“Yes?” Mwaus choked, blood from his wound staining his neck. “You were my nursemaid, Nettle Harpy! Do you not remember all the hours we had shared: you raising me?”

Her face contorted, her attempt at a facade faltering instantly, her voice harsh and adamant, betraying any pretence. “Why, of course—it’s been some time” —her eyelids twitched, and her furrowed lines shifted— “How fares your mother?”

Mwaus awkwardly bit his lips.

“Well?” Miranna pressed. “It’s not the Twister of Wishes, is it?”

“What? No, of course it’s not that wicked demon! You -know- who my mother is, nursemaid!” He cast a furtive glance and whispered. “-He- shouldn’t know.”

“Who?” Miranna broke the remains of her “nursemaid” character.

“We’ll have time for this later,” you said, moving the demoness hand to bring and place Mwaus back upon solid ground. “Miranna, can snake venom kill a demon?”

“Only if it’s a snake from the Helllands,” she said, scrunching her nose. “If it’s a pest from those lands that bit him, I doubt it’ll do anything but itch.”

Mwaus pretend to sigh in relief, licking at the new scratch wound instead.

Nearing the campfire, you spotted a swaying pillar of carcasses, hares and wild rabbits stacked one atop the other, standing steady despite the dozen-body height; the doing of Miranna’s boredom. With great care, you reached for the topmost body, your hands steady enough to thankfully avoid breaking the stack.

“The sword I have will be a pain to skin and gut it with,” you said.

Miranna scraped her talons across her scalp.

“Why? The innards are quite tasty.”

“—Or we could cook them separately. For a roast, it needs to be gutless.”

She traced the talon down her face, then offered you her open searing hand.

“If that’s what you need, Niklos,” she offered.

With quiet apology—you’d intended to do it yourself—you handed her the hare. Miranna cut through the mottled fur, peeling it free from the game, before making a belly incision and catching the reddish bubble of entrails from fall.

“Does this meet your approval?” she grinned, self-satisfied with her work.

Gratefully, you took it back, then picking up a fallen branch. A deep hole was torn into the ground, the dirt heaping up the sides like a bern. The scent of damp soil mingled with the sharp musky smell of the struggling fox in it.
Miranna peaked over your shoulder.

“I’ve caught one in your absence,” she said. “That’s one of the beasts that the Grub Hag’s blade needs for the prophecy, is it not? Take it, Niklos.”

Shifting, you lowered the coney and pulled out the prophetic rusted knife.

“You place great faith in the prophecies, do you no, Miranna?” you asked, rotating the coiled knife. Reaching outward, you held it out to her, “Take it.”

Mouth agape and with teeth parted, she put her claw around the eye-studded surface of the hilt, coiling her talon around it with a feeble almost untouching take.

“I don’t wish to force the prophecy” —she looked up— “What should I ask … ?”

> Tell Miranna she doesn’t have to force herself for a prophecy if she doesn’t have anything to ask, and that you also don’t really have anything immediate-important that you want to know. Let the fox go free and live.
> Offer a suggestion. [Specify.]
> Take the knife from her if she hesitates, and ask a question yourself. [Specify]
> [Write In]

File: Demon King's General 82.png (2.71 MB, 1792x1024)

2.71 MB PNG

> UPDATES?
Once per two days, sometimes once a day.
> 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

>>6185763
>fingergun miranna
Nice.

>>6185765
> Offer a suggestion. [Specify.]
Ask what will happen after the prophecy. And if it'll be cool.

>>6185766
>>6185763
Cute.

>>6185858
+1

>>6185765
> Take the knife from her if she hesitates, and ask a question yourself. [Specify]
Ask which generals are wholesome and convertible and which ones are pure dag nasty evil

>>6185858
>>6185904
>>6185952

“You might ask of it to reveal what comes after the Demon King’s downfall,” you suggested. “If it’ll be wondrous.”

Miranna’s gaze loitered on the short-blade before raising to meet yours.

“But I already know it shall be wondrous!” she triumphed. “Such a waste it would be to expend its powers in asking what is already known, Niklos.”

You finger twitched towards the hilt.

“There are as many as four ‘eyes’ left on that thing; we need not to be so frugal with it.”

Miranna hummed, crossing her hands and letting the knife lay against her arm.

“What if you ask it to show us which Generals will stand by our side?”

“As I’ve said, I doubt anyone save the Chimera Hound will be convinced, or even be worth the effort. The prophecy says you’ll defeat them, not convert them.” Miranna’s gaze hardened like scarlet wax. “Seeing as you’re such -friends- with the Arboreal Witch,” —her teeth pressed against her inner cheek, swelling it— “then her too, I -guess-.”

“The divining may say otherwise,” you said, pointing at yourself with a sly smirk. “Don not tell me you weren’t taken aback when you first heard the original prophecy.”

Miranna tilted her head.

“Of all Grub Hag’s foretold prophecies, that was the most unheralded, yes.”

You waved your hand. “Take your time,” you said. “We got much of it.”

You stepped back, leaving Miranna alone with her thoughts—unsure if it were wise—and bumped into something, shoving it. Stumbling to steady himself, Mwaus shot a sharp look—his eyes swallowing your image like a deep dark swamp—scowling and huffing in frustration. “Watch yourself, human!”

“Apologies,” you said, your voice casual with subtle tease, “your highness.”

“What are you two even doing? Why do you tarry with my nurse?” he said, trying to looking past you at Miranna. “And where even are we?”

How were you going to explain to him what you going to do next, the whole Aegis Steel matter, the Astray Slaughterer, and the Demon King’s pursuit of you?

“How much do you recall?”

“I was flying and … what -was- I doing?” he asked.

> Let Mwaus know that one of the Demon King’s Generals, the Astray Slaughterer, has turned on him, and that you and Miranna have been assigned the task of putting him down.
> Inform Mwaus that the Demon King had tasked you with aiding the Haunted Armours in acquiring the Aegis Steel for them. Don’t mention the Slaughterer.
> Tell Mwaus that a prophecy says he’s destined to vanquish the Demon King and his Generals, and because of this, the Demon King is now after him. Assure him that you and Miranna have been searching for him, and are now on his side.
> [Write In]

>>6187468
> Tell Mwaus that a prophecy says he’s destined to vanquish the Demon King and his Generals, and because of this, the Demon King is now after him. Assure him that you and Miranna have been searching for him, and are now on his side.
First option was tempting but this one is hilarious

>>6187468
> Inform Mwaus that the Demon King had tasked you with aiding the Haunted Armours in acquiring the Aegis Steel for them. Don’t mention the Slaughterer.
Id' feel bad if we tricked him into killing someone he's normally friends with.

>>6187477
I doubt he's powerful enough!

>>6187640
He's more powerful than we are, and look at the chaos WE'RE causing!

Rolled 2 (1d2)

>>6187475
> Tell Mwaus that a prophecy says he’s destined to vanquish the Demon King and his Generals, and because of this, the Demon King is now after him. Assure him that you and Miranna have been searching for him, and are now on his side.

>>6187477
> Inform Mwaus that the Demon King had tasked you with aiding the Haunted Armours in acquiring the Aegis Steel for them. Don’t mention the Slaughterer.

>>6187475
>>6187477
>>6188002

“It’s a problem if you struggle to remember things,” you said.

“I recall nigh all but this day, for some reasons,” Mwaus grumbled.

“It’s our fortune that I’ve found you when I did, prince Mwaus.”

You propped the hare upon a sharpened branch, skewering it through its tender flesh. “It was the Demon King’s command that Miranna shall aid the Haunted Armours, and I accompany her on this task,” you explained, picking up a pair of stout forked branches and staking them both into the earth around the fire.

“Why would the Demon General require the help of a human?” he asked.

“Why … ?“ You paused, pondering on a reason that might suffice as believable while securing the between the forks, the flames bubbling the skin, crisping and browning it. “The object we seek is called Aegis Steel, a powerful, some declare ‘perfect’, metal. It lies within a human settlement, and since Nettle Harpy dislikes dealing with my kind, I was bid to assist.” Was he convinced?

His eyes were fixed upon the meat as it crisped over the fire, his tongue wetting his lips and his nostrils flaring at the smoky air.

“What you say suits her nature, yet I find it strange that my father should turn to a human’s help,” he mused aloud, even in his altered memory, the King had a known disdain. “Are you saying that -you- are, somehow, an exception?”

“Listen. Will you join us on this task, or should we point you towards the Banefroth Citadel?” you asked, working to steer his attention elsewhere.

Mwaus fought to swallow the lump of hunger at his throat.

“Father will take joy to learn that I partook in recovering the thing, shall he not?”

You chuckled inwardly. “Indeed,” you lied, “he will be overjoyed by it.”

Claws crunched the grass as Miranna stepped out of the hole, blood trickling along the blade’s twisting edge. “Niklos … ” she called to you, tossing the knife into your hands, then seizing your wings, lifting them over your head and plopping them back on her shoulders. The wings snapped open like a bowstring.

Before questions could be asked, Miranna grasped you by your armpits and took to the sky. “Demon King’s heir, or what are you,” she sneered, with Mwaus as lost as you, staggering to rise. “Watch over our dinner, we shall return!”

“You’re telling -me- to cook?” Mwaus’ shouted, his voice lost amid the wind.

Miranna said nothing, assured of her authority. Instead, she soared higher, hurriedly leaving both Whiskers, Mwaus, and the campfire into the distance.

“Miranna,” you called, your body thrashing in the shifting changes. “What is going on?! You asked for a vision, correct? What stirred such urgency?”

As you slipped between her talons, her grip tightening to hold you firm.

She smiled, her eyes alight. “I asked ‘What shall occur just before the Hero vanquished the Demon King?’ and the vision came! We can assure that it happens!”

“I-is that truly how it works?” you said, “Then it’ll happen whatever we do?”

“Is wasting time a thing you enjoy, hero?” Miranna scoffed. “The swifter it unfolds as it does in the vision, the sooner the Demon King’s fall shall come.”

“But the original prophecy says that the Demon Generals must fall first—“

“That merely means that you’ll dispatch them in quick succession,” she spoke, hovering over the forest before voicing a silent ‘ah!’, then descending towards the tallest tree. She set you down upon its thick upper branches, the damp leaves cascading around you like a chilly bath. She landed on a branch nearby.

