>>6194729 (OP)
>Dryad
>Desert
IT'S CACTUS TIME, BABY!

>>6194733

The desert sun beats down, relentless, as you wake from your rooted slumber. Something is wrong. You feel it like a shift in the wind, a whisper in the sand. An outsider has come too close—too close to the Thornbound Grove, the sacred ground you and your sisters have guarded for longer than memory.

Shaleen stirs first, excitement rustling through her thorned limbs. She leans forward, eyes wide, voice alight with wonder.
"A traveler! Did you feel them? Do you think they’ve come with purpose, or are they simply lost? Should we call to them, Imprint? Maybe they’ve seen things we never have!"

Imprint stiffens beside her, her expression darkening. She feels the intruder like a barbed thorn pressed against her thoughts.
"We should not be so eager, Shaleen," she murmurs, her voice the low rasp of shifting dunes. "Not all who wander are innocent. Some come searching for things best left hidden. And if they have found us… they already know too much."

Noctis does not move. She stands like the great stones beneath the sands, her form untouched by wind or worry. Finally, she exhales, a breath like dry wind through hollow bones.
"It does not matter. They have entered our land. The desert has allowed them passage. The only question is… what will we do about it?"

The sands stir. The moment stretches. The choice is yours.

> Call Out to the Traveler (Shaleen’s Way)
> Observe from the Shadows (Imprint’s Way)
> Test Their Worth (Noctis’s Way)
> Drive Them Away
> Lure Them Deeper
> Attack Immediately

>>6195161
>> Call Out to the Traveler (Shaleen’s Way)

>>6195161
> Observe from the Shadows (Imprint’s Way)
Keep it cool, lets see what were dealing with FOIST

Rolled 1 (1d2)

>>6195411
>>6195652

1 - shaleen's way
2 - imprint's way

>>6195411
>>6195652
>>6195907


Shaleen doesn’t hesitate. She steps forward, parting the thorned vines, her voice carrying over the wind.

"Traveler! You walk where few dare. You’ve found the Thornbound Grove, our sacred place. But the desert doesn’t guide without reason. Why are you here?"

The man shifts in the sand, his steps slow and heavy. He looks worn, skin burned from too many days in the sun, clothes torn and ragged. He hesitates, then speaks, voice dry and rough.

"I have nowhere else to go," he says. "I was banished."

Imprint stiffens beside you, sharp eyes narrowing. "Banished?" she repeats, voice edged with caution. "For what?"

The man exhales hard, his fingers clenching and unclenching at his sides. "I killed the chief’s son."

Silence. Even Shaleen, usually the first to fill an empty space, says nothing for a long moment. The desert wind shifts, whispering over the dunes. Noctis watches, unreadable.

At last, Shaleen speaks, softer this time. "And why did you kill him?"

The traveler’s jaw tightens, his gaze flickering with something dark—pain, anger, maybe both. "Because he was a monster." His voice is steady, but there’s no pride in it, no regret either. "He hurt my sister. He hurt other women—girls too scared to speak, women too powerless to stop him. I stopped him. And for that, my people cast me out."

The wind howls. The sand shifts.

The desert doesn’t judge. It only takes and gives. But you—you and your sisters—you are not merely the desert.

What do you do?

> Offer him sanctuary. The desert doesn’t turn away the lost. He has paid the price for what he’s done—perhaps you can give him a place among the dunes.
> Test him. Words mean nothing. Let the desert decide. A trial, a hardship, something that will show you the truth. If he’s worthy, he’ll endure.
> Send him away. His fate is not yours to carry. The desert is endless. Let him find his own path.
> Judge him yourself. He has killed. Maybe it was justice. Maybe not. But life and death in the desert are sacred. Will you weigh his soul?

>>6195914
>Offer him sanctuary. The desert doesn’t turn away the lost. He has paid the price for what he’s done—perhaps you can give him a place among the dunes.

>>6195914
> Offer him sanctuary. The desert doesn’t turn away the lost. He has paid the price for what he’s done—perhaps you can give him a place among the dunes.
He can be our (sex)slave. We need to produce more dryads

>>6196750
>>6196752

Shaleen is the first to move. She steps past the thorned barrier, closing the space between her and the traveler, her spined fingers brushing the dry desert air.

"Then you have no home," she says, tilting her head, "but that does not mean you have nowhere to belong."

Imprint stiffens beside her. "Shaleen, are you sure?" her voice is quiet, but edged, wary. "We do not know his heart. We do not know if—"

"We know enough," Shaleen cuts in, turning back to her sister. "He has suffered. He has lost. The desert does not turn away the lost, and neither should we."

Noctis watches, silent as always, but there’s a shift in her expression—barely there, but real. A knowing look. She doesn’t object.

The traveler’s shoulders, stiff from exhaustion and wariness, drop slightly. He looks from one dryad to the next. "You would… let me stay?"

Shaleen nods. "The sands are harsh, but they do not deny those who can learn their ways. The desert will test you, as it does all things. If you are willing to endure, to listen, then yes. You may stay."

