“It’ll be annoying,” Miranna whinged, working her talon between the gaps in her teeth before spitting out. “How am I suppose to tell whether it’s wood or not during a fight? Why should I hinder myself?”

“If you wish to see the end point of the prophecy, this is part of it.”

“No, it isn’t. Nothing of the sort was mentioned.”

“This is how I plan to bring it about, Miranna. If you don’t agree with me, or how I’m going about it, then perhaps—“

“I understand. I understand! Fine, trees with souls or whatever, I’ll be careful.” Miranna said, her teeth clenched.
Lucia gaze moved from you to the Harpy, as if seeing a wild beast tamed; but it wasn’t you, it was the prophecy.

“Why should I believe her words?” Lucia asked.

“Can you believe me?” You pressed a hand to your heart. “I’ll keep an eye on her, and if she forgets, I’ll remind her.”

Lucia looked down at the earth, lifting her other hand, her elbow bending as the tendril around your feet dissolved into a a green haze. “I’ll know even if it’s a single tree.”

“Well then, it is settled. Now you can let us go.”

“I can’t.”

“You what?”

“If I let you go just like this, the Demon King has ways of knowing that I lied,” she said. “There’s a rune for it.”

Miranna, her eyes half-lidded and disinterested, added, “He does.”

Glowing pollen gathered and swirled in Lucia’s outstretched palms, branches and tendrils sprouting forth. “I’m not going to harm you, young Niklos. I’ll use but half my strength. If the Harpy seeks to flee with you, she’ll need to put up a fight.”

Miranna rolled her shoulders, the cracking bones echoing louder than the wind.

“Are -you- made out of wood? I know you bleed so I don’t think so. And those things you summon? Not going to be my fault.”

> Remind Miranna that despite her craving for a fight, all she needs to do here is grab you and take flight. Trust her to do so.
> Reveal to Lucia about the clog’s fate before the battle unfolds. Knowing her, she’ll probably be surprised and hurt. Use the moment to jump in Miranna’s arms and yell for her to fly away.
> Remind Lucia of the Old King’s messenger. Encourage Miranna to summon him and the village-folk forth, making it troublesome for Lucia to wield her magic in their presence.
> [Write In]

File: Demon King's General 50-.png (3.58 MB, 1792x1024)

3.58 MB PNG

> UPDATES?
Between daily and once per two days.
> PREVIOUS THREADS?
https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=TPNMSTDGBHK
> MUSICAL SUMMARY OF THE FIRST THREAD?
https://files.catbox.moe/71bjdm.MP3
> OTHER QUESTS?
https://pastebin.com/raw/YJ2k1TuN

>>6152352
> Remind Lucia of the Old King’s messenger. Encourage Miranna to summon him and the village-folk forth, making it troublesome for Lucia to wield her magic in their presence.
Aw yea get diplomanced
Also even a single tree? Overly harsh

>>6152352
> Reveal to Lucia about the clog’s fate before the battle unfolds. Knowing her, she’ll probably be surprised and hurt. Use the moment to jump in Miranna’s arms and yell for her to fly away.

>>6152352
> Remind Lucia of the Old King’s messenger. Encourage Miranna to summon him and the village-folk forth, making it troublesome for Lucia to wield her magic in their presence.
Welcome back, QM!

>>6152379
>>6152425
>>6152431

“You aren’t out of everyone’s sight, Lucia,” you said, nodding to the side, pointing past her. “There’s the Old King’s messenger there.”

Lucia hands clenched suddenly, the drifting pollen vanishing between her fingers. She glanced over her shoulder, her braids sliding down her back. “What-what do you mean he is there? I see no one.”

“That’s because he’s hiding,” you said, stepping with a stride towards Miranna and pointing your finger at her. “He’s afraid of -her-.”

The Nettle Harpy bared her teeth in a broad grin, lifting her protruding breastplate with a defiant arch. “As he should,” she said. “Have they not abandoned their folly? If they have still the will, I’ll gladly oblige!”

You shook your head, stepping firmly between them both.

“A different time, Miranna,” you said, turning to Lucia. “Should the villagers learn that you’re a demon, it would surely be a hassle for you, wouldn’t it? It’ll be even more difficult if the man spreads words further.”

Lucia exhaled sharply, a single bead, be it sweat or dew, rolling down her brow. “I didn’t take you for the sort to exploit my weakness so, young Niklos.”

“I trust that the Demon King will understand,” you said, lowering your voice to a whisper. “Miranna, can you contrive a reason to summon them outside?”

You nudged her side. Already in a mood for bloodshed and carnage, Miranna pressed her lips in a pout. The fire sputtered off her claws along with the sharp scent of burning air. With a reluctant tilt of her head, she drew a deep sharp breath into her lungs through her cracked teeth and bellowed, her yell stilling every other sound.

“I come to this place, and what greets mine eyes—a desolate hamlet?! How am I to tally heads for the Demon King’s Muster if you are all hiding? Would you all defy him so openly? So brazenly?! Come outside to me at once, least I set your dwellings afire just so I can count your heads!”

Doors creaked opened in discordant unison, men and women spilling out into the muddy streets, heads first. The messenger peeked from behind his hiding place. Seeing as she there would be no battle, Miranna wasted no breath waiting for the all the villagers to appear. Sinking her talons at the tender space behind your knees, she heaved you off the ground and spread her massive wings.

Lucia stood rooted, chewing her lip as she watched you ascent and leave.

*** *** ***

You were brought once more to the comforting warmth of the sun, no longer hidden from it by the dark and brooding layer of the clouds. You couldn’t recall whether the weather had always been thus, or if it was the Demon King’s doing. Not only Miranna and you were deserving of the real sunshine, you knew, but it wasn’t in your power to change the weather herself. Yet, if the Demon King was at fault, perhaps you could find a way?

Well, it was just a thought.

You sighed, and so did Miranna. Another warmth was found in her embrace.

“I’m not happy that you denied me the chance to clash with her,” Miranna said, her talons almost restless to cut through your garments. She inched them away. “But the look upon her face! I had not know she would fret so much about being wielding her grassy magic! Imagine! What kind of demons does so?”

You managed a weak smile, a nervous chuckle escaping your lips. As you slid the sword into the sheathe hanging off your shoulder, you also tucked the Grub Hag’s knife beneath the leather belt that circled it.

“She became a Demon General for reasons far different from yours, Miranna.” You peered down at the fleeting forests and hinterlands below you. “In any way, from now on, it’s best if you refrain and avoid harming any of the tress. One is far too many. I know it’s annoying, but please bear with it.”

Miranna clicked her tongue. “Yeah, I was hoping that you weren’t serious about it, hero,” she said. “Why should we care what the Arboreal Witch approves of or not? Tell me, are you intending on befriending each and every General?”

“Lucia … it is a long story, but I knew her from long time ago, and we were friends long before I learned she was a demon. If the prophesy decrees that I’ll end her, I’ll strive to prevent that. She is good, if not of whimsy.

“I doubt I have anything of the sort with the other Demon Generals. And for the Twister of Wishes, I’ll need to force her to lift her curse, and if not … “

You shared with her about the nature of the curse befallen on the village.

“O-o-oh,” she exclaimed, her wings, like freshly forged blades, cutting through the wind instead of giving an inch to it. “That one is truly wicked. She can make you do anything she wants or needs as long as her chains hold you. Not much of a problem if you can dodge or break them—they aren’t that tough.”

“You make it sound so easy.”

“You are the hero! Why would it not be so?”

You ran a hand through your hair and shook your head. If she let you go now, hero or not, you’d end up a pancake. “Why didn’t they return Whiskers to you?”

“They didn’t care to harm it. They were just petty against a Demon General.”

> [Write In]

> Free vote, you can ask Miranna if you have any questions as you fly to the Living Armour Enclave. Or, if you want to do something else, you can do it too.

>>6152431
Thank you. What did you (and others) think of Lucia?

>>6153283
>protruding breastplate
How much protrusion we talking, QM? Hmmmm?

>>6153287
She cute.

>>6153284
>Ask how she first became a Demon General, and how she and her brother came to work for him.
Let's learn about our waifu.

>>6153284
>>6153429
Backing

Lucia seems to have something special against Miranna, it’s hard to believe our birdbrain is truly the most destructive force against nature in the land. I know she gave the excuse that others put the wood to use in like the lumber industry, but the damage to the forests should be far greater. Also, isn’t burning and smashing trees a form of use when it’s for her own convenience and amusement?

>>6153429
>>6153680

“And what would they do when they see me?”

“Can’t really say,” Miranna said with a soft shrug. “I’ve never seen them parley with a human—save upon the battlefield—nor ever take one as prisoner.”

You shuddered in her arms, your lips turning dry and chapped.

Miranna regarded you, her bloodless lips curving into a grin.

“But you’re no ordinary human, hero. I’m sure, if they spurn your demands, you shall swiftly undo them. I shall leave you with the strongest of them!”

You swallowed, the saliva clinging to the walls of your throat.

“Uh-huh,” you mumbled, turning your gaze aside from her glowing soul-piercing stare. “Should it come down to it.”

All you wanted was to ensures that Whiskers was safe.

“Tell me, Miranna, could there another cause behind Lucia’s ire? Is it truly all sparked by you burning the trees and paying it no mind?”

