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Inconveniences I

There she stands gingerly fluttering her fan and staring at the rows and rows of boards filled with cuts and nicks furnishing the frontage of the alehouse with the names of dishes and drinks in season.

“Ah. Senior.” Yhuyen takes little moment to become aware of my presence - her weary black eyes snapping onto mine as quick as a shootist points his piece to a bird in flight.

“Good day, junior. Mind if I join you for dinner? It’s on me.” What could have been a smile vanishes from her lips as she hears my voice.

“Knowing you, you probably…” She cares not to finish her words.

“Aw. Can’t a senior pay for his junior’s meal?” I laugh a little as I step forward. “But yes. I do have a matter to speak to you about. But that comes second.”

Before cocks fight their feathers are tended by hot baths. Before pigs have their necks opened and flesh pulled they are given the most hearty food. And this custom is much the same for man.

“I wonder if Waroon allows this -- or is she that sort of woman?” Her words prick me. Which is often the case.

“She usually doesn’t. Which is why I beat her until she does.”

“…”

With my try at laughtercraft causing only silence and a more intense glare from her I did not tarry long at the alehouse’s front. The house itself is halfbreed of a ‘true’ tea and alehouse; the inside is cut into many small rooms but its walls are thin and the straw mats firm. Food is cheap portioned small and quite salty. Drink is wide in breadth and large in size.

“You know, I’m supposed to be the one to do that.” A touch of annoyance colors her tone as my hand seizes the bottle of plum wine before hers could.

“You’re shit at pouring and I don’t intend to lap it off the table.” I firstly fill my cup with the liquid whose shade is only a little lighter than fish sauce. “Though I’m sure such a picture is in your mind already.” Her cup I fill a little closer to the brim.

Mayongchid plums give the wine some sweetness. Served cool it goes down the throat easy enough. Then came the food.

“I don’t remember the oysters being this big.” Yhuyen picks one up and holds it level to her eye.

“No. They’re not.” I open my palm to judge the length of the oyster. It fully fills the span of my middle finger and thumb. “Seven inches. Last year it was six.”

“Wow. You seem to know your way around seven-inches-things.” The junior chuckles as she yet again pricks me.

“You could say that. Can’t say I’m as proficient as your mother at this, though.” I swallow the comment and the oyster — it’s not that good. The cooks must have washed out any trace of the sea. I did get what I paid for.

Following the oysters were more oysters and cockles and the occasional plate of roasted mushrooms and vegetables. With the evening on its wane and us overfed Yhuyen rests a hand on the table and awaits my piece. “So. What’s your matter here, really?”

I tap the jar of rice wine on the table its two straws long enough to reach our lips from an upright posture. “We take a sip.”

Blackness immediately covers every inch of the room and its furnishings. Only the sound of our breaths are with us.

“I was wondering why you wanted to talk in a house with such thin walls.” Yhuyen goes to reach for her stout and heavy pipe. It is as black as the rest of the room. “That’s a good trick.” Nevertheless she retrieves it from her sash and spins it in her hand.

“Please don’t smoke in here.” With that trick clearly not working I wave away the blackness that once covered her pipe.

“What, your world can collapse that easily?” She scoffs.

“Not fond of the smell.”

“..”

“Thank you.”

Yhuyen is a kind soul. To stall this any further would neither good me or her.

“I ask you to not share your findings. Wheat and barley seeds mustn’t be known as means to detect pregnancy.”

“Wha— What- why? How could this not good the common folk?” Yhuyen stutters, her face growing more vexed than angry though it will not be that way for long.

It’s time.

“Our groundlaw defines abortion as the killing of a formed child within the womb. For a child to be ‘formed’ its shift must be felt - ‘quickening’. This has been the chief way of knowing pregnancy since the conception of our country.”

“If you spread this knowledge, it will be some years before tales become truth and with enough men following it truth becomes law. Our posterity will think of pregnancy far differently than us - a condition easily measured within a month or two. Their definition of a formed child too will no doubt change. ‘Restoring the menses.’ ‘Purging the female irregularities.’ - in their time they will all be ‘abortion’. It will be a sword that hangs above every man and woman tethered by only a horsehair; should a woman be with child she must birth it or suffer the pain for murder. The roadways once open for women who did not intend for pregnancy following congress will be now closed and it will push women and men toward blacker roads. The hurt will be great.”

“Oh. I see how it is. You shun this because your emmenagogues will not have a place there. A hard blow to your poke. The world, the womenfolk ought to remain unlearned because you wish it so.” She’s not grasping it.

“That’s… not really the case, junior Yhuyen. Much of my earnings come from the Green Lamps district - there, it is not the punk who decides whether her child lives or dies. That would be the domain of the brothelkeeper. Whether the world calls emmenagogues ‘abortives’ or ‘medicine’ it changes the weight of my poke little. I am chiefly worried about the commonfolk - man can be divided into four sorts; man who wishes for congress and children, man who wishes for neither, man who wishes for children but not congress and man who wishes for congress and not children. The first and other have their wishes realized. The third may adopt. The last does not easily go away when my potions are barred from them. Every now and then the broadsheets print stories of newborn corpses in unlikely places; stuffed in jars, buried beneath outhouses, floating about canals. That’s their doing.”

“I will not say man ought to shun his obligations, but these things happen. They wish to freestand so strongly they trample on lives. If you spread the word you will only bring forth more of them.”

“You seem so… confident, senior Jiragarn, to judge the world and wishing to adulterate it to your liking. ‘Our posterity will think of unborn children differently and it will be for the worst’ -- is there anything that makes such a thought earthfast? And that’s presuming it becomes widely known at all - and how many men really give a damn about what entirely ought to be a woman’s matter to begin with? How many men even knows what a hymen looks like? Or the particulars of the menses? I doubt this thing, this doing will begin the aera you so greatly dislike.” My junior takes a long sip after she gives her own piece.

I do the same.

“Men are born from the cunt. They live by it and die by it. A folk is nothing without its folkways and chief among them is the perpetuation of the folk. The forebears knew this well - why do you think the institution of marriage is present in so many races and countries? It’s to oversee the use of the cunt to prevent inconveniences to the folk as a whole. Comfort of the womb is of little mention compared to the difficulties that may plague a folk from giving women the skill to selfwield. This is why the mussulman keep their women veiled under the pain of death and why the kirishitan shun married women whose hair remain uncovered — a clear line drawn to declare the ownership so men do not sunder provinces over it like packs of stray dogs over scraps of food.” I can see her face growing more tired with each precedent I list. I ought to give my endsay soon before she closes up for good.

“Though the flesh and skin may change, the spine remains the same - this is why our monarch gives civic duty exemptions and tax reductions for households with three children or more.” With a droop of her head and a raise of her hand I cease my speaking. It’s over.

“Again and again and again with all these stories. You sound so much like Waroon now. Ugh. Have you lapped up so much water from her cunt you become her thrall now?” She seethes and looks away. To explain anymore now would be meaningless - the words go through one ear and come out the other and miss the brain entirely. Not that she has much.

So I choose to play her game for the moment. “It’s called blood.”

“…”
“…”

“I’m a little surprised she could menstruate.”

Talks of matters less grave exhaust the jar’s water level and our throats. Soon enough the intercourse returns to the matter I am here for.

“Why this thing, senior. Why. Why this of all things you pour your effort into.” Yhuyen rests her cheek on her fist as she plays with the straw. “Why not pour your effort into… say, stifling badmen from fishing through fireworks or dumping their waste onto canals. You’d good the lungs of the folk -- and their pokes -- far more.”

‘It’s not so easy.’
‘Those difficulties are far bigger.’

I resist the want to say the first two thoughts which came to me. Annoying she may be she isn’t wholly wrong; had I poured some effort into it I could have nudged it by even a little. Only after some deliberation do I respond. “Of the folk who line up at your bakery by the day’s end for your trenchers and unsold bread, how many are lame or mute or blind or limbless?”

My ask makes her fingers curl up and her lips silent. “Queer, is it not, to see so few of them in line for free supper. The picture is not better in Nearwaterway; what most often filled the hands of men there are not gatip or koshibento, rather, lottery tickets. Of the women in the district by not a small portion were cast out of their families their man having sullied their cunt with a child before marriage.”

“You have a certain way with words, senior. It will not get you many fellows.” With a light droop of her head Yhuyen lets out a sigh.

“I am aware.”

“Every year more outland writings are copied and translated and printed. It won’t be long before they furnish libraries and bookstores around the country.” After voicing such a thought she turns away for a moment. It’s a heavy thing to ponder.

“You know, senior~” The sudden reversal of tone tells me enough.

“A man doesn’t go this far without a reason. Who- no, what pushed you to such a cause?” Catlike in curiosity she pokes and prods my brain. I really don’t wish her of all folk to poke and prod my brain.

“Come on. Humor me a little.”

“That’ll have to be for another time, junior.” As I pull myself away from the still black as vanilla table she gingerly taps it.

“Aw~ that’s a shame. Well. Surely you have time for one question, no?”

“The Suwunsingh family didn’t die from the flood, did they.”

How troublesome, junior.

“Ha! Now that’s a good lie, senior, but I’ve known you for quite some time now.” She laughs as she bangs her fist into the table. “The truth, please.”

“Perhaps I haven’t given you the clearest picture.” With a little reluctance I remove the jacket and linen shirt covering my breast.

Gittipud. Yosarvarid. Vuttana.

Come forth.

The content smile of hers quickly disappears as she sees the worms twitch and move across my body and into my arm. “This is.” Softly she seizes my wrist for a closer look at the bunch of unruly veins. “The cause of her stomach pains and cramps, isn’t it. And your condition.” Her once proud voice deteriorates into little more than a mumble.

Seeing her mood depressed like this isn’t a thing I am fond of. “My form was small since my you—”

“That’s not the point, Nin. Fuck. You- you really are annoying, you know that.” The junior’s hand reaches for my face, her thumb brushing my cheek.

“I..”

She pulls away. “I can’t be part of the road you’re on anymore than a man can watch his fellow prostitute his health to opium.”

With no further words between us I lift the veil of blackness. She leaves before me though not before handing me enough grubs to pay for her own dishes.

The hurt faded away quicker than I would have liked but words did stay with me for a little longer. It was not long before Waroon felt great pain in her belly again and as often is the case she would rest her head on my lap. I would stroke her hair and make her a bland soup with far too many mushrooms and radishes in it when she regains her will.

It is often said a man and woman are the two front and back feet of an elephant that is the household; the back feet dictating the direction and the front supporting the choosing and bearing its weight. Whilst I have little regret being with her and being on this road a part of me wonders — have I kept her in check?