He breathes out, long and slow, his body sagging under the weight of relief he hadn’t dared to hope for.

"Then I will learn."

The wind shifts, rustling through the Thornbound Grove. The decision is made.

The traveler will stay among you. But what happens next?

> Teach him the ways of the desert. If he is to survive, he must know the land—the ways of the dunes, the hidden waters, the dangers that lurk beneath the sands.
> Test his resolve. Words are one thing. Action is another. Give him a task, a trial—something to prove his place among you.
> Imprint remains unconvinced. She keeps a close watch on him, ready for the first sign of betrayal. Will she come to trust him, or will suspicion drive a wedge between you?
> Noctis speaks at last. She has seen something in him, something unspoken. What does she know that the others do not?

>>6196980
>Teach him the ways of the desert. If he is to survive, he must know the land—the ways of the dunes, the hidden waters, the dangers that lurk beneath the sands.
Dune but the fremen are all girls

>>6196989
The traveler stays.

At first, he is slow, cautious, like an animal uncertain if it has stepped into a trap. He watches you and your sisters, measuring your movements, your words. But as the days pass, wariness gives way to something else—curiosity. Hunger. A will to learn.

You teach him the ways of the desert.

Where others would see only endless dunes, you show him the whispers of life hidden beneath the sand. The deep roots of the barrel cactus, swollen with water, waiting for those who know where to cut. The creeping vine that bears bitter fruit, safe to eat only if prepared just so. The jagged rock formations where condensation gathers in the cool of night, dripping into shallow basins before the sun claims it at dawn.

You show him how to listen.

The desert does not speak in words, but in signs—the way the wind shifts before a storm, the way the birds fall silent when a predator moves unseen. You guide his hand over the deep cracks in the earth, tracing the tunnels of the sand snakes, the burrows of pale-furred hares, the hidden lairs of creatures that would see him as prey.

And he learns.

He stumbles, of course. The first time he tries to dig for water, he chooses the wrong spot—too shallow, too dry. The first time he steps too close to a thorned stalk, he curses as the barbs sink into his skin. But he does not complain, and he does not give up. Each lesson, he takes in with quiet determination.

And you wonder.

The Thornbound Grove is your sanctuary, but it is not all that remains of your kind. There are others—dryads, hidden among the dunes and oases, bound not by forests, but by stone and sand, root and thorn. You and your sisters are not alone.

But the traveler… he has not met them.

To bring an outsider to the rest of your kin is not a choice to make lightly. Some would welcome him, seeing in him a soul hardened by loss, tempered by survival. Others would not be so kind. They would see him only as what he is—a human. A species that has taken much from the land, that has not always honored its ways.

And so, as the traveler kneels beside a cluster of pale desert blooms, his fingers brushing the delicate petals with something like reverence, you find yourself hesitating.

What do you do?

> Introduce him to the tribe. If he is to stay, he must meet the others. It is better to bring him willingly than to let him be discovered by those who may not be so welcoming.
> Wait and test him further. He has learned much, but is he truly ready? Let time be the judge before you make a decision that cannot be undone.
> Keep him hidden. The risk is too great. Let him live among the Thornbound Grove, but keep the knowledge of his presence away from the others.
> Warn him. Tell him what awaits if he is discovered. Let him decide if he wishes to take the risk.

>>6198684
>> Introduce him to the tribe. If he is to stay, he must meet the others. It is better to bring him willingly than to let him be discovered by those who may not be so welcoming.

>>6198684
>Write in: Introduce him through ceremony.
A promise to tend to the grove as family, even if they all may not understand at first.
A cut in the hand, and some blood shed on a flower of his choice
This will be his baptism, and named after the flower

>>6198704
>>6199899
The scent of flowering cacti drifts through the air as you guide the exile beyond the Thornbound Grove. The desert is silent, watchful. He walks carefully, knowing he is judged before he has spoken.

Your people are few, bound to the desert like the dunes to the wind. To them, humans are fleeting, reckless—fire consuming dry brush. This man is something new. And uncertainty is dangerous.

As the hidden canyon comes into view, warmth lingers in the stones, though the night wind carries whispers of water deep below. This is where the dryads gather, where Thorn—the eldest, the unyielding—keeps watch.

She stands still as stone when you enter. Ancient, towering, her bark cracked like weathered rock. Spines rise from her back like the needles of a saguaro. Her golden eyes settle on the exile.

"You bring a stranger," she says.

Imprint steps forward. "He is an exile. Banished for killing the chief’s son."

Murmurs ripple. A killer. A human. He has no place here.

Shaleen speaks firmly, standing at his side. "The chief’s son was no innocent. He hurt women. He hurt his own people."

Noctis watches, unreadable. "He has survived the desert. He seeks to stay."

Thorn studies him, silence stretching like the night. "Do you understand what it means to seek a place among us?"

The exile does not look away. "I do."

"Then it will be by blood."

