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File: 300px-Ugly_Bastard.png (151 KB, 300x507)
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This is Ugly bastard isekai adventure. You're ugly bastard that gets transported into fantastic setting. You WILL harass it's occupants, especially women. Keep it relatively light hearted. We start with character creation.

>What is your name and country of origin?
>>
>>5468560
Ricardo Ferreira, AKA: Ricardão. Brazil.
>>
>>5468569
You are Ricardo Ferreira, but everybody call you Ricardão. You hail from the country of Brazil.

>What is your occupation?

>Plumber
>Professional NEET
>Middle-level manager
>>
>>5468606
Professional NEET, trying and failing to hack out a living re-selling OnlyFans feet pics.
>>
>>5468606
>Plumber

What have I stumbled upon this day?
>>
Rolled 1 (1d2)

>>5468637
>>5468656
1: We are a Professional NEET with a bootleg footpick sidegig
2: We are a plumber
>>
>>5468662
We are a professional NEET with failing sidegig in resold feet picks

>What is the method you will get isekai'd?

>Failed science experiment
>Magical portal
>Truck-kun
>>
>>5468667
>Truck-kun
He works tirelessly
>>
>>5468667
Truck-kun

Because Peterbilt and turns out Petersends too.
>>
>>5468677
>>5468671
Truck-kun will be our Charon in this river of Styx.

The last and most important question:

>What is our Ugly Bastard superpower?

>Brain Power: Ugly Bastard is intelligent and crafty. He has the ability to make complicated plans and make people act against their interests, usually through blackmail. Also has filled his brains with seemingly useless trivia that might be useul in fantasy world.

>Retard Strength: What it says in the tin. If he puts his back into it, the Ugly Bastard can lift a car or bend rebar. Also has inhuman stamina when it comes to various physical activities.

>Devilish Charisma: By some quirk, the Ugly Bastard has uncanny ability to make others trust him and even become his friends. Also has ability to intimidate those of weaker character.
>>
>>5468690
>Brain Power: Ugly Bastard is intelligent and crafty. He has the ability to make complicated plans and make people act against their interests, usually through blackmail. Also has filled his brains with seemingly useless trivia that might be useul in fantasy world.

This doesn't change the fact that our dear Ricardão is at heart a chauvinistic bastard.
>>
>>5468690
>Brain Power: Ugly Bastard is intelligent and crafty. He has the ability to make complicated plans and make people act against their interests, usually through blackmail. Also has filled his brains with seemingly useless trivia that might be useul in fantasy world.
>>
>>5468690
brain powah!
>>
>>5468694
>>5468700
>>5468783
You wake up with a jolt. Is it past noon already? The sun spot on the opposite wall confirms your suspicion. No matter. You don't have anything scheduled for today. Well, that is most days, but who's counting. At least you had a reason to stay up. You studied how to use these newfangled computer Artificial Intelligences to generate photorealistic feet pics to sell. Turns out all the quality stuff is paywalled and your 10 years old stolen macbook doesn't have the hardware neccessary to make them either. Buggers. And you're out of cash again.

Life ain't been easy after your previous little scam came to an end. You know how much it costs to arrange three fake funerals just to cover up your trails? It's not the service that costs, it's the bribes to make it official.

This new sidegig was supposed to be your ticket out from this meager existence. But reselling old pictures in OnlyFans wasn't as profitable as you thought, even after pivoting to feet pics. Every old pervert these days knows how to reverse image search. You should know, you are one. Never understood the allure of toes and such, but the market is there. If you only had a reliable source.

Well, you do have a source, but it is far from reliable. Tourists. With some luck you could sneak up to some art hoe from california with head in clouds and gold mine under her knees and paparazzi the shit out of her moneymakers. Mostly her feet, but never let a good bodyshot go to waste. You never know.

Spending afternoon on the beach chasing skirts with a camera sounds like as good way to spend an afternoon as any. Granted it was more fun when you were younger, more fit and only did it as a hobby.