>I haven’t.
Though a great convenience in playing with the Art, it was indulgent to bind their souls to flatworms and retain them. As wicked as they were they should’ve passed on.

>I have.
Our present condition is as much a doing of mine as it is hers. I could have stopped her with one naysay - had I wished to. I can’t mislead myself into thinking I do not have the skill to freestand and selfwield.

[ Next update: Inconveniences II ]
[ thread 1 recap chapter ]
[ link to previous thread: https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=Devil%20and%20Instructress%20quest ]

>>6378745
>>I haven’t.

>>6378745
>I have.
This feels like it's both their choice, or at the very least that Nin would believe it is such for the sake of his pride and their relationship.

1d2 tiebreak in ~12 hours.

>>6378745
>I haven’t.

Voting locked. See you tomorrow.

>>6379117
See you then, QM!

Updating in ~5 hours.

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Inconveniences II

>I haven’t.

I do not regret doing unto them hurt. Gittipud Suwunsingh and his fellows raped that child and drowned her whilst his family looked elsewhere. The only bother I had skinning them was how much hair guests tend to have and the smell though that is to be expected from their race.

Keeping the children from their families and at my beck and call was not quite the same thing. Among the slaves, only household slaves are born into slavery and bound to it until death (with few exceptions, like the slavemaster betraying his country or allowing them to be a monk) but even they can still see their families and intimates during the beginning of each year.

Whilst that child and I have long abandoned moral law for rule of might I would like to unbind them one day.

One day, when my dream no longer needed such might.

Many years have passed since that night. I am nearing thirty years of age and Waroon nearing forty. Our fellows in Firstlight have moved away from our dream. And worms still stir inside us.

Presently we are met with a matter which chiefly concerns the youths who as of late have become our fellows.

We firstly met the youths during the summer of ‘82, the year of the swine. To ready the folk for the forthcoming fencing school the surgeon Lumduan held a gathering in which she instructed the folk about worms and ways of voiding them. Waroon and I were present and helped with painting the picture through the use of the Art. Following the end of the gathering the three youths approached us.

Unshun, a woman who had some interest in the Art and a good grasp of how our illusions worked.

Baiyok, a giant who heard of the doings of our earlier years.

Ging, a young man and like myself a practitioner of the Art of Defence invited to the fencing school.

We talked for some time about Kommgal Vunnapar, a fellow of ours and the fightmaster of the soon coming fencing school. The Child of Messengers is disliked with some intensity in this part of the country caused by him spearheading a suit against the cutlers guild for poorly made and unsafe featherswords - purging many cutlers from the business. Following our talk it would be some days before we saw those youths again.

The fencing school was large, the largest by far in the years owing to the lord of the province backing and attending it; several dozen backsword, battlesword, and halberd fencers were invited. At one point Ging challenged the fightmaster himself, winning one bout and losing thrice after. I tried my hand against Aeg, Kommgal Vunnapar’s second, and lost much like the youth. However the most vivid picture of that day was what followed the bout between Ging and Achirawit; thinking he had been insulted Achirawit struck the youth with his battlesword when his guard was down. He caught the blow though it still tore up some skin on his cheek.

There was a short quarrel between Vunnapar and Achirawit before he was turned away and brought to the jailhouse. He later told me had Achirawit ran in before he could say his piece he would have removed rows of his teeth with a punch.

In the after Vunnapar held a gathering with the youths explaining the difficulties which often follow such a quarrel and asked his fellows in the province to look after them; Id, a highcrafter, Gar, keeper of the province’s clocktower, Oubshei, a alehouse and brothelkeeper, and us.

To his dislike it was us and Oubshei the youths became closest to, the two women drinking with us after work with some regularity. As Ging was little under eighteen years of age and his working hours were unlike the two we did not see him as often.

It was the first month of this year when Baiyok came to us asking about the particulars of our emmenagogues. We soon learned of her condition and Waroon judged her to be roughly four or five months with child - conception was thought to have taken place two or three months after the fencing school yet she does not recall the father and mentioned she had not been with another giant for the past three years.

We summoned Galpet, the only Child of Messengers we know intimately and willing to do the abortion. Her body healed well but not her mind. Even with Unshun and Ging by her side her mood was depressed greatly.

Before the end of the third month a six armed woman wreathed in penis charms attacked Galpet and I in my own home. I cut three of her fingers off and Galpet struck her with lightning but could not kill the fleshcrafter before she retreated. Baiyok guessed her to be Vanida, a former intimate of hers.

Through under-the-table deals Vanida aided her in becoming a barber apprentice. Some time later when her father was sued for fraud Baiyok did not ask her father, a peace officer, for the same aid. He lost the suit and the household was bankrupt and sold his wife and daughter to slavery. Mention of Vanida was scant in broadsheets but the latest we found was printed last year, where it reported a house fire which killed her father.

From the fingers I cut off Waroon and I awakened a nail which tracked where she could be: Jinfolk Wharf, a barren place northmost of the province.

With some help from Id we have a good grasp of the area and found many things there; Vanida used her fleshcrafting skills to alter the tattoos of her cutters allowing them to assume false selves for work, Achirawit and five more men are being kept and used as material for fleshcrafting, and they intend to awaken an object. I guessed the ritual’s goal is to form something which could track or curse Baiyok or her fellows.

This was not the first time we came across a ‘tiger’ and the bandit clan it leads — aside from assuming false faces, bringing my mail and weapons, incense sticks and candles for our illusions, we had another plan in motion once we realized it was not merely Vanida behind the matter.

>We wrote to Vunnapar.
We sent him the latest whereabouts we have of Vanida and her folk, Jinfolk Wharf, and an ask for him to take over this matter if there is no letter following this one or if the nature of matter has changed heavily by the time of the next letter.

It will take some time before he could come to a southern province like Silverport as the accountant has had his hands full with taxes since the first month but when he does there is very little Vanida could do against him when it comes to might.

Galpet occasionally mocked him for having prostituted himself to the crown but there is some vantage to it; he has pulled some strings to get Achirawit alone during his time in the stocks. He could do much the same for this matter.

… but should I bring him into this matter, though?

>Galpet wrote to Neeranara.
A fellow of his. An alewife who aided him greatly following the death of his mother and was his instructress regarding midwifery.

Her skill in the Art is chiefly her control over animals and their spirits; her crows can watch over the youths all around the town and warn them before her cutters could make a play for them.

She has her own dealings with the capital's Green Lamps district - I believe she owns a house that once belonged to her father. Whilst she is partial to us she does not have the might to fight someone like Vanida or her cutters.

[ Next update: Do War I ]

>>6379580
>>6379579
Escalating to the direct intervention of a Child of Messengers seems extreme, and Gal has made something of himself. Let's not drag him down into low matters and low places once more.

I vote...
>Nara

>>6379580
>Galpet wrote to Neeranara.
Let's keep it simple

Voting’s locked.

Can I be the Monarch of Rape?

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>>6379942
Only if you believe in yourself, and have the power of friendship.

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>>6379942
You need a consort.

Finishing my update tomorrow. See you then.

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Hey. Sorry for the delay. Been a bit busy lately, no thanks to a certain visual novel.

Update should be done in 12ish hours, though.

>>6380546
Looking forward to it!

Waiting warmly

yo schiz pass the vn sauce pretty please

>>6381218
I believe it is this
https://nomnomnami.itch.io/night-with-timber

Hey. Was sick. Up now.

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Do War I

>Galpet wrote to Neeranara.

Whilst I was never close to Kommgal Vunnapar I do know his character somewhat; If I asked I am sure he would take great pains to shield those youths from the hurt Vanida and her cutters intend to do but chasing them is another matter. If he could seize them I have no doubt he would see to it their ears are clipped and their backs bloodied in pillories but if he could not he would be satisfied seeing them leave the country and no longer menacing those youths.

But that sword would still remain above their heads.

Vanida could have taken many roads to ruin Baiyok or her fellows. She chose to have a giant put a child into her cunt and attacked our house once the youth began to visit us more. It’s clear she wants to ruin Baiyok and rip away any comfort she could cling to. I wonder if she did the same cruelty to her father or her slavemaster. The broadsheets did say the former died in a house fire a year ago and the latter was not mentioned though I guess him to be out of the picture as well.

Had she truly cared for ‘justice’ she would have gone after the judge or the folk who pushed the embezzlement suit onto her father or the witnesses long before she set her sights on Baiyok. Unless she can’t. Though unasked Suwunsingh does make a good point: perhaps she is giving a blow to Baiyok because she’s the only one she could reach.

In any case having Neeranara on our side would stifle further tries at doing hurt but I much prefer to end it all here.

Returning to the southwest part of Jinfolk Wharf an hour after meeting “Garnjanar” the only giant present inside Jinfolk Wharf (at this moment) and two goblins far less lazy than him we come across a large stilt house nested deep surrounded by circles and circles of smaller ones. Judging by the breadth of its frontage and stairs this was once a common hall.

“No, that’s the third.”
“Move it OVER the fourth.”

“Don’t tie it here!”

As we approach the house from its side we right away hear the yelling of those two goblins from earlier. Southern laborers I guessed them to be given their skin being as dark as fried basil and the penis charms hanging from their hips.

With Waroon and Galpet as my lookouts I don my vizard climb the steps.

Finally standing before the hall I can see its high ceiling covered in nets of mangled holy threads and a giant fruitlessly trying to untie and tie knots the two goblins doing the same to tethered objects around the room.

A net of nine lines of holy threads all joining at the same spot of the statue. A pot for incense sticks. Footed bowls. Palm leaf books detailing the chants needed.

In my eyes it seems these folk know what the ingredients are needed and what the ritual ought to look like but little experience in setting it up.

Perfect.

Taking care to not trip on the threads or goblins I slowly land on my heel and move to the far side of the hall with the filled footed bowls. It takes only a moment before their eyes move elsewhere and I replace both the incense sticks and candles with my own.

Not halfway back do I hear a harsh crack. And more cursing.

“Do we even got any more spare candles?”
“Two. Three maybe. But not this many.”

A whole bundle of incense sticks crushed with a single unknowing step from Garnjanar. I do have two more bundles but right now I’m not in a position to place them.

“Vanida ought to have spares for this sort of thing. Let’s set up the rest first.”

“And you are chopping those corianders by the way.” Whilst Garnjanar seems to take their previous words quite well this one comment seems to provoke something from him.

“I know. I know. But don’t… don’t fucking push it.”

