>>775283

“I don't think so, Alicia.” The Rag Girl seems subdued. “It always feels like the monster wins.”

>>775255

“Maybe... I never thought of it like that. Nobody can beat the monster. But The Dark Lord, she's the ruler of evil. What happens when two legends are in the same place? I've never heard a story of a Dark Lord fighting a monster.” It's a pretty scary thought. “The first Dark Lord, she made monsters fight for her. She was The Mother of Monsters. That was a long time ago. But stories say her monsters are still out there.”

>>775257

The Rag Girl shakes her head. “No, I couldn't make a new mask. I could, but I couldn't wear it.” She touches the burlap sac that covers her head with careful reverence. “This is special,” she quietly says. “You take care of the cloth for now, okay Alicia? We shouldn't lose it.”

>>775260

The Rag Girl doesn't respond to that, not right away. “I-” she immediately stops herself. The girl is conflicted. Eventually, she settles on, “That's a nice thing to say, Alicia. But remember. You can't be a good girl in Brunewilde. Okay? There was a time...” once more, she trails off. “Nevermind. We shouldn't talk about that.”

“I like stories, Alicia. Mama used to read me books all the time when we lived in our little house and things were good. Stories about the gods, stories about right and wrong. But I liked the stories about adventure. Those were the best. Do you have any stories, Alicia? I'll trade you.” After all, the road was long and there was time. “I'll go first.”

It's a long story, but it helps time pass and the girl is eager to tell it. In it, a warrior maiden from a faraway land is granted a prophecy by the goddess of the moon. The maiden denies the prophecy and spurns the goddess. After that, she is accused of a terrible crime and is forced to flee her home. The warrior travels the lands and finds herself cursed to do as the goddess had bidden. Whenever she denies the goddess, misfortune befalls her. The warrior gathers friends, sees great and terrible things, and finally finds herself before a terrible giant with the head of a screaming horse and the lower body of an octopus. The maiden's journey comes to an end and once more she is before the goddess. Her life has been one of adventure and love, cruelty and tragedy, but at it's end she is the victor. So the warrior curses the moon goddess and calls it her own victory. Her end is terrible.

“I hear some people call their daughters Pride so they'll grow up like her. Do you think that's okay? To want your children to be unhappy, but strong? I guess it's more complicated than that, isn't it? There's-” The Rag Girl stops herself at an unwelcome sound. It is the sound of hurried, stomping hooves.

The Rag Girl is halfway down a hill. The road to Shanasburg is behind her, view blocked by the rolling landscape. The sound seems close. The Rag Girl draws near to Blacksbury. From here, the woods that stand as the last obstacle can be seen from the hill. The treeline is not close, though, some 5 minutes of travel still to go. The hill itself is decorated by rough turf, sharp grasses, small rocks. There is a rocky splinter in the earth that leads into a dark passage. The sun begins it's last descent over the horizon, the first rays of sunset coloring the sky in purples and reds.

> a. Run for the treeline
> b. Run to the hills
> c. Descend into the dark passage
> d. Confront the stranger
> e. Hide in the crevice
> f. Play Dead
> g. Write in

> In the case of conflicting choices, the most popular one will be chosen.

D

>>775363

The Rag Girl summons her courage and stays her position. She's going to Blacksbury, after all. She's strong, strong enough for anything. She cannot be afraid, not anymore.

The rider breaches the peak of the hill and the girl gets her first look of the newcomer. Her ears did not betray her, the rider is alone. Everything about them tells The Rag Girl that this, too, is another foreigner. Their horse is well fed and wears light barding. The rider wears a white cloak that glows in the fading sun. She is donned in fine armor, light chain, handsome leathers. They wear a white tabard, pure, clean. It bears a yellow and red crest. Her face is fair, a young lady unmarked by cruelty and gifted with charming features. Hey hair is long, graceful and red as blood. There is something immediately captivating about the woman, some kind of raw attraction born of looking upon something truly beautiful. The Rag Girl's heart skips a beat.

The rider's eyes meet her gaze and her head tracks to watch her. The Rag Girl can hardly bear the intensity of her pure eyes. The rider does not slow her path. “Hey!” The Rag Girl calls out, but the rider does not delay. Her intention is clear. To ride forward. To Blacksbury.

There has been too much talk of legends. The Rag Girl's eyes must betray her. She looks upon something straight from a fairy tale.

> a. Let her go
> b. Warn her of Blacksbury
> c. Force her to stop by stepping into her path
> d. Yell for her to stop
> e. Write in

>>775393
C might be seen as threatening. Go with D, and B if she doesn't stop.

Wow, everybody's heading for that final-boss fortress today, huh?

C. Act as much as possible like some random quest-giver from a story would. Challenge her to a duel of riddles, with the winner bound to a day of service at the loser's command, and explain that you may be able to aid her in battle against the Dark Lord. Then, win or lose, you can hop on the horse and ride along behind her to catch up with the legion.

>775415

“Stop!' The Rag Girl shouts at the oncoming rush of thundering hooves.

The rider slows, but just that. “What manner of creature is this that stands before me?” The gallant lady demands. Her tone is sharp, her gaze unkind. The Rag Girl is suddenly reminded of an encounter with a mountain lion. “Brunewilde beast!” The warrior unsheathes her saber and readies it with a dramatic flourish. “No, I know you. The Rag Girl,” she growls. “Witch!”

The Rag Girl is certain she has never met this person before. How does the warrior know her? The maiden does not fear the girl, but she is certainly alarmed, on guard. The Rag Girl can take advantage of that. It's scary and dangerous. But The Rag Girl can be scary too.

>775451

That's true. If she can convince the warrior, she can get a ride to Blacksbury. But how does she do it? Like a story? Just like a story. Something does come to mind. She'll have to be a bad girl, but that's okay. “This is my road,” The Rag Girl says. “These are my hills.” She looks up at the rider. The girl is thankful that the mask hides her features. She's worried her fears would show. But all the rider sees is the cold, unflinching gaze of an executioner's hood. “You are trespassing.”

“What woman owns Brunewilde?” The warrior challenges. “None! And certainly not a child!”

“You know this child's name, red haired foreigner.” It's actually kind of easy, doing this. It's different, but there was a story kind of like this. Her tone is steady, quiet and raspy. The girl's words hold the weight of ominous meaning. The Rag Girl easily slips into the role. “But you think she is just a child?” The girl walks in front of the stranger and boldly blocks her path. She kneels and starts to pick at stray pebbles, taking them one by one. The Rag Girl has a plan. “Just a girl in Brunewilde.”

“Do not play games with me, witch child,” the warrior curses.

The Rag Girl stops collecting stones look up at the rider. “You must say my name.”

A heavy moment passes. There is no sound but the rasping of the wind. “Rag Girl...” the foreigner growls. Those pure eyes seethe with anger. “Why do you harass me? What are your intentions?” People really are scared of Brunewilde witches, aren't they?

The girl stands and slowly retreats, keeping pace with the horse. There is some 15 feet between them now. Close. “You wish to travel through my domain.” The Rag Girl has never said domain before in her life. She tosses the stones one by one into the dirt, making a line across the road. “The cost must be paid.”

“Name your price and be done with it. There is no time.” The rider looks ahead, to Blacksbury, but for a moment her eyes dart to the corners of her eyes, sneaking a glance behind her.

The Rag Girl briefly considers that maybe she should've looked into highway robbery before. She'll think about it later. “A game.” The foreigner's look is incredulous, furious, but she does not argue. “Win or lose, you may pass. But to the winner comes a boon. The loser must serve them for a day.”

“You would serve me?” That catches the warrior's attention. She seems confident.

“And you would serve me. That is the contract.”

The foreigner shakes her head. “I must go to Blacksbury. I cannot change my course, no matter the cost.”

“Then you are a fool. Go to Blacksbury if you seek a terrible death.”

“I know what awaits me,” she responds.

The Rag Girl has met some curious people this day. “You have a fool's luck as well. I go to Blacksbury. Win or lose, you shall find your way.”

“Do you expect me to trust you?” The warrior finds no answer. “Swear it.”

“I swear on my life,” the young witch says.

This seems to satisfy the foreigner. Still, she has another path to pursue. “What should happen if I refuse? If I cross that line?” The Rag Girl's answer is to simply gaze upon the stranger. The silence of the wilds, the cries of the wind, those are her only answer. The stranger holds. “Name your challenge, witch. I shall not falter.”

> a. Tone it down
> b. Ham it up
> c. Write in

I'll go with Leng's riddles if nothing comes up, but I'd like to see if you folks have anything specific in mind. Sorry about the delay. We should be back on schedule now.

>>775911
b.

You know, this might actually be a fairy tale...

c. Play The Oldest Game

You what would be hilarious? Rag Girl hams it up during the game, but as soon she gets the ride she wants she starts acting normal. The Hero's confusion will be a thing of beauty.

>>775913

“Very well,” The Rag Girl says, her tone sinister, dark. “Then we shall play...

>>775917

"The Oldest Game...”

The heroine before her nods, slowly. “Very well, witch. Teach me of this game.”

The girl beckons and the rider obeys, dismounting her horse. “Sit with me,” The Rag Girl demands. The woman does so. She looks up at The Rag Girl to follow suit. “Listen closely,” The Rag Girl whispers, ignoring the heroines unspoken question. “It is a game of wits. In turn, each participant will name something and sing it's praises. The next player will counter, defeating their opponents subject. This continues until a player is unable to continue. If your wits fail, you lose.” There are hidden rules, of course. Become distracted and unable to answer and you lose all the same. Focus is key. The Rag Girl is surprised the heroine doesn't know the rules. The tale of it's origin is quite well known, beloved even.

Her brows furrow as she considers the matter. “I do not understand. I will not accept like this.” At first, The Rag Girl fears she will refuse. But the heroine does not falter. “Can you explain further? Give an example, perhaps?'

“Certainly, gallant hero. But I shall grant no more favors.”

“Not until I win,” she dares.

The Rag Girl ignores her. “'I am the boar. Untamed, mighty.' Then, what defeats the boar? What trumps it's strength? 'I am the hunter. Champion of the wilds, beyond might's reach.' And then? 'I am the bandit. Above rule, stealing within cruel reach.' Understand?”

The heroine nods. “I do. You will lose this day, Rag Girl.”

“We shall see. As is custom for the game, the challenged should go first. Take the time to collect yourself.”

