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Ah, fuck, formatting error out of the gate....

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Welcome back to Cambion Quest, /qst/’s premier goblin-starring, D&D-inspired quest besides all the other ones! Our previous threads can be found at https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=reptoidqm, as well as the previous three quests in the same setting (Reptilian Infiltrator Quest, Dragonborn Antipaladin Quest, and Seekers of the Esoteric). None of them save Cambion are ‘required reading’ for this thread, though they may lend you early or metagame understanding of certain lore.

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Rolled 46 (1d100)

>>6179738

“Ah fuck, UNSEELIE?”

“That’s what Martyn said…”

You sigh at Cara-Zi’s report, subsequent to the study which your shapeshifting succubus-adjacent ‘sister’ and her fellow occult enthusiasts and fairy-botherers subjected the sole surviving-and-secured spider-thing. Apparently, if you’re understanding it correctly, it’s not some sort of demonic denizen of the Hellish Realm, but rather a creepy, curse-afflicted fey fucker, and in fact probably a young humanoid twisted all up into a stab-happy spider-faced monster by it’s Unseelie—that is, ‘gross evil rebel fairy’—master: an ‘Ettercap’, whatever-the-fuck THAT is.

“ZZ,” your uncanny other half asks nervously, “whatta we gonna do about these things? I thought Tips killed these guys off, but…”

It’s a valid question, you suppose, even if your demogoblin doppelganger trailed off at the end of it. The Unseelie Fey aren’t exactly your forte. Ezreal Mious van Houtzmann, AKA ‘Tips’, killed a whole bunch of these seedy shits off a few years back, sometime shortly after he split you and CZ apart and gave you your rockin’ new pink-and-perky bod. Apparently, though, that wasn’t all of ‘em. Faced with this surviving remnant fucking around with your bread-and-butter dungeon-crawling adventure, you’re non-too-pleased to be left holding that half-elven wizard twink’s bag, especially because their blade-bound flipper-limbs interrupted your beauty sleep.

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>>6179741
And that ain’t the only piece of bad news you’ve gotten today, either!

…

46

“Whaddaya MEAN this is the wrong fuckin’ HILL?!”

“Um, THAT,” Aarre, one of the Delvers’ gnome equipment-operators, had answered.

You slapped your hand down on the flat surface of the queer, ‘seismographic’ device between the two of you, making not only the gnome jump, but also the strange needle tracing greyish lines across the parchment paper which Taito (Aarre’s cousin) fed the hungry machine to produce those incomprehensible outputs which had so stymied your search.

“What’s the point of the map we followed, then?!” you’d demanded.

“It got us into the right area,” Aarre explained. “But they’re old, and… Well, things have changed. Shifted. It’s been hundreds of years…”

“You expect me to believe the mountains have MOVED?”

“Yes,” Aarree answered honestly, no less annoyed than you were. “This was during an era with powerful wizards… Dragons… High elves… Not to mention the advanced magitechnology of the ancient dwarves. That kind of technology… Yeah, it could move mountains. Actually.”


…

In the here-and-now, though, you were forced with two problems: the missing dwarven dungeon, and the creepy-crawly creature who had emerged from Gods-only-know-where to besiege your camp. Having positions yourself as the only bitch bad enough to be Boss of the Monstrous Regiment, it was really up to you to decide what to do about both these pressing issues.

>Kill the Ettercap-created creature, and keep searching—the Monstrous Regiment will protect the Delvers while they work
>Free the freakshow and follow it to its Ettercap master—True fey, even the Unseelie sort, are immortal, and it may just know where the ancient dwarven megastructure is…
>Cara-Zi’s been doing shady demon shit—you know it, even if she doesn’t KNOW you know—and it’s about time she started applying that to the search
>Maybe you should take a cultivated crew on a little trip to the neighbouring humies or knife-ears, to pick their brains about all this…
>Write-in

New header art by draw_with_genie, new character art of CZ and ZZ by our own Indonesian gentleman, of Jail Quest and Gaol Ques amogn otherst

>>6179747
>Kill the Ettercap-created creature, and keep searching—the Monstrous Regiment will protect the Delvers while they work
Now we know what the threats are and hopefully how to guard against them

>>6179747
>Free the freakshow and follow it to its Ettercap master—True fey, even the Unseelie sort, are immortal, and it may just know where the ancient dwarven megastructure is…
cz looking like a jolly little fellow

>Cara-Zi’s been doing shady demon shit—you know it, even if she doesn’t KNOW you know—and it’s about time she started applying that to the search
Congrats for the arts Indonesian Gentleman

>>6179747
>Cara-Zi’s been doing shady demon shit—you know it, even if she doesn’t KNOW you know—and it’s about time she started applying that to the search.