“It happened here?” you puzzled, looking below. Having Miranna near Lucia’s trees itched your breath. “Were we talking about something aloft up here?”

“No,” Miranna said, shaking her head, her wings folding around her in shape of a cloak. “We weren’t really speaking, from what I’ve seen. What happened was—“ The Nettle Harpy leaned in, her small nose pressing against your neck, her warm lips inching to follow.

A shiver ran through you, and your ears flushed with sudden heat.

“Miranna? What are you—“

She withdrew quick, and then, with her eyes shut, leaned towards your lips.

> Be too shocked to stop her, and allow Miranna to suddenly kiss you. What was happening? Was -this- what she had seen in her vision? Was this the extent of it?
> Push your hands against her lips before she can kiss you. Demand to know what exactly did she see in the vision? If she’s this eager, you want to know more.
> Turn away your head and make the kiss you on the cheek. As it won’t happen -exactly- to the vision she was shown, explain to her that you can’t trick fate.
> [Write In]

>>6189613
> Be too shocked to stop her, and allow Miranna to suddenly kiss you. What was happening? Was -this- what she had seen in her vision? Was this the extent of it?
It's happening!

>>6189613
> Push your hands against her lips before she can kiss you. Demand to know what exactly did she see in the vision? If she’s this eager, you want to know more.
Ah! Our maiden heart!

>>6189635
+1
>inb4 tongue cut by accident due to serrated teeth

>>6189613
>Be too shocked to stop her, and allow Miranna to suddenly kiss you. What was happening? Was -this- what she had seen in her vision? Was this the extent of it?
Narrator: No, it was not.
Girl, we seen how you done been lookin at us, at least take us out for coffee and have a bath before you start stripping off. And your IQ better not be heritable since I couldn't handle ANOTHER retarded (half-)demon in our life.

>>6189613
>Make out with her

>>6189613
>> Turn away your head and make the kiss you on the cheek. As it won’t happen -exactly- to the vision she was shown, explain to her that you can’t trick fate.

>>6189635
>>6189649
>>6189655
>>6189715
>>6189739
>>6190155

It was all too sudden. Assertive, impulsive, and stubborn, Miranna pushed in to mark your lips. It was not one of experience; her face war warmer than her chapped, tepid lips, with her jarred teeth pushing against yours, and her breath smelling like wet metal. She broke it, her lips contorting into a frown.

“That isn’t it!” she bellowed, her claws clenching around your hands, each talon catching a different knuckle. She urged your hands inside her dishevelled hair, forcing you to grip at her scalp. “-This- is how you followed, hero.”

Free of her embrace, you gasped away the dizziness.

“Miranna, you’re the only one who beheld the vision,” you said, spitting saliva empty of blood. “I can’t follow if I don’t know what’s suppose to happen. If you wish us to recreate it, step by step, then tell me more.”

The branches sagged under the weight of you both, as she narrowed her eyes.

“I supposed it would unfold if I made the first step,” she mumbled.

You shook your head. “If we just anticipate, maybe it shall come naturally—“

“Naturally?” Miranna echoed, her harrumph mingling with a chuckle. “Who knows when that may be? And what must occur in that time for us to entwine this way?”

> Call out how impulsive she is. For someone who respects the prophecy, she sure is showing it in a roundabout way. Promise her that it won’t take long.
> The visions glimpsed by others through the Grub Hag’s knife are less potent than those the Hag witnesses herself. Convey this to Miranna, and assure her that the Demon King’s downfall doesn’t need to be tied to what she had seen.
> You won’t make it weird, and you’ll go along with her wishes, no matter how absurd or wild they might be. Why not? Ask for Miranna’s guidance, and rehearse until you can get the act as it needs to happen, and she is pleased with it.
> [Write In]

>>6191449
>Ask if she really thinks the prophecy can be forced so easily
If we try it will just be fruitless
Actions taken without meaning
They won’t yield the results we seek - if anything they might disrupt the prophecy

>>6191590
+1

>>6191449

>>6191694
>>6191449
Also,
>Point out you don't want to kiss someone just because a prophecy says so

>>6191590
>>6191695
+1

>>6191590
>>6191694
>>6191695
>>6192197

Miranna tossed her head, forcing you to release your grip on her locks.

“Let go for a second try,” she said, wetting her lips and leaning back in.

Your hands slid down until they pressed against her mouth.

“Wait!” —her tongue lapped at your palms— “Miranna, wait! This will not work.”

Her lips began to warm, the heat intensifying until it seared. You withdrew your hands, the reddish scald of her lips lingering like a scarlet lipstick.

“Why not?” she bellowed, smashing her forehead against yours, and filling the air with the burn of her breath. “This shall hasten the Demon King’s demise.”

“I understand that much,” you said, looking into her scarlet, beastly eyes, illuminated like a woodland pond set aglow by a forest’s blaze. “Yet, do you think a prophecy can be forced so easily?”

“We know it shall happen,” she said, inches from your face. “You trust what the knife told you, and so shall I. It’s in our hands to quicken those events.”

“I don’t think -this-“ —you clutched the leaves and blossoms, the fresh balsamic scent clinging to your fingers— “is the right tree. Or the right time of day.”

Nibbling her lip, she gazed at you and then ran her claw along the branches.

“I saw it, but not in full. It was a tree, and perchance a few hours later.”

You shifted your head off hers, your forehead burning. “The prophecy had shown you what is to come, but we can’t just play it out. Best we can do is be aware.”

Miranna buzzed with her lips, her spittle spluttering.

“I -hate- waiting, hero. Now I regret having sought the knife’s foretelling,” she grumbled, then her eyes grew wide. “Hero, which other vermin does the knife’s edge require? I shall hunt them down quick, and then ask further revelations as to what will lead to this moment, so we may know for certain.”

You seized her hand she she tried to rise, the branches creaking beneath.

“Let’s not call upon any more prophecies, Miranna, nor try to resolve one with another; we are already laden with too many,” you said.

Miranna folded her arms beneath her iron cuirass, talons drumming the steel.

“Then what? I am to wait until you deem its proper time for intimacy?”

You stared in disbelief. “Me? Why do you think I’ll be the one to initiate?!”

She shrugged. “I am not one for trifles of romance, kisses, or embraces.”

“In that vision, you were the one who kissed me first, no?” you challenged.

She cast her gaze aside, her eyes rolling. “It passed over your wooing.”

Your hand lifted, a finger twitching to point, when suddenly a black figure swept across the sky. It was a tall demon, his bat-like wings broad and spiny, armoured in steel, reddish mail, draped in a white tabard, and carrying an axe.

“Miranna, that is—” —you pointed at the sky, leaving space for her to finish.

She followed your gesture, studying the figure for a brief moment. “Who?”

“That’s your brother, Sarem!”

“Ah,” she said, squinting. “That’s him, sure enough. As ever, you are correct, hero. What brings him all the way here, alone, instead of Banefroth?”

“The Demon King must have divulged about me and your betrayal,” you said.

“He’s seeking us by his own? If so, I’ll remind him how foolish he can be.”

> Ask Miranna to hide herself, and then try and catch Sarem’s attention by yelling and waving your hands. When and if he lowers, let Miranna capture him.
> Allow Miranna to decide what she wants to do regarding her own brother.
> Lower yourself and hide in the branches and leaves, and then wait until Sarem is far enough for you to pursue after him. Find out where he’s going.
> [Write In]

>>6192978
> Allow Miranna to decide what she wants to do regarding her own brother.
No need to make any more of an enemy of our... Future brother-in-law, I guess?

Do you guys think there's enough comedy and enough seriousness in the quest, or that one is lacking?

>>6193055
I think you strike a fine balance, but if anything it could sue a bit more in the way of bonding moments with Miranna if we're going to wife her.

>>6192990
+1

>>6192978
> Allow Miranna to decide what she wants to do regarding her own brother.

>>6193055
It feels good as it is.

>>6192978
>Allow Miranna to decide what she wants to do regarding her own brother.
Your family, your choice.

I've seen this one before, the sex is supposed to happen just before the climax of the story when we go for the final battle with the Demon King. Miranna wants to advance the timetable? Sure, but you can wait until we're not in the tree in the dark after running around for the entire single day we've known each other for. And after you've had a bath.

>>6193055
If you want CC on the tone, it's not so much one or the other but they can inconsistently mix at times, like the story sometimes feels indecisive between lighthearted and serious, bouncing between the two rather than uniting them. But overall I'd say the story leans more towards drama than humour.

>>6193057
I also echo the sentiment that I want more bird & peasant. The terrifying and powerful individual who's also a huge dork is a favourite trope of mine and I already want to marry her, become the new Dark Lord and Lady together and raise a massive number of half-demon children with her (not necessarily in that order) but, in order for dreams to stop being dreams, we've got to get there first and for that we need to slow down a bit and interact more outside of dashing around on business. And just have more of those times in general.

File: Dancing.png (1.77 MB, 1792x1024)

1.77 MB PNG

>>6193057
I understand, make those "romance" choices when they appear, even if rare and you have to "write them in", because I'm not that good at romance ... I mean, Miranna isn't, not me.
>>6193087
Thanks for the feedback.
>>6193095
That's a shame. I hoped it to be equal, at least, if not the comedy being 60% of the quest. I wanted there to be some seriousness, but not some extreme drama. Can you suggest how I can improve, to unite the two genres better?

As for more romance, one can say one this dashing and surviving can already be considered a bonding moment or a few between them. It's just been one day after all. I do push for more things to happen and to move the plot forward at least every few updates, as it is a Quest, and I don't want it to get boring. I'm glad that Miranna is a character (and an archetype) that you like, I do rather enjoy her myself.

>>6192978
> Lower yourself and hide in the branches and leaves, and then wait until Sarem is far enough for you to pursue after him. Find out where he’s going.
He wouldn’t come out alone if he wasn’t prepared

>>6193055
Maybe a bit light on the comedy

>>6192978
> Allow Miranna to decide what she wants to do regarding her own brother.

“He might not be alone,” you said, your eyes following Sarem.

Miranna shifted, her shoulder rolling with a soft crack.

