks. “You are not. Can you describe the scene?”You detail the event as best you can. “No eyes?”“Yeah, like it was...a really old nasty hotdog. With teeth, and claws. No eyes.”The cop frowns and scribbles for a few more seconds. “Can you sign this as your statement?” He hands you the writing pad, and other than some missing profanity, fucker, it looks right. You sign it.“Can I go home?” You wrattle the handcuff for emphasis. The cop nods and unlocks the cuff.“Miss Jones?”“Yeah?”“When I arrived at the scene, everyone agreed there was a” finger quotes came up “weird dog. Everyone agrees that you beat it to death with a golf club. You have shallow chest wounds, I've got a mother in surgery with a torn open stomach. You know what I don't have?”You shrug.“A dog corpse. All I have is one excitable child telling me it turned into smoke. That doesn't seem very likely.”“Spit it out, what are you trying to say? I disemboweled some lady with my teeth? Then stabbed myself in the chest a few times and smashed up a watermelon and ate it? That seem any more likely to you?”The cop chuckles softly. “Have a good day, Miss Jones.”What a fucking day.> Go home> Go get drunk> Go talk to mom
>>6002527>> Go talk to mommaybe she's worried. Also it's mothers day today in some countries
>>6002531> Go talk to mom
>>6002527The hospital is not amused when you tell them good luck after getting the bill, but you at least wait until you turn the corner to chuck the paper in the trash. Then it's onto the streets. It's late when you check your phone and find a text message.“Clocked you out, don't forget next time.” From your manager. Well fuck you too. You sigh and look at the last message from your mom.“Sorry I won't be around. See you on the other side.” Yeah, that, that didn't...fuck. You better go visit. You almost call a Shyftrr, then remember you're fucking broke. Better walk, cab service was a scam anyway.By the time you're puffing up the hill, your bandaged chest aching, it's dark out. You try not to meet the gaze of the caretaker as you pass each other. He gets it, but you aren't supposed to be here at this hour. Loving MotherDevoted WifeDarla Jones“Hey mom.”She doesn't say much, but that's pretty typical. You talk for a while, about how shitty work is, how you're always broke, the dog attack. “Sorry mom, I thought I was ready, but...not yet I guess. Story of my life. Sorry to let you down again.”She doesn't seem to mind. The piece of shit cherub one row down though is always staring at you like it knows you're supposed to be buried here. Not today bitch!“Alright, I better get going. See you around mom.”Walk home. Sleep in your clothes. Wake up with a bird on your chest.> Scream> Swat> Freeze
>>6002583>Scream
>>6002583Cute birdGet arms ready in case we need to shield ourselves and ask it what it wants. I reckon it's not an ordinary bird...
>>6002583>> FreezeUhhhhhh. UHHHHHHH!
>>6002583> FreezeIt's a dream guys, we're still dreaming, it's a dream bird
>>6002583freeze!
>>6002583>> FreezeDid we leave a window open or are we dreaming?
>>6002583“Nice bird?” Your hands drift slowly toward your eyes.The bird stares at you. It paces slowly across your chest, eyes unblinking, then flaps its wings and flutters away. A feather and a black pebble drop to your lap. You look around. The room has no windows. You look down. Ink is spreading from the quill across your pants, curving and spreading into thick boxy letters.For services rendered. One eyestone. Feather included for future correspondence.“Oh fuck!” You fling the feather and stone away. Shit! Shit! You can't afford new pants! You rip off the pants, fuming at the ink bleeding through to underneath, stumble over the dirty laundry and into the shared space between your room.“Laura? Laura!?” Your roommate doesn't respond. You jam your head into her room, the smell of essential oils, incense sticks, and weed pushing back at you. Not home. Shit. She'll deal. You dig into her laundry shit and grab a little of everything and heave it into the laundry. You'll write a note or something, where's a pen...You grab the stupid feather, still dripping ink. What the fuck is this thing? Is it even ink or some kind of bird puss? You smother your scream of frustration and scribble on a debt collector notice.“Hey, had some borrow some shit but I can pay you back later.”The ink runs like water and the letters reshape into narrow curling text.“Well, I don't normally extend credit to young hunters, but I do have a little problem I could use some discretion for. So, what were you looking for? Weapon? Cash? Info? You didn't hear it from me of course.”What. The. Fuck.> Cash. Rent is coming. Rent is always coming.> A weapon? What the fuck for?> Info? What about?
> Cash. Rent is coming. Rent is always coming.
>>6003000>> Info? What about?WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING OOOOON? WHAT WAS THAT EYELESS DOG AM I GOING INSANE? ARE YOUR OFFERING SOME PART TIME WORK? WHY AM I YELLING?Getting some Buffy vibes.
