>>6036370
>>You sit in the outer ring, a child trying to appear brave

>>6036370
>You sit in the outer ring, a child trying to appear brave

>>6036370
>You sit in the outer ring, a child trying to appear brave

>>6036370
>>You sit in the center, as the accused

>>6036370
>>You sit in the outer ring, a child trying to appear brave

>>6036370
>You sit in the center, as the accused

>>6036370
>You sit in the outer ring, a child trying to appear brave

>>6036370
>Write-in
You are the chieftain.

>>6036370
>Sit beside your chieftain father

You sit in the outer ring, with a gaggle of boys your own age. Next to you sits Balash, the younger son of the chieftain, calmly juggling a smooth round pebble in his hand. Ordinarily he would not let someone like you sit with his gang, but your eyes are better than most.

"Does he look scared?" Balash whispers.

The accused eyes have not been bound. He has been afforded that honor because he is the best hunter in the realm. You overheard your father this morning telling your mother how much of a blow his loss will be to the tribe, especially with winter fast approaching. The accused, Rhaizel,though he has lost the right of that name or any other, has a clear and steadfast gaze which moves between two subjects: the chieftain, sitting right in front of him, and a girl your own age sitting in the outer ring. Your eyes are very good indeed and they linger on her face, filling in from memories the parts which lie in shadow.

Balash nudges you with his elbow. You flinch and begin to nod before you remember his question. Rhaizel did not seem scared, but the answer satisfies Balash all the same. Part of you envies his bloodthirst, it would make all this easier. Because you are a child, the punishment for failing to participate in the casting will only be pain, but because you are a boy, and a boy on the cusp of manhood, the far greater punishment will be the shame and embarrassment of being branded a coward.

The council now moves to the final stage. Their decision was a foregone conclusion given the nature of the crime and now the chieftain bids (reluctantly it seems) the accused to speak his final words.

"My wife said something," says Rhaizel, addressing the chieftain directly, "before I choked the breath from her throat."

"We don't have to listen to this!" says the chieftain, getting to his feet.

"She said she was with child."

The chieftain shakily sits back down. Neither he, nor anyone else, knows what to make of this horrible revelation. Finally, the grand-elder, the chieftain's father, calls for Rima to approach. It is she who, being the only surviving family of the accused, must cast the first stone. As she enters the ring of light thrown from the fire, those features which had been hidden are even more lovely than what was supplied by your imagination and memory.

She holds a stone in her hand, and bidden to throw it at her own father, she pauses, looks into his eyes, and finally, drops the stone to the ground.

"Pick up the stone!" says the grand-elder, in a terrible voice.

"No," says Rima, with a steadfastness which proves it is not cowardice which stays her hand.

She walks calmly back to her place among the ring, where those who had sat next to her now give her greater breadth. It is time for the rest to cast.

> You cast all your stones
> You refuse to cast
> You cast your stones but aim wide

>>6036962

>You cast all your stones

Clearly, we don’t have all the context here, but we can’t be known as softhearted

>>6036962
>> You refuse to cast
Strange for the accused's daughter to not hold any ill will after such an act. Stranger for a man to strangle his pregnant wife. Strangest still how he looks death in the eye, as if his gods would approve of the act and he has nothing to fear of death. Dishonorable to kill someone who cannot defend themselves.

>>6036962
>Cast wide

>>6036962
>> You cast your stones but aim wide
If his daughter thinks against it, then there is something unsaid

>>6036962
>Cast stones at Balash
He wants blood, let there be blood.

>>6036962
>You cast all your stones
Maybe there's something more to it, but the fella is guilty as sin

>>6037051
If we cast wide, people will still see it as an attempt to hit him. Others will get caught up in the mob mentality, and also cast. Some will hit him. He will be hurt or killed.

>>6036962
> You refuse to cast
I want the daughter's explanation before I kill her dad.

>>6036962
> You refuse to cast
Those without sin may cast the first stone.

>>6036962
>Cast your stones; aim them at the hands that did the deed rather then the mind that guided them there.

>>6036962
>>You cast all your stones

>>6036962
> You refuse to cast

>>6036962
> You refuse to cast.

The daughter of the victim doesn't find him guilty so why should we?

Rolled 93 (1d100)

>>6036962
>> You cast your stones but aim wide

The outer circle all stand in unison, each with a handful of stones. You stand with them, but your hands are empty, and when the others begin to throw, your hands rigidly remain at your sides, clenched hard to prevent their trembling. Balash tries to palm a stone into your fist.

"What are you doing?" he hisses. "Take it!"

You brush him off. The gang pull him back, creating some distance from the dissenter so they don't get in trouble themselves.

Rhaizel's skull has been caved in, his teeth are scattered on the ground like fish scales, his nose is shattered. Two of the councilmen, one of them your father, drag him away from the ring of light toward the darkness of the woods. They will leave him at the border, an offering to the monstrous god who watches over the forest and the beastmen who worship him.