“I didn’t even know that she was bothered by it!” Miranna exclaimed. “How was I suppose to know, when she’s never at the Citadel, or the councils, or when she doesn’t even participate in the battles?”

“Does she?” you said.

Miranna nodded vigorously, her white lock swaying about with each shake.

“I cannot fathom what the Demon King thought when he made her a General! It came so abruptly? Like, who?! She had done nothing to make herself worthy.”

“I assume you two hardly know each other?”

“I know nothing of her. I can name a thing or two of every General, but her? A pain in the rear, a thorn in the heel. She appeared from nowhere, hero, was granted the General’s title, and scarcely lifted a finger since. And yet I … !”
The soft wind ruffled your hair, warm sweat beading upon your brow.

“Seems like the enmity is mutual,” you said, raising your arm to wipe your brows. The Demon King had a special arrangement with Lucia; as she confessed, she kept watch over the humans for him in a manner no other demon could.

“I’m curious now, now that we have the time: how did you become a General?”

Miranna paused, regarding you in silence, her tongue tracing the edges of her teeth before she moistened her lips. For a moment, it looked like she was thinking of eating you, and was deciding on which bite to take first.

“You’re curious about my past, hero?”

You flinched. Miranna laughed and teasingly tousled you in her arms.

“There were no undeserved favours nor hidden back-schemes; I earned it as any true demon would—by raw strength,” Miranna declared, drawing you closer to her chest as pointed her talons at herself. “My mother, a demon of unrivalled might, was born with wings bestowed to her by the very abyss, wings unseen before or since: unyielding, unbreakable, immense, sharp, and ever-restoring,” she said. “When I was born, she learned of a prophecy that I would eclipse eclipse and surpass her, and in spite, she took away my feathers.”

Miranna glanced at the passing clouds, her shoulder shifting as thought something chafed beneath her armour. “It wasn’t easy living a demon without wings, but seeing that my mother places such faith in the prophecy, so did I.”

Gliding up the skies, she unfurled her raven-black wings, each feather catching the gleam of the sunlight like an arrowhead. “I found a way to turn -her- wings into this very cloak, with a bit of magic. I couldn’t have my wings, so I took hers instead. After, all I needed was to fight and triumph, and if anyone refused to yield or take me seriously, I broke them; in time, the Demon King noticed.”

“And what of your brother?”

Miranna leaned in, her tiny nose curling. Understanding the problem, you raised your hand to scratch between her eyes, eliciting a contented sniff.

“Sarem? I had no leisure to mind his affairs or watch over him. I’d forgotten he earned his place in the Citadel. I’m happy for him, though I’ll care more whence he’s General. Truly, I don’t know what worth he brings as a Warden—”

The horizon vanished behind a looming volcanic peak. Hardened ridges carved the slopes, twisting basalt veins there amidst the patches of molten stones. Rivers of lava poured down from its crown in bubbling torrents of churning magma, like an infernal avalanche. Ash-laden plumes clung to the ocean air like parasites, suffocating the sky into a bloody, mummified haze. The molten flow scorched the shoreline, the newborn basalt plates sprawling across the sea edge like a dark-grey crust of thin frost. The sprawling terrain revealed its scorn: cracks deepening with each noise, and the granite sharpening with each gust.

“I must say, he chose a most forsaken place to cast them into exile!” Miranna said with a whistle, her wings easing into a soft descent. “Now, they should be around here somewhere, close at hand. How do you want to go about it?”

> You doubt you’ll be able to stay here for long. Ask Miranna to locate Count Whiskers and then tell her to swoop in with all her speed so you can grab him.
> Request Miranna to bring you down at the Enclave’s entrance, ensuring they can see you without feeling threatened. Explain that your intent is purely to find Count Whiskers.
> You’re not only here for Count Whiskers, but to convince them to help you. To do that, you’ll need to be assertive. Instruct Miranna to lower you directly in the middle of the haunter armours’ enclave, so they can see she’s with you. Explain to the haunted armours’ the prophecy told, and ask about their exile.
> [Write In]

>>6153429
>How much protrusion we talking, QM? Hmmmm?
She puts breast into the BREASTplate.

File: yeah.png (411 KB, 392x581)

411 KB PNG

>>6154891
>mfw

>>6154887
>You’re not only here for Count Whiskers, but to convince them to help you. To do that, you’ll need to be assertive. Instruct Miranna to lower you directly in the middle of the haunter armours’ enclave, so they can see she’s with you. Explain to the haunted armours’ the prophecy told, and ask about their exile.
Not that we're necessarily keen on usurping the Demon King, but we are far past the point of being able to just disappear and live a normal life unless we find a way to get his generals off our back.

>>6154887
> Request Miranna to bring you down at the Enclave’s entrance, ensuring they can see you without feeling threatened. Explain that your intent is purely to find Count Whiskers.
Just cooperate and I won’t melt you all down and reforge you into horseshoes

>>6153287
Either she's just too nice for her own good or she really likes Niklos because she didn't seem terribly eager to harm Niklos at any point. Even after he ratted her out.

>>6154887
> Request Miranna to bring you down at the Enclave’s entrance, ensuring they can see you without feeling threatened. Explain that your intent is purely to find Count Whiskers.

File: The Haunted Armour Bouncer.png (3.85 MB, 1792x1024)

3.85 MB PNG

>>6154924
>>6155288
>>6155772

The more Miranna descended, the hotter the air grew.

“Take me to the entrance,” you asked her, steeling yourself.

On the winding slope between the sleepless volcano and the growing cinder peninsula, nestled between the twin lava-laden ravines, on top of which edges stood blackened basalt walls, rose a plateau with a refugee upon it. Within the walls’ stone-stacked depths, a fierce glow bled through every fissure, embers and white ash spilling out. The hot steam poured from the vents, streaming down the volcano’s bluffs, blanketing the ground like a fog, with the parching arch joining in like charcoal snow.

Encircled by the high walls and veiled by the mist stood a vast tangle of above-ground passageways, stretching from dome to dome, its shape resembling a maze. Hundreds of basalt stones were stacked upon one another, their layered crowns gleaming with glassy obsidian tiles. The labyrinth’s shadows sprawled against the ember-lit walls, bashing at each other like stubborn horned rams.

Miranna caught sight of the entrance—an opening set between the walls and a worn stone arch bridging the lava streams—and touched down at its threshold.

She didn’t lower you, yet the scorching air crawled up your skin regardless, like a famished beast given a bone to sink its teeth in. Miranna’s wing wrapped around you, its immense span shielding you from the boiling heat. In spite of her affinity with flames, her pale freckled face grew wet with sweat.

“I haven’t been inside,” Miranna said, parting her feathers enough for your eyes to see through. The heat’s touch dried her plumage, thought only barely.

No sooner her had claws touched the bridge than a sharp clang of armour rang from the tunnel’s mouth. From the chill darkness stepped out a hollow suit of armour, its steel infused with or by a demon spirit. His spiked pauldrons were warped by the heat and licked by the flames, his breastplate poorly patched by obsidian plates, with sulphur taint yellowing and chipping half its helm.

“Back you are, King’s obedient. Now, bringing a human?” he said, words rattling through every seam of its armour. “Do you, King’s loyal, mean to barter him for the furry creature?”

“We’re here for the pet,” Miranna said with a smirk. “But this one here is not for barter. That’s his belonging, you know? It would be best if you return it.”

He strode further outside the basaltic entrance, black ash settling upon his shoulderplates. “As if any demon, no matter how small or beastly, would belong to a human. We have taken a liking to it. As had been said to you, King’s unquestioning, we are fulfilling the King’s order. His is above yours. Your demands mean nothing until his are satisfied. Take them with you as you leave.”

> Tell him you doubt that Whiskers is staying here willing. Tell him that if he doesn’t believe Miranna, to let you and Whiskers meet and see for yourself.
> Ask him if they are content in their exile, and what are they even doing? If, as you except, the answer is a ‘no’—tell him that you have a solution. Share with him the prophecy and that there’s a remedy for their plight.
> Allow Miranna to remind her why she is or was the Demon King’s strongest Demon General. Let her thirst for battle be quenched, and clear the path ahead.
> [Write In]

Sorry for the breaks and thanks for your patience!

>>6156474
>> Ask him if they are content in their exile, and what are they even doing? If, as you except, the answer is a ‘no’—tell him that you have a solution. Share with him the prophecy and that there’s a remedy for their plight.

>>6153287
She was honestly nicer than I expected.

>>6156475
> Tell him you doubt that Whiskers is staying here willing. Tell him that if he doesn’t believe Miranna, to let you and Whiskers meet and see for yourself.

>>6156481
I think they may respond better once they see we have indeed bent a demon or two to our will (that is to say, Miranna and Whiskers)

>>6156474
>>6156481
Changing to
> Tell him you doubt that Whiskers is staying here willing. Tell him that if he doesn’t believe Miranna, to let you and Whiskers meet and see for yourself.

>>6156484
That's fair.