The murmurs shift—not rejection, but expectation. A test. A choice.

Shaleen leads the rite. "The desert does not give freely. But it does not take without purpose." She gestures to the flowering cacti. "Choose one. Your name will come from it. You will be bound to it, and it to you."

The exile moves among the blossoms—pale blues like moonlight, deep reds with spined edges—before stopping at a small bloom. Orange-red, like the last light of dusk. The Bloodshade Blossom. A flower of survival.

You nod. "Then this will be your name."

A blade is drawn—black stone, sharp. His palm is cut. Blood wells, dripping onto the petals. The flower drinks deep, darkening as it accepts him.

"By blood, you are bound," Noctis intones. "By this flower, you are named. By your deeds, you will prove worthy of the name you take."

Shaleen smiles. "Rise, Bloodshade. Tend to the grove as family."

He closes his wounded hand into a fist and bows his head. "I will."

The wind shifts. The desert stirs. The rite is done.

>>6200252
The night air is cool by the time you return to the Thornbound Grove. The scent of sage and blooming cacti lingers, but the hush of the desert feels heavier now, expectant. Bloodshade walks among you, still nameless in the hearts of many, but bound to the land by the rite of blood and bloom.

Noctis does not waste time. She stands at the edge of the grove, watching the distant rock formations where the dunes give way to jagged cliffs. When she speaks, it is with the weight of inevitability.

"It is time."

Shaleen tilts her head. "Time for what?"

Noctis turns, golden eyes meeting Bloodshade’s. "For him to prove himself." She gestures toward the cliffs. "The caves await."

Imprint tenses, her spines bristling. "You would send him there so soon?"

Noctis does not waver. "He must go eventually. The sooner he learns, the stronger he will be. We need the worms, and he needs to understand what it means to be one of us."

Bloodshade listens, silent. He does not ask what awaits in the caves. He knows enough of the desert already to understand—nothing is given without risk.

Shaleen grins. "Giant worms," she explains, her voice laced with excitement. "They nest in the caves where the stone is black and the air is thick. Their silk is strong, their flesh rich, and their venom… well, let’s hope you don’t find out too much about that part."

Imprint’s expression darkens, but she does not argue further. The desert is harsh. There is no room for hesitation.

Noctis nods once. "We leave now."

> Follow Noctis into the caves. The sooner this is done, the better.
> Ask Imprint for guidance. If this is dangerous, better to know exactly what you're walking into.
> Turn to Shaleen. She seems eager—perhaps she knows something useful.
> Refuse. You are not yet ready for this. Let them go without you.

>>6200253
>Follow Noctis into the caves. The sooner this is done, the better

Rolled 7, 5 = 12 (2d8)

>>6194729 (OP)

>>6200253
>Follow Noctis into the caves.

Rolled 24, 20, 26 = 70 (3d100)

>>6200291
>>6200394
>>6200673
The cave mouth yawns before you, a dark wound in the earth. The air is thick here, damp with the breath of something vast and unseen. The scent of dust, stone, and something musky lingers in the stillness.

Noctis leads the way, her steps silent against the uneven ground. You follow, feeling the weight of the earth settle over you as the light of the stars fades behind.

She does not speak at first, only gestures for caution as you press deeper into the tunnels. Then, her voice—low and measured—breaks the silence.

"The worms are unpredictable," she warns. "Some will flee if startled. Some will attack. Others… they do not care if you are there at all—until you are too close."

You walk carefully, the uneven stone pressing against your feet. The deeper you go, the more the walls seem to glisten, streaked with a strange, faintly iridescent slime. The sign of worms passing through.

"Why do we hunt them?" you ask.

Noctis does not hesitate. "Because the desert is not enough."

She stops, pressing a hand against the cavern wall, feeling the roughness of ancient stone. "The sands are harsh. The sun is cruel. We take root where we can, but it is not always enough to raise the young. The worms feed the desert. Their castings enrich the soil. Without them, the groves would wither, the oasis would shrink, and the dryadlings would never take hold."

She turns her golden eyes to you. "This is survival. If we do not take from the worms, we do not grow."

You nod, understanding settling in. The worms are not just prey. They are the difference between life and barrenness.

Noctis gestures deeper into the caves. "We have choices."

She holds up a hand, counting them off with slow, deliberate movements.

> Catch several small worms. It is safer, and the tribe will respect the effort. The risk is low, and the reward is steady.
> Hunt a great worm. One is worth many, but the danger is greater still. If you succeed, the tribe will take notice. If you fail… the desert takes all.
> Collect the castings. The least dangerous option. No honor lost, but no great renown gained. The desert does not care for pride—only survival.
> Write in

In any case, roll 3d100 for success.

DC 50 for small worms
DC 70 for big worm
DC 30 for castings

The worms DC is 50 regardless.

>>6201142
>Rolled 24, 20, 26 = 70 (3d100)

now that's a lot of fails

Rolled 6, 100, 9 = 115 (3d100)

>>6201142
>Catch several small worms.