“Unless there are hundred demons and two Demon Generals accompanying him, it won’t be a problem,” she declared, scratching her chin. “I’ll go and ask him.”

“He is your brother,” you said, “and you know best on how to deal with him.

“We’re not really -that- close, aside from our mother’s blood,” she said.

‘Not your father’s?’ You refrained from asking.

“You’ll ask him what?” you said.

“I’d rather not be troubled by someone constantly soaring over my head, spying on our every deed, hero.” She spread her wings wide. “I will be swift.”

You looked below at the tangled branches and hanging curtain of leaves rippling in the wind, the earth below muffled by the heavy shroud of both.

“Be so,” you agreed.

She turned, suddenly. You flinched as her talon pushed against your brow, the sharp slender nail—thankfully—arching upward rather that piercing your skull.

“It is well if you do not wish to force my vision, hero,” she said, “but I shall expect you to come up with a way to bring it to fruition. Think on it.”

She lightly shoved you back, her talons snapping as you fell onto the branches. She lifted her thumb, then snapped her ebony wings, draining the leaves of their verdant hue. She lunged upward, pulling the tree’s entire shadow along, leaving you stranded amid the suffocating heights.

The cold air scratched your skin as your fingers gripped the rugged bark, every branch and leaf trembling under the force of her ascent. It calmed as suddenly as it came, leaving you to your thoughts. There was little chance Sarem could change Miranna’s mind; you couldn’t. You knew she would return.

She urged you to pave a path for the coming vision: a vision in which you , if not lovers, were at least close enough to share in intimate warmth. You didn’t want your feelings for her to be dictated solely by the vision. So … how -did- you feel? You mattered to her—an importance you never felt before elsewhere in your life—yet that, too, was fashioned by yet another prophecy.

There were things to like about her, sure, like how she always knew what to do, or didn’t mind when you mess up … but so what? She was a demon, demanding things of you! You had your peaceful life, and she, almost entirely, undid it with her arrival. This day had been more perilous than your entire life put!

… but thought it was not what you ever sought, it wasn’t bad.

You never felt this fervent heat. You couldn’t say from where it came—from body, soul, bones, or the mind. You could not find the reason for it either.

Was it the nearness of the demoness with fire magic? The many perils? The gnawing chill, with your clothes ill-suited? Or was it the rush of adrenaline?

Maybe the prophecy -was- real, and it was influencing you with its sorcery.

You put your hands upon your sides. Miranna care was bestowed only for the prophesied hero. You needed to her to like Niklos, so that, even if the prophecy failed, she wouldn’t rid of you. And were other things to happen naturally … good.

So, how?

> Spot the flowers growing under the tree. Chamomile, they can be crushed and mixed with ash for a toothpaste. Offer to give her teeth a caring clean. You’ll have to find a way to climb down, best hope that you don’t break your legs.
> Challenge Miranna next time you two have a moment to yourselves. The challenge? To sit without doing anything in silence. You can do it better!
> Pretend to be sick. Miranna believes that you won’t die until the Demon Generals and the Demon King are defeated. But if you are at ill health, will she care for you? By the leaps of her logic, she wouldn’t need to. So then … ?
> Next time you two are alone, compliment her on something that isn’t her strength or her powers. She is focusing too much on proving herself worthy …
> Insist that now is as good time as any to seek that promised bath. If she tries to wriggle her way out of it, insist that you’re needing a bath yourself.
> [Write In]

> Pick one or two options please.

File: Dance.png (2.53 MB, 1792x1024)

2.53 MB PNG

>>6192990
>>6193057
>>6193061
>>6193087
>>6193095
>>6193650
>>6193651

Forgot to tag. I don't know if it helps but I think so. Apologies for the breaks.

>>6195046
>Spot the flowers growing under the tree. Chamomile, they can be crushed and mixed with ash for a toothpaste. Offer to give her teeth a caring clean. You’ll have to find a way to climb down, best hope that you don’t break your legs.
>Insist that now is as good time as any to seek that promised bath. If she tries to wriggle her way out of it, insist that you’re needing a bath yourself.
Miranna is a flying Superfund site, it's time for the Great Cleanup. We'll have to find something to use as a brush and.....we're going to have to show her how to wash herself, aren't we?

>>6195046
>Bathtime and toothbrush time
First we have to want to kiss her

>>6195179
+1
>we're going to have to show her how to wash herself, aren't we?
Go jump in a lake or the ocean, easy?

>>6195046
>Spot the flowers growing under the tree. Chamomile, they can be crushed and mixed with ash for a toothpaste. Offer to give her teeth a caring clean. You’ll have to find a way to climb down, best hope that you don’t break your legs.
>Insist that now is as good time as any to seek that promised bath. If she tries to wriggle her way out of it, insist that you’re needing a bath yourself.
If she wants action, she's got to be at least presentable.

>>6195220
Yeah, but does she know how to use soap? Or a brush? Or wash her hair?
It's also funnier that way

>>6195179
>>6195205
>>6195220
>>6195263
>>6195379

Your eyes meandered on the drifting clouds and tangled branches before resting upon the distant ground, where clusters of feathery chamomile blossomed, their white petals framing a pale yellow centre—something you often steeped for tea. A lesson resurfaced of another use for it: mixed with ash, it made a potent tooth paste. Her teeth, while impish and charming, were badly neglected—chipped and abraded—in stark contrast to her stalwart claws.

You could teach her how to care for her teeth; it wasn’t hard alchemy. Drawing a breath, you grabbed the branch and began a careful descent, the sole tree Miranna picked towering above the rest. Branch by branch you scaled down, keeping your eyes fixed from the far-off earth until the soles of your iron boots finally touched the solid ground.

“Lucia,” you whispered to yourself, gazing at the bark as if it were her, thought it had way more wrinkles and imperfections, “If you are listening, I’m trying my best here. Forgive Miranna for marring this tree, for I believe nothing has been broken.” You checked around, where no snapped branches laid.

There was no answer, to both your annoyance and relief. Rubbing beneath your eyes, you pressed your hand against the slender twisting stems, snapping the tiny flowers free from their roots. One by one you plucked the flowers until a sharp sting made you jerk back your hand, now flushed and speckled with spots.

Was it a nettle? No, hidden among the chamomile was a lone flower, its white petals delicate like chamomile’s but with a black-blue core, tiny thorns in place of fuzzy leafs, with a faint yet wicked sizzle. You had never seen such a flower before. You suffered many stings, and this seemed just like the others.

You lingered a moment, waiting for any change beyound the itch on your palm, but nothing alarm-worthy appeared. You took note of the eerie bloom’s appearance, then moved aside to another cluster, gritting the itching.
True to her word, Miranna returned soon after, with no sign of Sarem.

“I see what you’re doing,” she said, pointing at the flowers. “That’s one of those human traditions, isn’t it? Well, hero, you should try something else.”

“It’s not a bouquet, but it -is- for you,” you said. “Is all alright?”

She picked at her teeth with her talons. “Yes. I had to knock him out.”

“You … knocked him out?”

She nodded, her grin full of pride.

“Easily so; he didn’t put out much of a fight,” she said.

“And you left him somewhere out there?”

“Of course not. I took him to the camp and left him with the imp.”

“With Mwaus?” you asked. “Did he recognise him?”

“I don not think so, but I didn’t stay long to find out,” Miranna replied, suddenly striking the breastplate with her claw. “But hear this, hero! He claimed the Demon King named him the new Demon General! Can you fathom it? I was replaced by Sarem, of all demons! It is an insult, and I -am- insulted!”

“He’s a Demon General?” you repeated, clutching the chamomile tighter, the earthy, calming freshness stirring your cough and reddening your eyes.

“So it seems!” Miranna whined. “And you know exactly what that means!”

You watched her, unsure by what she was implying.

“If he speaks the truth—and dare he lie to me?—then, when he wakes, you will have to defeat him, like the hero would a Demon General! You are foretold to.”

> Tell Miranna that you had already defeated him back in Banefroth, and there’s no need to humiliate her brother any further. Return to the campsite.
> It doesn’t make sense for the Demon King to replace someone as powerful as you with Sarem. He’s not weak, but if Miranna is reacting this way, there must be stronger demons. Something’s off, and you doubt Sarem will stay a Demon General long enough for you to need to defeat him.
> As you both make your way back to the campfire, think on the most sardonic way to defeat the vampire demon Sarem. What would be the most ironic approach?
> [Write In]

>>>The bath choice is on the backburner.

>>6195379
She had mentioned this before, but the way she 'washes' is by plunging into a cold lake without taking off her armour and then flying right back.
No, she doesn't use soap, or a brush. I guess you can say that cold water is good for hair.

>>6197442
> As you both make your way back to the campfire, think on the most sardonic way to defeat the vampire demon Sarem. What would be the most ironic approach?
Bury him in a pit of garlic

>>6197517
+1
but are vampires here vulnerable to that?
even if not, the sheer garlic stink will make him a laughingstock to the rest of the evil horde for a longtime

>>6197442
> As you both make your way back to the campfire, think on the most sardonic way to defeat the vampire demon Sarem. What would be the most ironic approach?
Are demons encouraged to show deference to family in any way? I'd guess not, but could our prophesied "engagement" to Miranna be used against him in some way?

>>6197442
>> As you both make your way back to the campfire, think on the most sardonic way to defeat the vampire demon Sarem. What would be the most ironic approach?
This sounds the funniest.

>>6197442
Don't think the bell is going to save you from having your teeth brushed, lady
>As you both make your way back to the campfire, think on the most sardonic way to defeat the vampire demon Sarem. What would be the most ironic approach?
Push him down another, even longer, set of stairs

>>6197443
That armour, her wings and clothes are all coming right off and getting a good scrub as well, they must be revoltingly dirty. Can't say I or anyone I know have ever been given to sticking their heads in cold water to evaluate its effect on hair though. We can also take the opportunity to rein in her hair a bit. Not too much, I like the wild look but we can at least try and de-mat it and remove any lice, boots, half-eaten food, small animals, blood splatters, leaves and bones of her enemies.

There will be an update tomorrow.

>>6199706
Eagerly awaiting it!