>>6003000The quill hits the page hard enough stab through and immediately stain the kitchen counter under it. “WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS SHIT.”The ink shifts uncertainly. You stab the page again.“WHAT IS THIS FUCKING SHIT?” You're screaming. When did you start screaming at a piece of paper? Oh right, when it started talking back.“Do we have a misunderstanding? I think we have a-” You stab your quill into the ink vigorously.“EXPLAIN THIS SHIT.” You scream into the page. The ink scurries into the form of your words and you flinch back from it.There's a knock at the door. A man yells on the other side. “Alright, I can explain.”> Out the window!> Knife, frying pan, open door. > Hide in the bathroom, refuse to come out.
>>6003082> Knife, frying pan, open door.Nigga I ain't playing anymo
>>6003082> Knife, frying pan, open door.I am armed and dangerous after going PETA on some fool!
>>6003082> Knife, frying pan, open doorAlright I'll hear you out. What the fuck is going on?
>>6003082>Hide in the bathroom, refuse to come out.
>>6003082>Knife, frying pan, open door.
>>6003082>> Knife, frying pan, open door.
>>6003088>>6003095>>6003096>>6003241>>6003331>>6003391You grab a knife from the kitchen, then change it for a bigger knife, then grab both knives at the same time and your roommates wok pan, still greasy from the one time two months she used it. You give the door kick you use to open it when you’re carrying too much shit to use the knob. It bangs in the cheap frame and slowly opens inwards. Holy shit that guy is hot. An easy radiant smile, body made of muscle, but not too much muscle, with a shirt tight enough to show it off, sparkling blue eyes. The room seemed to get brighter as he took a step forward. Wait, the room actually is brighter. There is a glowing man in your apartment. Panic surges and you hurl the wok pan. The stranger (the beautiful beautiful stranger) doesn’t so much as flinch, and the pan doesn’t even bounce when it hits him, it just stops and drops straight down. The stranger chuckles and picks it up.“That takes me back to the old days.” He pauses, looking you up and down. “Pants are still customary aren’t they? I do have the right address?”There is a strange glowing man in your apartment and you aren’t wearing any pants. Of course. The dog thing crushed your brain and you’re having a coma dream. That’s it. That’s what’s...“Excuse me.” You whisper and dive into your room. You briefly stare at the window (closed, how did that bird even get in?) and fire escape, but instead grab the black stone and a pair of sweat pants and march back out. Time to face the pretty glowing music. You find him perched on a kitchen stool, focused on the sad potted plant your roommate desperately tries to keep alive. The plant seems to straighten up under the stranger's attention, growing a little greener, a little healthier.“So...you can call me Uncle B. Everyone does. And you seem a little confused.”
“Yeah, a little.” You reply weakly. “What is this? Why is a bird bringing me rocks? What service did I even do?”Uncle B chuckles a little. “People really do have short memories don’t they? I’m mostly helping cover for my brother, but I can give you the short version. You dispatched a beast that invaded from another realm, the raven brings your pay, you spend it as you please, local cash, weapons, relics and tools. Most hunters aren’t that bright, we try to keep it simple. Been seeing a lot of jorspawn lately, must be some new root or branch we can’t find.”Words slosh in one ear and out the other, but one of them sticks. “Cash?”Uncle B shrugs. “Never saw the point myself, but I think an eyestone trades for a hundred dollars. You can just write it with the quill and the ravens will handle it. We good?”A hundred dollars. That would go a long way to paying rent. The rent due in seven days. The rent you were five hundred dollars short on. “That credit you mentioned.”“Oh? It’s only six or seven eyestones worth, but I do need the help from time to time.”Six or seven hundred dollars. Fucking hell.> Uh, yeah, we’re good.> Fuck no, why are you glowing? Other realms? What!?> Wait, I need the cash. What do you need done?”
>>6003539> Fuck no, why are you glowing? Other realms? What!? Nigga stop goffin around
>>6003539Am I being called hunter because I killed that dog, or was I able to kill it because of some disposition I have?
>>6003539>Err...raven, roots, "jor"-spawn...has any of this got anything to do with old Norse Myth by chance? Sorry, you aren't catching me at my best here...so, I'm a hunter? Like, because I caved that thing's skull in or do I have a special affinity or thing for it?
>>6003731+1We first must know if we are a supper spezials MC or just a guy that had enough of our life and wants a new life.