>>6156475
> Tell him you doubt that Whiskers is staying here willing. Tell him that if he doesn’t believe Miranna, to let you and Whiskers meet and see for yourself.
Our kitty will come to us fo sho

>>6156481
>>6156484
>>6156529
>>6157638

Before Miranna could seize the perfect chance given to thrash the pompous armour for his insolence, you interrupted. “I doubt that Whiskers is staying here willingly,” you said, the helm’s eyeless facade snapping at you, it’s yellowed patina crackling sharp and loud.

You paused, waiting for answer, but he stood still, silent as a stone.

“Right. Whiskers is the pet’s—“

“I did not think you, of no worth, would dare to speak.” His voice, unanchored to a body, intruded and echoed. “You question me?”

Miranna glared through the empty slits in his visor, her eyes smouldering.

Your throat, raw and dry from the surrounding heat, parched even more as you continued talking.

“You haunted armours are the only ones here, right? Whiskers came solely at my request; why else a demon would?”

“And what sort of request was that? And his name is not so feeble.”

“No, it is. Count Whiskers in full,” you said, furrowing your brows. The Demon King may have altered Whisker’s guise, but you would not allow them to strip him of his name! “I asked him to pursue after the letter that the Demon King had sent here; in a form of a paper bird of sorts?”

His silence pulled back like a tide, his body shifting briefly to Miranna, then surging forth with ghastly force.

“Who is this human?”

“He’s someone you shouldn’t mess around with, hollow shell,” she said.

He clenched the chipped worn hilt, bare iron exposed like a bare bone.

“It is not your say, King’s serving, who is it can mess with or not.”

Miranna pushed in, the rising heat from her forehead causing the surface of his helm to blister.

“If you don’t believe her, nor me, then let me and Whiskers meet,” you said. “You’ll see for yourself that I’m right. He will recognise me.”

“To let you into our enclave?” he said, leaning in, unfazed by the damage Miranna was inflicting, their heads nearly clashing.

Miranna’s voice came out as a hiss. “Are you afraid that you’re -wrong-?”

He stilled, his armour ringing as rust flaked off the corroded steel. “I cannot understand the nature of the trick you, King’s submissive, is trying at here, but I’ll -allow- the human to be wrong,” he voice, his gauntlet letting go of the sword to vanish beneath the swirling mist. “In return for my kindness, once you, the defeated, fail, you’ll serve as my thrall. You, the conquered, will not last for long, but those few days, I’ll take respite by placing my duties onto you, the vanquished.”

He turned and stepped into the tunnel, steam wrapping around him as thought it was foam.

He had made his offer.

Miranna placed you on the ground, her wings billowing like dark fluid before settling around her shoulders alike a cloak. Trusting in you more than you did yourself, she nudged at the entrance with her talons, beckoning you inside. The tunnel’s low ceiling squeezed Miranna, but left you a handful of inches between the smooth matted stone and your head.

The chill was sudden, just as it was wet. Milky mist gathered on the basalt ceiling of the corridor, dripping down the cold, smooth walls to the even floor, where it formed narrow rivulets that flowed further into the depths. Miranna followed—you could tell by the dim amber gleam settling on the mist, her fire failing to penetrate it. The haunted armour was but a shadowed blur ahead, and as the passage forked and branched, you skittered to be close near, wary of losing your way in here. With you blind and Miranna unable to spread her wings, this might have been a mistake—

Clang. Gauntlets and graves rattled the mist, their sound softened and muffled by the fog.

But not from in front of you. Behind.

“I’ll content you for that fine armour,” a whispering voice said, making Miranna halt and pivot. “I will ask of your whole arm.”

> Step through the mist and in front of Miranna. She’ll likely accept any reason if someone is dumb enough to challenge her. Take up your sword and ready yourself to face down the heckler, with words or assertiveness.
> Reach for Miranna’s claw in the foggy darkness and tug her along and ahead before she can react to the unseen figure. Keep moving with her.
> Let Miranna handle the provocateur. The one who was leading you through the tunnel keeps moving, so if you wait, you’ll lose sight of him.
> [Write In]

>>6157697
> Step through the mist and in front of Miranna. She’ll likely accept any reason if someone is dumb enough to challenge her. Take up your sword and ready yourself to face down the heckler, with words or assertiveness.

>>6157697
>> Reach for Miranna’s claw in the foggy darkness and tug her along and ahead before she can react to the unseen figure. Keep moving with her.

>>6157697
>Let Miranna handle the provocateur. The one who was leading you through the tunnel keeps moving, so if you wait, you’ll lose sight of him.

Update tomorrow. We might need a roll we'll see!

Rolled 3 (1d3)

>>6157858

>>6158776

>>6159003

>>6157858
>>6158776
>>6159003

The faint clattering of the haunted armour faded with each new step, his form swiftly disappearing into the mist. He didn’t stop. Wishing not to lose your sight of him, and trusting Miranna to catch up and soon, you hurried further into the fog, chasing him.

You walked in silence until the cooled steam suddenly scattered into a vast chamber, the basalt walls ceasing to confine you. The mist hung thin in the murk, no longer as blindingly pale nor as enveloping as it been inside the tunnels.

Basalt slabs, their surfaces smoothed and edges worn, been stacked to form arching walls and vaulted roof, with magma sealing the crevices like a thick coal tar. Dull volcanic tiles wept steady drops, the hissing steam from outside battering on the exterior.

Dark silvered silhouettes came out from the fog, their steel clashing briefly, crackling sparks igniting the unseen, before slipping back. The soft mist was forbidden to settle, as, one by one, the haunted armours collided in battle, pairs of them echoing from corners of the chamber that seemed vacant.

“What’s happening?” you asked the haunted armour that brought you here, halting near the exit just as he did it. “Where’s Whiskers?”

“They are coming to a decision as to who will toil this day,” he said, his helm floating over an empty head. “The loser will do so.”

“Loser?” —you drew out the word— “As in, one?”

“One shall toil; another bested is found when a task demands so.”

You glanced past him and into the clouds of brawl.

“And the rest? What do they do instead of working?”

“Whatever they wish,” he replied. He lifted his battered, rusted blade, and pointed it at a vague space. “We hadn’t decided yet as to who the devil beast shall belong. Last time, I’d seen it here.”

Your friend, in spite of your efforts, was nowhere to be seen.

> Without venturing deeper into the chamber, yell out for Count Whiskers to come. Be hopeful and ready to welcome him in your arms.
> Walk into the chamber and search for Count Whiskers at a closer distance. Be careful, and try to avoid getting in-between the many brawling haunted armours.
> Best to wait out the cacophony of battles. Turn to the haunted armour that lead you here and idle talk him with questions until the fights in front of you are done, and it’ll be easier to search.
> [Write In]

File: Demon King's General 78.png (2.92 MB, 1792x1024)

2.92 MB PNG

Oh gee, again, we all on our own.

>>6159611
> Best to wait out the cacophony of battles. Turn to the haunted armour that lead you here and idle talk him with questions until the fights in front of you are done, and it’ll be easier to search.
So uh how’s exile?
What kind of toil does the one guy do?

>>6159611
> Best to wait out the cacophony of battles. Turn to the haunted armour that lead you here and idle talk him with questions until the fights in front of you are done, and it’ll be easier to search.

+1 to >>6159797's small-talk.

You ever tried to call a cat? Good luck.

>>6159797
>>6159919

Waiting it out seemed like a better choice than wading into the midst of the unseen fray and getting your sides gutted by an errant sword.

“So um … “ you began, glancing at the haunted armour at your left, “I have heard all of you have been cast into exile? How fares you lot?”

He shifted, his hollow voice skimming through the visor’s slits.

“It’s in the name, ‘exile’. It is not suppose to be pleasant.”

You put your back against the hewn basalt. “No, of course not,” you muttered, weighting each word. “But this is one dangerous and barren-wide place the Demon King had decided to throw you into.”

He took a moment, as if his inner armour gathered breath into empty lungs. “No one else would survive here,” he said. “No other demon, and especially not a human. We are left to our own, on our own, to do this.”

You eyed him: the wear and tear, damage, and rust were all too apparent on his layered plate. “Your kind don’t seem to fare much better here.”

He struck his chestpiece, the sudden clang cutting into your ears.

“We do not feel pain,” he explained. “A haunted armour will survive as long as a single piece of it remains. We can mend from any damage, as long as we get get a chance to touch some metal, steel and iron.”

“I take it there’s not much iron ore here?”

“You gather right,” he said. “There is hardly anything, and in places that could often swallow you whole: lava streams, brimstone pools, and rhyolite sharpsands. To seek a few handfuls of metal powder only to suffer worse harm in the trying is folly. Moreover, justly, none wish to smith or carry out the mending, so one will only be compelled by force.”

You tilted your head to the side; the clashes tolled aloud.

“Is that what they are fighting about?”

He shook his head, his invisible neck seeming to snap.

“No. Whoever fails here will undertake the King’s errand."

The haunted armours battled, their weapons splintering and their armours tearing. The triumphant stepped aside, and the defeated shambled deeper into the ethereal basin, hoping to strike before others would. If there was -any- honour, it was not the kind you knew. They stirred the waters, the cloudy bubbles bursting like brittle pottery in a hot kiln.
“Wouldn’t it be swifter if you all joined in? Then you could return.”

“You, of no worth, know little,” he said. “The duty of our exile is to shape a new domain brought by the volcano’s molten flood. With every new avalanche, the igneous land consumes the waters and stretches. Yet, we have been here for months, and still, the volcano continues to burn. It may take a year before it quells and perishes. We do what’s necessary.”

