>>6165909

You were the sole survivor, but the experience left you scarred in body and mind. Burns mark your skin where the flames touched you, a constant reminder of that night. Worse are the memories: the faces of those you couldn’t save, the cries for help you couldn’t answer, and the demon’s fiery eyes burning into your soul. Nightmares plague your sleep, and visions of the cult leader haunt your waking moments. Wandering far from home, you are consumed by guilt and the burning question of why you were spared. Whispers suggest the cult is still out there, spreading their dark influence and summoning their infernal master in other villages. Driven by anger and the desperate need for closure, you’ve vowed to stop them, no matter the cost.

After fleeing as far as your weary legs could carry you, haunted by nightmares and the searing memories of the inferno, your journey eventually brought you into even darker straits. You stumbled into unfamiliar lands, weak from hunger and exhaustion, only to be captured by slavers lurking on the fringes of civilization. Their cruelty knew no bounds; they shackled you like an animal, stripping away what little freedom you had left. For days, you endured their beatings, their jeers, and the indignity of being paraded as a commodity.

In time, you were sold to a clan of brutal orcs, who saw no value in you beyond your ability to swing a pickaxe. They dragged you to a sprawling network of mines carved deep into a mountain’s blackened heart. The air there was thick with choking dust, and the clanging of metal on stone never ceased. The orcs were relentless taskmasters, driving their slaves to work until their hands bled and their bodies ached. Any show of defiance—or even weakness—was met with savage beatings or worse.

You quickly learned the unspoken rules of survival: avoid the overseers’ eyes, keep your head down, and never draw attention to yourself. The days blurred into one another, an endless cycle of toil, pain, and despair. Yet even in the suffocating darkness of the mines, you found glimmers of light. Other captives whispered of escape, sharing tales of hidden passages and forgotten tunnels that might lead to freedom. Some even spoke of an underground resistance, though none dared say more for fear of spies.

As the weeks turned to months, your body grew harder, your hands calloused from the pickaxe. The fire in your soul, dimmed but not extinguished by the horrors you had endured, began to burn brighter. The memories of your village—of the demon and the cult—fueled a quiet, smoldering rage. You swore that you would not die in these mines, that you would escape, and that you would bring justice to the ones who had taken everything from you.

>>6165910


One day, amid the endless cycle of drudgery and despair, the monotony of the mines was shattered by the sound of distant battle. It began as a faint rumble—a clash of steel, guttural roars, and cries of pain echoing through the tunnels. The overseers barked orders, rallying the orcish guards to investigate, but the noise only grew louder and closer. Soon, the clanging of weapons and the flash of light filtering through the cracks in the rock made it clear: someone was fighting the orcs above.

The enslaved miners huddled in the shadows, too fearful to hope, too broken to act. You pressed yourself against the jagged walls, heart pounding as the din of combat reached a fever pitch. Then, as abruptly as it had begun, the chaos subsided. Heavy footsteps approached from above, accompanied by voices—not the guttural growls of orcs, but the sharper, more refined tones of outsiders.

The adventurers came into view—an eclectic group clad in mismatched armor and weapons, their faces smeared with grime but alight with triumph. They moved with purpose, exuding an aura of power and confidence. Some bore wounds from the skirmish, but they paid them no mind, descending deeper into the tunnels as though they had a specific target in mind.

One among them, a tall figure in gleaming mail and a voice that carried like thunder, paused as he reached the edge of the chamber where you and the others were held. He turned to address you, his gaze sweeping over the haggard faces of the enslaved. “You will not remain in these chains forever,” he declared, his voice ringing with conviction. “I swear on my honor—I will return to free you all.”

Before anyone could respond, the adventurers plunged deeper into the tunnels, their torchlight fading into the oppressive darkness below. A murmur rippled through the slaves, a flicker of something long forgotten stirring in their eyes: hope. Yet as the moments stretched into hours, and the hours into days, the orcs began to recover from their losses. They replaced their fallen guards and tightened security, taking out their rage on the slaves.

The words of the adventurer lingered in your mind like a burning ember. Was it a promise made in earnest, or merely a hollow gesture from someone who would never return? Regardless, it rekindled something within you—a stubborn defiance, a reminder that freedom was not impossible. If the adventurers never returned, you resolved that you would not wait for them. You would seize any chance to escape, and one day, perhaps, you would see the outside world again—not as a slave, but as a free person, ready to reclaim what was stolen from you.

>>6165912


The mines, once a suffocating prison of endless toil, had become a simmering cauldron of tension. You had learned over time that this region was fiercely contested, not just by outsiders, but even among the orcs themselves. Periodically, rival bands would arrive to stake their claim over the rich veins of ore, demanding tribute in blood, treasure, or both. The current overlords of the mines, though brutal, were not invincible, and you began to notice cracks in their dominance.

One night, the balance of power shifted again. A horde of roaming orcs, scarred and wild-eyed, descended on the mines, demanding an enormous payment for the right to continue exploiting the mountain. Their leader, a towering brute with a jagged axe, bellowed his terms, his voice carrying through the tunnels. The overseers balked, unwilling to yield, and within hours, the mine erupted into chaos. The resident orcs armed themselves and charged into battle, their war cries echoing into the night as they poured out of the tunnels.

This time, you were ready. Over the years, whispers had passed between the older miners, those who had been there long before your arrival. They spoke of a secret—a hidden tunnel painstakingly dug in secrecy, a passage that could lead to freedom. For months, you had worked quietly to gain the trust of these veterans, helping to clear debris and strengthen the tunnel. Now, with the orcs embroiled in a bloody skirmish, the moment had come.

You and a few hundred fellow miners crept through the dark, suffocating passage, hearts pounding with fear and anticipation. The tunnel was narrow and crude, but it was salvation. After what felt like an eternity, you emerged into the cool night air, blinking against the light of the moon and the stars. The sight that greeted you stole your breath: a lush forest stretched before you, its trees swaying gently in the wind. For the first time in years, you were outside, under an open sky.

But the euphoria of freedom was tempered by the grim reality that it might not last. The orcs would not take this escape lightly. You had no doubt they would hunt you down as soon as they realized what had happened. The older miners, especially one grizzled veteran who had once served as a sergeant in an army, quickly took charge. “No time to celebrate,” he barked. “Grab what you can—sharp rocks, sturdy sticks. Make spears if you have to. We need to move now and put as much distance as we can between us and this cursed mountain.”