You encounter few obstacles as you wade through foot traffic of Rio de Janeiro towards Ipanema, as any local would. You know to avoid the bad parts of the town, where it's safe to take shortcut and when to look away. Furhthermore, you're Ricardão, who would have something against a man with connections like you?

Upon reaching Ipanema you notice that the beach is almost as full as it was before all this Kungflu bullshit. Good. More people means more commotion and more potential targets. You stop to catch your breath and look around. Too old. Too brown. Obviously a man. Good grief. Where are all the pretty white girls?

After walking around for minutes and catching more than a few angry looks from your fellow beachgoers, who must be equally intimidated by your macho looks and selfie stick you keep suspiciously aloft like a flagpole, you see a perfect victim. Young. Stunning. Chatting with her plain looking friend. Obviously a little tipsy.

CONT
>>
>>5468842
You circle the group like a shark smelling blood. Never walk directly towards your target, every amateur knows that. But you're not an amateur. You're a pro. First a few discreet pictures from an odd angle. Luckily there is a dog nearby and you pretend to photograph that instead. After you're sure the coast is clear it's time to get bold. They're used to your presence by know, you only need a handful of second to take dozens of pics all over the place. They start to notice. Time to bolt.
You grin as you around and almost run straight ahead into a musclebound chest. Above that chest is an angry looking face, red as a beetroot and only turning redder by the second. On your left and right are two massive arms holding ice cream cones each. The face opens its mouth.

>WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU CREEP DOING WITH MY GIRLFRIEND? DELETE THOSE PICS NOW!

The fuck are you deleting anything, those pics are worth a fortune and it is unlikely you will hit similiar jackpot anytime soon. This guy looks strong, tho. Way too strong. You need diversion.

Without missing a beat you throw your hands up and manage to knock the ice creams down the ground. Mistake, you realize. Clearly this musclebrain is far too occupied to protect the honor of his lady to care and it only makes him even angrier. So angry, in fact, that for a second he almost suffocates from it. You use that second wisely and manage to gain a healthy head start before he manages to inhale.

>I FUCKING KILL YOU, YOU UGLY MONKEY

Good, the more he screams the more he breathes. You would smile if you weren't almost ouf of breath already. God in heaven, you're intellectual, not some brute only fit for physical work. It's been months, no, years, since you've had to run like this. No matter. *Wheeze* You run good on sand. Just gotta... gotta get off the beach and head back home. This addlebrained jockey can't surely follow you on your home turf, can he?

The guy is persistent, you give him that. You're already off the beach and he's still on your trail. Gotta lose him on the traffic, then. There, a light turning red. Just gotta use the final bit of energy to sprint accross the road before the cars...

HELLO! THIS IS TRUCK-KUN! YOUR ISEKAI DELIVERY SERVICE

You never saw him. Truck-kun was too fast. All you feel is time stopping and stretching into infinity. You feel a presence. Mother? God? You feel judged. The presence vanishes and you see nothing. Then, a form from nothingess. Like an orb. A snowglobe. It's coming closer. It's a whole new world. It looks like, like...

>Kingdoms of Crygon. Cookie-cutter fantasy world with elfs, dragons, the usual
>Bomarthia. Swords and sandals, endless badlands, evil sorcerers and busty princesses
>Planet Klamon Prime. Lightswords and rayguns. Evil space monsters, overlords and blue alien babes.
>>
>>5468869
>Planet Klamon Prime. Lightswords and rayguns. Evil space monsters, overlords and blue alien babes.
Selling pics in S P A C E.
>>
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>>5468869
>Bomarthia. Swords and sandals, endless badlands, evil sorcerers and busty princesses
It is time.
>>
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>>5468869
>Bomarthia. Swords and sandals, endless badlands, evil sorcerers and busty princesses

So It Is Written. So Shall It Be.
>>
>>5468869
>Kingdoms of Crygon. Cookie-cutter fantasy world with elfs, dragons, the usual