Only two remained struggling, with one armour-cloud spirit pounding his gauntlet onto the other’s helmet, cracking it open as thought it was a skull. The vanquished one faltered and toppled, its sword and gauntlet skimming softly at the waters—as you reckoned, the evidence of defeat.

The fighting ceased, the mist and clamour stilling; two tiny red eyes gleamed at you from the far edge of the hollow. Without wasting time, you hastened towards him. Hidden by the haze, you slipped by unnoticed.

Just as you were to pass by the fallen, it lunged, clutching at your iron boots, half of its metal-clad fingers torn or eaten away by rust.

“I missed you … somehow,” it said, its voice strung and shallow. No, it was a suit of -female- armour: curved at the hips, cupped at the chest, with a narrowed waistline. The now-cracked helm, too, looked feminine—its contours softened and sloped, with a subtle tapering at the chin. “Wait” —the close-fitting helm lifted up, the hinged throat guard bending, all of its rivets missing with holes instead— “I see flesh. You’re a human?”

You shook your boot, but her—could the haunted armours even have a gender?—grip held strong. Her left vambrace was missing, scorch marks and hardened lava blemished marking the steel in black or reddened patches.

“Doesn’t matter,” she hissed, with her only hand clutching the broken half-sword. “You’ll go there instead of me and—“

A pair of black pawns landed on and pressed down her helm. Count Whiskers stretched and yawned, his forked tongue flicking and his furry wings quivering. He stared at you with lazy, blood-red eyes and mewed. You caressed beneath his chin, he, in return, letting out a purr.

“How did you get here so fast?” you asked it without expecting an answer.

You stood in the very heart of the chamber. In that moment, all eyes within it fell upon you. You could feel the armours’ chill-inducing attention, their ethereal glances and glares full of tensed scrutiny.

“What’s a human doing here?” one of them said.

“That beast is allowing him to touch it?!” another said in disbelief.

“It bears a rune. I thought it belonged to the Demon King?”

> You might as well use the chance given. Take Count Whiskers into your arms and shout out to the gathered crowd of haunted armours the other reason you are here: that you are the prophecy’s hero and you could really use their help.
> You don’t feel comfortable challenging them without Miranna by your side. Look at the haunted armour that led you here and point at Whiskers, as if to declare that you won the wager, and Count Whiskers is returning to your side.
> Gently pick up Whiskers off the haunted armour’s head, offering her a hand. Explain to them that, regardless of the harsh environment, if they continue to fight each other every day, they’ll end up wearing down each other armour. How will they look in a month, if not a couple of years from now? Their only path forward is to rise up against the King.
> [Write In]

>>6161641
> Gently pick up Whiskers off the haunted armour’s head, offering her a hand. Explain to them that, regardless of the harsh environment, if they continue to fight each other every day, they’ll end up wearing down each other armour. How will they look in a month, if not a couple of years from now? Their only path forward is to rise up against the King.
We’ll be the new demon king

>>6161641
>Gently pick up Whiskers off the haunted armour’s head, offering her a hand. Explain to them that, regardless of the harsh environment, if they continue to fight each other every day, they’ll end up wearing down each other armour. How will they look in a month, if not a couple of years from now? Their only path forward is to rise up against the King.
Well, time for our first ass-backwards fall into being the prophecy. But we're not the Messiah yet, at least to ourselves.

>>6161714
>>6161991

You gazed upon the kneeling suit of armour and offered her your hand. Her throat guard quivered and bent as she stared up at your outstretched offer. With a grind, she knelt on her plated knee and swung the sword from beneath the shallows. She slashed the blade at you, a watery ribbon following its blunted edge. You recoiled back, the sword flying past you.

Whiskers sprang up, his wings spreading out in a single flap before he landed back atop the haunted armour’s helmet, shoving her back into the basin waters, the splash drizzling against the misted waterline.

You plucked Count Whiskers from from her head, the dark-furred feline licking its rough tongue against your cheek before scaling your neck with its claws, no demon rune magic needed to make them any sharper. Pulling at your collar, you eyed the shifting iron silhouettes by the stonework.

“Are you content with your exile?” you posed the question. Already aware of the answer, you continued without a pause. “It’s work you seek to avoid; it’s obvious to me. You fight to escape it. But is not obvious that your armour is being worn thin, if not by the elements, then from your skirmishes?”
You glanced to make sure the one near you did not leap to stab at your shin.
“What will be left of you in a month’s time? If you must stay for years, what then? Nothing but pieces.”

“Who is this human?” a deep eerie voice inquired.

“Helllands welcome me back if I know, but was that an insult?”

Drawing in a cool breath, you stared at the malignant figures looming at the curves. “I wasn’t insulting you,” you said, your voice carrying louder than you wished. “I was just stating the obvious!” You gestured above the stacked black walls. “By the time your exile ends, you’ll likely be pieces if not dust!”

“What would a brittle fleshbones know?” another warped voice sneered, yet their words, ringing from every seam in their armour, mingling together with the rest. “We have the time and strength to outlast this!”

You drew in a long breath, the air grounding you like an anchor.

“Do you think you deserve your punishment?” you asked.

“What’s just is irrelevant. In the Demon King’s eyes, we’ve failed in some way. He had decreed that we be here. He’s the mightiest.”

“Is it his strength alone that makes you loyal?” you said.

“What more is there? Someone as feeble as you wouldn’t under—“

Fragments of armours flew from the tunnel’s depths, an acrid stench of smouldering metal wafting to their cleaved edges. The shattered pieces, flaring up like moths caught above a blazing bonfire, tore through the mist before crashing onto the floor, scattering like terrified rats.

Miranna’s sharp eyes glinted from the passage, a helmet’s leftover melting in her incandescent claw. Standing tall, with her shoulders upright and wide, she stepped through. A dying, wispy voice chimed from the metal piece she held between her talons. With a toothy grin that gleamed in the mellow light, she raised the seared shard above her head, only to callously let it plummet. Clang. Clink.

“Well, that was annoying,” Miranna said, humming through the silence she had forced, stepping into the shallow water, the surface frothing and hissing off her feet. Halting, she glanced from you and below, her irises shrinking. “Ha-ha! I see that you’d already humbled one of them suits?”

Bubbles surfaced as a muffled voice protested her words from below.

“The Nettle Harpy is back already? She hardly left!” one of them said.

“She’s alongside that human! Did she bring him?” another cried out.

Miranna lifted her hand over your head, her thumb—a sharp black talon brushing your hair—pointing down. “He’s set to -destroy- the Demon King.”

At her words, a whispering rustle like a harsh draft swept and spread.

Haunted armour’s helm surfaced from the water, her voice deflecting off the still liquid. “Oh, really? That human is as good as dead if he tries!”

The armour that lead you through the passage stared at you.

“And how will he, the powerless, is planning to do it?”

How indeed? With Miranna present, you felt a tad more audacious.

> Tell the enclave of the haunted armours that you know the Demon King’s weakness. You don’t, but you have a way, the knife, to find out.
> Tell them of the prophecy, and how you are destined to defeat not only the Demon King but all of the generals. How is that for strength?
> Swear that should they aid you, you’ll take them to the last remains of the Old King’s forces, where they may claim all the armour they want.
> [Write In]

File: Present.png (4.09 MB, 1792x1024)

4.09 MB PNG

>>6161991
I don't know if we'll be doing much saving and liberating even if the prophecy is true.

I appreciate you for playing. Enjoy the holidays.

>>6163811
> Swear that should they aid you, you’ll take them to the last remains of the Old King’s forces, where they may claim all the armour they want.
A part of me really just wants to tell them.

>>6164123
Miranna groomed you well.

>>6163811
> Swear that should they aid you, you’ll take them to the last remains of the Old King’s forces, where they may claim all the armour they want.

>>6164123
Most people probably wouldn't believe the prophecy. I mean, would YOU?

Demons do seem superstitious by nature or culture, though

There won’t be an update today, but here are some festive holiday Mirannas I had generated.
https://imgur.com/a/mirannas-scQVWNB

Merry Christmas!

>>6163811
> Tell them of the prophecy, and how you are destined to defeat not only the Demon King but all of the generals. How is that for strength?
Big dick destined one energy

>>6163813
How does she not shred those gloves with her untrimmed nails?

>>6164793
Maybe they're retractable?

>>6164123
>>6164423
>>6164425
>>6164793
>>6165171

But not audacious enough to depend on the prophecy. The vision shown to you by Hag’s knife, when you stabbed that rat, clarified that there was a way out from your fate. It was not foreordained.

Miranna leered at you, her grin spreading wide across her cheeks.

No, you weren’t going to admit to the prophecy, nor use it as your claim. Of all the demons you’d seen, it was Miranna alone, besides the Grub Hag, who believed in it so vehemently. You doubted it would sway the haunted armours; they didn’t seem to put value in anything but strength.

You didn’t have much of that. You had to convince them with a bargain.

“I will be the one to confront the Demon King and his generals,” you said. “I don’t need you to stand against them. What I want is for you to help me with the rest of the demons, until the time comes for me to act.”