With his leadership, the group began to organize. The weaker among you were supported by the stronger, and makeshift weapons were fashioned from whatever the forest provided. You marched through the underbrush in silence, the rustling leaves and distant sounds of battle the only accompaniment to your journey. Every step felt both terrifying and exhilarating—a first taste of freedom, but shadowed by the knowledge that it might be fleeting.

>>6165913


The sergeant’s gruff voice cut through the night as he laid out the plan. “They’ll come for us, but we’ll be ready. We’ve got numbers, and we’ve got fire in our hearts. Keep moving, keep quiet, and be ready to fight when the time comes.” His words lit a spark in the weary group. You had escaped the mines, but this was only the beginning. Together, you would face whatever came next.

After days of relentless marching, your group found itself at the edge of a sprawling swamp. The air was heavy with moisture, thick with the sickly-sweet scent of decay. Towering cypress trees loomed overhead, their gnarled roots twisting like skeletal fingers out of the water. The swamp stretched endlessly before you, its dark waters obscured by patches of thick mist. Every step closer seemed to sap the courage of those who had marched alongside you.

One of the older miners, a wiry man with a keen sense of direction, pointed to the shifting position of the sun. “We’re heading south,” he said, his voice carrying a mix of confidence and uncertainty. “But this swamp... it could swallow us whole.” His words echoed the growing fear among the group. Whispers of unseen predators, deadly quicksand, and cursed lands spread like wildfire.

The sergeant, who had been leading the group with unshakable resolve, stood at the edge of the swamp, arms crossed. “We don’t have a choice,” he said gruffly. “The orcs will regroup, and if they find us out here in the open, we’re as good as dead. The swamp is unknown, yes—but it’s cover. It’s a chance.”

Despite his logic, many were hesitant. Families clutched their children, some arguing that it would be better to take their chances in the open plains or double back and try to find another route. Others simply stared at the swamp in silence, their faces pale with dread.

For a long moment, the group was at an impasse. You could feel the tension rising, the fragile unity of the escapees beginning to splinter. The sergeant, sensing the unease, raised his voice. “Listen to me!” he barked. “We survived years in the mines. We faced down those damned orcs and made it out alive. This swamp is just one more trial—one more thing between us and freedom. You want to turn back? Fine. But if you stay, we move as one. We protect each other, and we keep going. The only way out is forward.”

As the group hesitated at the swamp's edge, you found yourself gazing out at the foreboding expanse, your thoughts racing. The swamp was treacherous, yes, but it wasn’t your only option. Skirting around its perimeter might take longer, but it could offer a safer path—and perhaps even confuse the orcs chasing you. If they chose to circle the swamp in one direction while you went the other, it could buy your group precious time.

>>6165914

Yet the idea of suggesting this gnawed at you. The group’s resolve was fragile, held together by the sergeant’s commanding voice and the collective hope that freedom lay just ahead. To propose a different route now, when fear was already threatening to split the group apart, might unravel everything. People were exhausted, hungry, and scared; if dissent took root, the unity that had carried you this far might shatter completely.

But as you look around, something gnaws at you. The swamp is dangerous, that much is clear. The unknown perils of quicksand, predators lurking beneath the waters, and the endless maze of trees could swallow you whole. You’ve been through too much to take unnecessary risks, and part of you wonders if there’s another way. Perhaps, if you lead the group around the swamp, you could avoid its dangers. If the orcs follow through the swamp, you could slip by undetected, maybe even mislead them entirely. But if you voice your opinion, there’s a real risk of dividing the fragile resolve of the group. The sergeant’s authority is respected, and you know challenging him could fracture the unity that’s kept everyone together so far.

On the other hand, remaining silent and following the sergeant’s plan could offer the group the strength of unity, but at the cost of venturing into an unpredictable and treacherous swamp. It’s a direct path, yes, but it could be the very thing that undoes everything. Then again, you could suggest splitting the group now, allowing some to follow the sergeant into the swamp while others take the longer route around. This might give you the flexibility to move more freely, but splitting the group would weaken everyone’s strength in numbers, and the risks of division are considerable.

The air is thick with tension, the group waiting for someone to make a decision. The sounds of the swamp seem louder now, pressing in on you, and the weight of the moment feels almost unbearable. Time is running out, and the next choice you make could be the difference between survival and doom.

> Voice your opinion: Speak up and suggest the group should go around the swamp to avoid its dangers.
> Follow the sergeant: Stay silent and trust the sergeant’s leadership, following him into the swamp.
> Propose we split now: Suggest splitting the group—one following the sergeant into the swamp, and the other going around it.
> Write in

>>6165915

Take the sergeant aside and express your concerns privately? We can push for the longer route without freaking everyone out this way

>>6165915
>Ask the veterans how orcs act and think
>"If they're dumb maybe their first thought would be going forward through the Swamp, because they're twice as strong and big as a soldier, which means will be the easiest way for them to choose"
>"If they're smart they will think that we actually went around the swamp and look over there. And the third option is going back and lose time, maybe even find them and have to fight."
>"But it's clear that we need to stick together in whatever we choose, is literally our only strength. If we split, one group would get caught by the orcs and the other maybe die for other reason."
>"And remember, we don't even know if once we circle around the Swamp whatever we find there will be safe. So we must choose, NOW, and we must go together, it doesn't matter if we like it or not."

>>6165944
>>6165945


As the group lingers at the swamp's edge, you feel the weight of your thoughts pressing harder. You glance at the sergeant, his shoulders set with determination as he surveys the murky expanse. His leadership has carried the group this far, but you can’t shake the feeling that plunging into the swamp could spell disaster. Still, voicing your concerns in front of everyone might undermine his authority, and you know the group’s resolve is fragile at best.

Making up your mind, you approach him quietly, waiting for a moment when the others are distracted—sharpening sticks, adjusting their meager packs, or simply staring at the swamp with dread. “Sergeant,” you say in a low voice, just enough to get his attention. He turns to you, his expression wary but calm, the weight of responsibility clear in his eyes.

“I need to speak with you,” you continue, keeping your tone neutral. “Privately, if you don’t mind.” He hesitates for a moment but nods, stepping away from the group to a spot where the others won’t overhear.