>>6003731>>6003696>>6003559"Not at all. You're glowing."Uncle B smiles, and your heart skips a beat. He shoos waves his hands like he's shooing a cat. The glow fades. "Sorry, the morning light is always a little clingy." What the hell is that supposed to mean!?"Am I..." You grope for a word, hands grasping at air. "Special? Marked? Changed? Is this some fucked up inheritance dad didn't tell me about?""Anyone can get into hunting. The Norns wanted to pick and choose but my brother put his foot down." His tone shifts to a mock gruff. "If any mortal wants to go after one those damn things they can." He shrugs. "It's nothing special, unless you count a good sword arm as special.""Wait...Norns? Ravens? Is this some weird Norse cult or something? Are you..." Are you staring a literal god? Some Thor or Odin or...your grasp of mythology fails you."Well, I wouldn't say cult...oh, I've really got to get going. One more question."
>>6003849> A line of credit, you need that money!> Just stare vacantly. There is a god standing in your apartment. Fuck.
>>6003849>> A line of credit, you need that money! And uhh should I quit my other job to be on 24/7 call for you boss?
>>6003849> A line of credit, you need that money!
>>6003972>>6003943"Cash!" You blurt out. "I need like, five hundred dollars by the end of the week. And...is hunting steady work?"Uncle B grins and claps you on your back. "You hunters are always terrible with money, but don't worry I've got just the job for you. I'll handle the details, just keep an eye out for a raven. Oops, gotta run!"The apartment is suddenly empty. The potted plant droops. And stacked neatly on the counter is a stack of twenty dollar bills.What the hell have you gotten yourself into?> Sleep> Drink> Smoke> Actually do your laundry> Panic
>>6004287> Drink> Smoke
>>6004287> Actually do your laundryWe respectable now. Also procrastination
>>6004287>Actually do your laundry
>>6004287>> Actually do your laundry>>6004339We are a normal and functional human contributing to society. We should make a flamethrower with a spray can and a lighter.
>>6004287> Actually do your laundry
>>6004287>Panic
>>6004287>> Actually do your laundryRide whatever high remains from our violent clubbing of a fur-less dog thingy to try and get something done. How shit was our life before this, anyway? Like, how frequent are we late on rent? What's our story?
>>6004299>>6004339>>6004342>>6004441>>6004506>>6004526>>6004662>>6004765The sight of your ink stained pants sitting on the floor brings you back to shitty reality. It's 1AM. Work starts in six hours. You groan and jam the pants in the wash, praying to...actually no, someone might actually listen. Fuck.Should you find a church? Is that even a thing? You stare at the tumbling pants for a moment. To wait and put in the dryer or sleep and do it in the morning...Sleep. Then wake up in a panic twice from nightmares, one for dad (fuck you) and one for mom. Then wake up in a panic again and stick the pants in the dryer. Toss, turn, give up, get up. Coffee and Addy should keep you together for a while.An hour till work. Your eyes linger on the quill and the black eyestone for a minute.> Fuck work! Call off, get some more sleep> Try to buy something. A weapon maybe? A knife?> Oh fuck it, get moving and you can walk instead of taking the bus.
>>6004888> Oh fuck it, get moving and you can walk instead of taking the bus.We need to pay that rent. The wagecucking awaits my boys
>>6004888>> Oh fuck it, get moving and you can walk instead of taking the bus.Let's get an ear on the rumor vine. What's the story about what happened? Any weird stuff happening after? Other sightings? Just keeping an ear out might net us more clues about where to find more of those...whatever they are, they're walking cash pinatas. And we are quite hungry.
>>6004899>>6004894You give up on the morning and just start walking toward work. Early morning city life stirs around you as the lake fog retreats for the day. You jaywalk across several streets, weave around a drunk drooling into the pavement and nod to the hookers trying to lure in one last customer before the morning proper starts. "Still alive!?" One of them shouts.You grin. "The big Cunt hasn't killed me yet!" You shout back. A jogger flinches and veers away from you. You wave and keep moving, pulling up your phone now that you're past the last crosswalk. At a hundred dollars a kill this hunting thing might be worth looking into. How hard was it to get a gun? How expensive were they? How common were these things anyway? Those things would make the news, right? Of course the one you killed vanished. You start pulling up local social media and start digging around until you make it into work proper.> Hit up the image boards. Behind the conspiracy nutters might be a little truth> Browse VoteBot. If you skip the first five pages of reposted memes and political screeching you might find something.> Lower yourself to Preen. Maybe the boomers are talking about something you can use.
>>6005023>> Hit up the image boards. Behind the conspiracy nutters might be a little truthNow that we have a description and lore we can filter out fake conspiracies until something close hits our mark.
> Hit up the image boards. Behind the conspiracy nutters might be a little truthThe /x/ schizos must know something
>>6005023>> Hit up the image boards. Behind the conspiracy nutters might be a little truth
>>6005023>Browse VoteBot. If you skip the first five pages of reposted memes and political screeching you might find something.