“Push it? PUSH IT? You fucked up and now—”

“I fucked up? I? If those fucking threads weren’t there we wouldn’t be in this position. All you had to do was get a fucking ladder and-” With the quarrel growing worse I take this chance to slip away though without addressing the heart of the matter.

Sight. Smell. Sound. Touch. Taste.

I need to subjugate at least two of their senses before I can put them to sleep. Without the smell of burning incense it’s only up to the candles to do my work and that won’t be enough. I could swap it again though with more eyes here it will be hard.

Thinking back on my first meeting with them I do recall those goblins threatening Garnjanar with the task of vegetable cutting for tardiness. Chilli I believe it was.

Chilli. Coriander. The missing Mayongchid plums around Jinfolk Wharf. They’re having a feast soon. That’s one more way we can affect them.

With some time left before sundown we went through the houses around the common hall noting which house we could safely linger at and which we could not and in our search we came across something of note.

>herbs and spices
A room with many clay pots and bowls and a few winnowing baskets. Most of the herbs are tied in large bunches and hung from the ceiling or tied to the walls; garlic and onions being the biggest of the sort. Judging by the nicks of the cutting board and the bumps and the many holes of the stone mortar this kitchen was chiefly used for vegetables and making dip.

As I guessed they do not keep or cook meat here. Vanida and the rest of the folk will likely bring those with them when they arrive.

This could work if we impart ourselves to these though the degree to which they will be affected depends on how much they eat.

“They’re southerners. I wouldn’t worry.” Galpet laughs as he unties one of the bundles.

>fireworks
The things we found in houses ran the gamut: from stacks of broadsheets rolled and tied together into a triangle shaped pillows to blowpipes carved from wood for hunting small animals.

Most noteworthy of the bunch being a box of fireworks. They are quite old and most of these balls and tubes are small enough to fit in my palm. I have seen these sort before in my youth and they make little more than a middling crack once lit. If tied together and lit however the noise could be maintained for some time - once the ritual is in motion I can appear before them light these fireworks and seize their minds giving the opening Waroon and Galpet need to obliterate their nerves and brains with their weapons.

This doing will be louder than I wanted but the effects will be immediate.

“These folk aren’t fighting men sworn to a lord. They’re laborers. If we get Vanida and a few of them we can collapse this bandit clan.” I explain.

[ Next update: Do War II ]

>>6381218
Night with Timber. It’s free. It’s about 3 hours long if you plan to 100% the game. Story’s pretty simple but concise and clear. There’s not really any NSFW pictures, though.

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>>6381510
>fireworks
Shock and awe!

>>6381510
>fireworks

>>6381510
>fireworks

Fireworks it is. Locking it in.

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See you tomorrow!

Here’s a little sneak peek at Waroon’s past.

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>>6382234
Lookong forward to it!

In the meantime, enjoy this Gal and Airin as thanks for running. They're by the artist Moonfist.

>>6382276
Cute hag.

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Do War II

>fireworks

With the sun on the wane we find a spot to rest at and unload all the things we have brought with us which are:

My battlesword. A sword for two hands with a blade of fifty inches. It lacks siderings or hooks common to most modern battleswords and much less of an inconvenience to carry. Whilst Vanida’s many charms will deflect any blow I give this weapon can bar her folks from running in and slap away their strikes.

My undulate sword. A sword of forty inches with a scallop shaped shell and a knucklebow covering the outside of the hand. It is not the fastest though it will bite into blades and wood far more strongly than most - in the bind, it is peerless.

My close hilted dagger. The outside of the hand is covered with metal. Though penis charms can stop strikes from piercing skin or breaking bones they do not make organs stronger and a blow to the head or liver will collapse a man.

My hand pistol. It’s little more than a barrel with a long trigger. The dog must be fully cocked back before the trigger could be squeezed - I will need two hands to use it. I can tie it to my left arm and hide it under a sleeve. It can’t kill Vanida but it will hurt; a shot to the throat or eye or neck can stop her from seizing me.

My wheellock lighter. A palm sized steel box with a large dog on one side and a ring on the other. Tethered to the ring is a cord which if pulled will spin the wheel and rapidly brush it against the fool’s gold held by the dog - bringing forth sparks. Sekijo often smoked and of course he made a tool for it. It took many tries perfecting the cord and latch for storing tinder.

Waroon’s are:

Her awakened pistols. Two wheellock pistols gifted to her by Sekijo for helping the shooting club. It has been nearly ten years since our present monarch destroyed the Dawnfolk colonies and these are among the last marks we have of him. As they are bound to her Waroon can use the wax shots as a means to do the Art. If Vanida is any good she will immediately cover her eyes and ears once my fireworks are lit — leaving her open for a shot or two from these.

Her steel whip. We know this one intimately. The tools and weapons we used to rape and kill folks were melted beaten into a rod and fitted to a hilt so it may be used like a singlestick. At its heart it is a doctor’s knife — it will obliterate curses or nerves. Sixty inches may be a little short for a giant’s singlesword but it needs only touch to do its work.

Her steel ribbed fan. A large fan as long as her elbow. It can give a hard blow but its chief use is to be unfolded and give cool air.

Galpet’s are:

His doctor’s knife. A [witch] doctor’s knife is often made with materials deeply tethered to spirits such as temple nails or coffin nails. Like most his has a broad blade and with a spearlike point. A deliberate blow from it will destroy curses or nerves of the flesh it hits.

His close hilted “dagger”. Unlike mine both the outside and inside of his hand is covered with metal. At fifteen inches it is more sword than dagger in his hand.

Like Kommgal Galpet is a Child of Messengers and is bestowed some of their might - he can harden some of his skin to turn away strikes. Waroon and I rely on another form of armor: a veil of spirits. Through blaring the Art around us limb severing cuts turn into bruises and deadly thrusts become shallow. It is not perfect: its might waxes and wanes based on how many senses we can subjugate hence the mail under my shirt and the scars around my head.

“You’re quite good at this.” Galpet notes how speedily I tie the fireworks together with cord and do the knots.

“I had a fine instructress. She taught me once and I…” Thinking back to our youths leaves a bittersweet taste on my tongue. “I got it right the first time.”

Elsewise she would have died from the cut on her thigh. Waroon was (in her own words) ‘not the best company at the time’ and often got into quarrels — though I wonder would my character be so gentle if at seventeen a younger sister of mine had a child out of wedlock and died shortly after leaving it chiefly in my and my mother’s hands?

In any case I vividly recall staying by her side for the whole night after stitching the wound and getting whipped by my father the following day. Drinking small beer whilst waiting for the blood on my back to dry - how I miss those days.

It was not long before the box was exhausted of its fireworks and the province was without sunlight. It is dark and only the thinnest sliver of the moon is present tonight. Crickets chirp endlessly and every now and then a few birds and dogs say their piece without asking to the folks still awake.

Finally hearing their footsteps was a nice change.

The first pack which returned were folk like Garnjanar and the two goblins; dark skinned men with thick arms and scarred backs. They brought with them large broadsheet wrapped bundles - fried fish and I guessed them to be given their smell and some oil stains on the paper. Laborers. They carry knives on their neck or under their armpits and a few penis charms linger around their hips. I believe there to be ten or so.

The other pack which returned did not do so in one large clump rather a few appeared at a time; they dress like most folk in the province — a broad brimmed hat a shirt and breeches or skirt and straw sandals. Judging by the fullness of their breeches and the metal smoking pipes around their sashes of varying breadths and lengths some I guessed them to be gamblers cutpurses or fraudmen. We saw at least five of them.

The third pack and most lethal was Vanida’s. They came into view their shoulders and sides filled with the greatest bundles and bags of folk here. Thrust through their sashes or hanging from their belts were all sorts of picks axes sickles and knives. A handful of them have in their hands blowpipes and wooden staves wrapped in brightly colored sashes. The lack of boar spears bows or arquebuses mean they’re not hunting large animals.

“Forest goods to be sold.” Waroon notes. “Fragrant wood. Herbs. Spices. I doubt they could have skinned a deer or cut a rhino’s horn.” She guesses the contents of their bags.

Whilst the blowpipes are of little mention as their length stifles their use in a fight the same cannot be said for the Players of the Art which carry those brightly colored staves. Given the chance they will put up a veil to shield themselves from my work or send apparitions to track us if we flee. Of the nine we spotted three are Players. Luckily besides Vanida herself no one looks to be fleshcrafted.

“Now that is troublesome.” After glancing at Vanida I bitterly note the new fingers on her fleshcrafted hands and the normality of her true hand. Her speed and might is fully back - unless she is pinned I doubt I can cut those off again.

As the night goes on and her folk are busy themselves with food and drink and talk Waroon and I sneak near the occupied houses to listen to what is said and some names are mentioned with more regularity than most.

Asawin is the most senior of the laborers and is an intimate of folks who overlook the laborers' fleshcrafted tattoos. His voice is that of a fleshy giant fifty or sixty years of age. One of the very few giants.

Vanida. Her pack came from the north of Jinfolk Wharf - they were foraging in the forests of the province bordering Silverport. From their words they haven’t been caught in Mournless yet. If they need to run away and lick their wounds they would start there.

And most alluring of all, Paixarn. He and his fellows took great pains to seize bits of hair and scraps of clothes from Baiyok and her family and he does not like such doings very much - fearing it may put more eyes onto their thefts and fraud without reason.

Those are all we could gather. It’s nearing the time we make our play.

When I do my work the hurt forced upon their minds will collapse them for sometime. It takes little for Galpet and Waroon to obliterate their brains for good then. If done perfectly all thirty or so men will drop. However as seen with Garnjanar (that clumsy little cunt) we need to account for… difficulties.

Whilst Waroon will without doubt shoot any man who tries to stop me from doing my work I need to think about the moment following it and who we ought to firstly cut besides Vanida.

>cut the heads
Asawin and Paixarn.

We cut these and their tethers to this province and their means of earning grubs will be greatly limited.

We don’t need to kill everyone. Limbs cannot move without blood.

>cut the giants
Asawin. His giants. Vanida’s giants.

Of the thirty or so men now here about five are giants. Cutting the folk who could seize us the easiest will make for an easier time fighting the rest as we don’t have contenders to the reach of our biggest weapons.

We’re cutting all of them.

>cut the Players
Her Players.

I doubt they can form a veil in time to shield them from my work rather my chief worry is the spirits will in their service which could molest us for long enough the Players could form a veil and do their own work.

We’re cutting everyone if we can. If not we bow out. Taking these Players out of the picture means they can’t track us so easily.

>write in

[ Next update: Do War III ]

>>6382594
>cut the heads
Cripple their operation. Even if we fail everything else, doing this will be the most punishing, its effects the most lasting. If we succeed in this much, then even a Vanida victory will be phyrric at best.