“There is no time,” she growls, “and it is a sad day indeed when I need a witch's kind gestures.” She laughs. “So much for no more favors. Now, we begin! 'I am the heroine. Skillful, pure-hearted, destroyer of evil'.”

Is she arrogant or is this a trick? Three verse. So the last part of the game reveals itself. The heart of the players can be found in their answers. And so too can one find their weakness. The Rag Girl answers.

> You know what to do.

>>775924
I am tragedy. A sad ending, death of the hero.

I am Arrogance. Poison of ego, Heroine's Downfall.

Too bad, Rag Girl doesn't have illusion magic to illustrate the game.

>>775926

“I am tragedy. A sad ending, death of the hero.”

The warrior's eyes alight. “Ahah! That means I win!”

The Rag Girl shakes her head. “No. You didn't answer. That means I win.”

The foreigner looks incredulous. “Excuse me? You clearly failed to trump my verse. None of the heroine's qualities are defeated by tragedy. She dies, but her skill, pure heart and deeds are immune to tragedy. If anything, they are made all the greater! Clearly I am the victor. And you're a coward to boot! I challenge you to 3 verses and you shy away? Prepare yourself for servitude, Rag Girl. Fear not, I am a kindly lady.”

“No!” Rag Girl decries. “It's you who broke the rules. Even in my examples there were two verses and it was you who didn't answer to my tragedy. The heroine is certainly slain.”

The warrior glares at her. “This isn't how your example seemed at all. You clearly checked skill for skill.”

“I was being thorough.”

“You were misleading!” The woman's face has taken on an aggravated flush to match her wild hair. “I refuse to call this your victory.”

The Rag Girl thinks. While she's been able to trick the woman into a number of things, she still needs her to go along with her. She has to defeat her, resoundingly. “Then we'll do it once more. Pay attention. Defeat the subject, two verses. No faltering. No repeats.”

“Well what's the point of the two verses if they don't do anything?” the woman asks. The Rag Girl stares at her quietly. Her silence somehow manages to come off as condescending. “Fine! But I wish to add rules as well. First to two victories is champion. Is it agreed?” The warrior's demands do not seem unfair. The Rag Girl nods. “Once more then. And no more trickery!”

“It is a game of trickery.”

The woman groans, frustrated, frantic even. “No matter! Know that I will thrash you soundly. What was the last one? We must continue, quickly!”

The Rag Girl goes a different route.

>>775928

“I am Arrogance. Poison of ego, Heroine's Downfall.”

“Then I am Piety. Peace of soul, humbler of mortals.”

>

>>775934
I am disbelief, troubling of mind and breeder of overconfidence

>>775935

The warrior has a riposte. "I am miracle. Destroyer of atheism, divine salvation to the pious."

I am sceptic. Miracle doubting, proof requiring.

>>775936
I am cynicism, poison to hope and shatterer of faith.

>>775938

"I am thelogian. Educated, bearing answers." She still seems confident, though her eyes look over her shoulder.

The Rag Girl definitely needs help. She doesn't know what that word is.

>>

>>775941
I am philosopher. Inquisitive, bringing the unanswerable.

I am murder. Man killing, ender of life.

>>775942

"I a m t h e barbarian," she says, slowly, uncertain. "Blind to reason, enraged by reason." The warrior looks troubled.

>>

>>775946
I am missionary. Diplomatic, and bearing hope.

I like how we've turned things around so that she's started naming villains. We should try to keep on that.

>>775948

"I am... ahh." Her face briefly shows panic. "Hold on, I can do this."

The Rag Girl shakes her head. She holds up two hands, pointing one at herself and the other at her opponent. Her hand raises a finger. The red-haired foreigner fumes. "Once more!" she demands. "What is even a proper answer to that one?"

"Religious persecution. Or language barrier. That's a wierd one."

"Don't be so smug," the warrior growls. "My turn. I am Justice. Defender of the weak, shield of law." The Rag Girl almost blurts out that there's no such thing, but thinks better of it.

>> 1-0. Last round?

>>775951
I am Corruption. Justice perverting, Innocent harming

>>775952

"I am Inquisition. Purifier, obliterating corruption." She's back in her element. The heroine awaits the Rag Girl's counter.

Let's try to turn this around again.

I am martyr. Persecuted, unwavering

>>775955

Something begins to nag at The Rag Girl. There is something wrong. The silence of the wilds has been broken. It is a familiar sound. Yells, shouts, far and away but getting closer.

"I am Fear," the rider says, her voice holding a curious distance. "Unmaker of deeds, mother of doubt." Her eye's do their worried dance once more. Something approaches from Shanasburg.

>>

>>775956
I am Bravery. Fear defying, hero making.
Maybe suggest finishing the game on horseback.

I am the heroine. Pure-hearted, foolishly headstrong

>>775959

To speak more than the subject and verses is to invite loss. She's not willing to make that decision just yet, is she? instead, as The Rag Girl takes her turn, she gestures to the horse.

"I am Indecision," the warrior says, her voice lifting at end. "The devil of choice, bane of action." She follows The Rag Girl's lead and gestures towards the line of pebbles in the road. Her unspoken question hangs as her eyes burn with competitive spirit.

>>

>>775956
I am the Monster in the Cave, fear-wielding, city-despoiling.

(Seems like an obvious weak point, but she already played the hero. No repeats!)

>>775963
I am Leader. Maker of Decisions, Decider of Fates.

>>775963
Make an appropriately arcane gesture towards the pebbles.

>>775966

Oh, she scowls at that one.

>>775967

But she does relent. The warrior stands and moves towards the horse. "I am Rebellion. Leader's,” she says, spitting venom, “curse, tyranny's fall.” The woman gestures to the horse in a 'after you' gesture. In spite of her words and demeanor, The Rag Girl notes a hint of a smile on her face.

>>

>>775968
I am Loyalty. Resisting rebellion, King's Coin.

>>775968
Get on the horse.

>>775973
Uh, to clarify I ment in a way that lets her guide the horse.

>>775974
And by her I ment the Heroine

>>775972
>>775973

The Rag girl tries to step into the saddle but it is far beyond her ability to do so. Realizing the height problem, the warrior gives the girl a boost. A moment passes and then the heroine joins her, sharing the saddle in the lead. The hoots and hollers of closing villains urges haste.

"I am Distrust. Enemy of loyalty, seedling of betrayal." The warrior urges the horse on with a kick of her heels. She grasps the reigns and takes a cautious look back. The Rag Girl joins her. Nothing over the hill behind them.

They leave the line of stones, and the place of a curious meeting, behind. The game continues.

>>

>>775979
I am Honesty. Clarifying circumstances, Banishing distrust.

Very nice session. That was a ton of fun. Thanks everybody, but I think I'll step away for now. You guys were awesome. I am super excited for this scene. Can't wait to wake up tomorrow and work on it some more.

>>775992
Is it just me or are Spooky and Heroine having a genuine bonding moment/conversation via the oldest game near the end there? Cause that's kinda awesome.

>>775996

Indeed, it seems there is more taking place than their game. No, that's wrong, The Rag Girl realizes. Rather, the game is doing what it's supposed to do. She's having fun. And it appears her opponent is as well. In spite of their situation and their strained first impressions, there is a playfulness in their exchange.

Everything is going well, so long as you discounted the unknown assailants at their backs. The road to Blacksbury is open and The Rag Girl might even have an ally. Something strange has happened to her. How suddenly her life has changed. The gloom of Bruneswilde seems lessened, banished by the rays of the fading sun. The Rag Girl has hope. But she cannot afford to be distracted. The game is afoot.

>>775980

The warrior laughs in response. “I am the Witch! The great trickster... singing sweet lies.” She makes sure to look back and give The Rag Girl a meaningful look. It seems this is still her weak spot, yet her answer came easily. Perhaps she delayed for another reason?

> a. Change tactics. Let her play to her strengths, forcing the game into a relaxed pace.
> b. Go for the kill. Continue to push for victory, strike for strike.
> c. Throw away the round. Even the score.
> d. Write in

> If b, continue to play the game. Choices contest. B is favored in case of a tie.

>>776189
A. Looks like she's going to take us with her, whether we win or lose. Let's have fun with it.

>>776189
I am inquisitor, immolator of witches and blind to deciet

I vote A, just to hurry things along a bit. Can't play the Game forever, it gets old.

>>776195
>>776215

The Rag Girl decides to dial it back, letting the warrior play in her element. The subject is shifted back towards good versus evil, with the witch playing the role of villain. A minute passes like this and The Rag Girl adjusts the flow of the game once more, the two playing against each other on neutral terms on things like work and emotion. The heroine seems very straightforward. Either she doesn't consider changing the flow to her favor or she chooses not to. But when an opportunity presents itself, she shifts it back to the matter at hand, the foes at their back. At first, The Rag Girl is caught off guard, even speaking outside of the game. Yet the heroine does not call out her misplay and the game continues. It seems she is determined to win through fair play, though The Rag Girl hesitates to test how far she can push her. After all, she doesn't want to lose. The score is still 1 to 0.

The two near Blacksbury Woods. It has been a long time since The Rag Girl has dared this. The road travels through the forest. Someone must maintain the road, else the traders and slavers would never be able to make the journey. The road takes the easiest path through the winding hills. What other road could a wagon take?

The Rag Girl's most recent strike was 'a wedding', countering rivalry. That earned a strange look from the warrior. The Rag Girl's not sure why. If families have bad blood, a wedding fixes it, right? The game has gone on a while and, unable to repeat themselves, the two have gone down strange paths. More than once, there's been a pause for laughter and the two have been good enough sports to not hold it against the other. One such string of subjects was mystery – clue – red herring – fishing rod.

Something appears out of place in this curious picture. At the entrance of the woods stand a pair of armed women. A wall of spears stands between them, mounted on a wheeled body. It seems that real highwaymen have appeared, turning the road into a turnpike. The cruel device takes up almost the entirety of the road, leaving scant space on it's sides. The heroine groans. “I am Misfortune. Enemy of joyous events, hope's betrayal.” She slows the horse and considers how to proceed. What toll will these ladies demand? Can they pass through peacefully? Or quickly? The braying of their stalkers is incessant. The Rag Girl thinks her advice may be heeded.