Once you’re sure no one is listening, you take a deep breath and lay out your concerns. “I know the swamp is a direct path, but it’s dangerous—maybe too dangerous. If we go around, we might avoid both the swamp and the orcs. It’s riskier to take longer, but it could save us from whatever’s waiting in there. If we decide on this carefully, we might even mislead the orcs, making them think we’re inside while we’re circling it.”

The sergeant listens in silence, his face unreadable. When you finish, he crosses his arms and looks out toward the swamp. “I understand your point,” he says finally. “But if I present this to the group, it could cause division. They’re scared enough as it is.”

You nod, acknowledging his concern. “That’s why I came to you first. If you think it’s the wrong call, I’ll follow your lead. But if you decide the longer route is better, we can make it seem like the plan all along—without stirring up a fight.”

The sergeant studies you for a long moment, weighing the options and the trust you’ve shown by coming to him in private. “All right,” he says eventually. “Let me think it through. I’ll make the call before we move. But either way, I’ll need your support to keep everyone together.”

You nod again, relieved to have shared your thoughts without sparking open dissent. Whether he chooses the swamp or the longer route, you’ll be ready to face what comes next.

After a few hours of much-needed rest, the sergeant calls the group together. People gather slowly, their exhaustion evident in their heavy movements and tired eyes. The air is still tense, but there’s a flicker of curiosity as everyone waits to hear what comes next.

Rolled 2, 2 = 4 (2d6)

>>6166254


The sergeant steps onto a slight rise to make himself visible, his voice steady as he addresses the crowd. “We’ve all come far,” he begins, his tone measured and calm. “We’ve faced worse than this swamp, and I know many of you were ready to march straight through it. But I’ve thought it over. The risks are too high. We don’t know what’s in there, and I won’t lead us into the unknown when there’s another option.”

He pauses, letting the weight of his words sink in. “We’ll go west, around the swamp. It’ll take longer, but it gives us the best chance to stay alive and throw off the orcs. If they think we’ve gone into the swamp, they might follow us there while we circle around. But listen carefully—we must remain together. No stragglers, no arguments. We stay as one.”

A ripple of murmurs moves through the group. Those who had feared the swamp nod in agreement, visibly relieved by the decision. Even those who had been ready to brave the swamp seem to accept the logic, their trust in the sergeant outweighing any doubts.

The sergeant scans the group, his expression firm. “We’re not out of danger yet. Grab what you can carry. Sharpen your sticks, stay alert, and be ready to move. We march as soon as the sun begins to dip.”

The group begins to stir, murmurs of unease replaced by the quiet determination of preparing for the next leg of the journey. You feel a mixture of relief and apprehension. The sergeant had listened to your concerns and taken them to heart, presenting the plan as his own without sowing doubt or division. Now it was up to all of you to see it through.

As the sun sinks lower in the sky, casting the swamp in a murky golden light, you set off toward the west. The air grows cooler, and the path ahead feels uncertain, but for the first time in a long while, there’s a faint sense of hope among the group. Together, you march on, the oppressive shadow of the swamp slowly receding behind you.


ROLLING TIME (2d6)

First dice

1 - a large orc patrol comes your way
2-3 - the orcs took a different path
4-6 - a small orc patrol comes your way

Second dice

1 - lizardmen from the swamp attack you at night
2 - a giant lizard attacks your group
3 - you find a group of girls collecting herbs
4 - you find a small abandoned settlement
5 - you find a small boat by the river
6 - you arrive at a flooded area

Rolled 62, 40, 95 = 197 (3d100)

>>6166256


The march westward stretches on through the day, the swamp shrinking behind you as the terrain transitions to denser forests and uneven ground. With each mile, the tension gripping the group begins to ease. No signs of the orcs—no war cries, no thundering footsteps—just the sound of your own marching and the distant hum of nature. Whispers of cautious optimism pass among the group, and you begin to wonder if the plan worked. Could the orcs have been misled into the swamp? Could you finally be free of them?

But just as the first glimmers of hope take root, the serenity of the forest shatters. From the undergrowth ahead comes a low, guttural hiss, followed by the crashing of heavy foliage. The group halts, heads snapping toward the sound. A massive form emerges from the shadows—a giant lizard, its scaled body gleaming in the fading light, its yellow eyes locked onto the group with predatory intent.

The beast rears back, revealing its razor-sharp teeth, and lets out a deafening roar. Panic ripples through the group. The sergeant shouts for everyone to hold their ground, but fear has already taken hold. Some clutch their sharpened sticks, trembling, while others start to back away, unsure whether to fight or flee.

The lizard lunges, its powerful legs propelling it forward with terrifying speed. It slams into the front line of your group, sending people sprawling and scattering the makeshift weapons. A miner thrusts a sharpened stick at the creature, but the lizard’s thick hide deflects the blow. It swipes its massive tail, knocking several people off their feet.

You find yourself gripping your own crude weapon, heart pounding. Around you, chaos reigns as people scramble to defend themselves or flee. The sergeant roars commands, trying to rally the group, but the lizard’s sheer size and ferocity make it clear this won’t be an easy fight.

What do you do?
> Charge the lizard with your weapon, rallying others to fight alongside you.
> Search for a weak point on the lizard and try to strike strategically.
> Try to distract the lizard, giving others a chance to regroup or escape.
> Flee with those already retreating, hoping to avoid the creature entirely.
> Write in

Please roll 3d100 with your choices.

>>6166263

> Search for a weak point on the lizard and try to strike strategically.

Jam your stick down its throat! We don’t need to kill this thing, just hurt it and make it give up

Rolled 42, 86, 1 = 129 (3d100)

>>6166270

Here’s my roll

>>6166270
>>6166273


The lizard’s maw snaps shut around your arm as you thrust your sharpened stick into its mouth. Its teeth, jagged and cruel, rip through flesh with terrifying ease, and a burst of pain explodes up your arm. You scream, but the sound is lost in the chaos as the massive creature recoils, dislodging your makeshift weapon. The lizard hisses angrily, thick ropes of blood and saliva dripping from its mouth, and then it turns and bounds back into the swamp with astonishing speed, its hulking form vanishing into the shadows.

You collapse to your knees, clutching your arm, which now hangs limp and drenched in crimson. The wound is horrific—a chunk of muscle torn away, leaving exposed flesh and bone beneath the tattered remains of your sleeve. Blood flows freely, pooling on the dirt below.