Acquire noble title and many servant women
>>
>>5468869
>Planet Klamon Prime. Lightswords and rayguns. Evil space monsters, overlords and blue alien babes.
>>
Rolled 1 (1d2)

>>5468870
>>5468872
>>5468904
>>5469028
>>5469328
1:Bomarthia
2: Planet Klamon Prime
>>
>>5469432
>Bomarthia. Swords and sandals, endless badlands, evil sorcerers and busty princesses

The color of natural sienna fills your vision and lungs. After a minute long coughing fit, you climb out of a hole you found yourself and take the stock of your situation. Your body and clothes are mostly intact. You're still clutching your phone in your hand. Good. You didn't drop it. Were you drugged? Sure feels like it. Then what is this place? The region looks dry and flat and reminds you of the Death Valley more than anything. But that wouldn't make sense, why would somebody drug you and smuggle you to USA? Maybe you're still in Brazil, or this is lesser known part of Andes.

As you ponder this, you notice something on the Horizon. A second Sun is rising. Toto, I don't think we're in Kansas anymore.
You decide to climb on top of a nearby hill to take a better look of your surroundings. Rocky wilderness spreads around you as far as you can see. Only hints of vegetation are dead looking thorn bushes and strands of hay peeking under some of the larger rock formations. This is bad. You'll die from dehydration if you can't find a shelter or water source in a few hours. Still, panicking won't help, so you pick the least hostile looking direction and start to walk.

You've walked, what 30 minutes? There is no service anyway, so you decide to turn off your phone so save battery. It starts to get really hot, now that the second Sun has started to warm the already hot ground. You hope there is no third Sun.

Another short eternity later you finally spot something. The ground has become a downward slope, and there seems to be something you hope to be a river at the bottom. You'd run if you had the energy, but before you can reach it you see something else. The line you thought was just a river now looks like a canyon, which is being followed by a road of sorts. What's more important, a throng of people are walking on it. At least a few hundred heads are heading towards your direction. Few seem to be mounted on some kind of horses and you can also see spears or flags being carried. What should you do?

>Meet the group head on. You can't manage alone in this terrain, in this World, and they would still probably see you even if you did try to remain unseen. It's less suspicious.
>Try to hide, then quench your thirst if there still is a river at the bottom of the canyon, and follow the group (requires a check)
>>
>>5469503
>Try to hide, then quench your thirst if there still is a river at the bottom of the canyon, and follow the group (requires a check)

Getting some serious Tamerlane vibes from the horde.

(BTW that intro was fucking hilarious, good work.)
>>
>>5469503
>>Try to hide, then quench your thirst if there still is a river at the bottom of the canyon, and follow the group (requires a check)
>>
>>5469503
>Try to hide, then quench your thirst if there still is a river at the bottom of the canyon, and follow the group (requires a check)
>>
Rolled 2 (1d2)

>>5469520
>>5469527
>>5469529
>>Try to hide, then quench your thirst if there still is a river at the bottom of the canyon, and follow the group (requires a check)

1: You manage to stay hidden
2: They find you
>>
>>5469552
>They find you

Gotta hide. The road is too open, they will see you for sure. You turn on your heels and sneak back up the slope you just descended, trying to keep low profile. It doesn't take you long to find a good enough hiding spot between two massive rocks. You lodge yourself in and wait.

After a few minutes the group reaches your vantage position, which lets you take a better look. You now see that only half a dozen warriors leading the group are mounted on horses. Behind them marches mixture of people, young and old, men and women. A cargo train consisting of dozens of massive bovines(?) tails the group, each carrying huge packages on its back. You notice that out of the roughly three hundred people on foot, only about third are armed. You also notice that the unarmed people look far worse for wear than the armed warriors forming the perimeter. Prisoners? Slaves? Maybe both.

You're just starting to get bored, when the foremost rider leading the group raises his hands, which causes the entire congregation to halt like the world's biggest slinky. You begin to retreat deeper into your rocky crevice, but it's of no use. The leader turns directly towards your direction and barks something. It takes only seconds for more than a few musclebound spearmen to circle your location and pull you out.