> a. Try to pass through the turnpike peacefully.
> b. Take a detour.
> c. Charge through.
> d. Dismount and clear the barrier, by force.
> e. Suggest the game be put on hold (While sensible, The Rag Girl does not want to do this)
> f. Write in

> If The Rag Girl can suggest an action and continue the game with a relevant subject, she may find herself favored in the future.

>>776219
Difficult choice... Optimally we want the highwaymen to hinder the enemy behind us... maybe we can even team up with them.

"I am an alliance. Enemy of my enemy, misfortunes cancel out."

...wait how did the legionnaires get past? Surely they would have fought. Are we sure these are highwaymen?

A. Call out a challenge, formatted so it's technically a continuation of the game. "I am the heroine's herald, bandit-slayer, light in dark times! Stand aside!"

>>776342

Actually, the Rag Girl isn't sure. It seemed a reasonable answer. Both women wield spears and have a mishmash of armor, leathers and iron. Nothing unusual there. They certainly don't seem to be troubled or injured. It's unlikely they exchanged blows with the legionnaires. It's been some time since The Rag Girl's been this way, so she's unfamiliar with the specifics of the area. She decides that it's worth giving them a chance. “I am an alliance. Enemy of my enemy, misfortunes cancel out.”

The warrior seems satisfied with that and encourages the horse to speed once more, though it is a far more leisurely pace than before. The two women at their makeshift gate are wary, yet they do not ready their spears. They don't seem hostile, merely cautious. “Easy stranger,” the left one calls. “Sun goin' down, best hurry on. Gate's closin' up soon. Just gotta pay the toll first.” Now that they're closer, The Rag Girl notes that they wear sheathed swords at their hips. That is unusual. Swords are not common. They're almost always a sign of wealth and power. It's a difficult thing for an ordinary person to get their hands on such an item. There's only one exception.

A figure joins the two highwaymen(?) from their backs, emerging from the shadows of the forest. This entity is quite different from the others, an iron-clad soldier armored from head to toe. They make the legionnaires look fragile by comparison. The newcomer removes their helmet, a wicked looking thing with the horns of a beast, revealing a raven haired beauty marred by a cruel scar on the left side of her face. A black eye patch covers part of the wound. “Good evening, ladies.” Her voice is smooth, confident, elegant, out of place in a Brunewilde girl. She rests a great sword across her shoulder, a monster of a weapon. The swords, the armor, their proximity to Blacksbury, it all says one thing. These are servants of The Iron Maiden.

The red haired foreigner looks troubled for a moment but decides on a course of action. “I am the coin. Changing allegiance, purchasing sanctuary.”

“Wots that?” Left guard asks. She looks to her partner for help but the right one just gives a lazy shrug. “Alley gee ants? You tryin' to bribe us? Lady, do you know what a toll is?”

The armored one steps in. She gauges The Rag Girl and her companion with a curious look. “Passage is normally a lion per traveler.” The Rag Girl doesn't have any kind of coinage, but the warrior relaxes as soon as she hears it. “However,” the woman continues, “I think we should ask for special compensation under the circumstances.” The armored one gives a nod of her head, looking past them to the hills.

The Rag Girl looks back. The silhouettes of five riders approach from behind them, still some distance away but closing at a worrying rate. “RED HAIRED GIIIIIIIIIRL!” Comes a crazed yell in a sing song voice. “IIIII SEEEEE YOUUUUUUU!” Once more the mob erupts into a frenzy of manic laughter and wild yells.

“Dumb. Shanasburg. Bitches.” The left guard says each word pointedly, incredulous. “Whose territory do they think this is?” The right guard grunts something sounding like assent.

The well spoken warrior continues. “10 lions and we make your problem go away.” Lefty whistles in appreciation, whispering a cheerful 'hot dang' that manages zero subtlety. It's a scandalous amount of money and the tenseness The Rag Girl feels in her partner suggest that it's out of what she is comfortable paying. “Or,” the armored one suggests, smiling mischievously, “you can pay in another fashion. I let you go now, no charge. And I teach you a little something about Bruneswilde, pretty foreigner.” Her tone is one The Rag Girl is unfamiliar with and she has difficulty placing it's intent. The woman's voice is sweet, yet deep with a hint of playfulness. Regardless of the woman's curious behavior, there's one thing The Rag Girl's sure of. This is a trap.

Her red haired companion seems ready to respond but stops to look back at The Rag Girl. She wears a complex expression, agitation, but more than that concern for her. Still, she does not speak out of turn.

> a. Haggle (Forfeitting the round of the game, short of some kind of unexpected write in)
> b. Take your turn and have the foreigner deal with it
> c. Encourage the foreigner to accept the alternative payment
> d. Encourage the foreigner to pay the outrageous price
> e. Write in

Seriously, if you guys figure out how to haggle while playing the game, I'll be impressed. 'Cause that does not sound possible. This might just be a good time to call it a draw, although it would ruin my plans. One last thing. The woman's tone was 'sultry'. It was weird working around The Rag Girl's experiences there.

A lion couple, allied to each other, slaughtering others indiscriminately.

>>776499
How does that counter Coin?

I'd rather kill both the marauders and the highwaymen with the monster. Rag Girl, don't let these servants of the Dark Lord despoil the heroine! Time to drop the game and whisper your intentions to her.

Heh, we could almost just say "I am Death. Rich and poor, all shall die when my monster comes."

>>776504

Things are getting bad. Enemies at their back and more before them. Lots of people, bad people, not like Rita. The Rag Girl knows what Brunewilde's like. This isn't a place for silly games. These people, these bad, terrible people. Maybe it's time to make them all go away. Forever.

But The Rag Girl knows that the monster always takes. The Rag Girl kind of likes this funny person she's with, this stubborn heroine who won't back down, even over silly games. As soon as they hit the road, it stopped being about the prize and started being about just victory. In a way, it's the right way to look at things. Winning really is all that matters, isn't it? But she's so soft. The Rag Girl thinks she might be a good person. Maybe foreigners are good people? But the red haired girl just doesn't understand that sometimes you have to be tricky, to lie, to be cruel.

She's scared. The Rag Girl doesn't want it to end. She wants to keep playing games and thinking that things are going to be okay. She doesn't want to bring back the bad times. She doesn't want to hurt. But she remembers her promise to Alicia. No matter what, she's going to protect her, even if she has to be a bad girl.

> Summon the monster? (The Rag Girl really does not want to do this)

> Note that summoning the monster causes considerable physical and emotional trauma for The Rag Girl. As such, it will always be the last resort. Alternatives will always be favored. Should the action receive sufficient support, it will be the chosen option. In this instance, a 2nd vote will suffice. Barring this or alternative posts, the quest will continue will a haggle update in approximately 17 hours.

>>776504
Not literally countering coins, countering the buying of alliance with familial bonds. Some things can't be bought, and this line would double as haggling since they're also the name of the coin.

I am three lions, hostile to outsiders, pride's loyalty.

No. No, not yet. Now isn't the time for that great beast. Maybe never again. Wouldn't that be nice? But The Rag Girl is no fool. Someday it shall bear it's terrible fangs once more. She dreads that day. And knowing that Blacksbury looms in the distance, perhaps it is a moment that creeps ever closer. She will conserve her strength, for now.

>>776693

“I am three lions. Hostile to outsiders, pride's loyalty.” The heroine turns to give her a look. Did she err? What were the rules they established?

>>775934
> Defeat the subject.

The Rag Girl can't quite remember... well, that's a lie. Her companion is difficult to read. The challenge of juggling their game and the search for an answer to their bandit problem looks to have been pretty stressful for her. The Rag Girl can appreciate that. She was considering some dire measures herself. Reluctantly, The Rag Girl raises her hands, a finger on each.

The great sword wielder laughs. “What on earth are you two doing? You do understand the situation, don't you?”

“I don't lose,” the red haired girl says, smugly. “Since I won, that means I chose when we start again, right?”

Well, that was how they did it last time. But The Rag Girl's attention is elsewhere. She's not about to lose the round for nothing. “Three lions for safe passage?”

The armored foe shakes her head. “What's the matter, no more games?” She strikes a pose, hands on her hips, standing proud. “I am the Gatekeeper! It goes like that, right? It's been a while.”

Left guard seems concerned. “Uh, Rada? Don't tell me you're on this now, eh?”

“Are you worried?” The one eyed enemy gestures to the hills. “About them? Those are just little girls playing at bandit. You should know that.” She looks at The Rag Girl. “Maybe not so harmless to you two, though. We've got numbers, weapons, reputation. Handy tools for intimidation. 3 lions seems a meager cost for such treasures. But you're funny girls. I like that. 8 lions for protection. I'll even guide you to Blacksbury myself.”

“8 lions...” the red haired foreigner says. She seems more on board with the cost, but The Rag Girl knows that it's still a sizable amount of coin.

“How much do you have?” The Rag Girl whispers.

“How much do you have?!” she returns, more loudly than she should. The armored foe chuckles.

“I don't have any money.”

This earns her a groan from her companion. “Fine. I have 15 lions.” That's a lot of money. Three lions could get her lodgings for a day, three meals and a hot bath. She did it once in Shanasburg when she'd stolen enough for it. It was one of the happiest days of her life, though she regretted it. The hunger came back and she found her pockets empty. “I can spare the expense,” the red haired girl says. She's not pleased. The Rag Girl knows she certainly wouldn't be.

She's forced to consider just what her relationship with this person is. The Rag Girl feels she has a decent understanding of the kind of person she is, but she doesn't know anything else. What happens when they get to Blacksbury?

> a. Agree to the deal
> b. Try for a lower cost (The Rag Girl will need help with this)
> c. Offer to fend the bandits off together (The Rag Girl does not want to do this)
> d. Write in

A. I can't think of any way to talk them down.

Gold is precious to the toll-takers, is it?

If you pay them in something precious to them, can you curse them? Make them regret charging the price? Make it ultimately a loss, rather than a profit?

That or you put on the spooky witch act again, and try to intimidate the guards. Charging foreigners is one thing, but witches? They're not the only ones with powerful tools for intimidation.

>Maybe foreigners are good people?
Well, they've been spared the Brunewilde.

>Her tone is one The Rag Girl is unfamiliar with and she has difficulty placing it's intent. The woman's voice is sweet, yet deep with a hint of playfulness.
It's not a nice thing. It's a cruel thing bad people do to heroes. They hate nice things, so they want to possess them, and to harm them.