“Lad, that’s bad,” says one of the older miners as he rushes to your side, his voice tinged with both worry and admiration. “You’ve got guts, but that’s a wound you’ll carry for life. Might be you’ll have trouble gripping anything with that hand from now on.”

The sergeant kneels beside you, his hands steady as he begins to help bind the wound with strips torn from his own shirt. His voice is calm, but his expression betrays his concern. “We can’t stop long. Patch it up best you can, but you’ve got to keep moving.”

Despite the pain, you grit your teeth and nod, wrapping your arm tightly. Every movement sends fresh waves of agony through you, but you refuse to let it show. The group gathers around, offering scraps of cloth and murmurs of encouragement.

“You were very brave back there,” the sergeant says quietly as you stand, his weathered hand resting on your uninjured shoulder. His eyes meet yours, steady and resolute. “Stay strong. This isn’t the end.”

With your arm secured and the group once again on the move, you march into the deepening woods. The terrain shifts around you, the dense forest closing in with towering trees whose thick canopy blocks out most of the fading sunlight. The air here is cooler, heavy with the scent of moss and damp earth.

Suddenly, the stillness is broken by the sharp sound of a voice. “Halt!”

The command is clear and firm, and everyone freezes. From between the trees, an elf emerges on a magnificent black horse. His armor gleams with an otherworldly luster, blending seamlessly with the greens and browns of the forest. A bow is slung across his back, and his hand rests on the hilt of an elegant sword. His piercing eyes scan the group, his face an unreadable mask of authority.

“You may not pass,” the elf declares, his voice carrying an undeniable weight of command.

>>6166553


The sergeant steps forward, raising a hand to signal he means no harm. “We are fleeing,” he says, his voice steady but weary. “Fleeing from orcs who enslaved us in the mines. We’ve suffered much and have nowhere else to go.”

The elf’s gaze hardens for a moment, but then he glances over the group. His sharp eyes linger on your wounded arm, and his expression softens—slightly. “Orcs, you say?” he repeats, his voice quieter, almost contemplative. After a moment of silence, he nods.

“Very well,” he says. “You may set up camp at the outskirts of the forest. Do not wander further. I will consult with our leaders and return with their decision.”

Without waiting for a response, the elf turns his horse sharply and rides deeper into the forest, vanishing as quickly as he appeared. The group exhales a collective sigh of relief, and the sergeant wastes no time issuing orders to set up camp. As the others gather what meager resources they can, you sink onto a fallen log, clutching your bandaged arm. For the first time in what feels like an eternity, there’s a faint glimmer of hope that this refuge might lead to something better—or at least, to something other than fear and bloodshed.

The camp is modest, little more than a cluster of weary bodies huddled together amidst the towering trees, but it offers something you haven’t felt in years: a sliver of safety. The men scatter into the forest, returning with a variety of small creatures—rabbits, squirrels, and a few birds—strung together on crude ropes. A fire crackles to life in the center of the camp, and the smell of roasting meat fills the air.

Though the portions are small, the simple meal is enough to lift everyone’s spirits. Conversations grow warmer, and faint smiles appear on faces that have long forgotten the sensation. You sit near the fire, the warmth seeping into your aching body. Despite the gnawing pain in your arm, the food and camaraderie bring you a measure of comfort. For the first time in what feels like an eternity, you allow yourself to relax.

Night falls, and exhaustion takes hold. You lie on the cool ground, cradling your wounded arm, and manage to drift into a restless sleep. The pain ebbs and flows in waves, but the sheer weariness of your body overcomes it.

Morning arrives with the sharp, haunting call of horns echoing through the forest. The sound jolts you awake, and you scramble to your feet, the rest of the camp stirring in alarm. Emerging from the misty treeline is a procession of elves, their presence almost otherworldly. They move with an elegance that seems to defy nature, their flowing garments blending seamlessly with the hues of the forest. Each carries a woven basket filled with gifts—bread, fruits, and finely made tools—and they present them with solemn grace.

>>6166554


At the head of the procession is a figure that takes your breath away. The elf is tall, her golden hair cascading like a river of light down her back. Her emerald eyes hold a depth that seems to pierce your very soul, and her ornate armor gleams even in the soft morning light. She radiates majesty, and her every step commands attention.

“I am Queen Andora, ruler of this forest,” she announces, her voice melodic yet firm. “When I heard that humans had escaped the orcish mines on their own, I had to see you myself.”

Her words ripple through the group, a mixture of awe and disbelief spreading among the freed miners. The queen gestures, and one of her emissaries steps forward, addressing the sergeant directly. “The queen requests a small delegation—five humans—to discuss the specifics of your situation. Prepare yourselves.”

The sergeant looks over the group, his sharp eyes narrowing as he makes his choice. “You,” he says, nodding at you. “And you three.” He picks three others, men who had proven their reliability during the escape.

The elves set up an elaborate tent in a nearby clearing, its silken fabric adorned with intricate patterns that shimmer in the light. Before entering, you are handed fresh clothing—a simple but finely made tunic and trousers—and a healer tends to your wounds.

“This will scar,” the healer says, her touch gentle but precise. “And movement may be limited. But we’ll see how it progresses.”

You nod, though the uncertainty gnaws at you. “I was told I’ll lose movement entirely,” you say softly.

The healer meets your gaze, her expression unreadable. “Perhaps. It was a grievous wound. But time can surprise us.”

Once prepared, you step into the tent alongside the others. Inside, the air is thick with the scent of fragrant herbs, and the queen sits upon a finely crafted chair, her posture regal yet inviting.

“I have thought on your plight,” Queen Andora begins, her voice calm yet commanding. “And I offer you two paths. First, you may build a settlement in my lands, in a region called Shadow Grove. It lies by the hills and holds great promise for mining, but it has been plagued by necromancers and bandits, preventing us from establishing a presence there. With your expertise, you could prosper there, trading ore and metal for whatever you need.

“Alternatively,” she continues, her piercing eyes sweeping across your group, “if you wish not to remain in my lands, I will arrange for my knights to escort you south, beyond the great river, toward the human kingdoms. From there, you may seek your destiny.”

The choice weighs heavily in the air, and the queen waits for your answer.

> Accept Queen Andora’s offer to settle in Shadow Grove.
> Thank the queen for her hospitality but request to be escorted south.
> Propose an alternative plan.