You're dragged in front of the leader with more than neccessary amount of force, then forced on your knees in front of him. Expect it's not him. Before you stands the largest horse you have ever seen, pitch black, wearing ornate barding. On its back sits eerily beautiful paleskinned woman with raven black hair, clad in black leather armour and red and black cape. The huge pauldrons and bare midriff makes you wonder if it's ceremonial in nature or if she is just a stripper. The way the men around obey her and her haughty mannerism dispel your latter theory immediately. She looks at you like one would a rat in their closet and states matter-of-factly:

>Ooh? What have we here? You don't look like the usual spy one finds in these part? Who sent you?

You don't recognize any of the words she says, but for some literal miracle you understand the meaning behind each of them. Hoping the same works in both directions you say:

>My name is Ricardo Ferreira, but everybody calls me Ricardão: I come from Brazil.
>I was sent by Providence. I am not here by my own choice.
>I don't know how I ended up here. It's my first day.
>Other
>>
>>5469586
>>Other

>"I am of a land far from your eyes, its' name known not to your ears. You would comprehend it not were you to glimpse it. That you may know it as Brazil is of little import. But you may know me as the one they call, Ricardão."
>>
>I came here with an assortment of goods to peddle, but I was attacked by violent ne'er do wells and now find myself lost and with little to nothing to my name
>>
Rolled 2 (1d2)

1: >>5469596
2: >>5469818
>>
>>5469596
>>5469818
Supporting both. We're an exotic foreign merchant. That's our story, and it's almost true!
>>
>>5469865
+1
>>
>>5469865
+1
>>
>>5469596
>>5469818
>>5469865
>>5470311
>>5470314
1/3
>"I am of a land far from your eyes, its' name known not to your ears. You would comprehend it not were you to glimpse it. That you may know it as Brazil is of little import. But you may know me as the one they call, Ricardão."

>I came here with an assortment of goods to peddle, but I was attacked by violent ne'er do wells and now find myself lost and with little to nothing to my name

The spearmen around you look more puzzled now. Their female leader also looks more curious.

>Well, Ricardão from the land of Braa-zil, if that really is your name. Allow us to introduce ourselves in turn. I am Lady Thona, the foremost disciple of Lord Hiroshimoor, the future Emperor of all of Bomarthia, and this is our humble warparty carrying spoils of war from our latest conquest. Little city-state called Miralona. But that is of little importance, for such small cities were doomed from their founding. We would be... humbled, if you could allow us to escort you back to our base camp. Although Miralona is finished, deserters and other ruffians swarm its corpse like flies. No doubt one of these groups was behind your recent misfortune as well.

You know it's better not to argue and allow the men to take your meager possessions and escort you with the rest of their flock. You don't wear chains as some of the prisoners from Miralona, but it is clear that you are at their mercy, guest or not. You get a half empty water canteen to quench some of your thirst, which you empty with enthusiasm, and the mob starts its march once again.

You're not sure how long the walk will be and are afaraid to ask. Instead you look around you and try to absorb as much information as you can. Some of the spearmen protecting the flanks are murmuring among themselves, but you can't make out anywords. Nobody else is speaking. The prisoners look devastated up close, their clothes torn. Even in this state it's easy to tell person's social status by glance. Most of these people pass as commoners in these parts, you guess from their slightly malnourished frame and hunched posture. Those people look like soldiers or guards, still marching in more organised formation than the rest, head taller than most of their captors. And the group near front must be aristocrats or religious leaders. Well fed men and women wearing tattered remains of more colorful garments.

CONT.
>>
>>5470410
2/3
Among these one person shines like a beacon, not just for her beauty, but also from the way she still carries herself in her situation. She is also shadowed by another of those soldier looking prisoners, no doubt her bodyguard, still protecting her to best of his ability. You decide to risk it and whisper a question to an old man sweating next to you.