News of your insubordination reaches the ears of the chief before the sun has even risen, though you're sure Balash and his gang are the only ones that were witness. You are dragged out of your hut, sleep still in your eyes, and strung up by your wrists on the penance tree. It is light punishment for all that. No food and water till sunset, and only ten strikes with the willow rod, and half-hearted strikes at that. Some fathers take a particular relish at passing down the same strokes they once suffered at their father's hands, especially when their child's actions embarrassed them personally, but your father has always depended more on his bark than his bite.

"Tell me why, Zee," he asks, after he's finished. "If you were scared, you could have just said so and I wouldn't have taken you--"

"I wasn't scared," you say.

"Then why?" When you don't answer, he says, "You made me a promise, son."

When he led you and your mother to this tribe six winters ago, he made both of you promise to do your best to fit in. Your mother is the sort who can make someone feel as though they can share their deepest secrets without fear of judgement or gossip. The other wives welcomed her immediately. She is even close with the first wife of the chief. You, on the other hand, have always had trouble making friends. Perhaps because you grew up alone in the woods, the other boys found you strange, too quiet and intense for their silly games. It was only Rima who could stand your company. The two of you would spend long, mostly silent afternoons exploring the parts of the forest which her father had told her were safe. In your innocence, you would walk together holding hands, helping each other climb trees and rocks, and bathing in the cool stream which doubled as your secret meeting place.

...

You can hardly explain all this to your father. Your mother might have been able to coax it out of you, but mothers are strictly forbidden to visit the penance tree. The sacred rules of penance are no match for a mother's pity; many a child have been snuck food in the night, though it be an affront to the gods who keep balance.

Your father has worked hard to worm his way into the council, but he remains the only outsider among them. The others are family of the chief, his brothers, cousins, uncles, his eldest son. Those in the council are afforded special privileges, including first rights on food during times of rationing. Starvation is the great fear, for your father especially.

> Don't answer your father
> Reassure him that you will do better
> Try to explain your feelings
> Write-in

>>6038057
> Reassure him that you will do better
> Try to explain your feelings

>>6038057
> Reassure him that you will do better
> Try to explain your feelings
We did the right thing, I think. Rima is our friend, turns out. Her parents are both dead, but at least she won't have the image of us gleefully helping to execute her father for good-boy points.

>>6038073
>>6038088

Supporting, even though Dad will probably be pissed

>>6038057
>> Don't answer your father

>>6038057
> Reassure him that you will do better
> Try to explain your feelings

>>6038057
>Explain: "Rima herself did not wish to cast stones at her father, & she was not shaking with fear; she must have her reasons that we could not discern. Perhaps her mother did something unforgiveable."

>>6038057
> Try to explain your feelings

"Rima's my friend," you say. "If she couldn't do it, how could I? I think there's more to this--"

"Do you see Rima here, son?" your father asks. "No, because she can't be punished for what she did. She's just lost both her parents. The council--the chief--took pity on her." He lowers his voice. "Rhaizel was the chief's brother, after all, his own kin. But you and I are outsiders. And we always will be. When you do something like this, it carries a special meaning whether you intend it or not. I know you think you were sticking up for your friend, for what's right, but the council, the tribe, and especially the chief, see it an act of rebellion. And they think I put you up to it."

"But that's not true!"

"When it comes to the tribe, survival always matters more than the truth. If you couldn't understand that from yesterday's judgement, then I was wrong to even let you participate."

"So there is something going on!"

"Good-bye, son. Be a good boy and don't try to shirk your punishment. It would only make things worse. Reflect on your actions."

But all you can reflect on is Rima. Since last winter, the two of you have begun to drift apart. Your mother explained that this was the way of things between boys and girls. If the gods had seen fit to twine together your threads, you would be reunited once more, but it would never be the same. You had asked, almost in a panic, if that meant you would not be friends anymore, and she had smiled mysteriously and said, it may be something better. You cannot imagine what is better than friendship and when you asked your father about it, he simply stammered something about needing to return some tools and to pester your mother with these silly questions instead of him.

It's true that when you think of her now, or spy her in the crowd of girls she consorts with, the feeling is different from before. It's like when you burn your mouth drinking soup too quickly. Although it hurts, you can't help but run your tongue over the spot, revisiting it over and over. You suspect Rima feels differently given how cleanly she broke off your friendship. Which is why you're surprised when she shows up at the penance tree, holding a small bowl of something that would have made your mouth water even if you weren't already starving: dried figs and blackberries drizzled with honey, your favorite.

She places the bowl at the foot of the tree without a word and then turns to leave.

[...]

"Wait," you say. You want to point out that you can't reach the food, in the hopes that she will feed it to you, but then, seeing Balash and his gang approaching, you say, "I'm not allowed to have any food, you could get in trouble."

"So I was right," says Balash, chewing on an apple. "The two of you were in it together."

Rima tries to leave but one of Balash's goons holds her fast.

"Doesn't seem fair," says Balash. "You should really be up there with him."

"Let her go," you say.

"Relax," says Balash. "I come in peace." Spotting the bowl of food, he picks it up, looks back at Rima and pops one of the figs into his mouth. "Wow, that's good. You make this yourself cousin?"