Just read this through from the beginning, and I gotta say it's great. I love that our first action with the scary monster / witch girl was to try and join the army, and that we recruited a seeming ally by bullying her into playing the oldest game.

They're Brunwilde, maybe they'll give a discount for a fellow Brunwilde witch?

>>777518

”You should let us pass,” The Rag Girl quietly says. She tries her best to be scary instead of scared.

She's caught the armored one's attention. “What was that?” The Rag Girl almost answers and then gets an idea. She thinks quietly. The great sword guard steps closer, eyeing The Rag Girl closely. “You said something, little one?”

>>777516

“Who taxes the Brunewilde witch?”

“The Iron Maiden does. My master.” The guard, Rada, bears a predatory grin. “But I see no witch here.” The Rag Girl regards her, unflinching. Once more, she's thankful for her obscuring hood. “Do you really mean to tell me that you're a witch, little one?” The Rag Girl notices that the other two guards step back, righty looking positively panicked at the mention of witch. But the armored one seems fearless. “10 lions.”

The Rag Girl's worried. But she'll do her best. “1 lion,” is her counteroffer.

Rada roars with laughter. “Unbelievable! The audacity of this one! Okay. Fine. New deal. You prove you're a witch and I let you go through for that 1 lion. But I think you're a liar, little girl. Bad things happen to little girls who lie about witches.” Her fingers tap against the handle of her blade, drilling into with it dreadful intent.

“Bad things happen to people who threaten witches, too.”

The great sword bears threateningly close. Even the horse seems anxious, giving an agitated whiny as it steps back. “Little girl.”

“I am The Rag Girl.”

“Little girl,” she insists, irritated. Gone is her cheer, her sweetness. Now there is only menace. “I am going to show you what a mistake you have made. You are going to stay here. And you are going to watch what I do to these foolish girls. You will beg for my forgiveness. And I will ignore you.” Rada regards the foreigner. “As for you, well... Stay a while. I'll decide what to do with you soon enough.”

The red haired girl glowers. “I think you have the wrong idea about me.” Her hand nears her sheathed blade.

“So many feisty girls!” Rada shouts. “It is a good day!” She steps past them, placing herself in the path of their pursuers.

But The Rag Girl isn't done with her. She has an idea. Cursing something and then giving it away? The Rag Girl's never done that before, but it is an interesting idea. She's always done it in reverse, taking something and cursing it. She's willing to give it a try. “Give me a coin,” she demands. The red haired girl does so, though she gives her an inquiring look as she does. A curse, a curse that will surely spell terrible misfortune, that's what she wishes for. Let the one who challenges her face a most cruel reality. The Rag Girl puts all of these wishes into this little thing. “Help me down.”

Her companion dismounts and gives the witch a cross look. “Rag Girl, I am no servant.”

“Please?” Now it is her turn to be sweet.

The foreigner looks troubled. She offers a helping hand. “Don't pretend to be cute when it pleases you. It's strange.” But she smiles all the same.

The Rag Girl takes a step towards their intimidating foe. “Warrior,” she calls. Rada turns to face them. The Rag Girl offers the coin. “This is my magic. Take your payment now. You deserve it.”

“Ominous!” Rada confidently takes the coin. “A good luck charm?”

“Something like that.”

The brazen warrior in unphased. “I don't know what game you're playing now but know that you won't shake me, little girl. In the end it's about power, raw power! That's what really matters in this world!”

> Next update, the bandits arrive

> a. Make introductions with the foreigner
> b. Talk with the foreigner and come up with a backup plan
> c. Talk with Rada and gauge her strength
> d. Gather information from the guards
> e. Be extra spooky
> f. Write in

Thank you for the kind words 3abd. It's been a lot of fun. I should also thank you folks as well. I can't update without you guys and the best moments have been most certainly been crafted from cool suggestions. Really, thanks a lot. I can't wait to work on this some more.

B. Better stay on the same page. Does she think she can take this Rada lady?

B, if you can do so without being overheard, or drawing overmuch attention from the others. (Assuming Ruda's luck falters before the pursuers, the other guards will either aid her or flee. The first is better for us, since the the two of you can move on while everyone else is occupied. The second less so, as we've then traded one problem for another).

A will have to wait till after, if the two of you get through this.

I'd say E for the guards' and pursuer's benefit, when they get here. A witch's power is in fear and believe.

It's a pity a blessing couldn't be conveyed by giving something abstract, like the game the two of you enjoyed.

Possible backup plan: bless the coin instead and give it back to the foreigner.

>>777551

The Rag Girl tugs at her companions arm and gives a beckoning gesture. The foreigner obliges, drawing close, and the two whisper amongst themselves. “Do you think you can beat her?” The Rag Girl asks.

“She looks tough. Experienced. But I don't lose. The problem is her friends. If you can distract them, I think we've got a good chance of winning an exchange with these guys. Think you can handle the two goons, Rag Girl?” The witch doesn't think she can beat them, not unless she does something drastic. But she might be able to keep them busy. Maybe. Her thoughts are interrupted. “What did you do?”

>>777559

“Something terrible,” the witch says, darkly. Her comrade shivers as her mind conjures some awful fate. The Rag Girl hopes that it works. She's never done a curse like this. But there's some feeling about this that gives her hope. “What if the bandits win?”

“I don't think it will come to that. These Iron Maiden girls have a nasty reputation.”

That catches The Rag Girl by surprise. “You know about them?”

The red haired girl nods. “Don't be so shocked. I knew about you, didn't I? I know all kinds of things about your country.”

“But still,” The Rag Girl continues. “It definitely seemed like the guard intended something wicked.” The foreigner doesn't have an answer to that. The Rag Girl tries her best to forget the threats aimed at her.

A notion nags at the witch. Maybe what they need here is just a little more assurance. A blessing for the foreigner. But what can she sacrifice? There is the game... That's an interesting thought. If she forfeited, would that count? It would mean they wouldn't play anymore, and worse, she'd be this lady's servant. She'd be sacrificing not just her fun but her freedom. The Rag Girl's not sure if she's ready for that. But it is an idea worth considering.

>>777561

She'll try something else first. “Give me a lion.”

“Another one? Really?” the haired girl complains. “I'm not made of gold, Rag Girl. More magic? Is this one going to disappear?”

“Please?”

“You can't just say please and get whatever you want!” she hisses, reaching for her pouch in spite of her words.

The Rag Girl looks at the coin carefully. This one doesn't actually have a lion on it. When she was little, she asked her Mama about that. She said that a long time ago, during the reign of the third dark lord, when all the land was hers, all coins had a lion on them. But now all the countries have different pictures so they can say the coin is theirs. This one has a crown. She thinks the old way is simpler. The Rag Girl overcomes the distraction and considers how to sacrifice it. Actually, maybe that would make the foreigner mad? She could just give it back, but since she didn't really own it is it really a valuable sacrifice? The Rag Girl tries it anyway. The bandits draw close now, the witch counts five of them total, and passes the item back just before they arrive. “Here.”

The red haired girl takes it with a confused look. “I thought you said this was going to do something terrible?”

The Rag Girl shakes her head. “This one's different. It'll make good things happen. Keep it. You'll need it.”

“Stop saying worryingly ominous things!”

Their talk dies as the villains appear. The band of screaming lunatics manage a measure of composure as they near, their cacophonous uproar dimming to a murmur of low chatter and sniggering. Rada offers no greetings to these women. She simply maintains her confident, domineering poise. One of the bandits trots forward. Her hair is wild, unkempt. Her face is painted in a crazed pattern of white and black and red. Her face bears an ugly sneer. A spear rests on her back, topped with a discolored metal point. “Lookie here girls. Red haired bitch found some friends! What's the matter, didn't want to play with us? Not good enough for ya!” she screams.

“Actually, you'll be talking to me.” Rada calmly interjects.

“Huh?” The bandit looks down at her with disgust, like someone who's just found a bug or stepped in dog crap. “You got something to say, bitch?”

“Language,” the armored one scolds.

The bandit cocks her head to the side in a taunting manner. “Biiii-tshh?” Her allies seem to find this hilarious, breaking into roars of laughter. “Bitchbitchbitchbitchbiiiiitshh?” The leader spits off rapid fire, her voice undulating crazily.

Rada sighs, exasperated. “It's because of girls like you that the world has gained such a low opinion of us.” She taps her boot impatiently. “You do have business, don't you?”

“Business? Business?” the bandit repeats, her head twisting this way and that. “Yeah. Yeah, I got business.” She points at the foreigner. “Give me the bitch, bitch,” the woman says, each word pointed and purposeful.

Rada can hardly believe her luck. A cute girl behind her and a fool with a loud mouth in front of her. She shouldn't be starting trouble, it's true. But she's confident that she can spin it in a positive way to her master. After all, it is their territory. Mary and her little band of idiots have just gotten out of hand lately. Now it's just a matter of how far she wants to take this. Rada is going to enjoy humbling this oafish creature.

> Please guide this warrior. Careful, she's willful.

> a. Start over. Offer greetings before Rada destroys her.
> b. Insult the bandit leader, provoking a fight.
> c. Start a fight by challenging the leader to a duel.
> d. Consider the opponent. (Rada doesn't think this is worth bothering with)
> e. Consider the cute foreigner.
> f. Write in

> The Rag Girl may still be offered suggestions during this time. Please note whom you are directing if it is not obvious.

Spooks will arrive next update.

Rada:

E. You have a moment, and it will look to the fools like you're considering giving into their demands, not other things.

Then A. If you're going to have to spin this, make it as easy as possible on yourself. Make this clearly the wild women's fault in the eyes of any witnesses, that you gave them a chance before being forced to bring down the hammer.

Plus the cute foreign hero can hardly complain you were anything less than her honorable savior, can she? And such actions demand repayment.

Rag girl:

>Think you can handle the two goons, Rag Girl?
If pressed hard enough, I can win any battle, though you will not love me for it.

A witch works in tricks and lies because the alternative is more terrible.

It would be better for us both if I distracted or intimidated them from interfering.

>abstract gifts
What about hope, or faith? Putting trust in another is precious, and a kind of sacrifice, as you make yourself vulnerable, and surrender a part of your own control and agency. Can you bring yourself to trust your new ally?