>>6166555

> Accept Queen Andora’s offer to settle in Shadow Grove.

Also ask how immigration to the new settlement will be handled. If it’s a dangerous part of her realm, we’ll need more people to build up the settlement and project force. Can we expect elvish assistance once we’ve settled or will this be more of a hands-off scenario once we’re there?

>>6166713

After much deliberation, you decide to accept Queen Andora’s offer to settle in Shadow Grove. The prospect of starting anew, of building something of your own after years of enslavement, is both daunting and exhilarating. Yet doubts gnaw at you. As you stand before the queen in the richly adorned tent, you voice your concerns.

“Your Majesty,” you begin hesitantly, “we’re grateful for your generosity, but I must ask—how will immigration to the new settlement be handled? If we are to establish a thriving community, we’ll need more people to build, to farm, and to defend ourselves.”

The queen’s expression softens, though her tone remains measured. “I understand your concerns. My kingdom will provide you with some tools, weapons, and enough provisions to sustain you for a few months, giving you time to produce or trade for your own food. As for additional settlers, I leave that to you. Once Shadow Grove begins to show promise, it may attract others seeking opportunity. However, I must be candid—our resources are stretched thin. The elvish kingdom is engaged in several wars, and we cannot spare laborers or soldiers for this endeavor.”

You nod, appreciating her honesty but feeling the weight of the challenge ahead. “And what of the dangers in Shadow Grove? You’ve said the region is plagued by bandits and necromancers. How are we expected to protect ourselves against such threats with so few people?”

The queen’s emerald eyes darken slightly as she addresses the question. “It is true, the region is fraught with peril, and most of these threats are human in origin. Bandits and necromancers alike have eluded my forces for years, but perhaps you might succeed where we have not. As humans, you may find common ground with them—or at least negotiate a truce, should you prove unable to rout them out entirely. It is not ideal, but pragmatism must prevail.”

The queen pauses, her gaze firm but not unkind. “I must also be clear about my expectations. The primary reason I am offering this land is to make the local mines productive once more. Our war effort demands a steady supply of ore and metal, and if you can provide that, you will have our continued support. Tools, resources, and trade opportunities will flow your way. But if the settlement fails to deliver, I cannot justify further aid to an unprofitable venture.”

She sighs softly, as if burdened by the weight of her own kingdom’s struggles. “Should this endeavor fail, however, you will not be abandoned. You may still seek refuge in the human lands to the south.”

>>6166725


The sergeant, standing by your side, clears his throat. “Your Majesty, what of weapons? Tools are essential, but we’ll need something to defend ourselves with if we’re to deal with these threats.”

Queen Andora inclines her head. “I regret to say that swords, shields, and bows are scarce due to the demands of war. However, I will supply you with one hundred spears of durable elvish manufacture. These weapons will serve you well, and they are crafted to last. Additionally, I will provide you with dozens of simple but effective tools for construction and agriculture.”

The promise of weapons is reassuring, but you press on. “And what of support in case of emergencies? If the settlement faces insurmountable danger, how will we call for aid?”

The queen’s lips curve into a faint smile. “In the spirit of cooperation, I will assign a small team to assist you: one skilled healer and two mounted scouts who can act as couriers. Should you face dire circumstances, they will alert us to your plight. However,” her gaze sharpens, “understand that healers in my kingdom are members of noble families. It would deeply grieve my people if harm were to befall the healer I am entrusting to you.”

Her words are a reminder of the delicate balance of this arrangement—a gift, but one with strings attached.

The queen steps back, signaling the close of the audience. “You depart tomorrow,” she announces. “Prepare yourselves, and may this endeavor bring prosperity to both our peoples.”

As she turns to leave, she pauses briefly. “If there is anything else you wish to inquire, now is the time to ask.”

The room grows silent, the weight of her offer and the challenges ahead pressing down like a storm cloud. Do you speak further, or accept her terms as they are?

> Aceppt her terms
> Expose another demand (specify)
> Write in

>>6166726

>accept

All told, not a bad deal. We gotta get men in those mines ASAP though

>>6166767


Accepting Queen Andora’s terms feels like both a blessing and a curse. With no better options, you bow your head in gratitude, as do the others. Her retinue departs promptly, their graceful movements and shining armor a stark contrast to your group of weary, battered refugees.

The healer remains behind, her delicate hands already tending to other wounded members of your group. Despite her reserved demeanor, her skills are undeniable. When she approaches you again, her slender fingers check the makeshift bandages on your arm, her brow furrowed in concentration. "Your injury is grave," she murmurs softly, her voice melodic yet tinged with concern. "But with proper care, we may yet save your arm. It will be a long journey, though, and you must avoid any further strain."

The two mounted scouts, as promised, stay as well. They maintain a quiet vigilance, their sharp eyes scanning the surroundings as if expecting danger at every turn.

“We will leave as soon as the weapons arrive,” announces the sergeant, his voice steady, though the tension in his jaw betrays his unease.

Around noon, the low groan of wooden wheels and the labored breaths of oxen herald the arrival of a small wagon. Drawn by sturdy beasts, the cart carries the promised supplies: stacks of spears with gleaming, slender tips that catch the sunlight, along with simple but finely crafted tools for building and farming. The sight of them sparks a glimmer of hope among your people.

An elf, clad in understated yet elegant armor, steps down from the wagon. With a flourish, he reveals a peculiar object: a metal claw, intricately designed and clearly of elvish craftsmanship. Its gleaming joints and articulated fingers suggest it is more than just a curiosity.

“This,” he says with a slight smile, “is a small gift for such brave human warriors. May it serve you well in reclaiming your strength.” He hands it to you personally, bowing slightly before climbing back into the wagon and departing without further ceremony.

The sergeant takes command immediately. “Pack up! We move out now. The sooner we reach Shadow Grove, the better.”

The elvish scouts estimate the journey to take about a week on foot. The march begins with an air of nervous determination. Eight hours a day, you trudge through the forested trails of elvish lands, their beauty a stark contrast to the grimness of your past life. Towering trees with silvery bark form a canopy that filters the sunlight into ethereal patterns, and the scent of pine and blooming flowers fills the air.