“That human sounds knocked on the head,” muttered one of the armours.

“But the Nettle Harpy it standing at his side. She, of all demons.”

You continued before they would pluck at each of your words. “I will give you more than the Demon King had given. I know where the Old King’s last forces lie; if there’s fine armour to be found and claimed, they’re wearing it now. As well as ending your exile, I pledge to give you both.”

“This looks like deceit set by the Demon King to test our loyalty!”

“That would explain why the Nettle Harpy’s presence!”

“Was there not a missive sent to us that the familiar accompanied?” said the armour that led you here. “What did that message say, ah?”

A few looks shifted between them until the letter was found, no longer glowing or drifting in the air, with its seal broken, entirely unrolled.

“It states that the King is going to visit us at the week’s end to check on our efforts with the new lands,” echoed one of them in bitter annoyance, holding the letter in its gauntlets.

Miranna clucked her tongue. “That doesn’t sound good for you, hollow shells. You know well that our King is a perfectionist,” she said, crossing her arms, the moisture upon iron chest beginning to hiss and evaporate. “And often, he finds the toil of others wanting. There’s a slim chance he’ll do it himself, but seeing as you are in exile, I suspect that he’ll just obliterate it all and make you start anew.”

Lifting her hind claw, she pressed it upon the helmet of the feminine armour—still struggling to get up—forcing her face back into the shallows. “You’d best take Niklos’ offer, while he’s still being nice.”

“We’re going to have to redo everything?!” an armour wailed.

“Not if we tell him that there’s -someone- here who’s thinking of dethroning him,” another suggested, his nasal guard split like a fork, stepping closer and drawing out his sword from a pockmarked scabbard.

Miranna fixed him with a glare, his reflection burning in her eyes.

“He’s already aware,” she said.

“Then we’ll capture you; that would be even better,” he said, waving at her with a weathered sword. “You might be the strongest of the Demon King’s Generals, but unlike him, you’re not strong enough to overcome all of us on your own.” He glanced around, looking for other’s approval.

“You want to bet on that?” —she laughed— “There’s a reason none of you metal carcasses had ever ascended to the rank of a Demon General. You lot are not as strong as you think you are.” She ignited her claws with flames.

The greater crowd of the haunted armours made no move to join his side.

“Just more armour for us to claim isn’t enough, human,” the “guide” said amidst the tension. “But I’ll put my loyalty to question if we can turn those humans into toil-wrought servants, their only purpose in life, from that moment on, to mend and forge for us.”

“Well I’m not leaving anywhere until this human can show his words are not hollow. He looks weak, sounds frail, and stands with little might. Let him show if his strength befits that of an usurper, as he claims.”

“Why bother with that? Task him with retrieving the Aegis steel!”

Their voices escalated into a cacophony, their armours rattling as they debated your fate.

> None of those suggestions are sound! You don’t want them to enslave a band of human soldiers, you don’t want Miranna to caught in a battle, and fighting any of them without any armour is reckless. Agree to bring them the Aegis steel, whatever it be, as long as they’ll allow you to leave.
> Look directly at the one haunted armour challenging you. Agree to prove your worth to him. If he surrenders, then it is your victory.
> If the Demon King is coming to visit the haunted armours, all you have to do is caught him here. You know where he’ll be, and you have a weeks time now. Tell them as long as they don’t interrupt, they can watch and see you deal with him with their own helmets.
> [Write In]

>>6164793
>>6165171
It was the contradiction of comfy weather wear and her claws I had to battle with. I think the gloves where there are holes for her talons would be the most fitting.

>>6165673
>> Look directly at the one haunted armour challenging you. Agree to prove your worth to him. If he surrenders, then it is your victory.
we ball

>>6165673
> None of those suggestions are sound! You don’t want them to enslave a band of human soldiers, you don’t want Miranna to caught in a battle, and fighting any of them without any armour is reckless. Agree to bring them the Aegis steel, whatever it be, as long as they’ll allow you to leave.

>>6165674
Like fingerless gloves, essentially? Makes sense.

Update tomorrow, still time for a deciding vote (or making me roll 1d3 grrrr!)

>>6166745
1d2, you mean?

>>6166249
+1

>>6166849
I meant if someone picked the unpicked option ...
>>6166878
But that doesn't seem to be the case, we have a winner.

>>6165839
>>6166249
>>6166362
>>6166849
>>6166878

Sifting through the fog, you turned to the last speaker—or so you supposed.

“Aegis? What is that?” you asked, the moist mist laying on your lips.

The one with a split nasal guard, not taking well the disregard, lunged from your flank, his blade angled at your throat.

Miranna’s claw appeared to halt the sword’s blade inches from your ear, the beaten iron scraping against and wedging between her black talons. The metal screamed as it shattered, the fissure opening like a chasm in a frozen lake. Rusted shard plummeted into the shallow depths, a large, sharp fragment remaining ensnared in her grip. She lunged in, her claw wide open and the piece resting on her palm, thrusting the jagged metal through the helmet like a stake, then clutching his head with her scorching talons, melting through it.

She lifted the whole suit aloft and threw him like a tattered used rag. The brazen armour crumpled onto his back, the jagged floor battering his pauldrons and cuirass. He didn’t cry a single pained word, as if he didn’t feel any.

With wisps of fire leaking off her fingertips, Miranna flicked her wrist.

“He wasn’t giving attention to you,” she warned, scowling at the defeated spirit before flashing you a crooked smile. “As you were saying, Niklos?”

You gulped, thankful she leapt in to protect you, but anxious about whether she went too far. Fortunately, the other armours had yet to draw their blades.

Miranna slapped your back.

“Come now, Niklos, should you not assert yourself? They are not your equals.”

You tried, but your human lungs could only yield but so much breath.

“Who mentioned Aegis steel? Where can I get it?”

A handful let out haunting chuckles, while the others shared wary looks.

The haunted armour that met you at the labyrinth’s threshold lifted his hand off the sword’s hilt. “Supposedly, it’s a steel that never breaks, tarnishes, warps, or dulls. For us, there would be nothing better to have. However … it’s a human rumour, and not one of us heard personally; it might as well be a lie.”

“A human rumour?” You’d never heard of such. “Do you know anything, Miranna?”

“If I could crack open my brain for you, Niklos, so you can search inside of it, I’m sure -something- could be found,” she said, pointing at her head, her nails singeing her white locks. “But I don’t care to remember all those unimportant details. Should we go back to the citadel?” she contemplated.

“Let’s do -anything- but that,” you said.

You glanced at Hag’s knife, nestled against the scabbard of Yuriy’s sword.

“If it truly exists, I’ll find it. And if I do, I’ll bring it for you.”

The one Miranna dealt with stumbled on his greaves. “This is the sole time you’re speaking with confidence, yet you still hide behind her. Take me with you!”

“Get your claw from my head!” snarled the iron maiden at your feet, Miranna’s weight continuing to bear down on her. “If it’s real, I want to have it first!”

“The only claim you, the peon of the day, will be making for, is today’s share of labour, Fran,” retorted the guide.

He showed no desire himself to join you.

> You don’t know how much of it there is. If it exists, it’ll only be fair that they decide together who’ll get to take it from the quantity you’ll find. Refuse to take any one of them with you, and tell them they will have to wait.
> Ask Miranna to step off the female haunted armour’s head. Try offering her your hand, and if she accepts without being a bitch, agree to take her along.
> The haunted armour that lead you here was the first and only one of his kind to prove useful thus far. Offer to take him with you to the Aegis steel.
> [Write In]

>>6167352
> The haunted armour that lead you here was the first and only one of his kind to prove useful thus far. Offer to take him with you to the Aegis steel.
Sets a good example.

File: 002B087C-0A76-4DA3-B536-1(...).jpg (747 KB, 987x956)

747 KB JPG

>>6152350
She gains a slight potbelly

But the rest of her body is unaffected

This strangely changes the weight of
the story

ever so slightly.

Perhaps she is in good favour
with energies of sorts

her luck at finding
}druidess~regarded{
foods
is high
immense


great


What strange prosperity

>>6167352
>The haunted armour that lead you here was the first and only one of his kind to prove useful thus far. Offer to take him with you to the Aegis steel.
All right, come along. We'll find this stupid steel.

>>6167661
...huh?

>>6167661
She doesn't have a potbelly, she's rather athletic!

>>6167352
>> Ask Miranna to step off the female haunted armour’s head. Try offering her your hand, and if she accepts without being a bitch, agree to take her along.

Happy New Year.

There will be an update tomorrow.

I apologize for the inconsistency and I am well aware of how frustrating it must be. I aim to have this quest completed by the end of the year. We are already 50k words in, despite how slow I am with my updates. If you'll stick around, I promise you'll get to see the end of this story by the end of the year. Thank you, and come by tomorrow.

>>6167352
> The haunted armour that lead you here was the first and only one of his kind to prove useful thus far. Offer to take him with you to the Aegis steel.

>>6167543
>>6167661
>>6167670
>>6167685
>>6168132
>>6168910

You stared at the two armours making demands of you with a grimace. Throwing Miranna a sidelong glance, you returned your gaze towards the passageway.

The ‘guide’s’ helm tilted at the bedevilled cat lounging upon your shoulders.

“I know not how, but the demon beast is indeed yours, the shattered’s”, he said.