>>6197517
>>6197686
>>6197726
>>6197913
>>6198615
>>6199874

“Right,” you muttered, biting down your retorts. “Let us return,” you added.

Miranna grinned and nodded, her wings trashing as she scooped you up by your elbows and armpits. You clutched the bouquet as she dragged you against the sky.

After a silent moment, you spoke up, “I’m not going to kill him.”

Laughing, as if this topic wasn’t of any seriousness, Miranna glanced down.

“’Defeat’ means many things; whether you spare his life is your choice, hero.”

“You care not?”

Miranna parted her lips, her greying tongue gliding over her barbed teeth.

“A tad. If he’s weak, then he’s weak … but I would prefer that weakling alive.”

So, there was indeed some kind of kinship, thought not a particularly profound one; was this the case with all demons, or only with Miranna?

“I have felled him once before,” you remarked. “It happened when I unwittingly stumbled into his wardenry. I’m not sure if it was ‘ironic’, as the Grub Hag insisted for, but we tumbled down the stairs and he broke his tooth.”

She stifled a snort, saying, “That would bruise any demon’s pride, hero.”

“Sure, but is it an -sardonic- defeat?” you said. “And with him now a Demon General, must I repeat it again? Where will I find a staircase long enough?”

“At the tall start of my tower: the one you fell down!”

“I did not just ‘fall’, you thrust me down it,” you grumbled. “And heading back to Banefroth Citadel -with- Sarem will be more trouble than it’s worth.”

“You underestimate me, hero. I could get us there and back in hours, or minutes, if you can endure with a bit of nausea and a queasy stomach,” she said, slipping one hand off your shirt to rest on her chin, leaving you to balance on but one of her taloned grips. “I know not of any other way that the prophecy would deem sufficiently ironic for his downfall. How personal must it be?”

To your relief, Miranna’s arm lowered, halting the seeming-perilous swaying.

“I am not sure either,” you said. “You’re more familiar with the other Demon Generals. A new one certainly makes things trickier. He’s a vampire, correct?”

“Not from your fables. He’s a demon, obviously. And I do believe he possesses the demon magic of many things by drinking others’ blood. That’s all he is.”

“Sounds like a vampire to me; so you can’t say if garlic will work on him?”

Miranna blinked in puzzlement. “Garlic? Is that a sort of vegetable?”

“It’s a plant, like a leek, thought I doubt we will be able to find one. However, there should be wild garlic growing around here at this time of year.”

She shook her head, more out of astonishment than in dismay of you.

“It is up to you, hero. In the end, fate says all of them will be correct.”

That was her conviction, leaving you alone to mill your thoughts like grain.

Miranna landed near the campfire, a mouthwatering smell of roasted flesh—sugared skin and earthy fat—startling your senses. Upon makeshift platters of leaves and branches laid roasted hares, with two more sizzling above the crackling, red-hot coals and struggling flames. Startled, Prince Mwaus turned, gripping a sharpened stick smeared with the vermin’s blood, with Sarem laying just a few feet away. Unconscious.

His axe was taken from him and moved, now lying closer to you than to him.

“Prince Mwaus,” you said, rubbing your eyes, “have you prepared all of this?”

“I-I suppose I have,” the demon stammered, glancing down as embarrassment tinted his eyes. “It was suppose to be your task, human. What is your excuse?”

You waved at Miranna. “I go whether she takes me … “ —you half-joked, briefly glancing at the vampire demon— “Do you really not know what that is?”

After a swift check at the hares above the coals, Mwaus look at him.

“No, the Nursemaid brought him here, but I don’t know why,” he said.

Miranna leaned against your shoulders, her feathered wings folding into a cloak. “Then far too much for his head to handle. Let’s not bother!” she said.

That’s right. How were you to explain to the false-prince Mwaus that you were going to hunt and hurt the Demon Generals? As soon as he opened his mouth, he’d give away your scheme. Would you had to slander Sarem himself as the traitor?

“We’ll need him conscious before you can crush him,” Miranna said, letting go of your shoulders and stepping past to eye the one-meat feast. “I must say, imp, that does look rather tempting. Is this what a ‘prince’ eats per his day?”

“Exactly!” Mwaus resounded, as thought Miranna had thrown him a lifeline. “That must be it, Nursemaid Miranna. It is just what I was served at Baneforth Citadel, which is why I know how it looks, and how it must be prepared for me.”

With Miranna and Mwaus having something minute and short to wit about, you hastily scouted the area for wild garlic. Flourishing in moist, shaded corners of the meadow and forest edge—like your camp—you quickly espied the broad, green leaves, the obvious scent of garlic up-close affirming their identity.

Crushing the wild garlic in your hands, you paused before placing it over Sarem’s face. If it wouldn’t defeat him, it might at least weaken his powers.

Miranna watched you, her brilliant scarlet eyes unjudging and solemn.

There was no point offering to clean her teeth right before a meal.

“Let’s enjoy what prince Mwaus had made for us,” you said, approaching the pair and sitting on the grass. You grabbed a fork-looking branch, impaled the tender hind legs, broke off the meaty chunk, and lifted it to her mouth.

Mwaus’ eyes rose like dawning sun. “What? You have a human feed you?”

Miranna stared at the offering, shrugged, and bit it in one go.

“I suppose,” she said in-between chews, seeking an answers in your eyes as to why you were feeding her. “It’s good, but not good enough to justify the wait.”

“I can’t believe my eyes!” came a forth voice, echoing from Sarem. It seemed the garlic’s only effect was to wake him up. “Sister … what is your madness?!”

> Pick up Sarem’s axe—twice this day alone!—and stand up. See if he’ll be willing to fight you for it. If he is, try and defeat him with his own axe.
> Ask Miranna to cover Mwaus’ ears for the duration, and then speak with Sarem frankly about the prophecy. If he doesn’t want to be defeated by you, as it is foretold, he should give up being a General, so he won’t be part of it.
> Remind him about how he was easily fooled by you, and how you threw him down the stairs, broke his tooth, and stole his axe. Push him into irrationality.
> Offer him to join you by the campfire for the freshly-roasted meal.
> [Write In]

>>6199874
Thank you for your patience!

>>6200387
>Offer him to join you by the campfire for the freshly roasted meal.
Defeat a vampire-demon by teaching him to love garlic-dressed hare so much he can't bring himself to battle the chef, because then he can't have any more of it? Sounds ironic to me! Sort of! Close enough?

>>6200571
+1
"You have two choices. Dine, or die."

>>6200387
>Offer him to join you by the campfire for the freshly-roasted meal.
Definitely dress some of that meat with the garlic to add some flavour.

And keep feeding Miranna, Sarem might die of an aneurysm. Want some too, man? Eat some rabbit and chill.

>>6200387
> Offer him to join you by the campfire for the freshly-roasted meal.
Yo bring some of that garlic, I think it needs a bit more flavor

There will be an update tomorrow.

File: artworks-o5fydRn87jY0IQ9y(...).jpg (105 KB, 1080x1080)

105 KB JPG

>>6201071

>>6200571
>>6200621
>>6200661
>>6200955
>>6201488

Miranna regarded him with a blunt look, but you spoke up before she could.

“Sarem, let us speak about this after we’ve eaten, you said, inviting him.

Scoffing, he brushed the stems off his face and then discarded most of them.

“—And fetch some of that garlic; we’re in need of more flavour,” you added.

“Don’t you dare … tell me” —he took a deep, whistling breath— “what to do!”

Miranna smacked the grass besides you and her. “Sit down, Sarem,” she said.

The demon hissed, his bloodshot eyes carving you like you like you had with the hare. Yet, after witnessing Miranna’s identical stare, he grudgingly stepped in. He reached for the bone-crusted hilt, but Miranna swiftly interposed her foot-claw between serrated edges, keeping it aloft but stuck.

“You will not need that to eat,” she said, returning the axe to the ground.

“That … is mine,” he said, his speech cracking asunder.

“I’ll give it back after,” Miranna promised, her voice voice of sincerity.

She nicked the wild garlic leaves from Sarem’s grasp and threw them to you.

Under Sarem’s cold stare, you rubbed the garlic into the hare’s warm flesh.

“I don not need … human spices and poisons,” he said, clawing a roasted hare and biting into a meaty piece with a loud, uncouth chewing.

You pulled another piece and held the fork out to Miranna, who took an accepting bite. Humming, she licked her lips. “That adds a fine kick for sure!”

Half rising, Sarem choked, spitting forth chunks of bone and half-chewed meat. “Why in the hells … is that mortal … human feeding you, sister?!”

Looking at you with a smirk, Miranna tilted her head. “Not sure.”

“And what … of your betrayal of … the Demon King? For … him, no less?!”

Mwaus’ horns curled. He halted mid-bite, confusion crossing his face.

“You should not bring politics to our supper,” you said.

“Be silent!” Sarem roared, his iron gauntlet thrust towards Mwaus, the reddish chainmail clanging like a tightening torture-collar. “You, barracks’ demon … why are you … with them instead of … reporting back in … to -me-?!”

“Barracks’ demon? Me?” Mwaus stammered, wiping his mouth with his palm.

“Is there anyone … else?!”

Mwaus glared fiercely. “Not me! I’m the Demon King’s sole heir: Prince Mwaus!”

“Heir? You said heir?” With a cough, Sarem hacked, taking shallow, quick gasps. “The Demon King … has no heir! What are you … trying to pull here?”

Desperation trembling across his skin, he looked at Miranna—greedily eating every bit you gave her—as if looking for reassurance. With a throat-clearing gargle, she swallowed, then returned the gaze.

“He seem to be what he claims,” she said with a shrug.

“That … cannot be!” Sarem said, rising to his full height.

Whisker’s eyes, gleaming from the undisturbed shadow, flashed red, a rattling hiss escaping him as he stepped into the campfire’s accentuating glow, his black coat absorbing the orange light like ink, his paw brushing the roast.

Sarem pointed at your cat. “What sort of … manner of beast … is that?!” —something he knew flashing purple in his irises— “Is that … the Demon King’s rune? But … why? How?” He turned around, his wings opening with a loud rustle.