>>6166777
On the third day, the group approaches a small elvish settlement, its buildings blending seamlessly into the natural landscape. The scouts accompanying you confer with their counterparts from the settlement, speaking in their lilting language. After a brief exchange, you are waved through without incident. The elves in the settlement watch from a distance, their expressions unreadable, as your ragged group continues on.

Despite the weariness, there is a growing sense of purpose among your people. The tools, the spears, and even the strange metal claw serve as reminders that someone has placed their faith in you. Shadow Grove awaits—a land fraught with danger but also brimming with potential. Each step brings you closer to a new beginning, though the specters of past suffering still linger in every aching muscle and every cautious glance at the forest shadows.

After a grueling week of marching, you finally arrive at Shadow Grove. The journey has taken its toll, but the sight of the destination fills the group with a cautious sense of relief. The land is wild and untamed, with jagged hills rising sharply from the ground, their shadows sprawling over dense patches of forest and winding trails. To the east, a river glimmers faintly in the sunlight, its surface broken by the occasional ripple of fish or debris carried by the current.

Your arm, though still sore and bandaged, shows signs of healing. The elvish healer has tended to it diligently throughout the journey, applying salves and herbs that sting but work wonders. Despite the pain, you feel a flicker of hope for recovery.

The lead scout, a stoic elf with keen eyes and a sharp jawline, dismounts from his horse. He gestures toward the expanse of the area, his tone calm but authoritative. "Here is Shadow Grove," he announces. "The queen’s promised land for your settlement. You must now choose where to build."

He sweeps his arm toward the hills. "There are three primary locations to consider, each with its own advantages and risks."

>>6166778
He points to the base of the hills, where the terrain dips into uneven but manageable valleys. "First, there is the area amidst the hills, close to the mines. This position offers strong defensibility—if you station enough troops atop the surrounding hills, you can hold this position against most threats. However, the visibility is poor. The low terrain could work against you if an enemy is able to surround and trap you there."

The scout then gestures to the ridges of the hills themselves. "Second, you could settle atop the hills. This position provides excellent visibility of the surrounding area, allowing you to spot threats from a distance. None would easily take the high ground from you, and defensively, it is superior in that regard. However," he warns, "there is a risk. The mines beneath these hills could destabilize the ground over time. If something happens to the tunnels below, the town could collapse. Additionally, the height makes concealment impossible—anyone traveling through these lands will see you plainly."

Finally, he turns his attention to the river gliding along the eastern edge of the grove. Its waters sparkle under the dappled sunlight filtering through the trees. "Lastly, there is the area near the river. This location offers convenience, as water is plentiful and the fertile land nearby will support farming. Fishing and foraging are also viable here. However, rivers are natural roads in the forest, and this location leaves you more exposed to raiders or passing enemies. The river is both a blessing and a threat."

He finishes, his sharp eyes scanning your group. "The choice is yours. Each location has its price."

The sergeant steps forward, his weathered face deep in thought. He turns to the group, his voice steady but inviting input. "We need to think this through carefully. Our lives—and the future of this settlement—depend on it."

You glance between the three locations, weighing the options in your mind. The low hills offer security if well-manned, but they could easily become a trap. The high ridges seem like a fortress, but one that teeters on unstable ground. The river beckons with its promise of sustenance but feels too exposed.

Your thoughts are interrupted as one of the older miners, a wiry man with a gray beard and a pragmatic air, mutters, "The hills are the natural place for miners. We’d be closest to our work."

Another voice, a younger man, counters, "But the river means food. It’s safer for the families we hope to have here."

The sergeant looks to you. "You’ve been through as much as anyone here. What do you think? Where should we make our stand?"

> Build by the mines
> Build on top of the hill
> Build near the river
> Write in

>>6166779

> Build by the mines

Once the mining operation is up and running, we can work on building escape passages through the mines so that we can rabbit in a siege scenario

>>6166811

After much deliberation, you decide to establish your settlement at the base of the hills, close to the mines. The proximity to your new workplaces seems the most practical choice, even with its risks. The air here smells of earth and stone, and the looming hills feel both protective and foreboding. Shadows stretch long over the camp as you set to work, wasting no time.

The first step is clearing the land. Axes swing rhythmically, chopping down the tall, ancient trees that have stood undisturbed for generations. Their massive trunks are hauled into place to begin construction. You and your people decide to start with a large town hall—a central structure where everyone can meet, plan, and seek shelter. For now, it will also serve as a provisional sleeping place, offering protection against the chill of the nights and the unknown dangers lurking in the wilderness.

The construction is slow but steady. Every plank hammered into place feels like a small triumph. The air fills with the scent of fresh-cut wood and the muffled sounds of weary determination. The sergeant oversees the work, his deep voice barking instructions while lending a hand when needed. The healer tends to anyone who strains themselves, while the couriers keep watch for any sign of danger.

When the town hall is finally complete, the sight of the sturdy structure bolsters the spirits of the group. The dwindling supplies, however, are a stark reminder of the harsh reality you face. With the immediate task done, the next phase begins. Hunters set out to scour the forest for game, foragers search for edible plants and berries, and miners venture into the nearby tunnels to begin unearthing the precious ore that will justify your presence here.

Your arm begins to mend as the days pass, but the changes are undeniable. The wound left by the giant lizard’s savage bite has healed over into a jagged, angry scar, and though the pain has lessened, your hand feels weak and clumsy. No matter how hard you try to flex your fingers, the grip strength that once felt natural and reliable is now noticeably diminished.

Frustration gnaws at you as you struggle with even simple tasks. Every dropped tool or failed attempt to tie a knot sends a pang of irritation through you. The healer, sensing your growing despair, takes time to reassure you.

“Patience,” she says softly, examining the wound with a critical but compassionate eye. Her fingers trace the edge of the scar, her expression calm. “Your body is still healing. Newly formed muscles need time to grow stronger. You’ve lost some mobility, yes, but I’ve seen worse injuries recover with determination and training. Don’t give up on it yet.”

Her words carry a measure of comfort, but there’s still a shadow of uncertainty in her tone. Sensing your lingering doubt, she offers a suggestion.

>>6167843


“There are rare herbs in these woods,” she says, her voice growing more animated. “They have properties that could speed up your recovery, fortify the muscles, and reduce the lingering stiffness. If I can gather them, it might give you the edge you need to regain some of your strength.”