Miranna swirled her back to you, trailing in your steps while motioning with her searing claws from her eyes to the armours lying broken in the reservoir.

“You’ll be keeping your word, then?” you asked, his silhouette merging with the shadows of the corridor. “I’ll be taking Count Whiskers with me.”

An eerie air bellowed through the visor’s gaps, the helmet hovering at your height. “You, the conquered, had more to lose. That is all you will receive.”

Miranna glanced over her shoulder and sneered. “Don’t try anything sleazy with him, you demon,” she said. “Is being honourable not your thing anymore?”

The wraithlike armour did not turn his gaze. “Should you, the bested, deliver into us the Aegis steel, I’ll allow you, of no worth, to surprise me.”

“We cannot simply let them leave!” protested the feminine suit of armour.

“Feel free to pursue them once your toil is done,” he said.

The damp air sloshed between the layers of his leggings as he stepped away.

“Do you have no wish to claim it first, as others here seem to?” you asked, stepping past him into the tunnel, the wet mist within soaked in darkness like damp cotton. “You are welcome to come along, and do just that if it’s real.”

His helmet swayed and shook, his outline fading with the growing distance.

“Should you, the shattered, find nothing, I’ll be losing Demon King’s grace without reason. In vain. No, I’ll be here, waiting. You, the hopeless, will need to find enough to persuade us all.” His faint voice echoed before fading.

*** *** ***

Leaving the haunted armours and their basalt enclave behind, you made camp at the forest’s edge to cleanse your lungs of the volcano's death-laced fumes. Mindful of every risk, you had to make sure that Miranna wouldn’t break your promise to Lucia. You were the one to gather the firewood and light the flames, not even letting her set up the embers upon the kindling; instead, you asked her to blaze up a stone, which -you- then used for sparks and cinders.

With swift ease, Miranna caught you a hare, which you then stabbed in the head for another vision. ‘Show me the exact whereabouts of the Aegis steel.’

Inside the complete darkness, metal door hovered suspended in midair. The metal gleamed and glistened against the dreary sky, its smooth surface unmarred by wear or abandon or a single lone smudge. There were no grains or seams, but a single flawless sheet. Where walls should have stood around the door there was vacant nothingness, with both the roof and foundation being absent as well.

That was unlike the rest of the street and the town, with every other rough-hewn stone and shingled-roof house being actually there, with people living and passing past the door as if it was a normal thing. The street and the door was pushed into the shadows, the spotlight instead drawing to the town’s sign and a person near it. Swathed in black elk leather armour lacquered to a crimson gloss, his snarling copper mask twisted to stare straight, as if noticing you.

The vision faded. Te scent of volcanic burn and ash stuck to your nostrils. Crunch. That wasn’t it, a different scorch was to blame. Splat. Miranna bit into the hare you’d used for the ritual, a coat of scorched char covering the raw meat as she swallowed it bite by bite. Just how she liked it.

“You want some?” she said, her grin revealing ash and blood stained teeth.

You shook your head, trying not to image how vile it must’ve tasted cooked that way. “I prefer them in a stew, or roasted until the meat is brown,” you said. “The town is called Rockshade. Does that ring any bells, Miranna?”

Whiskers rested softly on your lap, purring in a way only a demon cat could.

She swallowed the burnt tail. “Not really, hero. I don’t remember your hamlets by their names. Is it somewhere below the cliffs and mountain ridges?”

“I’ve glimpsed little of the land, but there was a floating iron door.”

“A door?” Miranna hummed, letting her tongue slide as she mused aloud. “Some months ago, I’ve heard of such a door, but it was another General who was sent by the Demon King to investigate it. I’ve heard nothing of him since.”

“I-I think I’ve seen him as well,” you uttered, stretching your hands towards the flames, the cold making you shiver. “With a scowling mask?”

She clacked her talons. “That’s the one. Astray Slaughterer. I’ve never seen the face hidden beneath that mask. He’s a petty demon. We clashed once, and because I gouged his armour with my claws, he has been seething ever since.”

“I’d rather he wasn’t there,” you said.

“He’s all alone, hero. You will not find a better opportunity to strike!”

> Ask Miranna to hunt for you another animal, either a rattlesnake, or a fox, or a hedgehog, to ask another question you want an answer for. Perhaps for what constitutes an ironic way to defeat Astray Slaughterer, or the Demon King? Perhaps ask Miranna if she has any suggestions, or if she wants to use the knife herself?
> Probe Miranna what she would do if you end up dying. You know that the prophecy says that you won’t, because you are destined to defeat the Demon King—her words—but rhetorically, if it were to happen, what would she do?
> You wonder if the Demon King had a way to contact this Astray Slaughterer to tell him about Miranna. You can risk it, and ask Miranna to find a way to lead him from Rockshade and busy him while you investigate the floating door.
> Ask Miranna if she can show you how she hunts for the animals, you’d like to see it. If she can catch another beast, you’d like to cook the meat the way you were taught, to see if she would like it cooked the proper roast-like way.
> Instead of going to the town straight away, offer to find Chimera Hound first, the one General Miranna doesn’t seem to dislike. If you can convince her to change sides, then with both of them, this Astray Slaughterer won’t be a problem.
> [Write In]

You can pick two options if they fit together.

>>6169588
> Ask Miranna to hunt for you another animal, either a rattlesnake, or a fox, or a hedgehog, to ask another question you want an answer for. Perhaps for what constitutes an ironic way to defeat Astray Slaughterer, or the Demon King? Perhaps ask Miranna if she has any suggestions, or if she wants to use the knife herself?
> Ask Miranna if she can show you how she hunts for the animals, you’d like to see it. If she can catch another beast, you’d like to cook the meat the way you were taught, to see if she would like it cooked the proper roast-like way.
Hunt and cook!

>>6169587
Our waifu is grimy and gross, but I kinda dig it.

>>6169588
> Ask Miranna if she can show you how she hunts for the animals, you’d like to see it. If she can catch another beast, you’d like to cook the meat the way you were taught, to see if she would like it cooked the proper roast-like way.
Time for some proper bonding. Let's My Fair Lady a harpy!

>>6169588
>Ask Miranna if she can show you how she hunts for the animals, you’d like to see it. If she can catch another beast, you’d like to cook the meat the way you were taught, to see if she would like it cooked the proper roast-like way.
Let's catch and kill some defenceless animal together. Perhaps something bigger, like a badger or deer we can smoke and preserve for a bit of a stock of food. Right now, we have jack squat and we're going to get hungry, even we probably still have won't even made it to teatime by Thread #100 at this rate.

>>6169730
We're going to need to get a spritz bottle for when she shows her gross habits
In the meantime though, hot.

>>6169588
> Ask Miranna if she can show you how she hunts for the animals, you’d like to see it. If she can catch another beast, you’d like to cook the meat the way you were taught, to see if she would like it cooked the proper roast-like way.
Sounds like she can already handle the Astray Slaughterer herself
Also how many generals does the demon king have god damn

>>6170159
>Also how many generals does the demon king have god damn
I get the feeling it's a title he just gives any sufficiently-powerful demon to appease them. It doesn't seem to confer any actual troops or responsibilities beyond being a special agent of his will. The hierarchy is loose to nonexistent.

>>6169630
>>6169730
>>6169828
>>6170159
>>6170165

You inhaled, the breath slipping in with a sharp hiss.

“By the sound of it, you appear capable of besting him on your own,” you said.

She stared at you without blinking, the white glints gone from her still eyes. “But the prophecy says that it’s -you- who’s foretold to defeat him, hero. Naturally, I can’t go defying a prophecy. It would just be a waste of time!”

She thrust her hand through the flames, her talon cutting your cloth just so.

No doubt, Miranna helped you a lot recently, yet with her mind tethered to the Grub Hag’s vision, she wasn’t going to subdue the Demon Generals for you.

“Yes, of course.” You sighed, watching as she tore and devoured the raw flesh. “Have you never tasted it roasted to a tee, with a golden crust and juicy insides? Surely, they make and serve it that way in the Citadel?”

Miranna harrumphed, spitting out a morsel of fat into the fire, where it flared up and carved a gap in the flames. “Who has the time to wait for the meal to be served? Or to sit there with the lesser devils? I feast when I grow hungry, on the move. I care little for the flavours the meal pretends to have.”

You pressed your hand to hide a growl. “I’d lie if I were to say I wasn’t hungry myself, so we’ll need to hunt for more. I’ll cook it as I was taught, and I trust you’ll be surprised at the difference a little cooking can make.”

“I see no sense in it, but if the hero is hungry, then I shall catch you another!”

Standing up, she scattered the small bones onto the dry turf and then kicked them to be burnt by the flames. You tried to follow, but Whisker’s eyes snapped opened as soon as you moved. Lifting his chin, his whiskers bristling like needles, he batted at your tunic, his claws cutting through.

Ouch. Ouch! You wince and stood, left him no choice but to hop off, glaring at you and demanding an explanation for the disturbance of his sleep.

“I’m sorry, Whiskers,” you uttered, your fingers slipping inside the holes he had left in your garb. “I’ll be sure to bring you some game as well, alright?”

He glowered, flicked his tail, and nestled around himself.