>>6382594
>cut the heads

Head cut. Locking it in.

See you tomorrow.

>>6383359
See you then, QM!

Big update. In 30 mins or so

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Do War III

>cut the heads

Cutting one or two of them will strongly wound the clan; in the case Asawin dies it will be proof of Paixarn’s fears being true and Vanida will have a hard time pushing for revenge; in the case Paixarn dies the clan’s skill in earning grubs and working unspotted will lessen; and in the case Vanida dies I doubt Paixarn would pursue if the hurt from doing so outweighs what he could gain.

As the feast winds down a few choose to take a nap whilst some retire to the smoking house. Vanida yells at them to not be late. Seeing a woman nineteen or twenty years of age (if Baiyok is to be believed) admonishing men ten years or so her senior like a mother to her unruly children is a little cute and reminds me of a time when Waroon and her fellows smoked.

.. that is of little mention now.

With night reaching its peak the men goblins and giants fill the ritual hall. Of all things in the hall the most vivid is the many nooses hanging from the nine layer net of holy threads; they are to be worn around their heads during praying so all of their hearts may be joined and might easily be poured into awakening an object.

The middle sits two large tables the one behind being taller than the one in front. To the left of the tables sit a large ash filled pot and to the right a smaller one; they are for incense sticks and candles. The tables are furnished with footed bowls trays and plates of all sorts of offerings with the largest among them being a footed plate for betel chewing; slices of areca nuts bundles of curled up betel leaves and fistful of roughly cut tabaco fill the plate so thoroughly it becomes hard to see the color under them. Among the abundance it’s quite easy to see what Vanida intends to awaken: clay dolls. The three sit on small bits of hair and nail and scraps of cloth I guess to be Baiyok’s and her parents’.

Peace officers don’t have hair that long. What is this, armpit hair? Cockhair? Gittipud points out a matter I really can’t be fucked to think about now. You Yosavarid and Vuttana will do my work soon. Still yourselves.

Gittipud Suwunsingh does not and runs away to my right thigh as often is the case whenever things do not go his way. It’s mildly uncomfortable. Sometimes I forget he was eleven at the time.

I guess them to be leghair or armhair. They are longer than headhair but do not curl quite as strongly as armpit hair.

In any case the matter of note is the folk inside the hall; of the twenty five there are five giants eight men and eleven goblins though in truth there are twenty eight as Asawin sent three men to watch the captured folks in case they tried to flee. We will deal with them after we cut the folks here.

The hall is big enough to have all of them sitting in a one row circle around the tables.

The circle is divided into three main parts; the upper part (and furthest inside the hall) where Vanida and her fellows sit the lower left part where Asawin and his laborers sit and the lower right part where Paixarn and his fraudmen sit. Interestingly Vanida’s Players do not sit with her rather each is placed around the room - one at west east and south of the circle.

This is a little troublesome. When I stand in the middle and face the door Vanida will have my back two Players will have my sides and one Player will face me. One upside of this is having Asawin Paixarn and their fellows facing me - they will be the first I can hurt.

“… I will say again - this will be six hours. We will not remove the threads from our heads. As Vanida walks around the room counting heads and checking shutters she reminds the folk what the rite asks of them. “We will not leave the circle once the prayers begin.”

“The books are there if you wish to read though I shall lead in praying.”

“It is more important for your speaking to be clear. I don’t wish to see you trip over your own words trying to match the speed of someone else.”

Whilst Vanida is busy I sneak through the gap she has created in the circle taking great pains to not unsettle the hanging threads or knock over a bowl with the long strings of fireworks in my hands. Waroon and Galpet place themselves to my left so she may right away have the shot on Vanida and Paixarn once I make my play.

Galpet has my battlesword as carrying it along with the fireworks would not pan out well for me. The undulate sword and close hilted dagger under my armpit ought to be enough in most cases.

Once Vanida returns to the circle she nods for a Player to approach the table. He burns the incense sticks for a moment before snuffing it and sticking them into the ash pot. The praying begins.

After listening to it for a few minutes I think I have a good grasp on the matter; Vanida and her Players are good at it but not perfect either. They’ve done this a few times. Paixarn is oddly good at this whilst Asawin is middling at it.

We wait for some time.

The clearer the picture the stronger the work will be; a mark of a good Player is their skill in choosing which phrase or gesture to take away from a rite whilst keeping the fruits they wish and what sort of offering they give to spirits in exchange for the work being done. Inversely by adding more support the work will to a point become stronger.

As the pace of the praying slows down and I see some of the folk shift their calves to avoid soreness I take a moment to still myself and stop biting on the beads of the vizard.

As the mask falls I pull the lighter’s cord with all my might and swing the long bundles of fireworks like a battlesword: cutting endlessly in every direction. The loud bangs and pops quickly fade from my ears as I close my eyes and slow the pace of my breath to seek a moment that passed so many years ago. It comes to me far more easily than any want of food or sleep or congress which dwells inside me everyday.

Year of the serpent.
Fruits of their election.
Sour sweat.

Grandfather M’nunchai.
Grandmother Maytarpond.
Father Inntanown.
Mother Nunnichar.
Aunt Navuntorn.
Uncle Valaipond.
His sister Mookdar.
Gittipud Suwunsingh.

Do your best to not spread your legs, my child.
For I wish to work hard for this hurt.

“ R E L I V E R A P E ”

[ Next update: Do War IV ]

Opening my eyes and letting my senses return to me I see among the piles of collapsed men and their still sheathed swords the few still standing; near the door Waroon and Galpet are fighting Asawin and a Player. He must’ve put up a veil in time to shield that giant.

As I brandish my sword I notice something to my left and turn - in time to slap down a thrust from a rappier and hop away to buy myself more time. Facing me with a rappier in his main hand and a close hilted dagger in the other is the young man Paixarn; a man in a large linen coat and a plaid skirt tied with a belt of silvery metals.

As I retreat further to the right of the hall I see the reason for his present state; whispering into an ear of the collapsed Vanida is a golden child - a spirit bound to him in form of a newborn wearing only breeches and a pin around his bun. A glimpse at his skin and I right away know what Paixarn has done. This one wasn’t formed from wood and clay. No. It was a child burnt black and covered in gold flakes before being awakened.

Judging by where she collapsed and the bits of wax around her head she must’ve tried to lunge for me and was shot for it. Twice. I can’t let him give her mind clarity.

His rappier is no more than thirty inches in length and it only has a knucklebow and sidering to protect his hand. His dagger I guess to be thirteen or so. I can work with this.

Tapping the ground with my sword my other hand on my hip I speak. “I will say again.” But what comes out are not my words but Vanida’s.

The copied speech works well enough as the child confused by suddenly hearing “her” voice turns to face me.

You’re mine now.

And I get to reciting those words once more. “Year of the Serpent.”

Immediately Paixarn runs at me his point shooting for my head which was what I wanted - as I step to my left I flick the blade up brushing aside the thrust like opening a fan. As I pull the blade back instead of cutting his eyes the golden child appears shielding his face from hurt and bouncing the blade back. I knew it. Your father’s son, aren’t you. As long as I can keep landing grave blows on Paixarn that child can’t bring Vanida to bear.

The golden child vanishes once more and appears in the front of the tables.

He makes his play.

>He opens the hall.
The golden child brings his hands together and a wind that should not belong in this world forces its way into the hall; smacking the shutters against the walls and knocking over many things around the room including the ash pot I wanted to shove Vanida’s head into.

All four shutters are open and so is the door. Whilst jumping off the shutters will bruise it likely will not break a bone. It takes only a moment to flee.

>He closes the hall.
He leans into the candles to whisper something. The flames roar and begin eating away at the materials around the table.

At the same time the door and shutters shiver and rattle violently as if a strong wind was constantly pushing against it.

Whilst flames are not enough to burn the hall down but given time the smoke can blind and exhaust us. There’s no fleeing this bout. Not without him being banished or Paixarn gone.

>>6383898
>>6383900
>>6383901
>He closes the hall.
No escape for them.
Possibly no escape for us, but that may be well deserved anyway... Eesh. Eleven?

>>6383920
Oops, meant for >>6383908

>>6383908
>He closes the hall.
>>6383920
Were there deleted posts or did you just type them wrong ?

>>6384009
Yep. Misspelled some words

Closed hall it is.

Dammit. No more formatting.

>>6384137
Forever?!

>>6384204
yeah.

Oh, interesting. Guess it’s not tied to ID after all.

Having a bit of a headache right now. Updating tomorrow morning. See you then.

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Do War IV

>He closes the hall.

It is clear the golden child has some might over wind and he intends to push it as far as he could; if given time to gather he will surely use the smoke to blind and smother us. Waroon is the closest to the ceiling and will be the first affected if he is not banished soon.

Seeing the blow aimed at his eyes deflected Paixarn hops back right away and brings both his rappier and close hilted dagger to cover his head as he retreats. He could have pushed his luck and got me good but he really needn’t to - he can afford to wait.

Getting a clearer picture of the blade I am thankful for his careful nature as the dark and cloudy blade is filled with white writings. It’s a doctor’s knife of sorts. The color and pattern is wrong and I guess the blade to be made from a mix of normal and special metals. Whilst it makes it less brittle than a true doctor’s knife it can’t damage nerves or curses as thoroughly. Excepting a blow to my brain I could withstand it and have Galpet heal that later.

“Go. Save her. I have him.” Calmly Paixarn says as he walks to the left side of the burning table. The way he lowers his weapons as he walks and the way he puts himself near the collapsed Vanida makes me wary. If I do not approach the golden child will keep whispering to Vanida bringing her to bear soon but if I do I am sure the child would send the burning table and its contents at me giving him an opening. I suppose I have to play your little game then.

“Do you?” After kicking aside a footed bowl to clear my path I start running for a moment before doing a broken step; advancing with my front foot before quickly bringing it back. It works and what is thrown my way is not the table rather the many footed bowls and plates on the ground. About four or five catches my other arm and side turning them numb for now. My veil can’t soften the blows from something without a mind to twist.

Paixarn turns his head a little as he grins. ‘Good play, stray hound. But not good enough.’ he all but says. The loud crashes of pottery and yells of pain from the folks near the door shows without doubt the cause of his grin. Those weren’t meant wholly for me.

You truly are a fine Player of the Arts, Paixarn, but how good are you at the Art of Defence?