The idea sparks hope, but also concern. The forest is vast and filled with unknown dangers. Her safety is not something to be taken lightly, and you know this.

She catches the look in your eyes and smiles faintly. “I can handle myself,” she says, though her words are meant to reassure, they only deepen your sense of responsibility.

The choice weighs on you heavily. You consider the options carefully:

> Let her go gather the herbs: Trust her expertise and judgment, allowing her to venture into the forest alone.
> Go with her to gather herbs: Accompany her personally, ensuring her safety while gaining a chance to learn about the process.
> Send a small armed group with her: Dispatch a few capable hunters or scouts to keep her safe while maintaining a low profile.
> Send a large armed group with her: Prioritize her safety above all else, though the show of force could attract unwanted attention.
> Don’t let her go out to gather herbs: Prioritize her safety above the potential benefits, even if it means delaying your recovery.
> Write in

It isn’t long before unsettling news arrives. One evening, the hunters return with wary expressions and report an alarming sight. "We’ve seen them," says one, a wiry man with sharp eyes and a bow slung over his shoulder. "Groups of armed humans wandering deep in the woods. They were moving cautiously, but they’re out there."

The camp falls silent as the news sinks in. Questions hang heavy in the air: Who are these people? Are they bandits? Scouts for a larger force?

The sergeant gathers everyone around the central fire, his face etched with concern. "This changes things," he says gravely. "We need to decide how to handle this. Ignoring them could be dangerous, but approaching them carelessly might lead to trouble. What do you all think?"

The group murmurs, divided in their opinions. Some suggest avoiding these strangers altogether, hoping they’ll pass by without incident. Others whisper that it might be better to strike first before they become a threat.

> Avoid them: Stay away and hope they don’t pose a threat.
> Follow them: Track their movements from a distance to learn more about who they are and what they’re doing.
> Attack them: Ambush them before they have a chance to attack you.
> Parlay with them: Approach and try to communicate, potentially forging an alliance—or risking betrayal.
> Have your hunters walk in larger groups: Increase patrol sizes to defend against any ambush.
> Write in

>>6167844
>Go with her to gather herbs: Accompany her personally, ensuring her safety while gaining a chance to learn about the process.
It's our problem so we should go with her. Also, talk to the Sargent and inform him of what we're doing, maybe he sends one or two guys with us or he will be alert, so if we take too long he would either send people to look for us or something


>Follow them: Track their movements from a distance to learn more about who they are and what they’re doing.
Send one of the courier's with the stalking group because they know better of this place. Once we know if they're just a small group by themselves or a scout party for a bigger one, we either kill them, recruit or parlay. Tho with how little weapons and food we have I doubt we get to parlay

>Captcha: R4TS
Skavens? This early?

>>6168502

The decision weighs heavily on you, but ultimately, you resolve to accompany the healer on her search for the rare herbs. It’s your injury, your responsibility, and the thought of letting her wander into the forest alone feels wrong. You also recognize an opportunity to learn something about these woods, as well as the healer’s craft.

Before heading out, you approach the sergeant to inform him of your plan.

“I’m going with the healer to gather the herbs she mentioned. If these can help my arm, it’s worth the risk,” you explain, your tone steady but serious.

The sergeant frowns, his brow creased with concern. “It’s dangerous out there. Are you sure this is the best course of action? We can’t afford to lose either of you.”

“I know the risks,” you reply. “But it’s my problem, and I’d rather face it head-on. Maybe you can send one or two men with us? And if we’re not back by nightfall, you’ll know to send someone to look for us or be ready for trouble.”

The sergeant nods reluctantly. “Fair enough. I’ll have a couple of scouts tail you. They’ll keep their distance but will be close enough to intervene if needed. Just make sure you don’t take unnecessary chances. We can’t afford to lose anyone right now.”

With his agreement, you prepare to set out with the healer, your makeshift claw weapon strapped to your side and a spear in hand.

As you make your way into the forest with Ananda, the elvish healer, the air fills with the sounds of rustling leaves and distant bird calls. The deeper you go, the more she points out plants, roots, and trees, explaining their uses with the patient tone of a teacher.

“This one here,” she says, gesturing to a thorny bush with deep red berries, “is useful for making poultices to reduce swelling. But eat the berries, and you’ll be sick for days. Knowledge of the forest is as much about what not to touch as it is about what to use.”

You nod, absorbing her words while keeping your spear ready. Though the forest is beautiful, its shadows carry the weight of danger.

As the two of you pause near a stream, Ananda sighs, breaking the serene moment with a grim note. “Do you know why our queen sent you to Shadow Grove?”

“Because she thinks we can make the mines productive again,” you reply, watching the water flow.

“That’s part of it,” Ananda says, kneeling to inspect a plant by the stream. “But the truth is, our kingdom is being squeezed from all sides. Orcs from the north raid our borders relentlessly, lizardmen from the east harass our settlements, bandits plague the south, and the undead rise in the west.” She looks up at you, her silver hair catching the dappled sunlight. “It’s an unsustainable situation. The queen hopes that you humans might secure Shadow Grove and turn it into a stronghold—or at least a distraction that buys us time.”

>>6168613


Her words settle over you like a heavy weight. “And what about allies?” you ask.

Ananda shakes her head. “We have no allies other than our distant cousins in the desert to the far south. But even if we could contact them, they’re likely dealing with their own struggles. The world isn’t kind to elves—or to anyone, it seems.”

You frown, the enormity of the situation sinking in. “So, we’re on our own.”

“For now,” Ananda says, standing and brushing dirt from her hands. “But you’re not helpless. Humans are resilient, adaptable. You’ve already accomplished the impossible by escaping the orcs. With time and determination, Shadow Grove could become a beacon of hope—for both our people.”

The thought stirs something in you, a glimmer of purpose amid the chaos of survival. As Ananda gathers a few herbs and continues teaching you about the forest, you can’t help but wonder if Shadow Grove could indeed be more than a hiding place. Could it become a home—and maybe even a symbol of defiance against the darkness closing in from all sides?

The healer’s words echo in your mind as you continue deeper into the forest, preparing for the challenges ahead.

Meanwhile, regarding the armed humans seen wandering in the woods, the sergeant decides to act cautiously. He assigns a small group to track them, sending one of the elvish couriers to accompany them.