>>6005028>>6005029>>6005109>>6005236Between customers and during your break you dig through image boards. You hit the up the paranormal sections first, finding little besides the usual mix of ghost stories and fringe religions. It's on a generic request board where you find something interesting, someone asking for advice on dealing with unusually clever animals. They upload a few pictures of animal tracks, and a snippet of video footage. Other posters call it out as fake, but you recognize the eyeless mangled form, even though this one is a lot bigger. Apparently it keeps disturbing the posters trash, circumvented locks and lids, anytime fish are thrown out in the trash. Maybe you could set a trap?You survive the rest of the workday.> Home. Sleep. God you're tired.> Where does a person find fish that doesn't cost a fortune?> If you're going after these things you probably ought to prepare...somehow?
>>6005432>Where does a person find fish that doesn't cost a fortune?
>>6005432>> Where does a person find fish that doesn't cost a fortune?Walmart sardines packed in water?
>>6005432> Home. Sleep. God you're tired.We can't hunt demon dogs tired
>>6005432>Where does a person find fish that doesn't cost a fortune?Cheap canned tuna. Also we should get like a hi point
>>6005432>Home. Sleep. God you're tired.
>>6005435>>6005440>>6005446>>6005814>>6005927You duck back into the grocery section and look around for fish. Actual slabs of real fish seemed extreme, but cheap off brand tuna, plus your meager employee discount is doable. You wander past the gun counter too, some of them are surprisingly cheap, but even the cheap ones would set you back too much. You're already surviving on off brand spaghetti noodles.Shit, are you actually doing this? Trying to bait one of things out and...fuck how are you actually going to kill it?> Fuck, buy the gun, who knows how you'll make up the money though> Kitchen knives? Plenty of those you never use> Can you buy something with the eyestone and quill?
>>6005967> Can you buy something with the eyestone and quill?
>>6005967>> Fuck, buy the gun, who knows how you'll make up the money thoughImportant Tip: While shooting people may not be advisable, we can get our way just by pointing it.
>>6005967> Can you buy something with the eyestone and quill?A bear trap and fish or we can go into a park for a few branches or get a pillow case and fill it with rock while ducktaping an arm guard with pans.
>>6006010Guns are useless if your not trained for it. Accidental discharge, police call ins, and no training will just make the gun a liability and end up shooting ourselves. Better to go with traps, snares, or a spray flamer to damage the doge.
>>6005967>> Fuck, buy the gun, who knows how you'll make up the money thoughPSA Dagger ie. off brand Glock 19
>>6005967>Kitchen knives? Plenty of those you never use
>>6005967>Fuck, buy the gun, who knows how you'll make up the money though
>>6005967>> Can you buy something with the eyestone and quill?a magic weapon is probably a good investment.
>>6005967> Fuck, buy the gun, who knows how you'll make up the money though
>>6005967>> Can you buy something with the eyestone and quill?I'd rather we didn't go for the gun if we aren't trained. What the glowing guy said about hunters always making poor financial decisions. We're aiming to trap it and hopefully kill it easily. We could do it with a shitty supermarket golf club. A gun at this point may genuinely be a liability. And the cops already have their eyes on us. Let's maybe not buy an obvious weapon days after waking up cuffed to a hospital bed, maybe.
>>6005986>>6006010>>6006202>>6006207>>6006283>>6006466>>6006584>>6006711>>6006879>>6006918Indecision is becoming a problem for you. You keep going back and forth between asking about traps, re-enacting your favorite rock in a sock moments from literature, knives, and of course just buying a fucking gun. Sure, you have no idea how to use it, the cops are looking at you suspiciously, its noisy as hell, but hey, it's hard to argue with bullets. Shit, maybe you can buy a gun with the eyestone? You scribble into a receipt with the quill."Hey, can I get a gun through this thing?"The ink twists into an answer. "Those noisy things? Bringing a pack of jorspawn down on yourself could be a problem without a plan. For one eyestone I can manage a small crossbow, but convincing a dwarf to make a full firearm can be tricky."There are dwarves and they get uppity about making guns. Of course.> Sure, I'll take a crossbow.> Uh, yeah, I'm going to stick with something that goes BOOM.
>>6006947> Sure, I'll take a crossbow.
>>6006947Solid reasoning, yeah. A crossbow is nice. At least it's easier to train with. Less sound, and we can hopefully put together a target that won't break the bolts.
>>6006947>>6007078>> Sure, I'll take a crossbow.And I'm obviously saying we take the crossbow.
>>6006947>> Sure, I'll take a crossbow.