"A thief and a glutton," says Rima. "Just like your father."

Balash moves toward her in quick steps and slaps her across the face. The sharp sound of it scatters birds that were roosting on the tree in a hundred directions.

"Balash!" you shout. "Leave her alone!"

"I'll give you another chance," says Balash, turning back to you, holding up a fig to your mouth.

"Balash, you're really gonna let him join?" says one of the other goons.

"Shut up, Kal," says Balash. "He's got more balls than all of you put together. I saw him. He didn't refuse to cast because he was afraid. He did it for her. That's true loyalty. He's just got his priorities mixed up, that's all. Right? Putting one person over the whole tribe--well, as long it's the right person. Now, open up."

> Accept the invitation
> Refuse, but don't escalate
> Insult Balash to his face
> Write-in

>>6038859

>Refuse, but don't escalate

A polite “go fuck yourself” is in order here

Did the chief screw his brothers wife?
Maybe would explain why he was shaky at the revelation.

>>6038882
Support

‘’How do I know this is not some test or trick?’’

>>6038859
> Refuse, but don't escalate
"You must understand, Balash. If I refused to cast, knowing I would be punished like this, it would be cowardly to change course now. I'm loyal to the tribe, but when a man makes a decision, he has to see it through to the end. Rima is my friend, and I made the decision to hear her out."

>>6038933
I'll +1 but ultimately I doubt he really cares, seems to just be a bully.

Rolled 64 (1d100)

>>6038859
>> Insult Balash to his face

Actually this probably is a trick, getting us to eat would mean we're dodging our punishment.

>>6039386

This kid is a shithead and there's no real way to beat shitheads except refusing to play into their bullshit.

If we insult him - he pummels us with his buddies, and proves we're weak.

If we eat - we "prove" that we aren't serious to Rima and show Balash that we can be bought.

If we refuse to engage - he'll probably still kick the shit out of us, but at least we'll have some dignity in Rima's eyes.

>>6038859
> Insult Balash to his face

>>6038859
> Refuse, but don't escalate

I like the writing so far.

>>6038859
>> Accept the invitation

>>6038859
> Refuse, but don't escalate

>>6039472
>I like the writing so far.
Agreed!

>>6039472
>I like the writing so far.
Same here.

You turn your head away and some of the honey smears on your cheek.

"Seriously?" Balash sighs. "See, that's the problem with guys like you. Don't know when to quit."

"Don't misunderstand, Balash," you say. "As I was telling Rima, I'm not allowed to have any food while I'm here. I don't want anyone to think I shirked my punishment or that I went back on my decision."

"I'm sure my father won't mind. I can talk to him. We'll just say you owe me one."

"Maybe I don't want to owe you one either," you say.

Balash's face darkens. "Then it seems a pity to let these figs go to waste." He pops another one into his mouth and begins walking away with the bowl. The one that was holding Rima shoves her to the ground and runs to meet up with the rest.

Rima dusts herself off. A bright red spot has bloomed on her pale cheek, where Balash slapped her.

"Are you okay?" you ask.

"Were you really not going to eat them?" she asks.

"I would have. Afterwards."

"I don't understand why you did it," she says. "You must've known they would put you on the tree."

"Well, you didn't do it either."

"I had my reasons."

"And I trusted they were good ones."

She looks at the ground. "Can we meet? Tonight?"

Your heart begins to race. It's all you can do to keep your voice level. Now, maybe you'll get some answers. "Your hut or mine?"

"At our usual place."

"That's... you're not serious?"

"Scared?"

"Come on, Rima, not even the hunters go into the woods after dark. What would your father--why don't we just meet tomorrow morning?"

She shakes her head. "Has to be tonight. I'll wait for you." She turns to leave, then stops for a moment to say, "Thank you."

Come sundown, your father returns to release you from the tree. Your mother greets you at home with a bowl of your other favorite food, a soup of auroch bones and wild onions. She must have been slaving over it all day, the hut is filled with the smell. But, you can barely even finish the first bowl. You've lost all appetite. How are you supposed to sneak out tonight? And even if you did manage to do it, going into the woods at night is suicide. Beastmen come out at night. And they're favorite foods are little human boys and girls.

"Something wrong with the soup? Not enough onions?" asks your mother.

You take another sip of the bowl to reassure her. Your father isn't home yet, he was called back to the chief for some council matter. It's just you, your mother and the baby, asleep at her breast. Normally you could tell your mother anything, but you know this is something she would have to share with your father and then all the tribesmen would be roused to bring Rima back. That's the last thing Rima would want. Of that, you're certain.