>>777597

Oh, but she is lovely, isn't she? Rada was smitten at first sight. Blazing red hair and sharp eyes hiding a playful, somewhat silly girl. And when challenged? Unflinching. Dangerous. Rada wants to woo her. She wants to seduce her. Thoughts of how to move forward flit through her mind. How does she discipline the child without making the foreigner hate her? Well, her masterful display of skill should suffice to intimidate the small one. Perhaps that's enough. Perhaps not. It's a tricky bit of business. No, it's better to be the villain now. She'll push hard enough to make the child offer apologies and then go a bit farther for good measure. The little rodent needs to be taught a lesson, after all. A witch, at her age? Cute. She can get away with a lot playing that little game. But that sort of thing will get her killed in Blacksbury. It's a shame, but Rada will have to find another opportunity to turn the foreigner's opinion.

The backwoods bullies pace like animals, eyeing her closely. They grow impatient. That's fine, Rada is ready to move on as well. She wants to get to the good part. She wants to show off, after all. But she should do her best to try to play the part of the host. “Excuse me,” she offers. “I believe that we have started this exchange all wrong. A misunderstanding, I'm sure.” And that's certainly correct. If these girls think they can behave like this in Iron Maiden territory, they are sorely mistaken.

Their leader, a miserable sod by the name of Mary, responds. “'Misunderstanding'?”

“Yes. Allow me to properly greet you as Rada Salko, warrior, favored of The Iron Maiden.”

“Yeah?” Mary looks bored, eyes wandering past her and to the woods beyond. “Never heard of ya.” She picks at her fingernails, digging dirt and grime out and flicking it away.

Rada's composure wavers for just a moment. “Ah, but I have heard of you, Mary of the Red Hands.”

“That's Bloody Mary, cunt.”

Rada takes a deep breath and smiles. “Bloody Mary. Right.” She tried. Gave it a fair shot. Could anyone really fault her for acting out now? “And yet you seem to be in perfect health.” She taps her great sword meaningfully against her shoulder. “Care to live up to your name?”

The two continue like this as their verbal exchange builds, threatening a violent conclusion.

>>777598

The Rag Girl's not sure about trust. She wants to. But it's been a long time. Turning that kind of thing into a blessing, though, that sounds tough. Blessings are about sacrifice. Giving something that she treasures to someone else and in so doing making good fortune. Sacrificing hope or faith, or love... it would probably do something really powerful. After all, it's the bad girls that are the strongest.

The Rag Girl takes advantage of the situation to continue her exchange with her partner. “If pressed hard enough, I can win any battle, though you will not love me for it.”

“Okay, great. What does that mean?” the foreigner whispers back.

“A witch works in tricks and lies because the alternative is more terrible.”

“See that? That is exactly what I am talking about!”

The Rag Girl ignores her complaints. “It would be better for us both if I distracted or intimidated them from interfering.” The Rag Girl remembers righty's reaction to her witch reveal. And if she's not mistaken, the witch recognizes some of the Shanasburg comers.

“We outnumber you, stupid bitch,” Mary taunts with a laugh.

Rada keeps her cool. “And we outclass you. Severely. In more ways than one, really. Now we can keep up this big bad girl posturing nonsense or we can wrap up this little matter. It is late, after all.”

“Give us the girl.”

The warrior stands resolute. “I don't believe I made that an option, did I?”

“Smug little shit! You wanna go?!” Mary raises her spear threateningly. Rada returns the gesture with a confident grin.

The Rag Girl raises her voice. “You can't have her.” The bandits hadn't noticed her. Now she'd let her reputation speak.

Mary's eyes open wide. “The Rag Girl.” The bandits murmur amongst themselves at the realization. Mary turns around and motions at one of her lackeys. “Shelly, you seen her before, right? Is this really-” she stops. The girl in question, Shelly, had till now been a perfect counterpart to her band of fellows. Loud, rowdy, screaming violent threats and howling in jubilant madness. But now she was still, quiet, her eyes wide and mouth agape. The Rag Girl knew that look. It was fear. The bandit's mouth moved without uttering a sound.

“No!” She suddenly shrieked. “No, no, no-” she cried, stumbling out of her mount and crashing into the ground. Her head darts up and in a moment the woman is scrambling away in a panic, daring glances back at the burlap hooded girl. “Monster! Monster!” She flees, screaming into the hills, leaving her horse and comrades behind.

An uneasy silence settles. All eyes turn to The Rag Girl.

> Rada

> a. Strike now and settle this quickly. It's dirty, but the foul mouthed woman deserves a thrashing.
> b. Disregard the child. Mary can't be allowed to damage the Iron Maiden's authority.
> c. Ignore Mary. The girl might be a problem.
> d. Be on guard. The situation deserves more consideration.
> e. Write in

> The Rag Girl is still available. Additionally, would each poster please roll a d10.

rolled 9 = 9

---

>>777772
a.

Rag Girl: something like "Don't call me that."

rolled 2 = 2

---

a.

rolled 9 = 9

---

>Rada
A. If you want to upstage this brat and reclaim control, you need to resort to violence, and there's an acceptable target you had to deal with already right in front of you.

>Rag Girl
When the fight breaks out, attempt to lead the foreigner past the remaining two guards. Intimidation check. "Fear is power. Will you remove yourself from my path, or do you wish to learn why they fear me?"

Rada takes advantage of the moment. In one movement she let's go of her greatsword and lunges forward to grab at her opponent. The horse makes it awkward, but she gets her hands on Mary's tunic. “Come down and join me, won't you?”

>>777778
> 2

The warrior rips back with both hands and her handhold tears away. She stumbles back and Mary stays firmly seated on her mount. The bandit shrieks. “You bitch! What are you doing?” At her side, there's a hole in her clothes the size of a cantaloupe. Rada drops the useless, torn fabric.

Unfortunate. But she'd get her next time. The moment still leaves her in a sour mood. She had a whole thing planned out and now she just looks like a fool. “Let's just cut to the chase, Mary. You don't belong here and you know it. I'm going to make you leave.”

The bandit pulls away and readies her spear. “Little grabby slut! You think I'm going to let you get away with that?”

Rada claims some distance herself and retrieves her greatsword. She hadn't intended on using it, but if this vile creature wants to escalate things, well, that's fine too. Maybe it was time to make an example. The bandit readies her charge.

>>777775

The Rag Girl watches the retreating Shelly. “I'm not...” she manages, sadly. Bad memories. But there's work to be done.

>>777783

She tugs at her ally's tabard. “We're going.” The red haired girl flashes a smile and nods, taking her horse and leading it behind. The two approach the remaining guards who only seem to notice them as they close. Their attention seems quite focused on the scene before them. The Rag Girl leads them towards the right guard as they move around the mobile spear wall. She notices that the device supported by wooden planks mashed into the ground behind it, likely providing strength against a cavalry charge. But it's of little matter. They have the guard's attention now.

The guard looks at The Rag Girl. The two have a long look at one another, neither saying a word. “Do you know?” The Rag Girl starts. She has the woman's complete attention now. “Do you know what fear is?” The guard swallows. The mask's stare is endless. “Do you want to know?”

> Rada's priorities.

> a. Practicality. The horse makes this awkward. Get a spear and take it out.
> b. Defense. Show her just how little her attacks mean to a real warrior.
> c. Power. Exterminate her.
> d. Reason. Get a spear and remove the rider without killing the horse.
> e. Ego. Make up for lost pride and do something crazy. There's more than one way to unhorse a rider.
> f. Write in

> Now's your chance, Rag Girl!
> You know what's going on. More d10s, if the poster desires.

I was going to be coy about it but I suppose I should explain. Due to the curse, Rada is taking the lowest of all rolls made available to her. I thought it would be pretty obvious but just in case here's some clarity.

rolled 8 = 8

---

Rada, E. You're pissed, now, and you're not losing face.

rolled 1 = 1

---

E. Tackle the horse.

>>777814
>>777822

Yes, that's what she'll do. A display of strength and skill. No sense in killing a perfectly good horse. More spoils for The Iron Maiden. Once more Rada abandons her greatsword, stabbing it into the earth, before squaring off against the charging foe with nothing more than her armored fists.

The Rag Girl's skin turns to goosebumps as the air fills with an unnatural, dreadful sense. Her head turns to watch the rider's charge and Rada's fearless defiance.

The bandit keeps her distance, wisely spacing her mount from her target, putting her enemy in perfect reach of her spear while safely protecting herself and her mount. A normal warrior would be at a terrible disadvantage. But Rada is no ordinary warrior. That fearsome energy in the air suddenly dissipates as she dashes forward and with a mighty strike-

> 1

Mary's spear crunches through the warrior's armor like it was made of paper. There is suddenly the sickening sound of rending metal as the deadly weapon driven forward by a hearty steed turns the warriors flesh to pulp. Rada refuses to realize her situation. But no matter what she might think, the fact is that her shoulder has been cleanly pierced, her bones shattered, no, pulverized.

I am a proud warrior! An elite! This woman is a joke! Hardly worth even a moment's notice! She is but an amateur, a child before my strength and skill! Those are her thoughts. But Rada's body is wracked by horrible agony, a terrible truth betraying her expectations.

The guards watch as their comrade is crushed by the bandit's blow. The Rag Girl will not miss her chance. “We must go,” she urges.

The heroine responds with a swift strike of her own, knocking the distracted guard's weapon free of her grasp. She follows this with a twist of her body and a fierce kick, knocking the foe aside. “Up,” she offers, granting the witch a boost to the horse. The Rag Girl gladly accepts the help. The red haired girl spares one last moment to drive away the recovering toll guard before gallantly leaping atop her mount. The heroine also kind of smashes The Rag Girl's hands when she does this, but since she's a tough girl she doesn't complain. Instead The Rag Girl wraps her hands around the foreigner's waist as the heroine spurs the horse into action, leaving the checkpoint behind.

Battered Rada hangs off of the spear like a gruesome banner. Mary slows her horse and laughs. “Where's your pretty words now, bitch? Look at you! You're pathetic!” The bandit wrinkles her nose. “And fat. Heavy bitch. Get off my spear.” She kicks at the proud warrior, once, twice, thrice, her wound making ugly squelching sounds with each blow. Finally her wound gives way and the wicked, glistening spearhead comes free. Rada falls to the ground.