Having had two of his thrusts parried with the latter allowing me to give a blow which could have been a grave Paixarn approaches me a little more carefully; his rappier fully extended the hilt covering the left side of his head and his close hilted dagger covering his lower right side. His posture is deep and his steps short. It’s a good move staying low to the ground; I can’t easily strike at his lower limbs (not without dealing with the dagger) forcing me to attack from above - which is protected by the rappier.

However as his arm is fully extended the rappier cannot threaten me with a thrust unless he lunges which will be quite short as his feet are presently so far apart.

Not letting him easily walk forward and stick a point into my neck I throw a few flick cuts at his rappier to knock it offline. He flinches and slows down but does not counter and leave himself open. So be it.

I enter the bind putting the flat of my sword against his edge and giving only a little pressure. Any good practitioner would shoot his point so he could attack and push away my blade at the same time which he does. As soon as I feel his blade moving closer to me and pushing mine away I turn my edge to meet his and the undulate sword bites into his edge so strongly he can’t push it forward any further.

The weak of the sword (that is to say the upper third) can easily move and be moved. The opposite is the case for the strong. By letting him come closer we meet in the middle. Edge against edge in the middle we are equals - had our swords been the same length and weight.

The way his sword shivers trying to leave the bind. It’s clear this is the first time you faced an undulate sword, isn’t it, Paixarn? You’re playing my game now.

I pull my edge away leaving the bind for a moment before smacking his sword again. As my sword is longer wider and heavier in the blade a strike from my middle to his middle knocks it quite far to the right. Immediately he tries to recover by using the recoil of my blow to reel that blade back up for a cut whilst traversing to the right trying to keep himself behind his blade at all costs. I cannot contest him in cutting like this. Trading cuts against a sword far thinner lighter and ten inches shorter than mine will end in a win for him.

Instead I void the cut dropping my blade low as I move away. As soon as he sees his cut missing he brings his point forward and goes for a thrust to the crook of my arm.

Not good enough, fraudsman! Not quite!

With a turn of my waist and a rising cut from my sword I slap away his blade to the left. Seizing this opening I shoot my point forward and push off my backfoot though not with all my might.

As the tip nears his waist the golden child appears. Let’s see if I’m correct in my guess. I drop the tip to his thigh and lunge a little further. It sinks into his right thigh before the child could guard it with his hand.

I was right. The child can appear and vanish quickly but once appeared he can only move as quickly as a newborn and his limbs are as short. I hop away before his rappier and close hilted dagger could molest me. The child vanishes and is back to work whispering in Vanida’s ears. That is another matter I have to address soon.

The thrust slows him down quite a bit but he still has his two weapons. Running in is not a good play with his dagger still in his hand. He remains in that defensive posture as inch by inch he advances.

Not long after the thrust do we hear a stifled yell of a man. Galpet must’ve hurt that Player badly.

“Go. Save. Save ‘em! Ain’t worry. Bout me.” Paixarn tells the child though he could be lying but I cannot afford to look away from him now.

“Pride of Town.” Faintly I hear something to my right. “Blackest Night.” As I wonder what the Player is reciting the very next phrase paints a picture most vivid. “Empress of Tharnee.”

Cannons of the mussulman country south of ours. Given how faint his voice is he needs to speak the phrases for killing as well if he wants any might behind the shots. I have time. Not as much as I’d like but time nevertheless.

We enter the bind. This time as soon as I try to provoke him by pushing his blade offline instead of reeling his sword back to cut he retreats and maintains the bind. He does the same when I slap his blade aside with cuts. He wants the bind. He wants to know when I give pressure and when my blow comes.

It’s time for another.

When it comes to rappier we can divide the body into two parts using the sword as a line; the outside and the inside. The outside is the small bit of shoulder and arm not covered by the sword. The inside is the rest of the body - Oft easily protected but not in this case. I have to keep away from his inside line so his dagger doesn’t get to make its play.

The strike I do is…

>a covered thrust to outside line
Start by binding with my blade on his inside line — and his blade to mine. From this position it’s easy for him to shoot a point to my head whilst protected which is why I do not remain there for long.

Dipping my point beneath his I quickly return to the bind from the outside line and gather his weak before shooting my point into his neck.

Gathering his weak will take time but I will be covered during the thrust - his sword will be pushed aside and his weak collected by my guard. He cannot double me right after.

If that child shows up it’s not hard to mutate a thrust to cut elsewhere.

>an uncontested thrust to outside line
Start by binding with my blade on his inside line — and his blade to mine. From this position it’s easy for him to shoot a point to my head whilst protected which is why I do not remain there for long.

Once I disengage by dipping my point beneath his sword I leave the bind and shoot my point to the outside of his shoulder.

By switching lines and leaving the bind to thrust his parry will take longer as he needs to move the sword further than normal. Without subjugating his blade first he could double me if he were to attack and not parry.

If that child shows up it’s not hard to mutate it into a cut elsewhere.

[ Choosing the correct response will shorten the fight. ]
[ Choosing the incorrect response will result in injuries for Nin and his folk. ]

[ Next update: Do War V ]

>>6384791
>a covered thrust to outside line

Our swords are close together

>>6384791
>a covered thrust to outside line

>>6384791
the correct answer is to
>deliver a cut or slice to his head from the bind
bind to his rapier _from_above_ with a high short-edge cut threatening his outside shoulder
once he gives resistance, wind the sword hilt down into the lower left hanging keeping pressure (which will bring our sword inside), move a little bit forward so the tip of his rapier is past our left shoulder and slide the blade along his rapier on the inside delivering a short edge snap-cut with the very tip to his forehead.
if he is bad, the fight ends there
if he is good he will parry with the dagger, hanging it above his head, and we can switch grip with our right hand so that the sword's notional long edge is down, to deliver a strong draw-cut as we step backwards, pushing down and to the left (towards the point of his his dagger) which will certainly collapse his guard (our sword will be gliding off the tip of his dagger as we retreat) and get him bleeding from his right shoulder or arm

if this course of action is not followed, the safer one from those proposed is
>a covered thrust to outside line

>>6384857
to add, the snap-cut is most likely the point (natch) where the golden child will intercede
but he can do nothing against the subsequent draw-cut

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>>6384857
I think I know what you’re saying. Picrel.

But wouldn’t the dagger be in range to stab Nin once the rapper point goes past our shoulder?

Dagger drawn NOT to scale.

>>6384890
the question is legitimate but I figure the threat would be enough to make the dagger go up for defense
also, forgive me if I misremember, but isn't Nin's sword a quite long flamberge? in any case she has ten extra inches of blade to work with, so she probably can deliver the snap-cut at near maximum range in relative safety

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>>6384894
Nin’s sword is 40 inches
Paixarn’s is 30 inches
Dagger is ~13 inches

I assumed the inside hanger parry during bind would have his hilt pretty near the strong of Paixarn’s sword. I guess you’re thinking of this to be done a bit further away.

You are correct about him going for a parry, though. that’s the key to the correct option.

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>>6384890
this bit is not what I intended

>>6384899
>I guess you’re thinking of this to be done a bit further away.
yes indeed, as far away as practicable

>>6384902
Then I really am not quite sure what you mean. The only other way would be throwing the short edge cut above his blade but that makes the bind feel a bit weird.

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>>6384902
the idea would be to lay our sword across and above the weak of his, threatening to collapse his stance and allow the blow to get in
like so, more or less

Anyway, I’ll leave this be for now.

Voting will be closed tomorrow.

>>6384905
YES!
it is weird indeed
if you've never fought against a flamberge you can't really imagine just how much heavier and more present it is than other swords
you will not be able to maintain longpoint against one, no way, not when pressed from above in any case

>>6384906
>>6384908

Oh, I think I get it now. You’re trying to expel his sword to the right.

You seem like you know a lot. You do HEMA or something?

>>6384909
>You’re trying to expel his sword
yes, push him offline
>You seem like you know a lot.
I know _some_ stuff :3
>HEMA or something?
indeed

>>6384791
>a covered thrust to outside line
I'm no HEMA buff like some of these other anons, but leaving ourself exposed or uncovered is going to be a bad idea with this sneaky sumbitch

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Voting’s closed.

Updating today! See you soon.

>>6385727
See you then, QM!

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Do War V

>ANSWER: INCORRECT

Explanation: After seeing his first strike parried and his second parried and countered by Nin, Paixarn remained on the defensive the entire time; countering only after Nin’s attack was dealt with.

The one time he attacked first in Do War IV was after his blade was beaten aside and he had little recourse but to recover the blade. After missing his cut and seeing Nin not attacking he doubled down on the offense, going for a thrust which ended with a thigh wound for him.

One last clue was provided at the end of the previous update: “He wants the bind. He wants to know when I give pressure and when my blow comes.”

The uncontested thrust denies him the bind. Demonstrated here in this short video: https://youtube.com/shorts/asj1xjMQ5bU?si=laqEtFg5HNZXL1wQ

By throwing it to the outside of his right shoulder, Nin is moving away from his dagger and exploiting his longer blade length as well.

He’s not safe from the sword but as demonstrated by the previous exchanges Paixarn is the sort to wait, parry, then riposte.

This sets up the next few chapters quite nicely, though. I don’t really mind this at all. And don’t worry, there will be more fights down the line. This quest began with a fight and it’s going to end with one — I’m really looking forward to the fight with her.

>covered thrust to outside line


I bind with his blade for a moment before disengaging to the outside line. As I turn my wrist bringing my hilt up as to gather the weak of his sword on my strong Paixarn with a passing step advances and makes his play — turning his blade so his flat meets my edge the blade slides further upwards stopping me from subjugating it as easily whilst at the same time shooting the point of his dagger forward forcing me to abort my strike and hop back.

He slows down and groans after the missed counter. It’s clear putting weight on his right thigh hurts him. His other thigh is still free to move and it seems like he knows how to move his blade around an undulate sword now. Let’s see how thorough his knowledge is.

I enter the bind my blade on the outside line this time keeping my flat against his edge at first. Once I feel little force from him and the middle of my blade is at his weak I turn my edge against his and let them bite. By doing a half circle motion (from top to bottom) I can wind that point down and transport it left of me as I shoot my blade into his side — but he does not let that happen. The very moment I start pushing his point down he dips his blade under mine bringing it to the other side and shoots his point forward. His disengage was a big enough motion letting me spot and slap away the thrust with the spine of my sword before retreating.

The half circle he drew with the disengage was huge - like the bottom of a rice wine bottle. It is clear he is not used to the bind. If I push this a little further I might get him.

As I think of another strike to throw a short scream coming from Asawin gives me the perfect opening.