>>6006947>> Sure, I'll take a crossbow.Perhaps once or if we prove ourselves they'll be more willing to share interesting gadgets
>>6007006>>6007078>>6007084>>6007122>>6007548The eyestone reacts as soon as you make the decision, burning your fingers as it melts into hot liquid, dropping onto the page. You curse as the words form on the page."Got it. Expect it soon."You yawn most of the way home, nodding off twice on the bus. The days are way too long. Past homeless John and his red top hat. Up four flights, the elevator is always busted. Finally home."Chrysanthemum, what is this?" You twitch at your first name, which your roommate insists is pretty. She stands there in her usual sundress and over braided hair and glasses holding a crossbow, an simple old style one, though carved with delicate flowing vines. Yours presumably. A bundle of metal tipped bolts sits on the kitchen counter. The fucker couldn't put in your room!?"Chrysy?"> It's a sex toy.> It's a religious thing.> It's a fucking crossbow you dumbass.
>>6008547> It's a sex toy.Why don't you try it on for size. It looks like it'll fit right in
>>6008547>It's a sex toy.
>>6008547It's a crossbow.No need to be rude desu
>>6008582>>6008720"It's a sex toy." Why the fuck did you say that? Your tongue freezes while you try to think of some kind of backpedal, but your roommate just stares at the crossbow."Never seen one with a trigger...and those arms, do they fold in, then expand?" Is that awe in her voice? Jealousy? You hurt just thinking about that thing unfolding inside you but your roommate looks more curious than anything. "Oh! Right! Well, have fun with it!" She winks and slinks past you, heading out.You make it to bed, and for once you're too tired for nightmares. Morning hits. It's your day off.> Slack off, that's what days off are for> Practice with your crossbow? It's basically a wooden gun, right?> Get out of your apartment, get some air
>>6008817>Get out of your apartment, get some air
>>6008817>Get out of your apartment, get some airperhaps we'll segue into a live fire practice...
>>6008817> Practice with your crossbow? It's basically a wooden gun, right?
>>6008817>> Practice with your crossbow? It's basically a wooden gun, right?How do I shot bolt?
>>6008817>> Practice with your crossbow? It's basically a wooden gun, right?
>>6008820>>6008962>>6008963>>6008975>>6009537You grab the crossbow and the bolts and spend some time learning how it works. Loading and pulling it back is a real bitch, you weren't exactly strong before the coma, and it and the crippling depression certainly didn't help. Still you figure it out, and then bury a bolt into your mattress seconds later. Fuck. A quick google search later and you're checking the dumpsters around the colleges for Styrofoam blocks. The nearest business with a range is an hour away, but with a little rigging you manage to build a little target area in the alley behind your apartment. You're a handful of hilariously off target shots in when someone speaks."You should use eye protection."Your bolt goes wildly off course and slams into the wall, shattering to bits."Fuck!" You whip around angrily, then freeze. It's the fucking cop. You lower the crossbow slowly."Crossbow huh? That's an old style, is it an antique?"> Uhhh> Yessss?> Noo?
>>6009651>>Noo?
>>6009651>Noo?
>>6009651Yes and no. I got it from my uncle who's really into old stuff but also modern derivatives.
>>6009651>> Uhhh
>>6009651>Yessss?
>>6009656>>6009743>>6009765>>6009914"Ahhh."He tilts his head with a smile as your tongue tried to remember how to work."No? I mean, yes, no, probably no? Shit." You stare frantically at the crossbow, trying to get your brain, your stupid stupid brain, to actually function. Lie, with a little truth. Uncle B. "It's a gift. From my uncle Barry, who does uhm, antiques? But also, like, replicas?"The officer chuckles and extends a hand. "Jackson." You shake it numbly and he continues. "Was just passing through and figured I'd check in on you. Some people break down after a violent event like you went through.""mmhmm." Don't open your stupid mouth. Don't open your stupid mouth.He peers at the crossbow again. "Well, be careful with that." He waves and walks away.Ahhh what the fuck was that about? Cops don't just check in on people, do they?You finish up practice at your makeshift range as dusk starts to fall over the city. > Go on the hunt. There has to be more of those things out there, right?> Get an early night.
>>6010032> Get an early night.We need to get some sleet for our wagecucking tomorrow
>>6010032>> Get an early night
>>6010032>> Go on the hunt. There has to be more of those things out there, right?
>>6010032>> Get an early night.
>>6010032Head home, but keep our eyes peeled for targets of opportunity
>>6010032>> Get an early night.So... we're being watched by some MIB-type dudes dressed up as cops. Best to lay low.