Where is my strength? My skill? My power? Rada still considers the situation in total disbelief. The impossible has happened. How? But there is a thought that nags at her. Certainly it couldn't be. But perhaps? The child? No. A witch, that young? Was it possible? Rada shifts her gaze to her crippling wound as she growls through her pain. Gods, what agony! Even in her pride, she can't help raising her voice, some pitiful, embarrassing, weak noise escaping her mouth. She had to get up. She had to win.

Mary swelled with victorious pride, the disheveled mess. “Alright girls. No more dumb cunt Iron Maiden whatever in the way. Loot the place. These sluts always have the best stuff. Ashley, Kelly, that's your bit. Get your hands red,” she wicked says. “You too Wendy. When the guards are dead, go get Shelly and slap the stupid out of her.”

“What about you, Mary?” One of her flunkies asks.

“You retard. Did you forget what this was all for?” She kicks her mount into action. “I'm gonna get me a little red haired girl.”

A darkness comes for The Rag Girl. She knows it. They have a lead. But Bloody Mary is coming.

> Rada priorities

> a. Kill Mary.
> b. Protect her girls.
> c. Find the little witch and make her pay.
> d. Stay alive (Rada does not favor this)

> The Rag Girl

> e. Try to outrun Bloody Mary.
> f. Lose the horse and hide in the woods.
> g. Confront Bloody Mary.

>>777837
Hmm, I think we need to stop cursing Rada. With that injury, she probably won't be following us.

a.

Also, e. They maintained distance from the bandits before, they can do it again. (also if Rada manages to kill Mary it'll be fine.)

>>777837
Haha well now I almost feel bad. But you really shouldn't have tempted fate like this, Rada. Asking a witch to prove her powers? Very foolish!

B. Forget petty revenge. Salvage what you can of your honor.

>Rag Girl

E. Run

rolled 1 = 1

---

a.
e.

rolled 9 = 9

---

>>777839
>>777842
>maybe we should stop cursing her
That implies a curse is a nice, obedient thing. A dog that will come to heel at its mistress' call. Not a vicious beast that has been let off the chain.

Tactically, you're right though. The balance of power has shifted and it no longer serves our interests to nerf Rada.

(Unless the foreigner's possible blessing factors in? It's in her interest if Mary is held up).

>what do
Rada: A. Make the bitch suffer for your pain. If the little bitch really is a witch, she's beyond your reach. For now.

Rag girl: E. Fly, swift and true.

“So, little miss leader,” the red haired girl says. “What do you want in Blacksbury?”

“We are still being followed.”

“Already? They wrapped that up quickly. Are you certain?”

“Yes. One follows. Keep running.”

“How do you know that?”

“I just do,” The Rag Girl says.

The sun continued it's slow crawl past the horizon. The last lights of day began to die. “We should make Blacksbury before nightfall. Thank heavens. I would prefer not to charge through the woods in darkness. That sounds like a good way to get my horse hobbled.” The foreigner pats at the beast's neck. “Poor thing. I've been running you ragged. Just a bit more, a bit more.” She turns her attention back to the witch. “So, the pursuer. Iron Maiden or bandit? There's one more checkpoint to pass, the gate to the town, and I'd prefer to avoid an impossible explanation.”

>>777839
>>777842
>>777845
>>777848

Rada has murder on the mind. It's the idea that rings ever so clearly over her muddied consciousness, dulled by demanding pain. She gets her feet underneath herself, every movement rewarded with a new shock of that damnable sensation. How much does the body need the shoulder to move? But every tiny twitch registers a new blast of agony. The warrior works through the pain.

“Heeeeey,” a crony coos. “Scary lady ain't dead yeeeeeet.” The trio that remained share a sadistic laugh. “What happened, huh? Not big and tough now, huh? Just a little ball of hurt and blood, huh?” Rada would prefer not to be reminded of her current state. She'd like to offer a retort, but her brain's preoccupied by explosive bursts of hot agony. “Poor widdle gurl,” the cruel bandit taunts. “Do you got a widdle hurtie?” She readies her own spear and aims it at the warrior. “Don't worry, widdle guuurl. Momma's gonna make it alllll better.”

The foe leans back and then lunges forward with a stab, putting all of her weight behind the blow. Rada grabs at the shaft, ready to block the slow attack and -

> 1

The spear slams into her chest. Her body jerks back in response. Rada's legs threaten to crumple beneath her but she somehow manages to keep standing. The warrior looks at the offending weapon. It's in her grasp. Why didn't it stop? She's strong enough to stop a little thing like this. Isn't she? She's been stabbed again, hasn't she? Rada strengthens her grasp around the weapon. Why does her body betray her?

“What's that?” The bandit taunts. “Did you want my spear? Silly girl, why didn't you just say so?” Her tone is disgustingly chipper. “Here,” the woman shouts, yanking the weapon out of her grasp. “Take it!” Another stab, scraping harmlessly across her armored chest. The next is less so. “Take it, take it, TAKE IT!” The bandit leans in close as Rada watches her life bleed out of her, one gush at a time. “Can you believe that we were afraid of you? With your witch queen and your swords and your armor? But look at you. You're nothing.” She laughs. “Nothing. I always knew you were just a bunch of pathetic, preening, pretenders.”

Rada wheezes a painful breath. She's never been hurt like this before. It's bad. But she's tough. She can live. She can't die, not to this group of fools and cowards. All she has to do is not die. Too easy. Her head swims.

“Kelly!” a voice yells from a distance, another bandit, but to Rada it seems to come from some distance across the world. The left side of her face aches. “Quit playing with the corpse and help us out over here!” Rada's eyes wander to see one of her guards, the loud one with the drawl, fending off against a pair of marauders. She's doing alright. Good for her.

“There ya go,” Rada's tormentor says with cheer. “Everyone already counts you for dead, so why don't you go ahead and juuuust,” she removes her weapon with a twist and a yank. “Die.” Rada collapses, unfeeling, unthinking, as the cries of her comrade fill her fading thoughts.

> Is this the end of Rada and her pair of toll guards? Does the curse finish it's cruel work? No luck rolls this turn. Please decide the warrior's fate.

> Kill Rada
> Don't Kill Rada

> Rag Girl

> a. Tell the foreigner about their pursuer.
> b. Plan ahead for confronting the gate of Blacksbury.
> c. Tell the foreigner about the fight between Rada and Mary.
> d. Push the foreigner for other information she might know about the town.

3d2 does have right idea about the curse. I had a post written hours ago where Rada wasn't cursed. Then I saw the 1. But here's some more transparency on that. The intent was to have you guys control the severity of the curse, at least somewhat. Note curse turn 2 where I say 'if the poster desires'. No roll, no change to fate. Note also that these are modifiers, so even a roll of a 10 has a negative impact on her performance, albeit a small one. We've got a small poster pool so I'm going to work with this system as it is until I'm no longer happy with it.

This update seems like it could be a big deal. I'll give this some extra time, make sure the regulars get a chance to vote. I'll probably call it by 2200 board time if the normal ids aren't accounted for. Might whip up a disthread while I wait. Nice session today, 4 posts feels good. Thanks guys.

>>777853
Don't kill. B.

> Don't Kill Rada
What purpose is a painful lesson if the student cannot remember?

>“So, little miss leader,”
Tease. "So quick to concede, before the last round of the game is even played?"

>what do
A.
>So, the pursuer. Iron Maiden or bandit?
The foul mouthed bandit, Mary, with the bloody spear. Less a warrior than the Iron Maiden, but less bound by rules that might stay her hand or allow manipulation.

C
Fortune did not smile on the better warrior, whose arrogance might otherwise have been justified.

(No need to get into gritty detail, it'll just distance her further from you, and she already buys into your witchiness).

Don't kill.
D.

>>777860

"The foul mouthed bandit. Bloody Mary.”

The foreigner tsks. “That's ridiculous. Some people don't know when to quit. Still, better that than the alternative. I can't imagine finding a way in with scarface on our tail. That said, it's difficult to imagine that wild woman claiming a victory.”

“Fortune did not smile on her.”

“Because of your 'good luck' charm?” the heroine asks. The Rag Girl doesn't answer that.

>>777859
>>777915

The evil of Blacksbury looms ahead. There's work to be done. “How do we defeat the gate?”

“Defeat is a strong word, little witch. The plan is to go through peacefully. Unless the Iron Maiden is the most sinister of tyrants, that toll was the only one. We might just be able to ask for help and have the town guard take care of her. That is, if she even dares to chase us that far.”

“You think they would help us?” Clearly, the foreigner doesn't know this place.

“I think they would drive off Mary at the least. For almost a year now, The Iron Maiden's been building a power base in the region. She has zero tolerance for those that act against her law. Give her a few months and she'll likely move on Shanasburg.”

The Rag Girl has her doubts about this plan. Blacksbury is a bad place. “The Dark Lord won't help us.”

The foreigner jumps at the dreaded title. “Dark Lord? What are you talking about?”

“The Dark Lord. She is in Blacksbury.”

“Rag Girl, that is some witch business. I haven't heard anything about that. Unless...” she grows quiet. The heroine suddenly seems quite concerned. “Is that why?” She murmurs to herself, then shakes her head. “No, certainly not. The Iron Maiden is the closest thing to a Dark Lord level witch and she's not even recognized by the regional warlords. You're wrong, you have to be.” But her tone seems uncertain.

The Rag Girl knows. All the hunger, the pain, the sickness, the misery, it came with her. The Dark Lord. “They won't help us.”

Red Hair shakes her head. “I've never been here myself but I know what's coming. It will be fine. It's what happens when we're inside that's the problem. Bad stories about what happens in there. Press gangs, evil magics, forbidden gods. Nothing on the surface, but scratch too deep? No trader stays longer than they have to. Heavens forbid they run in to The Carnival.”

Something snaps. The Rag Girl breath catches. Her heart races. She can't think about it. She won't. Small hands grip at the foreigner's side with all the strength the little girl can muster. Don't think about The Carnival. Don't think about The Carnival. Don't think about The Carnival.

> Rag Girl

> a. Ask why Red Hair knows so much about Brunewilde
> b. Ask why Red Hair wants to go to Blacksbury
> c. The Carnival (The Rag Girl does not want to do this)
> d. Tell Red Hair about The Legionnaires
> e. Gather more information on The Iron Maiden

> Rada

> ______

Couldn't work the game in. It's still around though. Red Hair's got a plan. Dis thread is delayed due to arrrrrt.

>>778071
b. Why is the heroine heading into the den of evil, if not to fight the Dark Lord?