> Ask him if he wishes to flee; that’s unbecoming of a Warden, especially not a Demon General. Promise to tell him everything if he decides he rather stays.
> Ask Sarem about the prophecy, how much did the Demon King reveal to him, and how much does he truly believe? Inform him about the consequences of being a Demon General: being defeated by you. His sister takes it seriously, does he?
> Lie to Sarem that Miranna has simply fallen for your charms, and it is all a misunderstanding. The Demon King shall understand as you as you talk to him.
> Insist that Mwaus commands Sarem to stay, to see how Sarem will act on it.
> [Write In]

Let's just say the guy is confused.

>>6201594
I just realized that Sarem talks like he has constant unending asthma or some serious breathing issue, but he sounds super intimidating in spite of that

>>6201591
> Ask Sarem about the prophecy, how much did the Demon King reveal to him, and how much does he truly believe? Inform him about the consequences of being a Demon General: being defeated by you. His sister takes it seriously, does he?
>>pet your cat like a Bond villain while you do so

File: Spoiler Image (149 KB, 864x864)

149 KB JPG

>>6201605
>intimidating asthmatic
There is precedent.

>>6201591
dude needs an inhaler, stat
>Ask him if he wishes to flee; that’s unbecoming of a Warden, especially not a Demon General. Promise to tell him everything if he decides he rather stays.
What sort of pathetic Demon General flees from a cat?
Pet said cat.

>>6201678
+1
Include the Bond villain petting

>>6201678
This.
And supporting the Bond villain petting.

>>6201605
>>6201609
Perhaps he does, or a demon equivalent.

>>6201607
>>6201678
>>6201690
>>6201866
Update tomorrow. We'll be Bond petting the cat.

>>6201591
>Lie to Sarem that Miranna has simply fallen for your charms, and it is all a misunderstanding. The Demon King shall understand as you as you talk to him.
lol
Lmao

>>6201605
>>6201607
>>6201609
>>6201678
>>6201690
>>6201866
>>6203010

“Doesn’t sound right. You sure it doesn’t need to be looked at?” you said.

Miranna flicked her arm. “He had this since his birth, a mere quirk of his.”

Sarem glared at his sister, then at the ground, clicking his tongue.

“Are you fleeing now?” you said. “From this here cat?”

He bared his fangs, his booth’s hobnails crushing the crumbly clods beneath.

“No.”

“Then, are you trying to run away from me?”

He swallowed the air. “I’d never be … as pathetic to … escape from a human!”

You beckoned Whiskers with a soft chirrup, your furred friend—hare now lodged in his mouth—responding as he would. Leaping onto your crossed legs, he purred, coiling around himself and resting upon his tail as a pillow, chewing the done meat. Locking eyes with Sarem, you petted Count Whiskers gently on his head.

Sarem snapped, his jaw and hand shaking, making the steel armour rattle.

“This makes … zeroth sense! Why does he … bear the Demon King’s … rune?!”

“For sure,” you said, stretching the pause. “Odd, isn’t it?” you bullshitted.

“Had you not … really betrayed him?” he asked, eyeing his sister. “Is this … some sort of plan … of his? But what for? I’ve brought soldiers … with me, as he asked. There are now dozen … of them sweeping the skies, looking … for you.”

Holding the meatless bones in his grip, Mwaus lowered his hands.

“I am as confounded as you, or perhaps a royal-bit more,” Mwaus muttered.

He glanced at Miranna, who, lounging upon her knuckles, watched you both.

Scratching beneath Count Whisker’s chin, you asked, “What if it’s a test?”

“For what?” —Sarem wheezed— “My loyalty is … beyound reproach!” He pushed a hand against his ribs, drew in a long breath, and then grinned so wide the blackness hid his tongue. “I’ll know the truth, if I can taste your blood!”

> Challenge Sarem. If he wants to taste your blood, then he can try. Without any weapons. You'd already beat him once before.
> Pull back the sleeve to expose your forearm and offer him a taste. You hadn’t told anything that wasn’t true. Grab and grapple him as you did before once you he pushes his fangs in. Once, shame on me. Twice, shame on you.
> Tell him that he told you himself that you’re a mortal. Is it not below a Demon General to taste a human’s blood? No, he has to believe you by his own.
> [Write In]

>>6203029
> Tell him that he told you himself that you’re a mortal. Is it not below a Demon General to taste a human’s blood? No, he has to believe you by his own.
Also it hurts bro
I like my blood
I need it to live

>>6203132
+1

>>6203029
> Pull back the sleeve to expose your forearm and offer him a taste. You hadn’t told anything that wasn’t true. Grab and grapple him as you did before once you he pushes his fangs in. Once, shame on me. Twice, shame on you.

Could you imagine if his blood reading power gave him the full breadth of our story so far. Plucked from a farm to be a prophesied Hero, straight to the Demon King's bedroom, met several generals, the King himself, escaped, another general, etc.
He might even be sympathetic to the absurdity of it all...until a certain kiss.

>>6203132
+1

>>6203029

Update tomorrow.

Apologies. Not today.

>>6204340
We'll be here, QM. See you soon!

>>6203132
>>6203161
>>6203171
>>6203201
>>6204534

You stepped away from his reach, folding your arms against your elbows and shoulders. “Let us not,” you said, scowling at him. “I like and need my blood.”

“Then you … admit that you are … lying to me!” he said, clenching his gauntlet, the leather of his wings quivering as though prepared to lash.

You covered your bare exposed neck from his demanding stare.

“Is it not beneath a Demon General to partake in a human’s blood, Sarem?”

“Do not speak my name so freely!” he yelled, forgetting he had demanded it before. “Nay … I had went for that neck before … you mortal” —Sarem traced the askew fang, pressing his lips between his fingers— “was posing as a demon!”

With a snarl, his eyes returning to the axe, he then brandished his fists.

“And I shall do it again, should you try,” you warned, placing an arm between an elbow and cracking it aloud. “Like this, I’ll do it to -your- neck.”

“You are stopping me … from returning to … the Demon King; all of this is lies!”

“Sarem, I beg you” —Miranna sneered, picking the toothed axe and leveling it at her kin— “were it not but a test or a jest, do you -truly- believe that the Demon King would anoint you as my replacement? You? To take my place? -Never-.”

In the sound of crackling embers, Sarem’s mail rattled with his breath.

“Take me seriously, sister,” he said on a lone exhale.

Miranna’s eyes sparked like sleeping coals.

“You don’t want me to take you seriously.”

> Step in to defend Sarem. Tell Miranna that he might be not as powerful as she is now, but he is her kin, so he she shouldn't treat him like he has no potential. She ought to stand by her brother's growth.
> Nod in support of Miranna. Sarem should keep his arrogance in check, especially since it's a false one.
> Take Mwaus away from Miranna and Sarem’s midst, in case he overhears something that might ruin your plan for him taking the throne, and make him ask questions.
> [Write In]

>>6204534
That's kind of you, thank you!

>>6204821
> Nod in support of Miranna. Sarem should keep his arrogance in check, especially since it's a false one.
Gotta be able to walk the walk if you wanna talk the talk bro

>>6204821
>Nod in support of Miranna. Sarem should keep his arrogance in check, especially since it's a false one.
I want to bully him

>>6204821
> Nod in support of Miranna. Sarem should keep his arrogance in check, especially since it's a false one

>>6204821
> Take Mwaus away from Miranna and Sarem’s midst, in case he overhears something that might ruin your plan for him taking the throne, and make him ask questions.
Miranna can bully her bro on our behalf, kek.

>>6205367
>>6205370
>>6205386
>>6205429

>>6205367
>>6205370
>>6205386
>>6205429

Thought the meaning of Miranna’s words was clear, he was unmoved by them.

In her support, you nodded. “Confidence has its place, yet only when deserved. Miranna is right about your vanity … I, also, find it hard to believe the Demon King would entrust you with her position as the Demon General.”

“The prisons wards are ever barren, are they not?” Miranna asked.

“They were when I was there,” you said. “No demon, no mortal—empty.”

Miranna eyes slitted in a mocking glare.

“So what were you even standing guard of, Sarem?”

You felt yourself pulled along by Miranna’s attitude.

“Do you think the Demon King just gave him an time-wasting duty?” you said.
“Perchance,” Miranna said, lifting her chin with a laughter. “When last those cells were given purpose? The Demon King takes pity with his demons, and abhors humans anywhere near his presence—I wonder why it was fashioned at all?”

You gifted Sarem a taunting smirk. “The stairs there are quite treacherous.”

“Or Sarem is too oafish even for them,” Miranna added, rolling her shoulder. “Do you know this, Niklos? I was meant to have another half-sibling, had he not rolled in his sleep and cast the egg down from the nest.”

“No, I didn’t know that—“

Sarem stepped past the firepit, his graved boot crushing the feeble roasting frame with the hare still skewering, scattering the embers in a fiery burst. His hand clamped around your throat, lifting you off the ground with his demonic strength.

Straining for breath, he growled, “As you are … not returning my axe” —Sarem heaved and swung you towards the spiked steel; Miranna, swift of hand, yanked it away before your face could met it in a life-ending kiss. “Curse it. Damn!”

“I wondered how long you would let me deride you for, Sarem,” she said.

The vampire demon squeezed your neck tighter. “You know well … what the Demon King thinks … of mortals, sister. He’s not suppose to … be your company. It does not make … sense. I shall bring him … with me, to the Demon King, and learn the … truth myself. Test or not. From -him-. Will you … try and stop me?”

Miranna looked at your bluing face and shook her head, a feral smile taking shape.

“There is no need, Sarem. Niklos will handle you himself.”

Gasping for air, you strove to comprehend her words. Wait—what?!

> Look at Miranna with blurred vision and motion for her to throw you his axe, so you can use Sarem’s own weapon against him.
> Play dead to catch Sarem off guard. Once he believes you’ve suffocated, he might drop you, as he likely does not wish for you to die, giving you an opening.
> Lean in and bite Sarem’s face, sinking your teeth into his skin. If he loosens his grip from shock, pain, or disbelief, keep punching his face.
> Point to the hare infused with wild garlic and gesture for Mwaus to throw it to you. With your remaining human strength, shove it deep into Sarem’s mouth.
> Force your hand into Sarem’s throat so that his fangs sink into your skin, leaving him no choice but to drink your blood. Use the moment he is overwhelmed by the truth to break free from his grip and act.
> [Write In]

File: 152839158.png (913 KB, 1600x1690)

913 KB PNG

Bully is bad, kids.