> Sneak out to meet Rima
> Confide in your mother
> Don't go; meet in the morning
> Write-in

>>6039823
>> Sneak out to meet Rima

>>6039823
>> Confide in your mother

>>6039823

> Sneak out to meet Rima

It’s clear that she knows something - we’re not going to find out what really happened by cowering under our mother’s skirts

>>6039823
>Sneak Out
"soup of auroch bones and wild onions"
Sounds fucking delicious, now I need to go to the Alps & find a frozen Auroch to eat

>>6039823
> Sneak out to meet Rima

>>6039823
>> Don't go; meet in the morning

>>6039823
> Sneak out to meet Rima

>>6039823
>> Sneak out to meet Rima

>>6039823
> Sneak out to meet Rima

Your curiosity wins out in the end and, when the family is finally asleep, you stealthily roll out of the heavy bearskin, being especially careful not to wake your baby sister. You don't have much time, your mother will wake in a few hours to nurse the baby, but you should have enough to make it to the stream and back.

There is a cool wind blowing, charged with the scent of rain. As you enter the woods, you can hear the distant screech of what you hope is only a friendly owl and not the bloodwings that are said to hunt here at after dark. Although the moon is not full, it is near to it, and there is ample light falling in broad slats between the branches. The familiar trail feels much longer at night but you are reassured by the small signs of Rima's passing, the broken brambles, the footprints, and when you find her by the stream, sitting on a little shelf above it, with her bare toes tracing ripples on the water below, you do not emerge at once but take a moment to record the image into memory. You've found that when you really focus, you can recreate in your imagination almost anything you've ever seen. And you're certain you will want to revisit moment again, though it is somehow sad.

"Why'd you bring your pack?" you ask, noticing the bundle behind her.

Startled by your sudden entry, Rima jumps to her feet, then throws her arms around you. "You came," she says, her voice muffled against your chest. "I was afraid..."

"We could've just met in the morning scaredy-cat," you say, awkwardly patting her back. Why do you feel so strange? You've hugged Rima before and it's never felt like this. Maybe because you've been apart recently.

She shakes her head. "I couldn't wait any longer. I'm leaving. Tonight."

"What?" you ask, pulling back to look at her. "Leaving? Leaving where?"

"You wanted to know the truth, right?" she says. "I only know a part of it. But I know enough to understand I can't be a part of this tribe anymore." The two of you move away from the stream to the shade of a nearby tree. "I think I've told you that my mother--like yours--isn't from this tribe."

"None of us are."

"True," she says, "but my mother is different. She's from the tribe of the Longhorns."

The name has a vague association in your mind with the forbidden arts, the dark sorcery that the ancients once practiced. Which eventually led to their own destruction.

[...]

"When she was wed to my father, the seer of the mountains revealed to her a prophecy. The second child she bore would bring ruin to its tribe. At the time she was content. My father--" She stifles a sob. "She saw my father was a good man and that even if she were barren he would not have abandoned or abused her. He wanted a son, as all men do, but I was born instead." She hugs her knees close to her chest. "She told my father the she could have no more children after me, and my father accepted this. If he was grieved he never showed it. But this news reached the ear of the chief. He had always coveted my mother. Though he has no less than three wives, he has always envied my father for the peace of the one he enjoyed in his hut. Not like the vicious bickering of his own women. He... would come to our hut when he knew my father was out hunting--when he himself had sent him out. At first he was polite, charming even, trying to make himself seem sympathetic, concerned. My mother didn't fall for any of it. It didn't take him long to resort to force."

There's a long silence. Rima seems to want you to understand something by what she's told you, but you're not sure what it is. Falling for what? Forcing her to do what? What your parents sometimes did at night beneath the bearskin? You don't understand why that would require force. "I'm sorry," you say, finally, which seemed to have been right thing to say, because she continues.

"The chief believed there was no danger. He thought my mother was barren. She was not barren. She told my father everything, no longer having a choice: the prophecy, the... chief. But to reveal the prophecy to the others would have seen her "judged", as they judged my father. My father couldn't see her go through that. It would have revealed the actions of the chief also, maybe even destroy the tribe in the process, fulfilling the prophecy anyway. So, he gave her the poison that takes away pain and took the blame upon himself. And so the chief and the tribe will live on."

She stands up and brushes the dirt from her knees. "I'm going to see the seer of the mountains. There's more to this than I was told and I'm going to find out what it is. There's nothing left for me here, anyway. The chief will only try to get rid of me, because I remind him of what he's done. And he reminds me of what I've lost."

[...]

The mountains where seer lives are past the rivers of the forest, beyond the dale of the aurochs, and through the glowing valley. It's a journey that would be treacherous even for a group of tribesmen well-supplied. You do not know anyone who could make such a journey alone, even her father would have hesitated. And yet, you know that look in her eye. One time, she got it into her head that she would swim upstream to where the water joined with the forest god's river. You gave up after the first half-hour, following her alongside the bank. She nearly drowned. Twice. But each time she rested, and then dove back in until, at last, she reached the falls. Her eyes, normally grey and merry, were as hard then as they are now.

"I know I shouldn't ask you this," she says, looking down at her toes. "but I want you to come with me. I don't trust anyone else."

> Try to convince her to stay
> Agree to go with her
> Take her back by force if necessary
> Write-in

>>6040849
>Agree to go with her

>>6040849
> Agree to go with her

>>6040849
> Agree to go with her
Adventure awaits. Huzzah!