Also d. Might as well tell her why you wanted to tag along so badly. Maybe it's time to drop the mysterious act?

d.
I imagine from context that The Carnival is something like The Circus?

Rada: c.

>>778080
>>778083

“Does that mean you weren't going to fight The Dark Lord?”

The foreigner laughs. “I'm flattered. No, I did not intend to face The Dark Lord. I have some friends in the area and I wanted to make sure that nothing happened to them. Your country can be a terrible place, Rag Girl. I was worried. Really worried. I just had a terrible feeling about it. I was supposed to guide them but things went wrong. Time wasn't on our side. I'd hoped to run into them before Blacksbury but I don't see that happening. I just hope I can find them there. How about yourself? What drew you away from your hills?”

The Rag Girl decides to confide in her partner. “I met some people recently.” Her tone grows soft. “One of them was very kind.” She's kind of tired of being witchy. This might be her last chance to be weak before Blacksbury devours her. And she thinks that maybe she can trust this girl. “I was scared at first. There are so many bad people. But she was funny. Her eyes sparkled when she smiled. She gave me gifts too, lovely gifts.” The Rag Girl's stomach growls plaintively. She'd forgotten all about her gifts. And eating. “But she had to go. The lady said she would come back. But I knew better.”

“So you went to help her?” The heroine asks. The Rag Girl nods. “Sounds like we're after the same thing. Helping people.” She's quiet too. The foreigner shakes her head, sounding happy. “Really, a Brunewilde witch. Unbelievable. I never would've thought it when we first met. You were pretty scary. And you threatened to kill me!”

“Did I?”

“You did!”

The Rag Girl's tone is mischievous. “I don't remember anything like that. I'm just a spooky girl. That's what Rita said.”

“Rita?” The heroine turns and out of the corner of her eye the two lock gazes. She has a curious look. “Rag Girl. These people you met earlier... were they knights? Under a red and yellow banner?” The Rag Girl pauses, considering how to answer, but she's chosen the truth. The witch cautiously nods. Red Hair turns back to the road and once more shakes her head as she begins to laugh. “Unbelievable!” More and more her partner laughs. The Rag Girl grows slightly concerned. She has missed the joke. “I guess this is what they call fate!”

But the heroine's voice is soon joined by another. A familiar, hateful voice calls out to them. “Reeeed haiiiired giiiiiiirlll! REEEEED HAAAAIRED GIIIIIIRLLLL!”

The Rag Girl looks back. Their stalker is nowhere in sight. Mary's voice is still distant. There's no reason she should catch up to them with their lead. All they have to do is push on, on to the gate of Blacksbury.

As for Rada? Rada feels nothing, sees nothing, thinks nothing, is nothing. Black oblivion has swallowed her whole. How could she do anything? Why would she do anything? What is her purpose, her drive?

> Would a single poster roll a d6, please. 3+ avoids the encounter with Mary. Only the first roll will be accepted.

> Rag Girl

> a. Encourage Red Hair to finish the game. This could be their last chance.
> b. Build an emotional wall. Mistakes were made. Distance Rag Girl from the foreigner.
> c. Confide in the foreigner. Show her who Rag Girl is.
> d. Yell at Mary. She's loud and dumb and really mean and Rag Girl doesn't like her.

> Rada

> e. Pride
> f. Vengeance
> g. Duty
> h. Nothing

rolled 1 = 1

---

Save the game, Rag girl. So long as the last game is owed, it's like a promise, right? A spell or pattern unfinished. A rule of three. It has to be resolved before you part.

Ask the red haired hero about herself. What do I call you, heroine? ...how is it you know so much of this land? That you knew of me? I did not expect to be well known in whatever foreign place you come from.

Rada: e. Pride. You won't allow yourself to be broken or humiliated like this. You're better than the rabble that brought you low. It was a witch's trick, not a lack of power. You'll show them you're still strong.

>>778090
d.

Also, hmm, do we really need to evade Mary? The foreigner seems to be confident in her ability, maybe she can win the fight. If the gatekeepers won't help, she needs to win anyway. If the fight doesn't go well, the Rag Girl could just intervene. Better to do that before we reach the gate, anyway.

Also, e.

>>778103

“What do I call you?” The Rag Girl asks.

The heroine doesn't immediately answer. She seems troubled. “Well... How about you call me Justice?” A flush creeps into her cheeks. “Or is that too much?”

“That's-” The Rag Girl's not sure what to say to that.

Her silence is filled by shouts from behind. “COME ON BABY! QUIT PLAYING HARD TO GET!”

The witch does her best to ignore it. “That's not your real name.”

“Obviously,” she concedes. “I just think it might be for the best that my name stay hidden. For now.”

“OOOH, SUCH A LITTLE TEASE! RED HAIRED GIIIIRRRLL! JUST A LITTLE CLOOOOSERRRRR!”

That's a lie. Mary's still nowhere near them. What an annoying woman. The Rag Girl considers asking the foreigner about her name, but she knows. It's because the heroine doesn't trust her. Because she's a witch. But that's okay. The Rag Girl doesn't trust her either. That would be foolish. “Aren't you embarrassed asking someone to call you that?”

Red Hair's frustrated face answers that query. “Quiet you! It's just the first thing that came to mind, that's all!”

“Okay. 'Justice'.” The Rag Girl almost laughs. “You seem to know a lot about Brunewilde for an outsider. You even knew my name when we first met.”

The foreigner nods. “It's my job. I'm an advance guard for Enira.” The Rag Girl feels like she's heard that name before. “You could just call me a scout. It's my responsibility to keep my people informed and set the stage for further operations. Naturally, I obtain a fair bit of local knowledge myself. Your name came up in Shanasburg.” She offers a smile. “Not quite as bad as the rumors paint you.”

But she still doesn't trust The Rag Girl with her name. The foreigner has been in Brunewilde long enough to gain that wisdom. The Rag Girl doesn't mind at all, she lies to herself.

'I'VE BEEN CHASING YOUR TAIL ALL DAY! I KILLED A WOMAN TO GET TO YOU! AND NOW! I'M GONNA MAKE YOU MY BITCH!”

>>778140

“Shut up!” The Rag Girl yells. “Just shut up already! You horrible, evil creature! All you do is hurt and take! Because you're stupid and crazy and I hate you! I hate you!” The witch takes a breath. The mask is hot and stuffy. She's not good at this kind of direct stuff. But she doesn't care. “Just go and die! Die, you miserable, wicked-”

Something changes. “Did you hear that?” Justice asks. The Rag Girl didn't, but she felt it. An eerie sensation crawls up her spine. Something inside her is screaming 'danger'. But as The Rag Girl goes to listen, Bloody Mary starts another tirade. The witch ignores it as best she can. What was it that Justice heard?

The horse rears, whinnying an agitated complaint. It's all the Rag Girl can do to hold on. Justice does an admirable job of handling the beast. “Easy, easy!” But she is distracted. That pressure from earlier, that uneasy feeling grows ever greater. The foreigner's head whips side to side, looking for the source of their discomfort, the thing that so disturbs her horse, the eyes in the darkness that watch them.

Suddenly, a loud cry, a fearsome and inhuman sound, the shriek of some unknown beast. Then chaos. The Rag Girl is thrown into the air. She slams into the ground with a heavy thud. More noise, but the disoriented girl has problems picking details out. A crash, a thud, metal and something else. Above all else are the panicked cries of their horse. The Rag Girl hears her name, the foreigner's voice, but her senses are dulled. Why can't she see?

Then everything returns. Justice is on her feet, saber drawn, ready to battle some unknown assailant. Their horse is on the ground near the treeline, frantic, struggling to climb to it's feet. Something is in the woods. A being shrouded in darkness gazes upon them with a baleful glare. A tendril of black shadowstuff crawls along the horse's torso. Their mount shrieks and stomps at the earth in impotent struggle. And then it is sucked into the woods, both horse and blackness disappearing into the forest. The horse's screams fade away.

The two girls stand alone. Even Mary's taunts have grown silent. The Rag Girl doesn't know what that was. She doesn't know and she is very afraid. That should not have happened.

> a. Run to Blacksbury. It can't be too much farther.
> b. Just run. Anywhere but here. Anything but that.
> c. Hold. Do not show your fear. Maybe it's gone?
> d. Hide. From the darkness. Perhaps from Mary too.

Apologies for the delay. Rada's scene will be resolved after this one.

>>778937
If the Iron Maiden isn't the Dark Lord... what if you are? From the sound of things, people fear you more than the Iron Maiden. Maybe your mother knew, and protected you from that terrible truth by blaming the Iron Maiden instead. How long have the monsters been around? Before you were born, or... did they start showing up afterwards?
You can summon your monster on purpose(by taking off your mask and becoming it, I bet), but what if your anger can summon other monsters even if you don't mean to? Is that how the Dark Lord works? If this is true, maybe you can learn to control it, and stop it. Be the first Dark Lord to put an end to darkness.

Anyway, the monster's gone for now. It left with the horse, probably to eat it. Also I think it specifically chose not to kill you, because it GRABBED you. That's why you couldn't see.

Ask Justice if she can fight Mary and win. That should determine if you need to continue towards Blacksbury or stay and fight.

>But she still doesn't trust The Rag Girl with her name
To be fair, you haven't trusted her with your name either, "Rag Girl". You're all wearing titles and masks, of one kind or another.

>what do
C

Better to face something like that. To turn, and show it your back as you flee, is to invite disaster. Some things are too dangerous to run from. Make sure it's gone before you move on.

The Rag Girl stumbles about, shaken and uncertain after her fall. She kneels and picks up her little red bundle of Alicia, lost in the fall. She looks at it dully. Something came out of the dark, came for her.

Justice speaks, her voice lacking it's normal confidence. “What was that?” The Rag Girl doesn't answer. It was a monster. A monster came for them from Blacksbury Woods. The foreigner moves to her side and grasps her hand, demanding the witch's attention. “Rag Girl.” Her eyes are fierce, pure. “We have to go.”

>>778990

But she shakes her head. “No,” The Rag Girl quietly says. Nagging fears distract her.

“What are you saying?” The heroine looks at her as if she's gone mad. “What if that thing returns?”