>>6010050>>6010053>>6010069>>6010073>>6010087>>6010216Your aim, frankly, starts off as shit. It takes a few hours of filling styrofoam with wooden shafts and a few youtube tutorials before you work out how to actually aim the weapon, fire it without the bolt going wildly off course, and actually hit the targets you scribble on with a marker. By the end of it you can at least hit what you aim at though, if you hold still and focus anyway. Finally you eat a quick cheap meal and tumble into bed. Another day of wage slavery awaits, but at least you'll be awake for it. You scrape through the night with just one nightmare of your mom and dad being drug into a dark pit by a pack of eyeless dogs. Then it's onto the bus and to work.It's apparently biowaste day. A dog shits in the store, then a kid pukes, then a crazy homeless guy runs through the aisles, dick flapping, pissing on everything he can, Blarty puffing along behind the surprisingly spry white haired man. You follow snickering with a mop.In the break room your coworkers are crowded around the little box tv showing the news. The newscaster, a balding asshole with too much mustache stares into the camera and talks."Wild news today down at the First Bank on Charles Street. A bold daylight robbery has left customers talking about monsters! Hysteric reports include a ten foot tall green man who ripped the safe door from its hinges, and his accomplices, blue children with knives who reportedly plundered the bank. Police and paramedics are checking the area for gas leaks and other sources of mass hysteria.> That's definitely 'other realm' activity. Fuck work, go on the hunt!> Nope, you aren't fucking with anything that can rip a safe door off.
>>6011154That sounds like a job for a frustrated cashier looking for something to vent on. We may need to grab something of a backup weapon in case it gets into melee range though...
>>6011154>ten foot tall green man>gaggle of knife-wielding ankle-stabbers>> Nope, you aren't fucking with anything that can rip a safe door off.Nope. Nope nope. Er, maybe we can ask the raven if Mr Glow knows things are getting a lot worse very quickly down here? We went from what I think are pests/animals to organized groups of sapient individuals that can both conceptualize material wealth and form a multi-species team to get it. That's not the same ballpark, not by a longshot...again, should we expect dungeons, towers, and/or Korean people?
>>6011154>> That's definitely 'other realm' activity. Fuck work, go on the hunt!>>6011177Plus what this guy said. Grab a frying pan and get down there! Even if we spear one of the little guys, we might make some money.
>>6011154>> Nope, you aren't fucking with anything that can rip a safe door off.Out of our league.
>>6011154>Nope, you aren't fucking with anything that can rip a safe door off.
>>6011154>> That's definitely 'other realm' activity. Fuck work, go on the hunt!
>>6011177>>6011293>>6011438>>6011465>>6011704>>6011796How much money was a ten foot tall monster worth? How quickly would it rip off your arm? But there were little ones. Probably stabby assholes. But fuck, you've cleaned up too much puke for too little pay. The fact that having your arm ripped off was competing with the fucking job was more depressing than anything."Fuck this shit. Fuck fuck fuck fuck!" You slam your fingers on the table to keep them out of your teeth. You can't make a fucking decision and the idea of just flipping a coin seems so stupid and..."Breaking news! We have live footage of the police pursuing the suspect as they enter the industrial district." The news anchor narrated. A feed from a helicopter came onto the screen, following police cars screaming through the slums. They rounded a corner, then suddenly.one of the police cars shot back, flipping end over end. The video feed cuts abruptly."Holy shit." You jump up to chase the first thought in your head.> If the big one is busy with the police, the little ones are easy game> Holy fuck I'm staying away from that.
>>6012876>> Holy fuck I'm staying away from that.
>>6012876>If the big one is busy with the police, the little ones are easy game
>>6012876>Holy fuck I'm staying away from that.
>>6013161>>6012948>>6012886You chicken out. You just...that thing flipped a god damn car! A moving car! The channel flips back on after a moment to a flustered newscaster but you aren't paying attention anymore. There's fuck all you can do is there? You're just another washed up kid that life fucked and discarded. You probably can't sprint more than a second without getting winded, you sure as hell can't throw a punch, what the fuck were you doing even thinking about going anywhere near something that big?You get back to work. You take the bus home. You drain the last shitty dregs of an old bottle of vodka, holding perfectly still as the fire crawls down your spine and settles into your toes. You flop onto bed, not even taking off your shoes. Your eyes linger toward the fire escape and the comforting knowledge of the three story drop. It would be easier-Tap-tap-tap. The raven pecks at the window. Tap-tap.Thud-thud-thud. The front door shakes as someone beats on it. Thud-thud.Oh fuck.> Answer the door> Nope, down the fire escape.
>>6013302>> Answer the door
>>6013302> Answer the door
>>6013302>Answer the doorOK THAT'S IT GRAB THE CROSSBOW SOMEBODY IS GETTING SKEWERED TONIGHT
>>6013302> Answer the door and grab the crossbowDefend your ground laws.