>>6040849
>BLOOD-OATH TO HELP HER WITH REVENGE AGAINST THE CHIEF
>Agree
Solid writing, Rockyroad QM.

>>6040875

Support, this is some heavy shit

>>6040875
I'm with you, when our MC understands what 'rape' even is.

>>6040875
I'd support that, though after this inevitable heroes journey they are about to embark on would they even care about the shithole tribe they are leaving behind besides the MC who might want to check on his family

>>6041024
Yeah, adversity builds character, but wrongs must still be set right. The scebe at the end of Conan when Thulsa Doom claims he created the man by setting him on his path is somewhat true, but it hardly exempts him from his just desserts

>>6040849
>> Agree to go with her

>>6040849
> Agree to go with her

Hoo boi, time for adventure!

It's surprising how easy the decision is in the end. Perhaps part of you always wanted to leave the tribe. You had certainly imagined it often enough, in no small part inspired by your father's tales of when he lived alone as a wandering nomad, before he met your mother. You can sometimes sense in his eyes the longing for that old freedom, when he gazes wistfully at the horizon, or at the hunters preparing their provisions, or when the roaming traders arrive with their laden oxen. Because he has traveled in many lands and seen many things, the chief values his advice and keeps him close. It was why he made him a member of council, against the protests of the grand-elder who saw it only as a breach of long-standing tradition.

You would have to leave your father, your mother, your sister, the way of life you have grown accoustomed to. But you think you would have left it in any case, sooner or later. And something in you will not allow Rima to proceed on this journey alone, in which she might come to harm. Your mother was right. This something is entirely different from friendship, but you do not yet know if it is better.

"We'll go as far as the fishing spot," you tell Rima. "Then, in the morning, we can ask one of the fishermen to take us upriver. I hope you've brought enough food--"

Rima once again embraces you. "Thank you," she says again.

You quickly pull away, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. "I couldn't have let you go alone," you mumble. "Now, come on." You take her hand, just as you used to before, and pull her along the trail.

---

You are awakened from a troubled dream. You were a child again, running freely through the woods, your limbs were light and strong. You came to a small pond and when you lowered your head to lap up water, you saw reflected back a young fawn, with deep black eyes and spotted fur. Something rustled in the bushes behind you. You turned and a snake with red and purple scales, thick as a man's thigh, slithered beneath your trunk and began to coil its cold body around your throat. It's slitted eyes closed and opened. It whispered something true and terrible in your ear, but you can remember nothing of it except your name, which your wife had been whispering in the dark hut as she shook you awake.

You sit up, seeing the distraught expression on her face. "What's wrong?"

"I can't find Zehal," she says. "He's not here."

You feel around beneath the furs. His spot is empty and cold. "He's gone to relieve himself," you conclude.

"He's not there," replies your wife.

"You called his name?"

She nods. "And the moon is out, so I would have seen him."

The sensation of the snake's scales, which had lingered, now seems to crawl down to the small of your back. "I'll look. You stay here."

"Don't scold him," she says. "He's had a rough day."

[...]

There'll be no scolding this time. You're going to hide that boy red when you find him. Playing a prank like this on his mother, when he knows how exhausted she is with the baby. First, the casting, and now this. And here you were feeling a little proud that he took the strokes of the rod without a single tear or cry of pain, that his reasons for disobedience were even admirable. Not like those spoiled sons of the chief. You were planning on asking the hunters to take Zee with them on their next outing, let him learn a little of their ways. But if he's going to act like this...

You search all along the tall grass, but, other than a startled tribesman (who was not pleased to be interrupted in his busines), there's no sign of Zahal. You call his name. You return to the huts and check each one, apologizing to the annoyed occupants for waking them or disturbing their other activities.

Your son has vanished. Rhaizel's girl isn't in her hut either.

Finally, only the chief's longhouse is left, with the two brightly burning torches on either side of the entrance. You hesitate only a moment before you begin shouting for the chief. Instantly, three men emerge from the longhouse, one of them the chief's eldest son, wielding spears and expecting a scene of violence. The chief himself soon comes out, bare of his usual trinkets and furs, his eyes red-rimmed, almost as if he'd been weeping.

"There'd better be a good reason for all this noise," says the chief's son, planting the butt of his spear on the dirt.

You explain the situation. Your son and Rhaizel's daughter have gone into the forest. A search party will have to be made, and quickly, if they are to be saved.

The chief's hand wanders to the necklace of teeth he normally wears around his neck, but not finding it there, he frowns and scratches his chest.

"We can search in the morning," says the chief.

"It'll be too late by then!" you say.

"I can't risk the lives of our tribesmen for two children," says the chief. "We'll send a party at first light."

"But that's--I'm a member of your council--" you say.

"And if you wish to remain so, you'll obey my orders," replies the chief. "Now go back to your hut and wait till first light. And I'd better not hear of you trying to organize a party on your own."
With that, he turns and ducks back into the longhouse, with the others close behind. Only one has the decency to touch your shoulder in sympathy. The chief's son merely sneers.