I grasp it now. Since his first two strikes Paixarn never gave a blow before my own had been turned away. When he tried to push his luck by changing his cut into a thrust he was struck in the thigh for it. He is careful. He can afford to be — he needs only to occupy me for long enough to bring Vanida or the smoke to bear.

A sword’s edges may be divided into two: the long and short edge. The long edge is the main edge and few swords do not have it. They are the chief cutting edge and the easiest to put might behind as it stands in front of your hand. The short edge is the opposite. Strikes with this can come from angles less clear but they do not have much might behind them which is why they are most commonly thrown under the fingers across the knees or to the head. Another downside is strikes with the short edge do not shield the practitioner as well as ones done with the long edge.

A strike which trades defence for its skill to hit around guards. That’s perfect for now.

I enter the measure throwing a cut a little higher than normal to the right side of his head. Once I see his dagger being raised to cover I turn my wrist mutating it into a short edge cut which strikes and pushes away his dagger so strongly it is knocked into his sword making both weapons offline leaving his head open for a long edge cut — but it never came.

Right when I reel my edge back pain gnaws at countless spots on my right side. Bits of broken pottery hurled at me by the golden child. My veil cannot do a damned thing against wind and the mail under my coat cannot stop bruises from forming.

Must I exhaust my pistol now?

Seeing my cut stifled Paixarn shoots his point forward. With my hilt high and my point still down I scantly make the parry — catching the thrust a few inches from the hilt and brushing the blade to my left. We are far too close. In a blink of an eye his dagger will get into measure. The moment his point moves past my body I flick my wrist recovering my sword back up and sending the short edge into his head. My gamble works and the dagger moves to cover his head from the flick cut.

As he retreats Paixarn pulls the edge of his rappier back as he presses it against my side. Hearing it scrape against mail makes him panic and hop back whilst keeping both his weapons pointed to me and their hilts covering his head.

No. The hurt is quite bad. I can’t do this.

After taking a step I stumble and collapse dropping my undulate sword. The neck knife and vizard sway around my neck as I sit on my knees and hold my left side with my main hand. Paixarn STILL does not approach. He seems to worry about the close hilted dagger under my armpit. He is almost right.

“The fuck are you, man.” At last he lowers his weapons but maintains some space between us.

“Vanida.”

“Hm?”

“Vanida. She hurt. A fine friend of mine. I can’t let such an insult go. Unavenged.” I needn’t pretend to be hurt when I say my piece.

“fuck.” He turns his head away and murmurs out a curse. “Yok.” A faint reply comes from his mouth.

“Fuck you. You don’t get to call her that! She was violated.Vanida. She fuckin- she forced a child. A child! Into her womb. As far as I’m concerned. You’re all culpable.” My growling makes Paixarn return my gaze. All I need now is him and the child.

“Whether man or beast.”

Those pained words of a Player draws his eyes to the part of the hall closest to the door.

Among the piles of bodies whose eyes open yet do not see and whose flesh bear no wounds yet abundant in aches are the bloodied and bruised fellows. Asawin scantly stands as Waroon and Galpet assails the giant his calf and hip badly torn up by the battlesword and his other arm swaying like a hanged corpse — only his right arm remains alive and it holds a steel whip though one far longer and thicker than Waroon’s. The Player lies in the corner behind the three of them sitting as blood from the side of his knee and arm soaks the many colored staff and long knife in his lap dark red.

Without a word from Paixarn the golden child appears sending the smoke to them putting them on the backfoot.

I do not recall hearing him speak the beginning phrases of the mass-killing rite. He must be skipping to the end.

‘Whether man or beast the closest four or five together dies first.’ Those are the last phrases if I remember it right. I’m too far to stifle that rite. My legs can still move but I can’t get to him in time.

“Year of the serpent.” So I begin my own.

“Fruits of their election.”
“Suwunsingh.” Paixarn right away turns to me and runs in presenting both his points at me.

“The closest four or five.”

Sitting with my left knee upright I bring my right hand still stinging with pain to my left wrist.

“Do your best, child.” Amidst all the noise the sound of the cock being pulled back is of little mention to everyone excepting the man the barrel is presented to. The golden child appears in time.

“ RELIVE RAPE ”

Out comes a short roar and great cloud of smoke.

Paixarn crashes into me his rappier hitting the mail on my breast and his close hilted doctor’s knife brushing its edge across the back of my right arm turning a good part of it numb. Shit. It still damaged my nerves.

After pushing him away I can see where my shot landed; it tore out a small bit of his waist. It doesn’t really matter. Its purpose was to let me do my work and it did it well. Though I did not have time to send everything his brain will be occupied for sometime.

The shutters once rattled by strong winds fall silent. The flames of the table lose their might. I panic a little before seeing the golden child lying like a dead fly not so far from him.

I do not let myself dwell on the matter and return my eyes to Paixarn drawing my close hilted dagger to make sure of his death. It’s a bit of a struggle drawing with m

“ ____ ! ”

“ __ ____ ”

I feel numb. And hurt. What. What was.

BRAINED. STAY LOW. SMOKE.

Damned child. He must’ve dulled his senses right before I got the shot off. Stifling his own fire and wind was a smart play and I fell for it fully. When I was about to kill Paixarn he threw the tables at my head and sent smoke to Galpet and Waroon to stifle their doings.

As I bring myself off the ground I notice someone struggling to do the same not very far from me. Though the golden child has brought her to bear the wounds she took has yet to fade. The droplets of joyful recollection he gave to her mind is nothing to the ocean of hurt Waroon gave.

Vanida’s cheeks are flushed with tears as she tries to puke. Nothing but spittle comes out. Her arms shiver doing their best to keep her head from meeting the wood floor. Wood and ivory clack relentlessly as she moves.

The golden child is next to Paixarn holding his head and whispering in his ear. It will be a long time before he gets his mind back but I cannot kill him with my dagger lest the child brain me or bar the shutters and door with his wind again. We need to flee.

Firstly emerging from the smoke is Waroon. Her steps are short and loud. In her hand is the steel whip which could kill the golden child if the blow is given to the head. Her hand seizes mine as she brings me to my feet.

W E
L E A V E

I send my thought to her through touch. She agrees.

A S A W I N
P L A Y E R
D E A D

With them dead and everyone touched by our work we have given this clan a strong blow. Should they recover it takes little for the hurt to return; a droplet of water falling on their nape; cream brushing against their skin; food on their teeth and tongue; even the act of shitting itself — all which is buried and pushed away will come back to molest them.

Baiyok is safe from them.

Walking down the steps of the stilted house we see two of Asawin’s men sent to watch the captured folk collapsed on it their arms sundered by the battlesword and from their mouths only the faintest cries. Galpet stands at the bottom catching his breath and using my battlesword as a means to keep himself upright. Dried blood covers one side of his face.

We did not tarry long in Jinfolk Wharf. As much as we like to get Achirawit and the captured folk out of their hands with Vanida and the child around we did not wish to chance it.

Galpet chose to stay at Silverport for one more day to look at our wounds. Being yelled at by the parents of his students was not an uncommon happening he said.

With summer in full bloom comes a great want for amberwater following a day of work. Whilst Galpet can heal many of our wounds he cannot take away the hurt which comes with them and certain ones need more time than most to recover from like my head blow.

As for Waroon the one which inconveniences her the most is..

>her cracked arm bone
Asawin struck her left arm quite strongly when they fought.

As Waroon cannot work at the same pace as she once could we have to work for longer. She feels quite guilty about it.

We will not have time to see the youths as often as before.

>her broken toes
The pottery struck the last two toes on her left feet.

With Waroon unable to walk as speedily as before our pace slows down somewhat. It depresses her mood by quite a bit.

Waroon will walk slower than before.

[ Next update: Lick wounds I ]

>>6385788
here is Ton Puey delivering a beautiful outside thrust against David Pascal, with an extremely short (and thus fast) cross-step
https://youtu.be/gNkLgLyzTos?t=283
I also found a beautiful snap-cut which I think you will enjoy
https://www.youtube.com/shorts/Vd2lKGsxwDw


>>6385790
very nicely done!

>>6385849
4:04 that was funny.
4:46 that’s pretty clean.

that’s exactly how I imagined the last exchange went between Nin and Paixarn with the exception of the cut landing.

you forgot to vote.

>>6385857

>that was funny.
Pascal loves to showboat
>you forgot to vote
I had not decided yet
>>6385796
>her broken toes

>>6385796
>her broken toes
Well we crippled the operation, but I stull want to keep an eye on Baiyok's recovery and make sure Vanida doesn't try anything.

>>6385788
Welp, as someone who knows jack shit about swordfight, it was a coin toss for me & the anon who seemed to know about it choosing the same vote made me confident
>>6385795
>Should they recover it takes little for the hurt to return; a droplet of water falling on their nape; cream brushing against their skin; food on their teeth and tongue; even the act of shitting itself — all which is buried and pushed away will come back to molest them.
So any kind of sensation will be unbearable to them ? Diabolical
>>6385796
>her cracked arm bone

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>>6386483

Voting’s closed. Toes.

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>>6386613
>Tarantino's reaction when

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Lick wounds I

>her broken toes

Waroon is quite a pathetical woman. She was the sort who if unopposed would skip supper every day and bear the headaches so money could be saved - for Marna’s sake she said though I guessed not a small part of it came from a want to freestand and selfwield. She was seventeen when her younger sister was with child whilst outside the institution of marriage. She never forgave her for keeping the child and right after Marna’s birth cursed her wishing to never meet in their next lives. She died shortly after. Her mother and her relatives would care for Marna during his babyhood but by ’68 the matter fell chiefly in her hands as she traveled for work.

I first met her in ’70. I was writing for a broadsheet publishing house but the happenings of the following years made me leave the trade. Many years have passed since then. Crossed paths with Vunnapar and his folk. Slew a tiger and his bandit clan. Left the middle provinces once the monarch obliterated the Dawnfolk colonies and severed the ties between our two countries for good. Watched Marna leave once her family was able to care for him again. It was probably best. Good parents don’t put their child in harm’s way willingly or otherwise.

“I have a thought about the golden child.” Waroon says her back resting against the hard triangle pillow and her legs stretched out as I refresh the splints and cloth around her toes. Much of it is still purple.

“Mhm.”

“I believe it could be hers. Of all folk he could have healed it was her. Why was that the case? Her might? Her skin being impervious to cuts or stabs means little against my steel whip — he did not appear to shield Asawin from my blows nor approached me in the slightest. No doubt he can feel the hurt seeping from it.”