>>6179747
>Cara-Zi’s been doing shady demon shit—you know it, even if she doesn’t KNOW you know—and it’s about time she started applying that to the search

Damn you all
Who's going to pay us for this community service
We're getting sidetracked from making fat stacks of dosh

>>6179755
>>6179895
>>6179920
>>6179938
>>6179939
[Locked and writing!]

>>6180254
[Anon here asking the real questions, kek.]

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>>6180382
“Hey, Cara!”

You jump a little at the sound of ZZ’s booming voice. Funny how, even though you technically sound almost the same, and it’s YOU with the magical ability to make yourself more noticeable, SHE’S the ‘Zith-Zi’ with the uncanny ability to seize attention with a single shout. Did you ever know how to project like that?

You set aside your musings and hop to attention, with a diligent: “Yeah, ‘Zena’? What’s up?”

ZZ casts a glance this way, then that, before placing an arm around your shoulders and leading you away from the others. Only Nermal—your mutant cave drake ‘familiar’—follows you, to the hissing misgiving of ZZ’s own feathery friend. You reach out and scratch little Hershy under his white-fringed ‘beard’, which seems to soothe him enough to tolerate his much larger, even-odder cousin.

“I know what you’ve been up ta,” ZZ says when you’re out of earshot of the others.

You abruptly stop scratching, to Hershy’s vocal displeasure. Your mind whorls as you wonder what she might mean. Does she know about you and Martyn—how, after you went off on your own before the ettercap ambush, you showed him the ‘real you’, warts and all? Did he TELL everyone? You kept meaning to ask him not to, but every time you approached him alone, he made a point to evade and escape into a crowd, where you couldn’t speak freely of such things.

“I-It’s not a big deal,” you stammer to explain. “He doesn’t know about, like, the ‘demon’ thing, or the di—”

ZZ looks at you strangely, and you shut your mouth, eyes widening. You laugh nervously, and start again.

“…Uh, what did YOU mean?”

Zith-Zi cross her arms and tilts her head a little, narrowing her eyes. You start to sweat, but luckily, she lets the matter lie. When you hear what she REALLY has to say, though, you almost wish it WAS about Martyn Meadowgrass and your dubious disclosure of your goblinness.

“Speakin’ of the ‘demon thing’, I KNOW you’ve been sneakin’ around, doin’ shady Dark Magic shit.”

>>6180399
You swallow, neither nodding nor shaking your head. You’re not a BAD liar—you can actually be pretty good!—but there’s no lying to someone who you share twenty-odd years of life experience with. You might call each other ‘sister’’ these days, but for all your differences, you’re more alike in some ways than even twins could ever be. ZZ knows all your tells, because most of them are HER tells, too.

“Good,” she says, when she is sure you’re not going to waste both your time by bullshitting. “I mean, fuck, you have NERMAL there, after all. I ain’t dumb.”

“I know,” you say quietly, thinking to yourself: ‘Me neither…’

“Anyway, it’s about time ya’ started using that spooky shit fer the group’s benefit, doncha’ think?”

You blink relaxing a little. “Sure! Y-yeah, of course!”

You’d been expecting an admonishment, even feared you might need to justify Nermal’s continued presence. The slimy, tendril-faced giant salamander wasn’t exactly your first choice of boon from the Dark God whose emissary you’ve been studying under, but it’s proven its usefulness a few times, and having a friend who won’t judge you—and a weird mutant he-she kinda’ friend, just like you!—has been really nice, especially after what went down with Martyn. That said, you’re not exactly a pet collector kinda’ gob, so you hesitate when she holds out the body, wriggling ettercapling you captured.

“Take this thing, ‘n go do what you gotta’ do ta figure out how ta keep us safe from its creepy-ass family,” ZZ commands. “While yer at it, see if ya’ can’t figure out where this dungeon is.”