You return to your hut, paralyzed at the entrance, unable to enter and face your wife. Your wife, somehow sensing your presence, and having guessed everything already comes out, her cheeks shining with tears.

> You'll go after your son alone.
> You'll wait till first light
> You'll gather a party yourself
> Write-in

>>6042221

> You'll go after your son alone.

God damn it

>>6042221

> You'll go after your son alone.

>>6042221
> You'll go after your son alone
Well well well, if it isn't the consequences of my own actions!

Wow this QM writes very well

>>6042221
>>alone, adventure!
A wife now alone, forced to marry the first man and enter his house or be left for dead! I am loving how the choices have reverberating consequences

>>6042221
>You'll go after your son alone

>>6042221
> You'll go after your son alone.

>>6042221
> You'll go after your son alone.

You don your old skins and furs, while your wife watches on in silence, cradling your infant daughter. The chief told you not to gather a party but he said nothing about going out on your own. You know that if it were someone else's son you might have agreed with him. There is a long-standing agreement with the forest god--or so it is said--that no one of the village tribesmen are to enter his domain when night falls. If they were to catch you, if you were to die, those you leave behind would have nothing. They may let your wife remain in the tribe, if the first wife of the chief intercedes on her behalf, but they will once again be regarded as outsiders. They'll lose all the priveliges you've worked so hard to achieve.

And yet, it's your son. Your firstborn. You made deep and solemn oaths that day in the forest, when you held him in the palm of your hand and looked into his feeble face. And as you string your bow, you can feel your old strength return by the pressure of those covenants.

Your wife knows you can do nothing else, but her hand still lingers on your cheek as you leave.

---

Rima pulls on your hand to stop. It's not much farther to the fishing spot, and you want to tell her to hold on a bit longer, but she's not looking at you. She's scanning the woods behind her, the trees that surround you on the trail.

"I think we're being followed," she whispers.

She sometimes has these intuitions, which you guess she learned or inherited from her father. They're almost never wrong.

You try and peer into the shadows, but, even with your eyes it's difficult to tell if the movement of the branches and leaves is from the wind or from something else. You consider moving off the trail, but the moment you turn around you are face-to-face with a monster. It grabs your mouth before you can scream and lifts you bodily off the floor, throwing you against the trunk of a tree with it's massive four-clawed hand. The back of your head explodes with pain. White stars cloud your vision.

Still, seeing him now go for Rima, you force yourself back up. It's a beastman, that it's walking on two legs is proof enough of that. You need something to fight it with, but the only thing you can find around you are some pebbles. You snatch a handful and begin throwing them as hard as you can at the beastman. He barely seems to register them, then one of them hits his ear, a long fleshy appendanges that sits straight up on his head like cat. At that he howls, and turns back.

"Run, Rima!" you shout, as the beastman charges you. He grabs your throat and this time squeezes until you can feel the pressure of blood behind your eyes. The last thing you remember before the world goes black is Rima screaming your name.

[...]

When you wake up, you're hanging by your hands and feet from a long pole, like a hog being carried to slaughter. The bonds are thin, made from dried tree bark, but corded well and tied so tightly you can hardly feel your hands and feet. Craning your head up, you can see Rima on the other end of the pole, tied up in the same way. She's still out cold. The pole is resting on the shoulder of the beastman, who is making a leisurely place through a trail you've never seen before. The trees here are ancient, enormous things. Little moonlight passes through their vast canopy, yet the beastman seems to find his way just the same, sometimes pausing to sniff the air with his black snout.

Suddenly, the whole forest lights up in a flash of white. Then a moment later the boom of thunder follows. In that brief illumination you saw something. Someone with eyes less keen than yours would have missed it. Far above you, perched upside down on the branch of one of these great trees was a creature with webbed wings and blood-red eyes. When the lightning flashes again, it appears on another tree, a closer one. When it flashes a third time, the creature is right above you. Then, without any sound at all, it descends on the beastman, it's hooked claws seeking mercilessly for his eyes.

The beastman howls and drops the pole. You and Rima fall to the ground, and you immediately begin trying to rip through the bonds with your teeth. You've gotten one hand free when you hear Rima stir. You call to her, but she's still not fully conscious, and you go back to untying your bonds.

Meanwhile, the beastman is locked in deadly combat with the creature, a bloodwing, and is losing. The bloodwing is smaller, but much faster, and every time it strikes it glides away back into the trees, out of reach of the powerless beastman.

You've finally gotten your hands free, and you're working on your feet when you hear Rima call your name.

"Yes, I'm here," you say. "I'm almost through and then I can get you free too."

"No," she says. "You have to help him."

You're not sure you heard her right. Did she say help the beastman? You look up and see the bloodwing has the beastman pinned to the ground, and is snapping at his throat with its long fangs.

"What are you saying? We have to get away from here."

"And go where? Do you even know where we are? We'll be lost in the forest forever."

"Better lost than dead," you say.

"He's taking us to the forest god," she says.

"Is that supposed to reassure me?" You've gotten your feet free now and you make your way to Rima to start untying her bonds.