I do recall the child already whispering in her ear before he asked. He must have said it for my ‘convenience’ so I may be fooled into running in and be hit by those bowls and plates. Still, a woman with six arms and far greater weight than most folk is deadly. “Vanida is fast when she crawls. She could have seized me and given Paixarn an opening. It was a good move: a giant would have been too tall and too close to the smoke. Or she could have fled through the shutter and brought all three of Asawin’s men to bear. I am not sure if she would have been slower to heal than the rest either. You said she did not look your way when she was shot. Touch. Sound. Mayhaps smell? The might of subjugation looks about equal to mine.”

Once I finish giving her aid I rest my head on her lap and guess the reason she has this thought. “You think she was raped and had a child, don’t you. That’s her reason for doing as she did to Baiyok.”

Her silence and gentle strokes of my head tells me enough.

It’s not impossible. We didn’t get a good picture of her belly though it would not be hard for her to change it but there are a few reasons why this probably is not the case.

Firstly she and her mother were debt slaves not household slaves so a child born from them would not be a slave. Such a doing would be needlessly outlaw and more importantly costly to the slavermaster.

Secondly most of our country’s slaves are debt slaves — it’s unlikely for such a doing to be done even in the southmost provinces. Such a fate probably did not befall folk Vanida knows.

Lastly the character of the golden child. He has the form of a child two or three months old meaning that was his age when he died and awakened. More interesting is his skill in grasping Paixarn’s words and thoughts and following them without difficulty. It is clear he was bound to him for sometime. If Vanida truly is the mother of this child she must have given birth to him many years before she was sold to slavery yet Baiyok does not speak of this in the remotest.

‘Paixarn is the father of this child’ would be a thought far more believable.

“Those reasons are sound.” Waroon stops playing with my hair.

“Mhm?”

“But something still bothers me. You mentioned when you spoke of Baiyok and what happened to her Paixarn looked away and the strength behind his voice faded. To me it felt like he was denying it. Not wishing to believe it — but knew rape was a thing Vanida could do. Had she shunned rape completely surely he would have came to her defense. ‘Fuck you, dog’s cunt. She would NEVER violate anyone.’ or something like it. He was curious about your reason for being there, too, so it is clear he does not know the breadths and lengths of her doings.”

Waroon does make a good point and silence lingers in the air for sometime following it. Even Gittipud Suwunsingh had nothing to say.

The banging of the clocktower’s drums gently remind us of the waning sunlight and soon to be full eating places. “Nevermind it. Let’s get supper.”

With two of her toes swollen with cloth the way Waroon dresses had to change somewhat.

Open-faced straw sandals replace her closed and leather shoes. Joined and split hose which cover her loins and legs are discarded as they may smother the wound with stale air - a great convenience to us both. Skirts replace her breeches as they do not need her to bend down and stuff the folded excess cloth at the back of her waist.

“Say, Nin. Which looks best?”

Helping Waroon choose which walking cane to go with her dress is a nice change from the troublesome thoughts and happenings of the past months.

>this one!
I say wrapping my fingers around the cane with a head of ivory and tied with a pair of red and yellow sashes.

One of few pieces of ivory we have. A gift from a noble for helping her family.

Brightly colored sashes are commonly tied around great trees shrines or a Player’s staff all for one end: quelling spirits. Whilst Waroon and I never needed it carrying this is better than letting it collect dust.

After beckoning her to bend down so I may kiss her head we leave the house. With any luck we may see those two youths and mayhaps go drinking with them afterwards. It’s been some time since we saw them last.

>this… one.
I wrap my fingers around her thigh and squeeze it a little.

“… I think this one looks good, too.” I point to the cane with a silvery head in shape of a swan’s. A stout stick with a metal spike in the hand of a giant can be deadly and pretty. After picking it up and wheeling it a few times in her hand she agrees. It will serve her well whether as a singlestick a pick or a cane.

With that matter out of the way I stand on my toes and hold her thighs as I kiss her on the.. lips.

“We’re going to be late.”

“Mhm.”

[ Next update: Lick wounds II ]

>>6387282
>this one!

>>6387282
>this one!
We seem capable enough in a melee, but this gang's magic is still somewhat mysterious to us... We may need an edge. Could this staff quell a Golden Child?

>>6387282
>this one!
I still prefer this enough, even if we're gonna miss the spicy scene

Unanimous.

voting’s closed.

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Update should be out by tomorrow.

>>6388352
Looking forward to it!

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Lick wounds II

>this one!

It has been some time since she used a cane and watching her struggle with it is quite cute. “You alright, ma’am?”

“I ought to be the one saying that.” With a little reluctance she takes my hand as we walk still worrying about the bouts of dizziness and pain which often comes with the head blow. Whilst it was not the gravest given to me it very well could have been had the corner and not the flat of the table struck my head.

Thrown weapons and objects - that’s something I ought to keep away from. My veil can twist minds so foes would misjudge their throws but once thrown I can do little but void them.

The smell of fish sauce and frying eggs beckon us to spend some grubs at a little cookshop near the district’s corner manned by only a pair of giants old enough to be a grandmother and grandfather. A handful of tables and stools sit around the frontage with the middle table stocked with bowls of condiments and large spoons peeking through their lids. There’s already quite a line before we got here. Looking at the middle table and the folks around it I can see much of the chilli and vinegar are gone.

“Good day, child. Haven’t seen you two in a while! How are things?” Xintorn looks down as she addresses me her face a little shiny from sweat and her kerchief damp.

“We’ve got our hands full since the year began, ma’am. Two soft eggs over rice with onions and mushrooms for me. Minced pork and a fried egg over rice for her.”

The food is not the cheapest - the garnishes add up quickly. They’re not the fastest cooks out there and the oil which permeates their plates is a little much at times but very few eating places can rival how good they cook their eggs. The stirred eggs easily melts in my mouth as if it was a piece of thinly sliced and judiciously roasted pork liver. Her fried egg is puffy and crisp at the edges yet runny in the middle. We wolf it down in a few short minutes. The lime tea they have is sweet enough it may be considered dessert by itself.

As the tables become clear of folk we ask her about our recent fellows in the Green Lamps district. “Hm. It’s been some time since I saw them last. The girls don’t really come here together anymore.”

It’s natural. The beginning of the year is a busy time for many; with all those slaves entering and leaving the institution of slavery a tattoo artist like Ging or barbers like those two youths would have their work cut out for them. Baiyok is nineteen years of age or so and Unshun about a year younger. They’re nearing the end of their apprenticeships if I remember it right - but judging from all the happenings which took place in the first month I do not like this.

… wait, together?

“Yes.”
“These days the few times I do see the little girl, she eats alone here and asks for her fellow’s supper to be wrapped in banana leaves.” I lax my eyes a little when I hear Unshun still buys food for Baiyok. She hasn’t fully drifted away from her fellows.

“I do not think they are on speaking terms, though.”
“I tried asking her about the matter once and that was the picture I roughly got.” The older giant becomes quiet for a moment as she thinks about the matter. The words linger heavily in the air.

“That’s so often the case.” She murmurs. “Those girls. They are with the same boy, aren’t they? I think it best it pans out this way.”

“Well…”

“You know what I intend to say, child. I’ve seen enough, read enough of marriages and families falling apart due to quarreling amongst the wives and who their husbands chose to back. Better they learn now than ten years later.”

“I guess so, ma’am.” I force myself to not look away as I speak. True it may be it nevertheless hurts seeing them in such a state. “Thanks for your time, ma’am.”

We did not see Unshun that night nor the following night or the week after. We did not see her at the alehouse we once spent many evenings together nor at the great coffeehouse in Mangoroot street oft occupied by folks her age nor the dry goods store she and Baiyok used to buy their finely cut tabaco from. Oubshei did not see them either though they did not vanish - Id assured us he saw Baiyok and Unshun at their stations during the day.

Eventually, a letter.

Before the end of the fourth month we are greeted very early in the morning by folk we once knew intimately.

>It’s Unshun and Ging.
They worry for themselves and Baiyok. It’s clear Baiyok didn’t tell them much.

Quelling their fears about being hunted is easy enough to do but the matter which made Baiyok drift away from them since the year’s beginning would be quite troublesome to explain.

We swore to keep it secret and Baiyok clearly isn’t comfortable enough to tell them about the pregnancy - but judging from their accounts her mind isn’t quite there. She needs folk to lean on.

… at this point, should we? How much should we?

>It’s Baiyok.
She heard rumors of odd happenings around the northmost of Silverport from her father who heard it from peace officers closest to Jinfolk Wharf.

In the forest connecting our province with Mournless a few folk recently hanged themselves - or so they say.

Even now she still worries for Vanida’s sake. Such a heart won’t get her anywhere good.

[ Next update: Lick Wounds III ]

>>6389331
>It’s Unshun and Ging.
Baiyok needs support, and I would like to see more of these two.

>>6389331
>It’s Baiyok.

>>6389331
>It’s Unshun and Ging.

>>6389331
>>It’s Unshun and Ging.

Voting’s closed. Those two it is.

see you tomorrow.

>>6390404
See you then, QM!

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Before I leave here’s some of the background references and inspirations for the quest as a whole.

The Facebook artist จอห์นนี่ ซาราโปว่า who draws historical Thai kingdoms / provinces / cities as anthropomorphic women. Vanida’s hairstyle in particular owes much to Phitsanulok’s as seen here in picture related

Jujutsu Kaisen was the main inspiration for the illusion-based magic system. How Nin’s veil is described is analogous to the shell of a Domain Expansion shown in the anime. Chants, handsigns, or gestures boosting the effect of spells — and the inverse — are demonstrated during the ritual hall fight.

The appearance of my major characters are also heavily based on JJK’s:

Nin has his forehead marked by scars much like Kenjaku post-Geto possession, and his worm infested body is also a reference to Geto’s Curse Spirit Manipulation.

Vanida having four additional arms is a reference to Sukuna’s heian era self.

Creepypasta and analog horror would be the main inspiration behind Waroon. Her height and white dress is a reference to Hachishakusama (although Waroon is ~11 ft) while her (and Nin’s) ability to reproduce words previously said is a reference to analog monsters like serverblight.

Originally I conceived her to be more like Judge Holden though her manipulation & speechmaking skills didn’t really make an appearance - Nin would fill that role in ‘Inconveniences’ instead. Just about the only thing that made it through would be her pistols. Her twintails and broadbrimmed veiled hat is a reference to True Grit’s Mattie.

Nin’s undulate sword is based on a dussack in the wallace collection. A synthetic reproduction was made and used here: https://youtu.be/bgY4sSMTw7U?si=W4-F1kFcyP1PI8Kl

Nin’s wheellock lighter is based on a historical design from Codex Löffelholz

Lastly, the upcoming chapters’ titles you’ll know it when you see it.