>>6207130
>Lean in and bite Sarem’s face, sinking your teeth into his skin. If he loosens his grip from shock, pain, or disbelief, keep punching his face.
How about an Uno reverse card, you twat

>>6207130
> Force your hand into Sarem’s throat so that his fangs sink into your skin, leaving him no choice but to drink your blood. Use the moment he is overwhelmed by the truth to break free from his grip and act.
Honestly this sounds painful as hell but I'm morbidly curious to see how he reacts.

>>6207130
> Force your hand into Sarem’s throat so that his fangs sink into your skin, leaving him no choice but to drink your blood. Use the moment he is overwhelmed by the truth to break free from his grip and act.
This one is metal as fuck

>>6207130
> Point to the hare infused with wild garlic and gesture for Mwaus to throw it to you. With your remaining human strength, shove it deep into Sarem’s mouth.
Funniest option.

>>6207130
> Force your hand into Sarem’s throat so that his fangs sink into your skin, leaving him no choice but to drink your blood. Use the moment he is overwhelmed by the truth to break free from his grip and act.
He wants it so bad? Give it to him by force

Update in a few hours.

>>6207224
>>6207302
>>6207329
>>6207355
>>6207447

‘The truth? Here. You can have it!’ you would have said, were your throat not being crushed. You looped your arm behind your back, brought it over your shoulder, and with your knuckles locked, pushed it straight inside Sarem’s throat. The cloth of your sleeve tore between his teeth as you shoved your arm deeper, halting only at the elbow. His eyes trembled and his body shook as you locked stares, feeling the grip over your neck slackening. Fangs, a few hours before severing your iron collar, sank beyound your thin chemise, piercing flesh, muscle, and then splintering th bone.

Your throat dried of air while his crimson irises narrowed to slits. You didn’t know the workings of his powers—whether he saw what he willed himself, or laid bare the truths you’ve told him before. Yet, his brows twitched, and shock widened his eyes. You grinned—whether for being the chosen one or from tasting his sister’s lips. Through the pain, you forced your arm deeper, choking him.

He seized your arm with his free hand, frantic to make you relent; you didn’t, even as his fangs neared to bisect your arm, your fingers clawed into what felt like pulsing walls of his innards. His eyes finally rolled back, his grip failing. You dropped to your feet, your arm still wedged in his throat.

“Damn it, that stings,” you said, blood flowing from your wound, your bones throbbing like parasites.

Miranna descended in a flash, one claw locking onto your arm while the other latched onto Sarem’s back. In a single pull, she wrenched you free, his fangs dragging loose from the seeping rend. She threw him against the trunk, getting no response.

“Swiftly done, Niklos,” Miranna praised. “I suppose we can call it an ‘ironic defeat’; I would. Is that wound of any concern?”

“I’m unsure if my hand shall be of any use for a while,” you said, tearing at the sleeve to wrap it in haste around the wound. “His fangs sure are sharp.”

“That they are,” Miranna said with a smirk. “Did him little good.”

Mwaus stood up, clenching his fists, slick with juicy greasy.

“What folly be this? I would have my answer! Why have you fought him?”

“Heirling” —Miranna stepped in, shaking her head— “That is what Demon Generals do, we battle for dominance. You need not trouble yourself with it.”

“He is no Demon General!” Mwaus snapped, jabbing his finger at you. “He is of mankind! I want the -real- reason, Nursemaid.”

Miranna’s eyes drifted after his accusing finger. “Would you have me waste my strength on every witless fool, Prince Mwaus?”

“But a mortal?”

“Mortal suffices. Should they be bested by a human hands rather than mine, thy will be rightly humbled. I crave only battles befit of my strength.”

He eyed Sarem, nibbling between his thumb and forefinger.

“Just trust me. Surely you trust your nursemaid?” she said with a smirk. Spreading her wings with a flourish, she turned to you. “I believe our respite can be cut short here—we have tarried long enough. There’s nothing left to be done here.”

“Hold yet, Miranna,” you said through the pain, unveiling the chamomile had gathered. “We should first clean your teeth.”

“Ha?!”

For near half an hour, Sarem remained unconscious. Miranna gave him a swift once-over, and confirmed that he still drew breath, but she didn’t know for how long he was going to remain knocked out. Choosing not to linger to find out, you crushed the chamomile and ash into a gritty paste, smearing it over Miranna’s neglected teeth, the ashy beige sticking to the jagged edges and inside the hollows. She hissed and complained: even in decay, he teeth had not lost their sensitivity. When you were halfway done, you coated her talon with the paste, showing her how to apply it herself. She spat it on the ground, her teeth scarcely improved for all the effort. At your insistence that it be done after every meal, she gawked at you as if you were crazy. As long as you could find and scavenge chamomile along your travels, you said you would ensure she kept to it.

*** *** ***

Miranna assured you Sarem would live. You bound him to a tree with a rope, buying time before he could act on what he had learned, and what the Demon King willed. You set the uneaten roasts just out of his reach—both to taunt him, and to keep Miranna’s brother from perishing from hunger; you didn’t want him dead-dead.

You flight lasted the burn of a candle, crossing the skies until a mere stretched beneath you. Through no hot spring, it was fit for a wash and a bath, and you insisted on landing there, for Miranna’s well-being.

Mwaus declined to join, though no invitation was given. Whether not willing to glimpse his nursemaid unclad, or perhaps too proud to bathe beside a human, or both. He preferred to busy himself with winning over Count Whisker’s love. You mused that, if he acted nicer, you could share with him a few of your tricks …

“Must I truly remove every piece of armour?” Miranna whined as she reached the water’s edge, loosening the clips holding her cuirass together.

Dense brush framed the lake, keeping the bather apart from the surrounding wild. Miranna waded in, her knees still plated in steel, tossing plackart, backplate, faulds, and belts over your head in a clatter.

“That will take forever, hero! And what if someone attacks us right -now-?” she shouted, pivoting to face you, the chestplate secured by only two flimsy straps, with only a blackened dirty undershirt beneath. “Just let me show you how I do it. It’s swifter, and it works much better than needing all of … this!”

> Turn your back to her, then instruct her from a distance on how she is supposed to wash herself. All of her armour must come off, as well as all other clothing. You have recent wounds, so maybe dirty water isn’t the best idea.
> Take off your own armour and venture into the water to join Miranna. You made a commitment, and you’re going to keep it. This is how you build relationships! … right?
> Venture into the waters and tell Miranna that she can undress you, if she lets you undress her. Suggest that it will bring you two closer to the vision she saw. You can’t really guarantee it, but if this doesn’t work, what else will?
> [Write In]

>>6209156
> Turn your back to her, then instruct her from a distance on how she is supposed to wash herself. All of her armour must come off, as well as all other clothing. You have recent wounds, so maybe dirty water isn’t the best idea.
Hello, arm with two vampire fang wounds here. Infection kills in medieval era

>>6209156
> Take off your own armour and venture into the water to join Miranna. You made a commitment, and you’re going to keep it. This is how you build relationships! … right?
I don’t trust her to do it right if we’re not watching

>>6209156
>Take off your own armour and venture into the water to join Miranna. You made a commitment, and you’re going to keep it. This is how you build relationships! … right?
No, you are not getting out of here without a wash, and you won't do it properly on your own. So allow us. Try and keep that arm out of the water until we can get it properly dressed.
And this petty whinging is unbecoming of a Demon General. You're made of tougher stuff than some water, are you not? You don't need your armour to crush anyone who threatens us.

>>6209185
+1

>>6209156
If we had a healer, it would be a different story.

>>6209185
>>6209236
>>6209347
>>6209349

When it came to your own armour, you only had the cumbersome sabatons—something you pleaded for her not to slice back at the cheese hallway. You began with the straps, unfastening them from around your ankles and easing your damp toes free. Caked in grime, the leather clung like a poorly skewered worm on a fishhook. With a firm squeeze around your ankle, you pulled your foot out, giving the iron boot a shake until it -finally- slipped off completely, landing in the damp sand.

“Do you meant to suggest that you need the armour to fend someone off?” you asked.

Miranna paused, her talons ensnared around the belts and the straight steel.

Her eyes blazed in the dark. “True it be, hero,” she replied, “that would surely make me sound -weak-; which I am -not-.” She sliced the belts of her cuirass and let it fall onto the lake’s surface. “I can end any demon’s life, bare!”

You yet struggled with the second boot, your right arm throbbing with pain.

“I will be with you in a moment,” you promised,” then see that every spot is tended to.”

She rolled her crimsons eyes in exaggeration.

“I am no invalid, hero. I am well aware which spots need more than one rubbing,” she said.

With bare feet, you stopped at the water’s edge, the chill nibbling at your toes.

“I greatly doubt that, Demon General. But if you do know—”

“I am not going to be the -only- one forced to this reprimand,” she said, her talon pointing to the water. “If it proves too cold for you, I shall boil the lake until you’re happy with it,” the Nettle Harpy mocked.

With shivering breath, you waded in, knowing that the cold bite is there only as a greeting. “Just … fine,” you fibbed, wading further until the water hit your knees, the fading sunlight framing Miranna’s body in golden outline. You lost your footing on the slick stones lining the lakebed, forcing you to focus on one thing at a time …

Awkwardly lifting your right shoulder, you kept your fresh wound above the stagnant water as to not get it infected. Miranna threw aside the plated skirt, then noticed your hesitating. Naked, her charcoal skin unblurred by the lake’s clear stillness, she put a hand against your wound, her talons scalding and turning your makeshift bandage to char. You glanced at the burn, surprised to find Sarem’s bite marks neatly cauterised, the rest of your arm left unburned.

“Thank you,” you said, lifting your eyes to meet hers.

“You humans can be so fragile,” Miranna teased. “Now, which of my spots should I clean next, hero?” She paused, eyes watching the lake. “There is something demonic in the waters,” she muttered.

You took in her figure, athletic and sonsie. "Could it be just you?"

Miranna shook her head, her voice tense and steady. “Another demon’s.” She plunged under the surface, emerging again almost in an instant. “Indeed, a demon’s long-dead corpse is there! Nothing remains but his bones. Weird.”