“Miranna,” you said. “Show me how you cunt? I want to see it with my eyes.”

She smirked, biting down on her thick thumb talon and letting it heat up, burning away the soot and blood, leaving only the embers to etch the white rows.

“I’ll gladly demonstrate, hero!” Her cloak dissolved free of its rigid form, streaming down her shoulders like black inchor before hardening into raven wings, a pocket of shadow in the bleached midday light. “Let us slip into the woods, there’ll be deers, wolfs, and bears there. One of those will be enough to sate us.”

“I made a promise to Lucia. Let’s no go into the forest if we can avoid it.”

Miranna left her foot up in the air, glancing over her shoulder at you.

“You’re aware that I’m much stronger than her, right?” she said in staggered voice.

“I do, but It’s not about your strength, Miranna,” you said. “I want Lucia as an ally, and as friend. I ask you to place your thrust in me, who trusts her.”

Her red eyes rolled back, the shining glow disappearing for an instant. “If that’s what you want,”, she relented. “I’ve seen hare burrows close by. I suppose we’ll be hunting wild rabbits.” Her wings flared out, catapulting her high into the sky, her great shadow falling upon the campfire, the searing flames struggling against the sudden chill.

She stretched her wings high above her head, carving a streak of black across the ashen sky. “When you spot the prey before it does you” —she slammed her wings down to her hips, the full arch tearing through the air with a deafening wail as she plunged like a bolt of lightning, her claws driving through the fur, beyound the bones, and skewering the mellow flesh— “it is a hunt.”

Near, a hare froze at the sight of its slaughtered kin. It hopped through the loose grass and flowers, each leap more higher and more desperate than the last.

“When its eyes lock with yours, it’s a challenge,” Miranna laughed, her eyes trailing the critter as she lifted off, the limp hare clutched in her claws.

The hare scurried towards you, purposely lured that way by Miranna’s presence; you grabbed and pulled out Niklos’ sword from its sheath, lifting it with shaking hands, positioning for a thrust. The hare sprang right past your boots, your thrust striking only the empty earth as it skittered away into the underbrush, to fled into the shade cover of the trees. Darn it—

A zephyr zipped past your ear, a dark blur diving like a hawk; two small paws thudded against the hare’s back, pinning it down, sealing its fate. Count Whisker coiled his serpentine tongue about the hare’s neck before snapping its life and ending its flight. Tucking in his wing, he split the fur and bit into the flesh.

“When did you get so fast with those wings?” you asked, the frustration leaking into your voice. “Tch. That explains how you reached the Enclave first.”

Miranna’s feathers’ stirred as she landed behind you, eyes also on Whiskers.

“I missed,” you said, your eyes looking at your bloodless blade.

“It’s no matter,” Miranna assured, hooking her leg to peel off the catch and tossing it into your hands, warm blood soaking the cotton. “We can go for more!”

“We’ll be fine as long as -you- catch a few … “ you muttered in defeat.

With her claw buried in her ashen hair, Miranna scratched at her scalp.

“Would you like to try it with my wings?”

You looked back in silence.

Her wings folded, the feathers black as pitch in the flickering firelight.

“I’ll lend them to you," she offered.

> Leaving Miranna without her wings, even for a short moment, doesn’t seem wise. And though her body may be built like iron, you’re unsure if you’ll make it through a rough landing alive.
> Accept the offer; after all, when will you get another chance like this? Be sure that she gives you enough guidance so you don’t end up breaking your neck.
> [Write In]

File: Demon King's General 77.png (3.13 MB, 1792x1024)

3.13 MB PNG

>>6169730
>>6169828
Don't knock it until you tried it!

>>6170159
>>6170165
He has 6 generals at the time. Now that he knows Miranna had betrayed him, it's uncertain whether he's keeping the position just in case she return or is looking for a replacement.
Yes, the Generals can command the lesser demons and their main responsibility is to do what he asks them to do, but by the point he gives them the rank, they had already been doing that. The humans are much weaker so the loose hierarchy works for what the Demon King wants. If the Demon King could be in every place to do everything himself he would.

>>6170856
>Show me how you cunt?
FINALLY! Freudian slip, lol

>>6170859
> Accept the offer; after all, when will you get another chance like this? Be sure that she gives you enough guidance so you don’t end up breaking your neck.

>>6170859
>Accept the offer; after all, when will you get another chance like this? Be sure that she gives you enough guidance so you don’t end up breaking your neck.
This is going to go terribly and it's going to be hilarious.

>>6170875
Mods don't look!

>>6170856
>Show me how you cunt?
Woah, rude!

>>6170859
> Accept the offer; after all, when will you get another chance like this? Be sure that she gives you enough guidance so you don’t end up breaking your neck.
Hell yea we wanna fly
How tf does one hunt rabbits with a sword anyway

Update will have to wait a bit as I'm in the middle of traveling.

>>6172580
Understood. The status report's appreciated!

>>6170875
>>6170901
>>6171000
>>6172814

You tilted your head, your brow arching.

“You will?”

“Sure!”

Miranna’s ill-formed grin widened, the gaps stark like blighted patches of earth unclaimed by a nightfall of snow. Transmuting her wings back into a half-mantle, she yanked it free above her head and tossed it over yours. The demonic fabric felt as heavy as wool yet as soft as velvet, falling across your shoulders to veil most of your body.

Not your size …

You gripped the cowl, your fingers sinking into the seamless black folds.

“You said those were your mothers’ wings?” you asked.

Miranna cocked her head from side to side, appraising her own apparel. “They used to be; not anymore,” she replied, her talons grazing at her chin. “But forget who owned them before, hero—focus on how you’ll be claiming the skies!”

In the tight pause, Whiskers mewed, his fangs cracking the hare’s bones with a loud snap.

Miranna waited impatiently, her fists trembling. You looked at the mantle to her, then back again.

“How do I do it?”

She blinked her large eager eyes, her one claw squeezing her chin so firmly that her cheeks seemed to hollow out.

“How -do- you do it?” she muttered. “What were the steps?”

“Maybe it’s not something a human can do?”

“Not so,” she said, stretching out a lone talon. “Whether human or demon, it matters not. The demon magic is already within those objects, there’s nothing that stops -anyone- from using them.”

“I’ve heard of a person trying, and he ended up cursed, twice,” you said.

“Ah, consequences. Only the weak care about -that-,” Miranna said, rolling her eyes. “Anyway, just try -imagining- the mantle becoming wings, it should work as long as you’re in contact with it, hero. After, they’ll be yours to control!”

Your skills not yet matching Miranna’s to envision it with them opened, you closed your eyes. You’ve seen her wings—stretching across the castle stones of the sky like vines of black nightshade—plenty of times, up close as well as from far away.

“There they are!” she gushed.

Your lids parted to find yourself inside a vast shadow of your own making. There was no physical link, no sinews or bones, but the wings were there: vast and immense, unfurling like an inked tempest; two black deluges of feathers.

“It’s all in your mind, they aren’t part of your body exactly,” Miranna explained, stretching out both her hands above her head.

“I’m … not sure about this. My body is not as sturdy as yours, Miranna. If I crash, I could snap my neck.”

Miranna harrumphed. Her cheeks puffed out in a pout, a huffy snort escaping her nose.

“Hero, did the prophecy mention in any way you breaking your neck?

“It did not. If that were to happen, how would you defeating the Demon King and the Generals be possible after it? Makes no sense.”

You exhaled a shaky breath, envisioning the boundless wings ‘growing’ from your back lowering at your sides; they moved, thought in fits and starts. “You’re making it sound like I’m an immortal,” you said.

“Else the prophecy wouldn’t hold together, hero!” she said, beaming as thought you’d solved her riddle, oblivious to how overly-simplistic she had made it! “Do you not remember the staircase?”

You backed away before she would try and re-enact it. The raven wings followed your thoughts like an untrained guard dog, more concerned and hysterically enticed with the treat you had than with obeying your command.

Thwap! You lifted off the ground, barely clearing it. Whap! A second clumsy flap gifted you a bit more height. Focusing on nothing but the wings in your mind, and the link between them and the real ones, you snapped them—

A sudden gale of wind rolled through the field grass in rising eddies, swirling beneath your shadow. The zephyr surged and struck your wings as you were to lower them, the untamed current coursing through every feather. It knocked you like an invisible cudgel, the cold breath suffocating your senses. You crashed against the leaden clouds, a few moment ago seeming miles out of your reach! The wind sputtered below, unable to pierce the overcast to pursue you. The unclouded sun reached at your face like a mitten.

Blinking past the blinding yellow light, you hovered alone, far from any source of aid. So you thought, but you spotted a blurry figure. Miranna? No … locking you with an astonished, mossy eyes, just as startled as you if not more, hovered a demonling, its silvered skin streaked with black blotches and crowned by V-shaped pair of horns.

A scout?!

> Swipe for the demon before he can react. Grapple him into a chokehold. Wrestle him before he comes to his senses and escapes.
> Hurry and descent back—thought you have no idea how—to warn and call for Miranna. She’ll have better luck with capturing the demon.
> Attempt diplomacy. Wave your hand at him to show that you mean no harm. Try your best to convince him you’re a demon not a human.
> [Write In]

>>6173687
>> Attempt diplomacy. Wave your hand at him to show that you mean no harm. Try your best to convince him you’re a demon not a human.
Hope your trip went well, QM.