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Vanida for reference.

>>6390416
I do appreciate how you throw in these posts explaining the provenance of things and the creative influences underscoring your work.

>>6390416
>Her twintails and broadbrimmed veiled hat is a reference to True Grit’s Mattie.
Interesting, I may watch this film later. Btw, you can delete anything from the '?' and after in youtube links since those are trackers (unless there's a timestamp, in which case you keep the '&t=x')

>>6390616
Good to know.

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Also, I might have to delay the update for a bit. Having a bit of a headache.

Here’s a little sneak-peak at the update for your trouble, though.

See you in the evening.

>>6391028
Feel better soon, QM!

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Lick wounds III

>It’s Unshun and Ging.

“Senior Waroon. Senior Nin. Good day.”
“Good day, senior.”

The two youths appear at our doorstep their faces partly hidden under broad brimmed hats and their hands occupied by bags and bundles of broadsheets.

They changed little since last year’s winter save for a few particulars. Unshun has her hair done in a less manyfold way; keeping most of it tied in a bun behind her head whilst having two long strands hanging at the level of her chin. The golden yellow once present on the ends of Ging’s hair is no longer there and the same is true for the uneven scar on his cheek if you do not precisely know where the blow was given.

“Senior.”

After being welcomed into the drawing room Unshun brings a jar of wild honey from one of her many bags.

“I was out of town for the first half of the month, visiting my folk in the north and I thought it best if I brought you a piece of that country.”

“That’s quite thoughtful, child. Thank you.” Waroon nods and takes the jar in her hands.

Dark copper in color and peerless in sweetness owing to the dry weather during harvest. It is said this sort helps slow aging and wrinkles - something I will happily remind Waroon of later.

In return we offer the youths some warm tofu milk and toasted bread. She likes the drink quite sweet. Ging doesn’t dare to eat much his shivering hand crawling to her wrist for comfort instead. It’s time we face this matter.

“Since the first month Baiyok has been keeping away from us. She said she did not feel well and did not wish to spend time with either of us on most evenings, and on the few times she did she was not very pleasant company. She spoke little. It felt like she was merely going through the motions as opposed to being there.” Unshun speaks.

“At first I thought it was worms seeing how little she ate. I mentioned the matter to her and following a few days her appetite appeared to have returned to normality though again it felt queer. She was eating but it wasn’t…” I droop my head a little as I realize what Baiyok was trying to do: starving herself as much as she could so the child would weigh as little as possible. “It felt like she was eating for my sake and not because she enjoyed or wished to eat. I tried to mention the matter again but it… it didn’t really pan out.”

“There was one morning. I think it was near the end of the second month. Yok and I breakfasted together early. Chicken rice it must have been. I really thought we had settled the matter after some more talk. She ate happily. She looked well. She was late for work. Though she said otherwise I guess it to be from puking in an outhouse.”

Unshun looks away as she curls her fingers nearly forming a pair of closed fists. “It’s not the first time she had to puke because she ate too much to appease someone but after everything, after all the times I extended my hand only to be turned away, I was… really, really tired. We had a quarrel in the evening. We said cruel things.”

“The story was much the same for Ging myself. It felt like she went out of her way to not see me and shunned my touch.” Might fades from his words as he speaks and by the end they become little more than murmurs.

The want to touch and be touched is inborn to all (and as long as it is grasped and kept in check) there is little need to hate it — but that’s a matter for later.

“She always had matters to attend to in the evening. Study. Her parents. Her fellows. That sort of thing. But it was never this prevalent. I- we didn’t wish to hurry towards the thought of her having someone else getting her in trouble.”

So those were the excuses Baiyok gave.

“She didn’t backstab the two of you as far as we know. Since the year’s beginning she has spent quite many evenings with us. She was with child and we gave her the trade to purge the irregularity.” Their heads drop a little as Waroon explains. They have already reserved a part of their hearts for this. “The congress was not willing and she had forgotten it for a time until some months later. Work of a bandit clan. We guessed the congress happening in the ninth or tenth month of last year but no doubt they must have hunted her for quite some time before.” It wasn’t enough.

“Con- continue, senior. Please.” Unshun taps Ging’s shoulder as he tries to look away his eyes increasingly shiny with tears.

“They made a play for us by the third month but we turned them away. Nearly three weeks ago they made a play for Baiyok again but that too we stifled. We hurt them quite badly though we are not fully sure they intend to leave us alone — we have summoned a fellow of ours to watch over you. Neeranara is a Player of the Free Arts who will be in this province by this month’s end and shall stay for some time.” The youths do their best to nod and thank Waroon following such help.

All of these thrust into their hands now is quite the burden to bear and after a little while I ask the youths about a matter less grave. “Junior Unshun, I hear you have an interest in the Art.”

“A little, yes, though not many spirits swirl around me. I chiefly blare it through song to quell hounds and small beasts when they are near.” I can’t help but chuckle a little when I see her rest a flute on the table. A little shorter and thinner and I would have mistaken it for a stick of cinnamon. Ha. How many years has it been since Waroon became my instructress in such skill? Oh well.

“Do you know of a means to swiftly do your work?” Her silence and her expression says enough.

“Well, junior. You ought to.” I slap my hands together. Immediately blackness fills every bit of the drawing room and noise is banished from our ears. Within a blink of an eye the veil collapses.

We spend some time teaching her more about the Art.

Unshun does not have spirits bound to her nor does she have many to call upon. The might she could pour into her work is little compared to ours though it needn’t be. By striking something violently with her smoking pipe the noise it makes could let her subjugate a mind; stifling a man or a beast from giving a blow for even a moment can be enough to void it and give one of her own.

Slowly the tenseness fades from her brows. And his.

“Safe to say, he didn’t like me very much.” I brush my chin with my thumb as I recall the moment the golden child hurled a table two tables at my head.

It’s not perfect. No amount of words could fully mend the hurt and the burden those youths now carry with them - but at the least their wounds have been tended to and may begin to heal.

As the sun starts to bring its light to bear the youths leave our house their faces hard from dried tears and their feet a little numb from the prolonged sitting. They’ll be fine. They’re strong.

You seem to have forgotten something, Jiragarn Shirokoya.

No, Gittipud Suwunsingh. I haven’t.

do keep pushing your luck on my matters, my child.

Once their moods became less depressed we asked what they knew of Vanida.

“She did not speak of her much. Yok said she was a fellow of hers at one point though she did not see her again since they moved away.”
“…”
“She has something to do with that condition, doesn’t she?” Unshun caught on quickly and we ___ mentioned the nature of her relation to Baiyok.

>partly
Baiyok was in Vanida’s debt. It went unpaid and following her family’s bankruptcy Vanida blamed her as the cause behind such troubles.

>fully
Baiyok cheated her way into an apprenticeship with the help of Vanida. She didn’t ask her father for help when the embezzlement suit struck hers.

We spoke of the particulars which surround Vanida; her present visage; her skill as a fleshcrafter; her clan and its folk.

>… and added a few convenient ones.
Vanida and some of her folks were violated and seem to put the blame on us. Their times as slaves must have been quite hard on them.

>and kept quiet on a few.
The youths needn’t know what sort of hurt was done to the bandit clan. I doubt Vanida would have any grounds to stand on considering she did much the same to Baiyok.

[ Next update: Lick wounds IV ]

Hello, everyone. Thanks for playing Monarch of Rape thus far.

We’ve nearly reached the half-way point of the thread now and if you have the time to spare I would like some feedback!

>your impressions of Devil & Instructress / Monarch of Rape so far? Any criticism about the quest? Writing style, etc.
>your favorite character(s)?
>what you’d like to see more of / less of?

>and for those who played my previous quests, how is D&I / MR compared to them?

>>6392268
>partly

>>6392269
>and kept quiet on a few.

The burden of this grim war shouldn't be put on youths.

>>6392275
>your impressions of Devil & Instructress / Monarch of Rape so far? Any criticism about the quest? Writing style, etc.
I think that it's the heaviest quest for subject matter, and it's tough to fully get behind or inhabit the main characters as a result. I like the archaic flourishes in the text, and the expansion of the magic system though.

>your favorite character(s)?
Unshun, Ging, and Baiyok are all very sympathetic and standout characters, and do a lot to anchor it. Vanida is a pretty compelling villain, too, in a way that juxtaposes well with the main characters in their philosophy towards the unborn.

>what you’d like to see more of / less of?
So far I think you've done a good job of establishing the rather miserable state of affairs between these two bands of criminals, but I'm curious to see if we'll see anyone hold the main characters to account for their own actions, or try to.

>and for those who played my previous quests, how is D&I / MR compared to them?
The grim nature makes it a bit tougher to get into the fun/actiony parts at times, but lends this one its own vibe that's worthwhile in its own way. It's not my favorite of the bunch, but that may be personal preference.

>>6392268
>partly
>and kept quiet on a few.
>>6392275
thank you for hosting us
[spoiler[
>your impressions
oh, I am quite impressed indeed
I like being in your world, perhaps because I myself allow some worms to gnaw at my psyche so it resonates
>Any criticism about the quest?
I am the one who commented on sparring technique but my regular IP is range-banned.
>Writing style?
sometimes hard to follow, perhaps intentionally so
>your favorite character(s)?
Oubshei is one after my own heart. I like two-handed swords, I get along well with whores and I used to love ale.
>>what you’d like to see more of / less of?
choices. I started out not liking the open-ended and low-information way you pose conundrums to us players, but then I realized it is much the same with decisions irl, so now I like it because it adds much psychological involvement on my part. Like trying to guess at the future in a bowl of smokey tea.
[/spoiler]

>>6392371
>I started out not liking the open-ended and low-information way you pose conundrums to us players,
Yeah, it does create a bit of an unreliable narrator mystery vibe.

>>6392268
>partly
>>6392269
>and kept quiet on a few.

File: phonto.jpg (636 KB, 1080x1350)

636 KB JPG

Voting’s closed. Half-truths it is.

>>6392283
>but I'm curious to see if we'll see anyone hold the main characters to account for their own actions, or try to.
You’ll know it when you see it.

>>6392371
Oh, it’s the HEMA guy. I’m glad you’re enjoying my quest.
>now I like it because it adds much psychological involvement on my part. Like trying to guess at the future in a bowl of smokey tea.
yep, that’s the idea - rippling effects. Some immediate. Some unlocking options much later down the line.

>>6392399
>Yeah, it does create a bit of an unreliable narrator
He is. At times. Most blatant thus far being >>6392265

As always I appreciate all your feedback and suggestions.