>Psst. That lady walking in front of us. Who is she?

The man wheezes before answering:

>She...she is Princess Mirabel. Or maybe I should call her queen now that her father has been killed? Either way, she is the closest thing we have for a leader.

A princess? Kukuku... With a body like that, she could be crack whore and you would still do everything in your power to get a woman like that, but a member of royalty is fine as well. Your dirty eyes follow your dirtier thoughts and suddenly the walk isn't all that bad with her rear filling your sight. You imagine smelling those almost unnaturally red hair strands swaying past her shoulderblades, you imagine smacking those buttocks. You imagine...

Your daydream is cut short as the congregation stops again. You arrive at a camp of some kind. It is a deep valley whose both ends are shut with a strong looking palisade. Once again you bother the old man.

>Is this the base camp?

>This? Not a chance. It should be days ahead at least. More likely this is a temporary shelter. Even these barbarians aren't stupid enough to try and walk accross all this desert in one go. Surely it would mean death, not only for us, but for them as well.

The prisoners are walked into large pens and most of them collapse from exhaustion. Sucks to be them. Not that you're faring much better yourself, but you have only half a day's worth of walking behind you. But you are a modern man, dammit, and you have modern man's knees that are more fit for videogame marathons than actual marathons.

Unsure where you should go, you stand awkwardly and then sit on the ground, waiting. The guards look puzzled as well, but you try to keep confusion out from your face, trying to sell your cover story of a temporarily embarrassed merchant the best you can.

Before long a guard of higher rank approaches and addresses you.

>Well, mister Ricadona, or whatever your name was. The boss wants to talk to you in person. Consider it an honor, most of these poor sods will never see proper lady up close ever again.
>>
>>5470411
3/4
You stand up with some difficulty and try to wipe some of the dust off from your sweat soaked hawaiian shirt and khaki pants. You have no idea what impact your outfit makes among the locals, them favouring loincloths, helmets, simple togas and armor, but you should at least try to make a good impression. The camp is simple in nature and it is clear this is a place of short rest and temporary storage and not a proper warcamp. You spot a well and a few small warehouses and little else. Apart from the slave pens, of course. A budding tent city is being built on previously empty parade ground. Your guide ushers you towars the biggest of the tents, rising in the middle of the encampment, big enough to to house at least two squads by your reckoning, but you doubt there will be more than one person sleeping in it.

The tarp closes behind you and find yourself in the most luxurious room you've been, well, ever, really. The wall rugs remind you the images of yurts you absorbed during your mongolian meme phase, but each is covered in complex symbols instead of repeating geometric patterns you'd usually find on carpets back on Earth. The floor is covered by animal skins and one corner is already littered by boxes and chests bursting from bottles, scrolls and other mystical looking goods.

Your host is sitting cross-legged inside a circle. Back towards you. You are still turned on from oogling the princess, and being alone with a beautiful woman turns your ugly bastard instincts up to an eleven. You almost lose it, but manage to reign in your lust for now. Timing. That is the difference between bona fide ugly bastard and your average village rapist that gets himself imprisoned or killed before he turns twenty. Acting now would lead to certain disaster. So you wait. Again.

After a while she gets up and turns around.

>Apologies, Mister Ricardão. It is so hard to concentrate on horseback sometimes and I simply must have my daily moment of meditation. But enough of that. I don't know how much of your tale is true, but your possessions, combined with your outlooks look stranger the more I look, and I don't like it when I can't find a reasonable explanation. So perhaps you could, with your own words, explain what these things are supposed to do.

She waves towards a small table that holds all the items you had on your person (besides the clothes on your back) when you were captured. Lined up are your novelty keychain, your wallet, your GIRO card for public transport, your smartphone (cheap chinese android model) and your bluetooth selfie stick.

CONT.
>>
>>5470415
4/4
How much should you reveal?