“Is it good or bad there’s nothing on him?” you asked, noticing the Hellbeckon cheese crumpled atop her discarded chestplate, as if it was a floating plate … oh right, she had taken it with her a few hours before. Maybe next time.

“Usually, when a demon perishes, one of his belongings inherits a fraction of his power,” she said. “That’s how some demon artefacts come to be.”

“If you sensed his presence … could the entire lake be tainted by it?”

“I doubt that, hero. Only a demon of immense might could do that!”

“Or if his body was there for a long time?”

Miranna paused, thought unbothered by your concern. “Or that!” she said.

> Tell Miranna that while washing her is important, getting becursed by the lake is not. Try to hurry and leave the lake before something bad happens.
> Yell for Mwaus to come to the lake. Neither you nor Miranna know what is going to happen to you, so it’s better to have him as backup reinforcement.
> Ask Miranna if she can boil the entire lake down to nothing but dry air. Then explain why (to avoid being cursed by the waters) and challenge her to do it. You imagine, even if she can do it, it’s probably going to take her many hours.
> Ignore it and keep bathing in the waters. You saw it with Mwaus: many demon powers are not that impressive, like his. If something is cursed, it’s too late.
> [Write In]

>>6209156
There's an error in this update.
Miranna doesn't have 'a blackened dirty undershirt beneath' her armour.

>>6210879
>Ignore it and keep bathing in the waters. You saw it with Mwaus: many demon powers are not that impressive, like his. If something is cursed, it’s too late.
We can't interrupt bathtime already, we've only just got her undressed and haven't even started! Any ensuing events will be fun, and do we really want Mwaus watching us?

>>6210886
+1

>>6210886
+1
Bath time. The curse is just part of the experience.

>>6210879
>Ignore it and keep bathing in the waters. You saw it with Mwaus: many demon powers are not that impressive, like his. If something is cursed, it’s too late.
It'll be fiiiiine.
It's not gonna be fine, is it?

>>6210879
> Ignore it and keep bathing in the waters. You saw it with Mwaus: many demon powers are not that impressive, like his. If something is cursed, it’s too late.
We’re already in the water, if it’s cursed then we’re cursed

Apologies for the break. I'm busy today with flights, so I am hoping to put out update tomorrow.

>>6211956
No worries, and thank you for the update, QM.

>>6210886
>>6210888
>>6210971
>>6211028
>>6211282

Any lingering concern was pointless, for you both were already soaked in the lake’s waters. The Generals wielded great magic, but what of lesser demons? You’d seen Mwaus, and his powers were unimpressive. Knowing that artefacts—in this case, the lake—inherited only a sliver of those powers, eased your mind. Instead, you turned to Miranna, her body bare of metal, shedding the last remnant of her armour. Her freckles were red, unlike her unflushed cold cheeks.

You closed the little distance there was, only to look elsewhere.

“Why do you suppose he died here, of all places?” you asked.

“Who knows?” —she shrugged— “Who cares? It’s but a defeated demon.”

Her talons curled around your fingers, a subtle heat burning at your skin. “You left me without armour, without wings, soaked throughout.” With no shame of her stance, she lifted your hands and hers, spreading your arms as if you two were bracing an invisible column between you. “Show me what I’ve been missing.”

Her voice was bold and waiting, as thought you had no choice but to show her the worth of … the worth of a few -short- minutes needing to take off the armour to have a proper bath. Put in place to uphold the bath’s honour, you wished for a brush and soap, yet you only had your palms and the mire’s pitiful lather.

“Fine,” you said, your tone matching her own, breaking one of the grips, and raising the other arm, finding her flank and underarm as smooth as an eel’s hide.

“You have been doing a lot of staring, hero,” Miranna said with a glint in her eyes. “I got rid of the fuzz, just burned it away; I didn’t want it snagging in the armour.” She scooped a handful of water and let it course down her shoulder and hip. “See? It flows without hindrance, reaching all the places it needs.” Her claw slid over your hand, seizing your wrist and tugging you upwards. “What about the hero, hmmm? How hairy might he be?” she teased, her twisted teeth stretching into a smile.

“We came to wash you, not me!” you sputtered, dangling above the water.

She let go, sending you plunging with a splash, the water filling your nostrils and mouth. Surfacing in a fit of coughs, you found Miranna watching you without guilt, talons scratching at her lips.

“Not any less I’d expected a her to have!”

“Glad to met your lofty standards,” you said, spitting water away. “It could still use a scrub, Miranna. That place … you can do on your own, I’ll wait.”

“Have faith!” she said, hitting the damp, slate skin beneath her arm, the loud slap skirting across the mire. She scrubbed without care, her claws gouging shallow lines what wept faint red lines.

“Alright, that’s enough,” you said, your concern for her greater than her own! “Let’s wash something I know you have been neglecting. Your back. Turn it to me.”

Miranna smirked and shook her head, but followed with your request, presenting her back, free of wings, to your eyes. The jagged curve of her spine pressed against the charcoal skin, like a blade pulling against thin vellum paper. You picked water in your cupped hands and let it flow down her back, each vertebrae breaking the stream like stones cleaving a waterfall. So that was the kind of back one needed to handle her battles, her flight; if there was any mortal who could ever tend to such body as hers, it wasn’t you.

With a tired sigh, you scooped another handful, lifting it above her frizzled alabaster mane. “Let’s see to your hair as well,” you said, straining the water through your fingers..

Instead, you yourself felt splash of water douse your head. Miranna wasn’t facing you, so how did she … ? You brushed back your soaked forelocks, your fingers feeling longer and sharper. Where either the lake’s or the air’s chill touched, it instantly warmed, the fiercest of fires burning from your heart. You looked over your shoulder, and there, appearing shorter to you, stood your own body, staring at you with blinking hazel eyes. Your jagged teeth sliced your tongue before as you attempted to speak.

“So this is how feeling cold must feel like,” it spoke in your voice, pointing a finger with a blackened nail at your new self. Leaning closer, it gave ‘your’ firm abdomen a squeeze. “My body. I am, without a doubt, the greatest Demon General—you can’t contest that!” It set a hand upon the scar on its chest, which Miranna wrongly assumed was inflicted by Pyrathor. “But nothing matches -this- scar!”

> Panic. Tell to Miranna that this was never part of the prophecy, and that she should be careful! Make it clear that you shouldn’t leave the lake until the magic resets itself.
> Curse. Then curse again. Cut the washing short, and then step outside the lake to get dressed before you two continue to talk. Ask Miranna that she acts as you and you as her, at least with Mwaus and Count Whiskers, then ask her questions.
> Calm down. Realise that you still have uses on the Grub Hag’s knife and ponder if you should ask of it of how to lift the demon’s magic. What animal is going to have to die next?
> [Write In]

>>6212671
Of all the things I expected to happen in that cursed pond, Freaky Friday was not on the list
>Curse. Then curse again. FINISH THE WASH, and then step outside the lake to get dressed before you two continue to talk. Ask Miranna that she acts as you and you as her, at least with Mwaus and Count Whiskers, then ask her questions.
this will be fun until we can do the same in reverse later. But you are STILL not getting out of bathtime even if you are temporarily no longer the operator of said body, girl. Guy? Who now?

>>6212790
+1

>>6212671
She used to have biological wings, right? Does she have scars, stumps? Or did her mom remove them magically?

>>6212790
+1

>>6212671
> Curse. Then curse again. Cut the washing short, and then step outside the lake to get dressed before you two continue to talk. Ask Miranna that she acts as you and you as her, at least with Mwaus and Count Whiskers, then ask her questions.

Greatest demon general yet she got body swapped by a curse from a long dead rotting random demon corpse

Also damn, test drive her body
Throw fire around and shit

>>6212790
>>6212871
>>6212985
>>6212991

You beheld her from the corner of your eye, the world much clearer, and the evening’s outlines much sharper, in the red glow of your newfound sight. The scar that she was pointing towards was nothing but mark of an ill-fated run-in with a wolf; you couldn’t even recall how you survived that one. Whatever a Dragon-Beast was, would it leave behind such a tiny scar, enough for Miranna’s keen eye to mistake it for? Was she self-persuading herself, or was Pyrathor the size of a wolf? Either way, you weren’t eager to meet it.

“So, that demon had those powers,” you said, stealing a glance at your claws, only to find two smooth, slate mounds obscuring your view. You lifted your claws further -and- higher above them until you could see them. How could pressing all of -that- into the cuirass cause her no pain or discomfort? “Switching bodies.”

Miranna pressed her palms across ‘her’ body, indiscriminately, as thought looking for a spot she had yet to discover. “Body-switch huh,” twirling black locks now framing her human face. “Wasn’t there a demon like that before?”

“Do you recall?” you asked, glancing in-between your talons, red heat swirling around them, as well as any place you wished in your body, at mere thought of it.

“Just a faint memory,” Miranna replied, scratching her head as she peered into the lake. “If he ever met me before, he is now dead.” She halted, pointing down at ’her’ groin. “How do you wash -there-?” she teased, or said it with utmost seriousness..

You stopped her before skinship could occur, waving—almost slashing—with your talons. The heat flared even brighter, twisting into one before bursting fort as a bolt of fire, leaping across the still ripples, kindling the reeds, and steaming the water. Each time it dipped, the water bubbled beneath it and spat it back into the air, until it struck the sandy marl, flaring across the coast before fading.

Miranna’s eyes sparkled as she seized your claws—her own claws—and pushed them together. “Wondrous, hero! You got the hang of it so quick! You are a natural!”

Such magic … it was of no surprise she was a menace even before stealing her wings. She hoisted up the nail you had blackened in an work accident—but one she proclaimed a sign of your prophesied destiny, and held within it dark powers.

“Now reveal how this is summoned,” she urged you. “I know you had not used it once yet, and I do understand. There was no peril deadly, no foe worthy, of its wrath. But I long to see it. Just once. Please, unseal this cursed power!”