"My father once told me that the forest god is not what the tribesmen make him out to be."

"And my father told me that he eats whoever he can catch." You've gotten Rima free now, and you're both standing up, but she resists you as you pull on her hand. "Rima, we can't stay."

"Please, trust me," she says.

> Leave her and run
> Pull her along by force
> Stay and help the beastman
> Write-in

>>6043035
>Stay and help the beastman
Supernatural intuition, I guess I'm trusting in you

>>6043035
> Stay and help the beastman

>>6043035

> Stay and help the beastman

This is probably a bad plan

>>6043035
I don't like this... our father was a nomad that knew a lot and if he says its wrong, well then I better belive him. On the other hand, lets remember this is a post apocalyptic quest and this forest god might be something interesting.
>Trust Rima
How tf will we help the beast, I don't know

>>6043035
> Stay and help the beastman

I don't even agree that staying with the beastman or seeing the forest god is a good or safe thing, but if the bloodwing kills the beastman then we could easily be next. Putting our faith in the hope that the creature will stay with its kill and not pursue us is risky. We have little hope of outrunning it or fighting it off should it choose to get a second and third helping of meat.

>>6043035
> Stay and help the beastman
Rima, you better not get us killed.

>>6043035
>Trust Rima

>>6043035
>FIND A SHARP STICK/JAGGED STONE
Whether we help the beast or not, that's our first priority.

>>6043035
> Stay and help the beastman

Time for the first roll of the quest!

We'll be using a bo3 d12 system against a hidden target number. Triples count as criticals, if the number is higher than the TN it is a critical success, if lower, a critical failure. 1 1 1 is always a critical failure and 12 12 12 is always a critical success.

Rolled 6 (1d12)

>>6044167

Rolled 6 (1d12)

>>6044167

Rolled 10 (1d12)

>>6044167
>>6044172 >>6044173 holy shitto... well here comes the 5 or 7 I guess

>>6044167
Thats gonna be some rare crits I tell you what. Getting two 12s is already a 1 in 144 chance. Getting three 12s is 1 in 1728 chance.

>>6044179
But it's also any triplets above the MISTERY number !¡

It would be easy to take Rima by force. The days when the two of you were of equal strength are long past, and what she's suggesting--to go to the forest god, if indeed that is where the beastman was talking you--seems madness. But her intuitions are almost never wrong. At any rate, she's right about one thing: even if you were to get away, you'd be utterly lost. And so, you let go of Rima's hand grab the first sharp thing your hand lands on, a smooth, chipped stone, and then you throw it at bloodwing with all your might.

It catches it on its leathery wing, not quite ripping through it but leaving a small gash that bubbles over with black blood. At the very least you've gotten it's attention. It swivels its head around and screeches, a sound that instantly makes you cower in primal fear. It stalks forward on its winged claws, preparing to launch off again into the trees with its powerful hindlegs, but is suddenly arrested mid-jump. The four-clawed hand of the beastman, closed securely around its ankle, pulls it back down to the earth. Your volley was just the opening the beastman needed. He rises and then swings the bloodwing against a tree with such force that its fragile wing bones shatter with a sickening crunch. What then follows makes you throw up all the soup your mother had worked so hard to make. The beastman descends on the bloodwing. First, he tears out his throat with a swipe of his claws, leaving the head hanging by a thread. Then he clamps his jaws around the bloodwing's crinkled face and shakes, ripping out chunks of meat and fur. Some of it he spits out. Some of it he doesn't. He pokes one long claw through the bloodwing's chest and with a movement as casual and effortless as drawing a line in a pool of water, he disembowels the bloodwing. Then he begins gorging himself on its innards.

Having recovered yourself somewhat, you remember Rima, and moving to guard her eyes you find her not even looking at the beastman but at some dark spot between the trees.

"Father?" she says, her eyes shining with tears. "Father, is that you?"

A figure emerges slowly from the trees, at first, perhaps by Rima's wishful thinking, you also think you see the face of her father, but then it is something altogether different and far more terrible. Your own father told you stories of creatures that remembled this. The same orange fur--splotched with white--the same cruel black stripes that seem to dissolve it seamlessly into the striated shadows of the forest, the same amber eyes that shine like drops of honey on blackened figs, and the same poise and grace and silence of the peerless predator. But you understand instantly that the creatures your father described were only crude imitations, beasts without intellect or understanding.

This is not a beast. It resembles nothing you've ever seen before. It can be nothing other than a god.

[...]

It speaks in a low voice to the beastman, almost like a purr, and the beastman recoils as if struck. It shrinks back from the bloodwing, hanging its blood-soaked snout. There follows a conversation of sorts. It's gibberish to you, but Rima listens attentively, as though she can understand every word. And perhaps she can, for she hisses at you to kneel when the god deigns to glance in your direction. You did not need to be told, the mere pressure of its gaze is enough to bring you to your knees. When you look up again, the beastman is fled. Only the god remains.