“You know this area better than any of us,” the sergeant says to the courier. “Guide them and keep them out of trouble. We need to know if these humans are scouts for a larger force or just a small group. And keep your distance—no direct confrontation until we understand who we’re dealing with.”

The group departs quietly, vanishing into the trees. The plan is simple: observe and gather information. Once their numbers and intentions are clear, you’ll decide the next steps—whether to eliminate them, attempt recruitment, or open negotiations.

Though the idea of parlaying feels unlikely, given your lack of weapons and provisions, the possibility isn’t ruled out. For now, the priority remains information—knowledge of their strength and purpose could make all the difference.

The tranquility of the forest shatters in an instant. As you and Ananda weave through the dense undergrowth, your focus on gathering herbs and learning the forest’s secrets, a sharp whistle pierces the air. Before you can react, figures emerge from the shadows—rough-looking men and women with crude weapons, their faces masked by dirt and malice.

>>6168614


“Stop right there!” a gruff voice commands. A wiry man with a scar running across his cheek steps forward, his blade gleaming in the dappled sunlight. “Hand over whatever you’ve got, and we’ll make this quick.”

Your grip tightens on your spear as your heart pounds in your chest. Beside you, Ananda freezes, her usual calm demeanor now strained with tension.

“You’re making a mistake,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady. “We don’t have anything worth taking. Let us go, and no one gets hurt.”

The bandits laugh—a harsh, mocking sound. “You’re in our forest, stranger,” the scarred man sneers. “Everything worth taking belongs to us, including that fancy elf there. Step aside, and maybe we won’t kill you outright.”

Ananda steps closer to you, her voice firm despite the danger. “I am Ananda of the Elvish Court,” she says, her tone regal and commanding. “If you harm us, you will bring the wrath of the queen upon you.”

The leader hesitates for a moment, but then his lip curls into a sneer. “The queen? You think we’re afraid of elves? Your kind is barely holding on. We’re the ones running this part of the forest now.”

They start to close in, weapons raised. Your mind races as you assess the situation—six, no, seven of them, armed with swords, axes, and clubs. You glance at Ananda, her slim frame ill-suited for combat, though her hands hover near her satchel of herbs.

> Stand and fight: Defend yourself and Ananda, using your spear and whatever advantages the terrain provides.
> Use diplomacy: Try to talk your way out, appealing to their humanity or offering something in return for safe passage.
> Flee: Grab Ananda and make a run for it, hoping the forest’s density will slow them down.
> Signal for help: Use the horn Ananda carries to call for aid, though it may take time for anyone to arrive.
> Write in

Roll 3d100 with your choices.

Rolled 36, 26, 67 = 129 (3d100)

>>6168620
>Use diplomacy: Try to talk your way out, appealing to their humanity or offering something in return for safe passage.
>"I'm obviously injured and she's just a healer, but think for a second. Would someone of the Elf nobility be out here, with only an almost crippled Human without at least 20 elf soldiers ready to hunt anyone if she's away 2 minutes longer than what she is supposed to get back? The Sargeant already knows we left and there's a party following us in case of danger."
>"Either we fight or flee, it will end the same, with her Father sending his best warriors to hunt you down, and specifically you, not the other thieves in here"
>"Only 7 of you with crude weapons, being hunted like animals. The only reason you and all the other brigands in here can stick around if because the elves have more in their plates more important to squash a cockroach, but that doesn't mean they won't do it if they're a nuisance"
>"Let us go and there won't be a single word about this incident. The only thing you only gain from this will be an elven spear and medicinal herbs, but as I said, you will be hunted. The risk far outweighs the gains."

At this point I'm Talking-no-jutsu to make time mostly, hope the dies are good with me to either stall so the group gets to us or these guys just leave

Rolled 60, 96, 73 = 229 (3d100)

>>6168620
> Write in
These people are some starving bandits that just moved in. Raise our voice to offer and toss the poison berries as 'food of quality' to sate a man's hunger and see if that downs a few of them. Might need a little talking for that to take effect, then we threaten to get them to back off once it hits, and attack the ones still standing if they don't. Seems like Ananda has something up her sleeve too. Hopefully those scouts that were tracking us weren't too far behind.

>>6168938
Oh yeah I like this even more

>>6168620
I'm changing my vote from >>6168894 to support >>6168938

>>6168948
Thanks Anon

Rolled 73, 24, 16 = 113 (3d100)

>>6168938

Alright, let me roll for the bandits to see how your diplomatic roll goes.

>>6168894
>>6168938
>>6168948
>>6168978
>>6169763


You raise your hands, holding your spear at an angle to show you’re not making any sudden moves. Your voice carries over the tense silence, clear but edged with determination.

"Listen to me," you say, stepping forward just enough to command their attention. "We don’t want trouble, and I can see you don’t either. These berries"—you reach into the pouch Ananda handed you earlier, pulling out a handful of glistening, dark fruits—"are a rare delicacy. They’ll fill your bellies better than whatever scraps you’ve been living on."

One of the younger bandits eyes the berries hungrily, his grip on his club faltering. The leader, however, narrows his eyes.

“Enough with the speeches,” he snaps, his blade flicking forward as he steps closer. “I don’t want your shitty berries. We’re not starving; we want your stuff. Now, drop that spear, that claw, and that pouch of herbs to the ground, slowly. Then turn around and walk away, or I’ll show you what trouble really looks like.”

Ananda shifts beside you, her fingers brushing the edges of her satchel, subtle but purposeful. Her voice cuts in, calm yet steely. "And if we give you what you want, will you let us leave unharmed?"

The leader smirks. “Depends how fast you walk. But yeah, sure.”

Options hang heavy in the air:

> Do as the bandit says: Comply with their demands and hope they keep their word.
> Stand and fight: Ready your spear and prepare to defend yourself and Ananda, no matter the odds.
> Run away: Grab Ananda and make a break for it, trusting the forest to slow your pursuers.
> Continue trying to parlay: Persist in talking, trying to sow dissent among the bandits or convince them to back down.
> Write in

AI slop

>>6169770

> Run away: Grab Ananda and make a break for it, trusting the forest to slow your pursuers.

Eh, let’s bail. Ananda is probably pretty fast in the woods

>>6169770
I don't really see what these rolls mean, if I roll good the bandits needed to roll good to accept? I wanted to give them the poison berries so they would get sick and the fight would be easier. Not talk my way into giving up our stuff to leave.