> Pretend to show her an elaborate unsealing ritual, and watch as Miranna follows it. When it’ll fail, and it will, explain how it is sealed to your soul, not your body, and that is the reason it didn’t work.
> Explain to Miranna that it’s a one-time use only, and you sealed it not to unleash and use it, but to drain its strength until it fades, that is, until your nail heals.
> Shrug nonchalantly and tell Miranna that you have no idea. You don’t know how to unleash the power, but if she wishes to, she can try her best to come up with a way. It’ll be funny to see her struggle and try, and it might keep her from doing anything else to harm your body.
> [Write In]

>>6212985
>She used to have biological wings, right? Does she have scars, stumps? Or did her mom remove them magically?
No, she removed them at a very young age so it all got healed up away as if she never had them.
>>6212991
>Greatest demon general yet she got body swapped by a curse from a long dead rotting random demon corpse
Yeah, it's hard to fight demonic miasma!

>>6215038
>our waifu has secret bazongas
Oooo yeeeaah

>>6215040
> Shrug nonchalantly and tell Miranna that you have no idea. You don’t know how to unleash the power, but if she wishes to, she can try her best to come up with a way. It’ll be funny to see her struggle and try, and it might keep her from doing anything else to harm your body.
Ohnyeah, we did tell her we cpuld do that, didn't we? Kek.

>>6215040
> Shrug nonchalantly and tell Miranna that you have no idea. You don’t know how to unleash the power, but if she wishes to, she can try her best to come up with a way. It’ll be funny to see her struggle and try, and it might keep her from doing anything else to harm your body.
As close to honesty as possible

>>6215040
>Shrug nonchalantly and tell Miranna that you have no idea. You don’t know how to unleash the power, but if she wishes to, she can try her best to come up with a way. It’ll be funny to see her struggle and try, and it might keep her from doing anything else to harm your body.
Let her cook.

I think it's a universal law in fiction that any woman who wears plate armour has to have big bazongas sequestered in some kind of expanded space pocket in her breastplate.

>>6216048
One day, I want to see a female fighter with an exaggerated boobplate take it off to reveal she's on the Itty Bitty Titty Committee.

>>6215074
>>6215076
>>6216048
>>6216086

You gave a light shrug. “No clue, Miranna,” you said, scrubbing at a stubble Miranna did not have. “I don’t know how to unleash this power, now that it’s sealed. I won’t mind you trying to find a way to release it.”

‘Her’ eyes widened, the deep farmer’s eyebags ebbing lighter from your words.

“You will let me, hero?” she asked, double-taking your words. Miranna held the injured-but in her eyes becursed-nail aloft, bringing it in front of her face. She grinned in a manner you hadn’t seen before, giving a glimpse of what what Miranna’s full grin would like had she had her teeth whole. Even more terrifying.

“Hero, you possess my body for now,” she remarked, waving you off with a wave of her other hand. “You sought to wash and tend to it, so it is all yours,” she conceded, either leaving you with permission to touch her or paying it no mind.

Before you could ask further, she turned ‘her’ back to you, grabbing the finger, twisting and bending it. “I had see a few potent curses in my time. Let us see … ”

It would entertain her for a few hour, if not several days.

You gathered water into ‘your’ claws, finding it harder to keep the elongated, razor-sharp talons connected, unlike the usual fingers. You threw the murky water over your shoulders, sliding the clenching hands down your breasts, sides, belly, hips, and thighs. You meditated on her cleanliness, over nagging impure thoughts. Her muscular yet sleek body was an athlete’s statue—in a shape but memorialised.

“Awful. You ought to be taking better care of things,” a voice sailed from the shore: a black figure holding Miranna’s wing-cloak, the nightly trees obscuring most of its figure … besides the large yet strange wings, unlike Miranna’s bird or Sarem’s bat ones, that rustled and shimmered without wind, each row of “feathers” billowing like a thin silk, laying one on the other like a kingly overlap of pink, purple, magenta, rose, and white. Small runes shaped from twisted lines, half-a-dozen on each of the two, clung to the sailcloth wings, resembling constellations.

> Manifest a fireball behind your back and then throw it at the figure as fast as you can. Pull Miranna together with you to the shore before the figure can act.
> Warn Miranna about the figure standing on the shore but pretend not to notice or hear it. Continue the wash while keeping a side-eyed look on the intruder.
> Pretend to be Miranna. Take a few steps into the lake and warn the figure to put down the cloak if it knows what’s best. They should know to fear Miranna.
> [Write In]

>>6216048
>>6216086
In the design stage, it was either or between the two, but I decided to go with the good ol' proven.

>>6216970
>> Warn Miranna about the figure standing on the shore but pretend not to notice or hear it. Continue the wash while keeping a side-eyed look on the intruder.

>>6216970
> Warn Miranna about the figure standing on the shore but pretend not to notice or hear it. Continue the wash while keeping a side-eyed look on the intruder.

>>6216972
Birds need a big keel, anyway, kek.

>>6216970
> Warn Miranna about the figure standing on the shore but pretend not to notice or hear it. Continue the wash while keeping a side-eyed look on the intruder.
Focus on cleanup first

>>6216970
> Pretend to be Miranna. Take a few steps into the lake and warn the figure to put down the cloak if it knows what’s best. They should know to fear Miranna.
Make the most of the situation!

>>6216970
>Warn Miranna about the figure standing on the shore but pretend not to notice or hear it. Continue the wash while keeping a side-eyed look on the intruder.
BATHTIME
MUST
CONTINUE

Update today. And an announcement.

>>6219256
But we already know the Demon Lord is a bitch-ass motherfucker

File: Vhelkyra.png (2.73 MB, 1792x1024)

2.73 MB PNG

>>6216997
>>6217014
>>6217024
>>6217115
>>6217250

You flinched, turning you gaze away before the stranger could take notice. Dallying and fiddling with your finger, Miranna scarcely spared a look. Could she not see them? Was your body -that- inept as sensing danger?

“Miranna,” you hushed, scooping another handful of water to rub at an already clean spot. “There’s somebody there on the shore. Shhh. Show no alarm; carry on as thought nothing is wrong.”

Miranna lifted a brow, pulling and cracking her finger and casting a brief sidelong glance.

“I can't make out a thing. Are you certain, hero, that you are not just imagining things?—“

“Insolence. I thought I raised you better,” again came the voice, swallowing and rasped, quieting the noises of the woods and lake, leaving only theirs to matter.

Pale and rose chiffon frothed and then vanished about her shoulders, reappearing as the thin cloths overlapped upon on another. With the soft rustle of cloth, they lifted themselves into the air, the purple sigils—worked into the fabric—pulsating with demonic radiance. The figure drew in a long breath, audible to the ear, before whistling it aloud. You pretended not to notice or pay it any heed. As the whistle came, a violent gale swept forth, the trees behind them standing unbothered, yet the air in front of it turning into a tempest.

The surge slammed against your skin, gnawing at your flesh and flooding into your eyes like shattered glass. You turned from it, the body’s flame magic unleashing more heat to guard you. But 'your' body had no such strength, and Miranna flailed against the squall, stumbling headlong into the waters. The winds churned the thick waters beneath you, lifting and hurling you ashore before you could act; the sands scraped at Miranna’s now-human-body, dirtying you both as if you never washed.

The figure moved from the mirth's edge, gliding towards the lake's heart, where you had stood mere moments ago.

“Let me have a guess … ” Miranna sighed, propping herself up on her elbows and then rolling onto her back.

The waning shades of purple and red sunlight dappled over the figure, outlining the shape of a demon: a pale-blue, female body, with aged and old wrinkled skin. Her wings, as wide as sails and tall as curtains, supported her flight. Her flesh was cracked like porcelain, the broken off edges lifting as if it was second skin. Her greying hair was tied into a bun, unruly strands coiling about her ears. A single-tone mask stretched over her cheeks and nose, leaving her eyes shadowed. And as for her clothes—

"That wear ill suits her years," Miranna muttered, following your glance.

Thin strips of bluish metal, tight as drawn wire, wrapped around her figure, leaving most of her flesh bare save for drifting and delicate veils along her arms and shoulders.

“You’re involved with a human, as he said,” the demon said, waving the dark, fur-lined cloak above the water.

Digging her fingers into the sand, Miranna snapped her head.

“My mother, if you haven’t caught on, hero,” she seethed.

“How do you fancy my new wings?” she asked, her threaded pinions rustling behind her. She slid her fingers through the silken ends, the cloth winding around her hand. “Confession. I do long for mine, my fiery hellion.”

Catching the hateful glare Miranna cast from your guise, she scoffed, placing a hand to her chest. “Ignorance. Me? Human? You’re wondering? I am the one, unmatched. Demon General “Sky Strangler” Vhelkyra!”

“That doesn’t even make sense,” Miranna said. “Doesn’t listen to the hag, she’s retired.”

> Ask for Miranna to feed you the words she wants to say.
> Demand that she gives you back your wings, and refuse to talk to her until she gives them back. Act as a rebellious daughter.
> Ask about Sarem, how is he a Demon General if he is one?
> Assist Miranna back on her legs, then nudge her to speak, watching how she envisions a hero acting.
> [Write In]

File: Vhelkyra The Demon General.png (2.96 MB, 1792x1024)

2.96 MB PNG

>>6219261
Demon Lord is a bitch-ass motherfucker!!!

Jokes aside, I have been without my computer for a few weeks now, and, by accident, I had knocked over some cola onto my laptop, so the keys are awful to work with now. But that's not the main announcement. The quest will be going on hiatus in April as I'll be going to a place without my laptop or reliable internet, to do something that doesn't need either. Apologies and I hope you'll be there to see it back once I return.

>>6219379
> Ask about Sarem, how is he a Demon General if he is one?
> Assist Miranna back on her legs, then nudge her to speak, watching how she envisions a hero acting.
Both of these. Start with Sarem while we help Miranna up.

>>6219381
See you in May, then, QM! I'll keep an eye on the QTG for your return. Thanks for running and safe travels!

>>6219401
+1

>>6219379
> Assist Miranna back on her legs, then nudge her to speak, watching how she envisions a hero acting.
Funni

Damn their whole family is demon generals

>>6219381
Rip ops computer

>>6219401
+1

>>6219381
See you later QM. Hope you'll find a soda-less computer!

Don't lewd the hag

>>6225967
>macking on our waifu's mom who mutilated her at birth
Nah, I'll pass.