>>6013302> Answer the doorUhhhhok
>>6013302>Answer the door
>>6013333>>6013413>>6013429>>6013593>>6013595>>6013980You throw open the door, crossbow loaded and leveled, only slightly distracted by the sudden thought 'did my roommate order a pizza?'"Your scrawny for a hunter, but you'll do. Let's move." The pressure of the voice hits you before you even see the man, and the man fills the doorframe and then some, looming over you like a hulking bear. Your feet are already moving though, purse full of bolts over the shoulder, crossbow in hand. You're halfway down the hallway before your tongue works loose."Who?"The man turns and you see the short handled plain sledge hammer at his waist. The weight of his gaze hits you, your feet stumbling back."Bear." He turns back and keeps moving, and your feet keep dragging you forward. You're in front of the building, walking toward a golden truck before your heels finally grind to a halt. Bear's glare hits you again, you swear your hair is actually drifting backwards."What are we doing?""Pay favor." His expression softens for a moment and he pats you on the head with a hand big enough to crush it like a grape. "Safe work. Probably. In."You're in the truck, weaving through traffic. You're on a rooftop, holding a crossbow, with a giant of a man pointing at a warehouse. "Watch. Blow horn if you see man.""Wait, what-" You are alone, on a rooftop, at night, with no clear idea how you got there, looking in the direction of a warehouse. What the fuck is happening with this evening? Why is there a fucking hunting horn in your hands? > Panic> Go home> Keep watch for a man?
>>6014272>Keep watch for a man?
>>6014272>> Keep watch for a man?In for a penny
>>6014272>> Keep watch for a man? Check for a fire escape in case we need get off the roof top
>>6014272>> Keep watch for a man?Let's get paid!
>>6014466>>6014492>>6014656>>6014782Ok, yeah, you aren't stupid. If a fucking seven foot guy built like a brickhouse, who is probably a fucking god, tells you watch out for a guy, you fucking watch out for a guy. Easiest five hundred dollars you ever made. Well, already made, but even your dumbass knows better than to default on this deal. So you find a beat up bucket, sit down and watch the warehouse. It's not exactly the most exciting job in the world, but...at least it's safe? Your fingers drum the hunting horn on your lap. A distant car revs and sputters. Movement. You peer closer and see a manhole cover shift. Something tiny and furry and decidedly inhuman clambers out. It's been a few years since you played a rpg, but...that's a fucking goblin isn't it? More fur than you expected but...> Blow the horn? Does that count?> Keep watching
>>6015012>Just stamp on it
>>6015012> Keep watching
>>6015012>keep watchingBUT TRACK IT WITH THE CROSSBOW SOMEBODY IS GETTING SKEWERED TONIGHT
>>6015012>Keep watching
>>6015181>>6015255>>6015297>>6015298You crouch low behind a rooftop vent, fingers gripped tightly on the crossbow. How far does this thing even go? The furry little freak, and apparently a half dozen of his friends, crawl out of the manhole. Clinking bags get passed from hand to hand, piling up in a heap. Could you take a shot from here? Not exactly your assignment but there was probably a hundred bucks a head scurrying around down there.Shit, that's basically people though isn't it? Furry, tiny people, but probably sapient? You wince as one them is caught trying to slip gleaming gold from the bag to his own pocket. The others surround him, knives flashing, squeaking and hissing, until the grifter is a bloody heap on the ground. Ok, moral quandary solved. You try to measure the distance, one building, plus an alleyway, should you aim high? That's a thing right?"Lovely night for a bit of troll spotting isn't it?" Someone says next to your ear. You jerk away, almost falling on your ass, and the stranger catches your arm, holding you steady. A handsome male face smiles at you. "Don't see many pretty young ladies hunting. Keeping an eye out?"> Uhhh> Errr> Yesss?
>>6015331>Spill our spaghetti
>>6015331>>6015333Only reasonable option, really
>>6015331>Where is all this spaghetti coming from?
>>6015331>> Uhhh>> Errr>> Yesss?
>>6015331>>Spill our spaghetti
>>6015331>> Errr
>>6015333>>6015420>>6015438>>6015544>>6015574>>6015810"Dahh" Your tongue, your tongue is stuck, lost somewhere deep in your mouth, or maybe those blue eyes. The man rights you with a smile, leaning back. "Seen anything yet?""Fuck, fuck," You jerk back toward the warehouse. More goblins, and now something big lumbering out of the warehouse, pot belly in contrast to the tree trunk arms that sweep a half dozen goblins out of the way to pick up a bag and inspect the contents. No 'man' down there yet though. You jerk back toward the man, trying to get your tongue straightened out, then realize you have your crossbow pointed straight at him. "Fuck! Sorry-""What that!?" The troll growls. You flatten to the roof and find the man smiling at you, face propped up in his hands. Crossbow bolts spill from your purse and you fumble desperately, trying to get everything under control, where the fuck are all these bolts coming from, they're spilling out of the damn hunting horn even-"Relax. Now, tell me, what were your instructions?"Oh. That's easy. > "Oh, I'm supposed to be looking out for a man."> "Uhm. Uhm. Uhm."> "I uh...I'm not..."