>>6180400
You take the proferred monster, holding it far away from you. It’s no longer strapped with swords, but you’re careful to aim its underside away from you—you saw these things spitting slimy ‘silk’ from the fangy maw on their undercarriage, and even as a sort of kind of lust demon, you don’t envy the Delver’s Iournd Copeprbelt getting caught in that spooge-explosion.

“What exact am I s’posed ta’ do?” you ask, genuinely lost.

“How the fuck should -I- know?!” ZZ throws her hands up in the air. “Yer the wicked fuckin’ witch. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that as far as khoblis[/I crap is concerned, bein’ a nilbog ain’t done jack for me.”

(…Huh. Must’ve struck a nerve. Did something happen?)

Before you can ask—if even you were going to—your other half has turned on heel and stomped off. You look down at Nermal, who -looks back by probings about you and your new charge with his tentacle-like face-feelers. This frightens and irritates the baby-bodied, flipper-legged fairy-monster, which at least gets a giggle out of you.

Still, what to do…?
>Maybe you can offer this thing as a sacrifice to the Dark God of Knowledge, to get a clue
>Perhaps you could drag Dura into this, and get the orc-girl to make some sort of potion to scare off others of its ilk
>You’re kinda’ hungry, and this thing has a pretty potent-smelling soul…
>You’ve got psychic powers—what mages call ‘mentalism’—which might be handy to brainwash the little bastard into lending a hand
>Write-in

>>6180401
>You’ve got psychic powers—what mages call ‘mentalism’—which might be handy to brainwash the little bastard into lending a hand

>>6180401
>You’ve got psychic powers—what mages call ‘mentalism’—which might be handy to brainwash the little bastard into lending a hand

>>6180401
>>You’ve got psychic powers—what mages call ‘mentalism’—which might be handy to brainwash the little bastard into lending a hand

>>6180401
>Perhaps you could drag Dura into this, and get the orc-girl to make some sort of potion to scare off others of its ilk

>>6180475
>>6180581
>>6180593
>>6180673
The first notion that occurs to you is that you could recruit that orc khoblis (or ziran, as the greyfaces call their witchy-types) to help you. You’ve been spending a lot of time with Dura of Steelwood lately, after all, and even tutoring her in the occult. She’s kinda’ like your sexy little student, which makes you giggle to think about, both because she’s almost six feet tall and because you ain’t exactly what most folks would call ‘professorial’. But what could she really contribute—mashing this deformed little monster-baby into a poultice or potion?

…


(Aww, what the hell, you’ll bring her anyway!)

…

Bring her you do, though the language barrier means Dura does little more than trail behind you, blinking in befuddlement, as you tug her along by her wrist.

“What I’m gonna do is use my mentalism, ‘kay?”

You speak slowly, loudly, enunciating each syllable in the Northern Commontongue, but you might as well be speaking Goblin or even Elfish, for all the comprehension that registers upon Dura’s features.

“We wanna make this little shit do what I say. It’s kinda’ like… Like takin’ the feeling of wantin’ ta do somethin’, like findin’ this dungeon or the other etetrcaps, that WE fee, ‘n puttin’ it in the ugly li’l fucker’s big round noggin. Get it?”

Obviously, Dura does NOT get it. Luckily, she still makes a good ‘lovely assistant’ type, holding the squirming Unseelie whelp in an iron grip. Dura may be a girl-orc and not a warrior or anything, but her pronounced muzzle, sunken eyes, and upturned nose attest to her being more orc than half-orc compared to the likes of Xoldur and Murbal, and that conveys a certain default strength and stature. Under the soft layer of feminine squish (nnf), she is corded with muscle worthy of belonging to someone ‘from the Steelwood’. The ettercaplet has no chance of escape.

“Awright,” you murmur as you approach the agitated ankle-biter, “let’s see what we can get you ta do, huh?”