>>778984

“It won't come back.” Her frightening thoughts demand her attention. A damning concern arise. What if she is the Dark Lord? The Mother of Monsters? What if she did it? What if it's her fault? “I won't let it come back.” She tries to say the words with determination, but her spirit fails her. “I won't let it.” She can't consider it, not now. Later. “Can you defeat Bloody Mary?”

The question seems to focus the foreigner. “If she had some friends, the bandit might stand a chance. Alone? I won't lose.” She breathes deeply and regards the path they've left behind. “So that's the plan? I beat Mary, you handle the... whatever that thing was?”

If The Rag Girl's fears are true, then perhaps she can somehow control the monster. “Yes. We take Mary's horse and go.” Justice nods and readies herself to combat her persistent stalker. But this leaves The Rag Girl to her own thoughts.

It all kind of makes a horrible kind of sense when she thinks about it. It's like a story. Long ago, the first Dark Lord reigned and brought wicked monsters to the world. But her reign was not eternal. At long last, she was struck down. But what happened to her evil soul? What kind god would let that evil rest? A lost and wrathful spirit, stalking Brunewilde, to be born again and again. All the wrong in the world, all the suffering and pain, it's the Dark Lord's fault. And if she was right, that meant that it was The Rag Girl's fault. She did it. She hurt the world. Hurt Mama.

Her breathing quickens. Hurt Mama. Ugly memories flash in her mind and she drowns them out with an interior barrage of denial. No, no, no, no, no! No! She can't, she won't, she mustn't!

A sense of dread washed over her. A horrible, sickening feeling. It was the sense of the monster. Terror gripped at her, but there was something else, a realization. It was her! Her emotions! That was the trigger! Just like when she summoned her own monster, it was her anger, her sorrow, that was the source. So she did what she always did. The Rag Girl calmed herself.

She thought of a little house surrounded by a golden field. She thought of a warm bed and a fluffy pile of love that barked and wagged it's tail. She thought of bedtime stories and fruit pies. She thought of Mama, smiling, gentle. It was a happy place. A safe place.

The Rag Girl opened her eyes to the cruel reality of Brunewilde. But it was okay. She decided that her fears were impossible. The Dark Lord didn't get hungry or cry. The Dark Lord didn't live in filth and fear. The Dark Lord couldn't be a little girl. So it was okay. The Rag Girl was calm. The ugly feeling was gone.

But something else was there. A small fire bobbed up and down, a torch carried aloft by it's charging bearer. The wild eyed maniac pulled back on her horses' reigns as her quarry was revealed. Bloody Mary. “Finally,” she said, voice low and malevolent. “So much work for one little slut.” The bandit frowns at The Rag Girl. “I don't have business with you, witch. Don't go thinking you can get in my way either. Red hair bitch is mine. Get gone.”

Justice strides forward with purpose, her naked blade reflecting the last rays of the dying sun. “You've said enough. Let's settle this.”

The Rag Girl steps away from the two of them. What does she do now?

> a. Curse Mary, but how?
> b. Curse the monster, somehow?
> c. Experiment. See if The Rag Girl can attract the shadow monster. (The Rag Girl does not want to do this)
> d. Just keep calm and let Justice handle it.
> e. Distract Mary
> f. Keep on the lookout for dangers. Warn Justice about anything unusual.
> g. Look for an opening and attack Mary with The Rag Girl's dagger (The Rag Girl does not want to do this)

>>779211
f. It's time to trust your companion... but you can still be useful, if something weird happens. Don't distract Justice about whatever Mary does, though. I doubt Mary has any tricks up her sleeve that would work on Justice.

D. If keeping calm is what keeps the monster away, it's important to do it.

>>779211
Rag Girl, worry not who you might have been before you were born. What matters is who you are now, and what choices you makes.

All dwelling on this line of thought can do is bring you sadness and suffering. You have enough problems to face without blaming yourself for everything wrong in the world.

> a. Curse Mary, but how?
If a person can be an object, you could do as Mary asked and "give" Justice to her, to do as she can. Using a person as a vector for a curse might have not-nice side effects, though, and giving away Justice might mean you wouldn't get her back as a friend or an ally afterwards, even if she easily took a cursed Mary to pieces. So I wouldn't recommend this.

"Giving" Mary something more abstract like the battle or confrontation wants without otherwise interfering might work? Playacting the role of referee or judge, rather than a biased party invested in a certain outcome.

> b. Curse the monster, somehow?
Can't think of a way to do that without calling it back (which we don't want to do, even if you can) and I'm not sure what precious thing we could use. What do real monsters even value? Are they capable of holing things dear?

> f. Keep on the lookout for dangers. Warn Justice about anything unusual.
Probably the smartest thing to do.

>>779217
>>779235
>>779318

The Rag Girl decides to stay out of this one.

“Oooh, I'm gonna bloody you up something good, girlie. Shooot, maybe too bloody? Too much?” Mary laughs. “Fine fate for a dumb bitch!” She urges her horse forward and lunges with her spear.

Justice bats the weapon aside and then ducks inside the bandit's reach. With a sharp yell, she strikes out, sending the bloody instrument flying. Mary looks at her empty hand, dumbfounded. She was disarmed in an instant. Justice gives her a hard look. “Did you think Shanasburg was luck?”

The bandit's face glows red by torchlight. “Did you see what I did to that warrior back there?!” She leaves her mount, exiting opposite of the heroine, and draws a short blade. “Lucky little bitch with your cheap shots!” The villain darts in front of the horse and strikes out with her torch. “I'm the big bitch, got it?” Justice ducks back as the horse shies away from the fire. “And you don't, FUCK,” Mary screams, swinging her blade.

Justice defends herself with a strike of her open hand against Mary's extended arm. She follows it up with a forceful kick, pushing her opponent back. Once more, the bandit's guard is opened, as is the distance between them. Mary recovers and moves forward, but this time she is intercepted. Justice delivers a cruel blow. Her saber slams into the villains shoulder, shredding flesh, severing bone. Mary drops her blade and howls in pain.

The villain struggles and flails against the saber, screaming, before she wrenches herself away. An arc of blood flies between them as Mary retreats. “You!” she screams, waving the torch in front of herself. Justice pursues her all the same.“You!”

“How many chances have I given you?” The heroine coldly says. “How much of my good grace have you ignored? How many times must I humble you?”

Mary answers with grunts and groans and squeals of pain. The bandit stumbles, falls. She crawls back on three limbs, her crippled right arm dangling loosely. “You bi-”

Justice smashes her boot into the vulgar woman's mouth. “I am so sick of that word.”

The battle was over in an instant. The Rag Girl's companion stood before their enemy, blade ready. Justice turns her head from her squealing foe to meet The Rag Girl's gaze. The foreigner seems to be looking for something. The Rag Girl realizes that she's hesitating.

She also realizes a disgusting sense of unease. The witch breathes deep. She's calm. She's okay. But the unease does not go away. The thing in the woods is close.

> a. Tell Justice to kill Mary.
> b. Leave her, but take her stuff. A short blade and torch make fine acquisitions. Fair turnabout for a bandit.
> c. Leave, angrily. Let monsters deal with monsters.
> d. Leave her, but just take her horse. Leaving her in the dark with a monster sounds cruel.
> e. Just go. Now. Something bad is coming.

>>779337
>d/e
"It's close. We should leave now. She's not important anymore."

If Justice questions not killing Mary, or taking more of her things to leave her more at it's mercy:

"It's not a good idea to feed monsters unless you have to. They're strong enough already."

Keep yourself between Justice and the uneasy feeling, if you can. A witch might turn back or control a monster. But a good person? (If she really is one). She won't have any defense.

>She's calm. She's okay. But the unease does not go away. The thing in the woods is close.
Maybe it's not you it's reacting to this time then. Maybe it's attracted by Justice's frustration, or Mary's?

"...be calm."

>>779342

“It's close. We should leave now,” The Rag Girl quietly urges. “She's not important anymore.”

Mary garbles something unintelligible through her ruined face. She looks dreadful, broken. The Rag Girl almost feels sorry for her. Maybe if she was still a good girl, she would. But The Rag Girl knows that the woman deserves it.

Justice swipes her blade in a harmless arc, scattering the blood it had drawn. “Very well,” she says, sheathing the weapon. “Quickly then.” Once more the two move to ride, this time on a foreign mount. If Mary's horse had any loyalty to it's previous owner, it certainly doesn't show it, welcoming the two new riders with passive acceptance. The beast's fur is dirty, sticky with some unknown grime. The Rag Girl liked the foreigner's horse more. She wonders if Justice will miss it.

The bandit groans loudly. “Fuh-in...” She can't speak. Her words turn into an anguished yell. She spits a glob of spittle and blood onto the road. Once more, Mary roars in frustration and selfish loss as she grabs at the broken teeth on the ground. “Biah! Biah!”

This is what a person looks like when they're broken. It's pitiful. Pathetic. The Rag Girl doesn't want to see this. And a wicked creature draws closer. She almost tells Mary to stay calm, that her cries might attract the beast, but realizes that that's a hopeless effort. No more. “Please go,” she begs.

Justice spurs the horse on, leaving the shattered woman behind. One last yell follows at their backs. So too do they leave behind that terrible feeling. The Rag Girl will not look back. She doesn't want to know what happens next.

“Is that it?” Justice asks. “No more pursuers?”

“No more,” she quietly says.

They stay silent a while. The atmosphere has changed between them. The Rag Girl doesn't trust her. Justice doesn't trust The Rag Girl. Their coordination was always a matter of coincidence and circumstance. Soon they would be at Blacksbury. And what then?

“We had history,” Justice says. “This was an end a long time coming. I am not ashamed.” The heroine says.

“Ashamed of what?” The Rag Girl asks.

The red haired girl shakes her head. “Nothing. It was nothing.”

> Last words before Blacksbury.

This is likely my last night session for a while. I'll be transitioning to a day schedule over the next week and then I'll spend at least month like that. Hopefully this is better for people. I'll do my best to get back to multiple updates per day.

>Last words before Blacksbury.
You could maybe restart the game ("I am regret"), but I'm not sure the mood is right for it.

>“This was an end a long time coming. I am not ashamed.”
"It's okay to have regrets; this is a cruel place. I know I have many."

>The atmosphere has changed between them. The Rag Girl doesn't trust her. Justice doesn't trust The Rag Girl.
You could attempt to change that. Offer a gesture of trust. Tell her your name, perhaps. That's a precious thing, and one you can't take back once offered. Gestures matter, and names have power.