>>6016075>> "Oh, I'm supposed to be looking out for a man."
>>6016075>"Uhm. Uhm. Uhm."
>>6016075>hum horn.. skewer...
>>6016075> "Oh oh yes yes yep"
>>6016075>Spill even more spaghetti
>>6016075> "Uhm. Uhm. Uhm."
>>6016086>>6016151>>6016156>>6016330>>6016391>>6016561Those pretty blue eyes, like the open sky, just keep drawing you in, and you want to help, want to be useful, but your fucking tongue is too big to find a spot in your mouth and god dammit your crossbow bolts keep falling everywhere and-"Ahhggll-FUCK!" You scream. In the background goblins point and chatter excitedly. What are you doing? Why can't you get it together!? What the hell are you supposed to even be doing-oh no he's frowning, you've fucked up, this is the worst-"So useless you can't even be enslaved properly." He turns away from you with a sigh, looking down at the goblins and troll packing cases full of jewelry and cash. "And these ones, I can't believe I'm resorting to them. How long does it really take to pack these things up?"There was something... something you were supposed to do...The horn is at your lips at about the same time the knife is pressed into the outside of your hand, just barely digging into the flash. Pain, pain is a tremendous source of clarity. "Lady hunter, you are a little craftier than I care for. Drop the horn, or I will run this dagger straight through your hand."> Blow the horn> Drop the horn
>>6016603> Blow the horn> Cry
>>6016603One word: medical bills> Drop the horn
>>6016603>> Blow the horn if fails yell horn.>>6016710We can toss the bill in the trash again
>>6016603>> Blow the hornDo the thing.
>>6016603>> Blow the hornTfw we are the ones getting skewered tonight after all
>>6016603> Blow the horn
>>6016603>Drop the horn
>>6016642>>6016710>>6016859>>6017225>>6017334>>6017364>>6017377You exhale, and the horn lets out a sad "Wrahnk?" noise. It is not the dramatic ten thousand horsemen down a hill moment you had hoped for. The man, the fucking hypnotic bullshit asshole fucker spewing bullshit at you, jerks his knife across your hand, plants his high end business shoes into your gut and slams you backward, the air violently ejecting from your body. Your knees buckle against the edge of the rooftop and you are falling. The shitty night grows only worse as you land in a dumpster and sink into a sea of trash bags. There’s yelling, shouting, you barely make it onto your feet when the ground heaves and knocks you on your ass again. There’s a moment of weightlessness, which does not help the desire to puke. Weightlessness? Did you land on a needle in here? Then you get slammed down, span around, and spill out of the dumpster with the rest of the trash.Chest and hands throbbing. Purse, god damn crossbow bolts still half spilling out, somehow still around your shoulder. Crossbow...oh right there on the ground, you think, your eyes and ears are still arguing about whether the world is spinning. You laugh a little despite it all though, dizzy, about to throw up, aching hand from something sharp? Yeah, that’s something you can handle. Feels like home even.“Errr that one of those” The voice, rumbling and wet and slow continues. “...uhm...squishy po-lice humans?”Rough and urgent. “Hunter! Hunter! Kill it!”Shit. You jerk your head up. Like a ten foot high gorilla, with moss green fur. What looks like part of a telephone pole with a hunk of concrete rests across its shoulder. A dozen furry brown goblins, talking fast and pointing at you. Right ok, look around. Overturned dumpster behind you, lake docks behind that, a few maintenance buildings. Warehouse to your right, troll in front of you, city streets and alleyways to your left. Standing still is suicide, and with your pulse pounding in your ears you actually feel like fucking living right now.“WORM!” The enraged roar from the building you had been watching from shakes the earth, then is followed by the building splintering and crumbling, a rush of dust billowing out from it. For a moment all eyes are not on you.> Alleyways> Docks> Warehouse
>>6018600>Alleyways
>>6018600>> AlleywaysI would have picked the warehouse but it might be locked so hopefully we don't run into a dead end instead.
>>6018600>>AlleywaysSpring down the dark alleyways, covered head to toe in petroleum jelly, screaming at the top of our lungs, ponytail flapping in the wind.
>>6018600>Warehouse
>>6018600> DocksFree bath?
>>6018600> Alleyways
>>6018600>Docks
Haven't flaked, just sick.
>>6021194>sickDamn, the QM curse is real
>>6021194We'll pay your bills OP
>>6021194>SickJust don't consent being sick. After that you can power through weak coughs and the flu.