ZZ left you a lot of leeway here as to priorities, and methods. To what purpose will you turn the monster’s mind?
>You want to find the Ettercap which created it, first and foremost, and understand its intentions
>You want to scour the little guy’s skull for possible dungeon locations, and have it lead you to likely hills
>You want to know where it came from, and what it was, before it was an Ettercap… Does any trace of the child it used to be exist within what it has become?
>Write-in

>>6180693
>You want to scour the little guy’s skull for possible dungeon locations, and have it lead you to likely hills

>>6180693
>You want to scour the little guy’s skull for possible dungeon locations, and have it lead you to likely hills

Finally things to tear apart

>>6180693
>>You want to scour the little guy’s skull for possible dungeon locations, and have it lead you to likely hills

>>6180693
>You want to scour the little guy’s skull for possible dungeon locations, and have it lead you to likely hills

Rolled 8, 4, 10, 9 = 31 (4d20)

>>6180727
>>6180785
>>6180786
>>6180789
You place your hands upon the littlecap’s little noggin, nodding at Dura. She returns the gesture, understanding at least well enough to hold it out so you can gain greater purchase. Technically, this sort of spellcraft requires neither physical contact nor proximity. In fact, being an inherent ability rather than a ‘spell’ of the usual sort, you don’t even need to say funny words or wiggle your fingers like ZZ does! Tips told you that was ‘remarkable’ once, a compliment you’ve held close to your dark little heart ever since. Every extraneous step makes it easier, though, and it’s not as if you have a ton of practice.

“From now on, you work for me ‘n my sis, okay little guy?” you whisper, infusing your words with Infernal power, called up from within, and from places below and beyond the waking world of Man, Goblin, and Orc. “You must know these hills pretty well… Show me where you creepy-crawlies’ve bin crawin’ around, wouldja’?”

4d20: Mentalism, a bonus die for the Occultism success at the end of last thread, and an extra d20 for your lovely assistant...

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>>6180825
You push your spicy ‘soul’ into the space occupied by the little Ettercap-thingie’s own shrunken, shredded spirit. Dwelling partly within it, you can see how much of its ego ahs already been ruined, replaced with nothing but the will of a greater power. Threads of spider-like silk connect it across the astral realm of dreaming, even as it is wide awake and alert with anxiety. Seeking leverage you pluck at one of them, and…

Highest result, 10. Result: Failure!

“What is this little thing?”

You draw back with a yelp, physically and mentally. You open your eyes in the waking world, and scramble to break the spell before—

“Is it you, who killed my little foundlings, little thing?” asks the voiceless voice, raking the back of your own dome. “I see… You seek a place of power, do you? In the hills… Beneath the hills… Yes, I understand…”

The connection is severed almost instantly, but only ALMOST instantly. In that one brief instant, more information was exchanged than could ever be the case by mundane means such as eyes and ears.

But you DID see eyes… SO many gleaming, peering eyes, glistening little orbs of black, scattered like dark stars across a bulging, purple face… All fixed upon you. Not by physical means, but by spiritual ones.

The Ettercap knows you now… Knows your nature. Knows your location.

You take a moment to catch your breath. You are momentarily blind to all sights, deaf to all sounds, magical and otherwise. Only when Dura grabs hold of your shoulder and shakes you out of it are you able to fix upon her fearful, confused-anew face, half-hidden behind her wind, ribbon-adorned mess of shaggy black hair. You mumble something unintelligible in response, since she can’t understand you anyway and words are a bit beyond you. In response, the she-orc shoves the ettercap’s ‘foundling in your face.

The creature is twitching, not in struggle, but in seizure. Its eyes were never expressive, but you can see by thin bands of white that they are wider than they’ve ever been, and rolling back in its deformed skull. Its legs flex and flail, slapping at nothing, lacking fingers or toes to grab with or swords to stab with. It is a helpless, writhing thing, half-formed and ill-wrought, and it is dying.

Did your invasion break it’s feeble baby brain? Did its master choose to dispense with it, to deny you a map of the area? Either way, it is as god as dead if you don’t act fast… But maybe that’s for the best, if it’s an avenue by which you can be traced, tracked, and trapped by that wicked, wild entity whose schemes and sadism you so briefly brushed against?

>Kill it!
>Work with Dura to save it, quick!
>Try again—before it dies, get your prize from its mind! [Higher DC, extremely dangerous if you fail a second time]

>>6180831
>Kill it!
Ah shit.... we should probably tell ZZ

>>6180831
>Kill it!
We tried :(

>>6180831
>Kill it!
welp, not feeling confident for a 2nd try

>>6180831
>Work with Dura to save it, quick!
Don’t kill it ;_;

>>6180831
>>Kill it!