It takes a half-step forward, allowing a beam of moonlight to fall across its body, revealing arms and legs seemingly bare of fur and even of skin, so that you can see the red muscles and tendons and the impossibly white bones beneath. On it's back a few of its vertebrae have poked out from a similar transparent patch, forming a kind of massive claw of naked bone. When it speaks again it is in your own language, and the voice and the intonation are such as to make you feel as if nothing could ever harm you again.

"Difficult," it says. "You are trespassers and have violated the oaths of your ancestors. You have saved one of my beloved children. You have forced another of your kind into trespass. You have helped to slay one of my hated enemies. You are creatures of stone and fire: not to be trusted. You are cubs not yet grown: innocent."

Words have suddenly vanished from your brain, but Rima somehow speaks up. "We were only trying to pass through."

"Why?"

This time Rima does not know how to answer, and so, drawing up your last reserves of courage, you answer in her place. "To seek the truth."

"Folly," it growls. "Madness."

For a long moment, it muses, scratching behind its ear with a long white claw. Then it says, "No man may enter my domain when night is come. Grievious is the penalty." It draws its enormous tongue across its black nose. "But I see no men. Only a girl. And a child. Therefore, let that be. However, there remains one who is worthy of punishment." He stares into your face. "That one bears this one's likeness. But that one is no child."

Realization dawns like a kick to the stomach. It's your father. Of course, he would come looking for you. You didn't think he would be so foolish as to come into the forest at night. But then again, you did. Like son, like father.

"It's my dad," you say. "Please, spare him, he's only looking for me."

The god shakes its great head. "This domain admits no mercy. A price must be paid."

Taking a chance, you rise to your feet. "What price?"

"Flesh for flesh," it says. "Or else the parent for the cub."

"Flesh for flesh?"

"Some of your clean flesh, for some of my accursed."

"How much is some?" you ask.

"An arm and a leg."

You swallow hard, trying not to think about how that flesh might be taken. "And what about the beastman--your child that I helped save? That counts for nothing?"

[...]

The god's eyes flash bright. Then it growls in thought, looking away toward the sky. "Very well," it finally says. "I will allow you all to leave. But, in exchange, you must never return, neither by sun nor moon."

You release a shaky breath, almost laughing with relief. "Thank you, thank you." You turn to Rima, but she is not looking at you. "Come on, Rima, let's go."

"I'm not going back," she says, still kneeling. "I told you, I'm going to the seer."

"Rima, my father--"

She stands up and touches your cheek. "I know. And I'm sorry it's come to this. I know you have to go. But, you also know that I can't."

The forest god seems to find all this amusing, a low purr suspiciously like a chuckle plays in his throat.

> You can't let your father or Rima come to harm. That only leaves you. Flesh for flesh.
> You can't sacrifice your father. Leave the forest.
> You have to stay with Rima. Your father is on his own.
> Write-in

>>6044347
>You can't let your father or Rima come to harm. That only leaves you. Flesh for flesh.
Folly, folly, how lovely.

>>6044347
> You can't let your father or Rima come to harm. That only leaves you. Flesh for flesh.
>>What if we find... other clean flesh for you. What if it's not a just an arm and a leg and instead the entire body for the price? I'll fetch a worthy sacrifice for you by myself and if I don't come back you can take your price from one of them.

Just sacrifice Balash he's a cunt anyways, and we'll hide in the forest from the aftermath.

>>6044351
Them being Rima or father

>>6044347

> You can't let your father or Rima come to harm. That only leaves you. Flesh for flesh

Icky cursed arm and leg replacement? A way I have a couple ideas.

> Write-in
"The Chief, he is the parent of all the Tribe, let him pay the price. He is keeper of the ancestors oaths. If he cannot keep their word or these cubs in line let him pay the price."

Offer an eye instead and we go full protagonist with getting one of his eyes?

Final idea, It respects oaths. Offer to take an oath.

>>6044347
>> You can't let your father or Rima come to harm. That only leaves you. Flesh for flesh.
voting for this, but in hopes that it means he becomes the monster's servant or pet

>>6044351
+1
And if refused then...

> You can't let your father or Rima come to harm. That only leaves you. Flesh for flesh.

>>6044347

>>6044347
> You can't let your father or Rima come to harm. That only leaves you. Flesh for flesh

Rima, this Seer better be worth it.

>>6044351
Voting for this, I would rather we not need to go lose an arm and a leg, and die by Blood loss before we even leave the forest on the way to the Seer.

>>6044380
Same as this, if the write in option isn’t excepted, and it just means our arm and leg get mutated/“cleansed” with a new replacement then I hope this trip will have been worth it for all the trouble it will bring.

>>6044347
Supporting either of these >>6044351 >>6044361

>>6044361
+1, he's the whole cause of everyone's issues anyway

Very interesting description of this forest entity

>>6044347
>You have to stay with Rima. Your father is on his own.
This isn't his first rodeo.

>>6044347
>> You can't sacrifice your father. Leave the forest.

>>6044347
>You can't let your father or Rima come to harm. That only leaves you. Flesh for flesh.

QM?

One week. Total qm death

>>6049553
Sad...

Tranny spam already flaked