>>6173760
I am still on holiday, Anon, but thanks! Just found some time to write an update.

>>6173687
> Attempt diplomacy. Wave your hand at him to show that you mean no harm. Try your best to convince him you’re a demon not a human.
Hello, fellow loyal demon soldier! What a wonderful day, eh?

>>6173767
Thank you!

>>6173687
> Attempt diplomacy. Wave your hand at him to show that you mean no harm. Try your best to convince him you’re a demon not a human.
So uh you fly here often?

>>6173760
>>6173812
>>6173867

Your wings flapped and flayed in uneven arcs. You lifted your hand to awkwardly greet him, spinning and twisting towards the speckled carpet of clouds instead. The demon took in a startled breath.

He jerked back his body and crossed an unreachable distance in one swoop.

“You caught me by surprise there—“

“W-Wings …” he stammered, poking through the air at them.

He faced the other way, not listening to your words. His own leathery wings, starved of blood-red hue, flapped, pushing him further out of reach. You struggled to match his flight.

> Yell to the demon that you stole those wings from Miranna, so of course they are recognisable to him.
> Shut your eyes and put every ounce of strength and focus into beating Miranna’s wings. Try and close the distance.
> This is a risky and way-too-out-of-your-depth manoeuvre, but if it works it works. Disappearing beneath the cloud and then try and appear from beneath them in front of the demon.
> [Write In]

>>6176439
> This is a risky and way-too-out-of-your-depth manoeuvre, but if it works it works. Disappearing beneath the cloud and then try and appear from beneath them in front of the demon.
Sounds cool. And if it doesn't work then it'll probably be funny.

>>6176439
> This is a risky and way-too-out-of-your-depth manoeuvre, but if it works it works. Disappearing beneath the cloud and then try and appear from beneath them in front of the demon.
The based mogneuver

I'm returning from holiday today, so update tomorrow!

>>6176439
> This is a risky and way-too-out-of-your-depth manoeuvre, but if it works it works. Disappearing beneath the cloud and then try and appear from beneath them in front of the demon.

>>6177449
See you soon!

>>6176484
>>6176514
>>6177502

If he were a spy, you couldn’t let him escape. But he was far more experience in flight than you … to catch up, you had no choice but to use those wings to become as unpredictable as Miranna. You tucked them in close, plunging downwards, flying through the cold, sodden depths as if they were murky waters.

Drenched and miserable, you burst out from the underlayer, sludgy droplets trailing down your wings and skin, leaving behind chilly frost-coated lines.

You scrubbed at your face, where water clung like dampened powder, then turned to face the charcoal-coloured skies, deluge fermenting within. On the other side of the cloud bank, the sun’s pale rays cast the demon you chased as a black stain smeared against the churning greys. Tough to follow.

Although the demon slowed slightly when he noticed your absence, it was still a struggle to match his pace, your ragged flaps a tangle of spasms. The wings were not part of you, but the fatigue dragged at every limb regardless, leaving you heavy. You waited until you could not, flying back into the raincloud.

Lurching upwards like a drunk hummingbird, you barrelled through, the rain blinding you like a silver knife slicing across your eyes. Where was he?—

Sharp, sudden pain burned below your brows as you crashed into something—someone—with a heavy, dull impact. You choked on your own gasp, your right wing curling like a sickle, while your left twisted like a rope.

*** *** ***

You awoke, your vision blurry, mere inches from a decayed rooftop; cracked and torn off shingles, warped rafters, and rotten holes opening up like pores.

Instinct seized and your wings snapped opened, wind gathered in your fall ramming against the feathers as they began to howl, whistle, and wail; any wings other than Miranna’s would have been torn. Phew, that was a close one—

The demon fell on your back, pushing your face into the mossy roof and then crashing you both through it, inside of the ruins below. You coughed painfully, gasping for air, and coughing once more, struggling to draw in breath.

Dust and pollen swirled in the shadows cast by the destroyed walls. You fell on your knees, your hands sliding aimlessly, from ground to chest to head, as if you were unsure where to keep them. Settling one above your lung, and other—after brushing aside damp forelocks—pressed onto your forehead, you stood up, taking in the surroundings. The worn, single-room dwelling seemed abandoned for many decades. The stone, only found in such ruins with its bluish hue and rough hewn edge, was of no worth to be taken and reused.

As if suspended in midair, the building’s stones were propped up by a wild overgrowth of flowers and herbs, spilling from upturned cracked pots and still-hanging urns. Vibrant bright petals of all imaginable colours wrapped around the stones, their stems and roots thick with age. Lush clumps of mint, dill, and parsley grew in patches inside of every corner, replacing the cobwebs.

The air was thick with herbal and floral scent, soaking the beige dust.

The demon, leaning against one of the herbal beds, groaned, turning his head.

“Are you alright?” you asked, your wings brushing against the house-flowers, petals and pollen tangling into the feathers.

“How dare you … human, do you not know who I am?”

He lifted his hand at you and opened up his palm.

You narrowed your eyes and shook your head.

“A Demon General?” you guessed. Another one …

“Far more,” the demon hissed, a large eye growing from his flesh, its lid creeping open. “I am Mwaus, the Demon King’s own son! Beg for forgiveness!”

> Take a step back, lower your gaze, and give a slight bow. Pretend to go along with it.
> Warn him that Miranna is nearby, and he should be careful about harming you.
>Draw your sword from the sheathe and tell him that the Demon King has no heir (right?), and that he better watch what he does next.
> [Write In]

Was it funny? I think it was funny.

>>6178091
> Take a step back, lower your gaze, and give a slight bow. Pretend to go along with it.
It's really tempting to just say "nu-uh" at him.

>>6178093
It gave me a chuckle.

>>6178091
>Demand he prove it -- why should you trust he is who he says he is? You've never hward of an heir!
Stall for time, until maybe Miranna can find where we crashed and come to our rescue! Play to his pride! Who is his mom, even?

>>6178091
>>6178124
Changing my vote to support this >>6178138

>>6178091
>>6178124
+2
Also if he really thinks we’re a human why would we bow to demon royalty? Would he bow before the human king?

>>6178124
>>6178138
>>6178168
>>6180034

You itched behind your neck. “Are you sure?”

Standing only as tall as your stomach, the demonling curled his fangs.

“What’s that suppose to mean?” he snarled, glaring at you from the flower-laden bed, his stance uneven with one leg awkwardly stretched out.

“It’s just that, I’ve never heard of the Demon King having a heir.”

“Absurd!” he snapped. “Everyone, whether demon or man, knows of me!”

You shook your head, the ache in your skull still throbbing and ringing. This made it hard to focus and sapped your control over the wings. How long would it take for Miranna to find you, if she even would? Did she see where you flied away to? You hadn’t paid attention to the distance, so just how far had you strayed from the camp? Without her own wings, could she even pursue you?

“And why would a human bow to a demon?,” you said. “And what’s with the eye?”

Your fingers wrapped around the sword’s hilt.

All three of his eyes blinked in unison. “Two are not enough to keep watch on you!” he said. “My father is the King of those lands, so it is plain that you would bow to me too, his rightful prince. Do not be a fool, human.”

“I knew not that the Demon King had taken a Queen. Who is your mother?”

Something crunched beneath your metal heel. You glanced to find a woman’s skeletal remains—her bones half-sunk in the earthen floor, etched with pours, and weathered to a sallow yellow-grey hue, her skull resting by your boots.

Alarmed that you just desecrated someone’s remains, you carefully lifted your foot, glad to discover that the sound came from a brownish piece of pottery, and not the skull inches near it. But as soon as your foot rose, a dark serpent slipped beneath the arches of her ribs, its scales rustling as it moved.

“Why, my mother is no other than—“ he paused, gaze rolling upward as if trying to remember her name, oblivious and unaware of the snake near his legs.

> Yell at Mwaus to warn him of the snake, but keep yourself as safe space.
> Without a word, pull out the sword and slam the honed bladed between the bones of the rib-cage, where the body of the snake is: a hit certain to land.
> Perhaps the sword is not the best thing to deal with small yet fast vermin. Grasp the Grub Hag’s knife and mockingly warn Mwaus about the serpent. Once he has the snake’s attention, using the blade to drive it into the snake’s head.
> Wait for the snake to attack Mwaus and then step outside the ruins of a house. Try and focus and lift yourself back into the sky while he’s busy there.
> [Write In]

File: Demon King's General 79.png (2.84 MB, 1792x1024)

2.84 MB PNG

Who's the mother?!

>>6180082
> Yell at Mwaus to warn him of the snake, but keep yourself as safe space.
I wanna see what princeboy does against this sort of thing.

>>6180083
inb4 this keeps being a running gag.

>>6180082
> Yell at Mwaus to warn him of the snake, but keep yourself as safe space.
Damn don't hurt the snake he's just chillin

>>6180082
> Perhaps the sword is not the best thing to deal with small yet fast vermin. Grasp the Grub Hag’s knife and mockingly warn Mwaus about the serpent. Once he has the snake’s attention, using the blade to drive it into the snake’s head.
Maybe we can ask the knife for an answer to the question "how do we get out of this situation alive and intact?"