>Make up some bullshit about most of them. Be more specific when it's meaningless stuff like your keys. What use does a key have with no lock.
>Be mostly honest, but lie by omission. Say your phone is a communication device, but it can't function without its sisters or without a power source.
>Be as open as you can. Explain everything to best of your ability. Because you filled your NEET days by learning all sorts of useless stuff instead of working and combined with your near genius level of intellect, you actually could go very in depth into it if you wanted.
>>
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>>5470417
>Be as open as you can. Explain everything to best of your ability. Because you filled your NEET days by learning all sorts of useless stuff instead of working and combined with your near genius level of intellect, you actually could go very in depth into it if you wanted.

>Because you filled your NEET days by learning all sorts of useless stuff instead of working and combined with your near genius level of intellect, you actually could go very in depth into it if you wanted.
>>
>>5470417
>Be as open as you can. Explain everything to best of your ability. Because you filled your NEET days by learning all sorts of useless stuff instead of working and combined with your near genius level of intellect, you actually could go very in depth into it if you wanted.

This can only end well.
>>
>>5470417
>Be as open as you can. Explain everything to best of your ability. Because you filled your NEET days by learning all sorts of useless stuff instead of working and combined with your near genius level of intellect, you actually could go very in depth into it if you wanted.
>>
>>5470417
>Be as open as you can. Explain everything to best of your ability. Because you filled your NEET days by learning all sorts of useless stuff instead of working and combined with your near genius level of intellect, you actually could go very in depth into it if you wanted.
>>
>>5470417
>Be as open as you can. Explain everything to best of your ability. Because you filled your NEET days by learning all sorts of useless stuff instead of working and combined with your near genius level of intellect, you actually could go very in depth into it if you wanted.
Honesty is the best policy! R-right?
>>
>>5470417
>>Be as open as you can. Explain everything to best of your ability. Because you filled your NEET days by learning all sorts of useless stuff instead of working and combined with your near genius level of intellect, you actually could go very in depth into it if you wanted.
>>
>>5470417
>Be as open as you can. Explain everything to best of your ability. Because you filled your NEET days by learning all sorts of useless stuff instead of working and combined with your near genius level of intellect, you actually could go very in depth into it if you wanted.
>>
>>5470453
>>5470483
>>5470502
>>5470519
>>5470535
>>5470540
>>5470961
Seems the choice is unanimous. Intended to write the follow-up today, but it has to wait until morning. Need sleep.
>>
>>5471557
This sort of denial is exactly what I’d expect out of an ugly bastard.
>>
>>5471557
More attractive bastards will be waiting, patiently. Sleep on, OP.
>>
alright while im waiting for this to update im going to watch some ugly bastard hentai
>>
>>5470453
>>5470483
>>5470502
>>5470519
>>5470535
>>5470540
>>5470961

>Be as open as you can. Explain everything to best of your ability. Because you filled your NEET days by learning all sorts of useless stuff instead of working and combined with your near genius level of intellect, you actually could go very in depth into it if you wanted.

Being honest it not your strong suit, but it's not like there is no obvious advantage to be gained by lying here. In fact, this remains you of your freelance tutoring days over a decade ago, back when they hadn't throw you out from uni yet. So many broken young couples...

Without service, most of the functions of your phone are offline, but it is still enough to make quite an impression. Especially the camera and saved pictures fill her with childlike wonder, though you'd wish you have had the opportunity to... clean up your filesystem beforehand. At least you had the foreknowledge to encrypt the most incriminating stuff years ago, but there are still plenty of... bothersome images in your main folder.

>Why do you have so many images of feet on your device, Mister Ricardão?

>Uhh... Back on Brazil, we have this nasty diesease, that starts from your toes. See how most of the feets have these odd-coloured toenails? That is one of the first symptoms. A friend of mine is a healer and I collect these images for him to track people with.

>I see.

You don't think she is buying it.

Even though you know way more trivia than most people, Lady Thona has an annoying habit of asking hard questions you don't know the answer for. Even though you can explain the operating principle of the lithium-ion battery inside your phone, you know very little about how they are manufactured. Still, you feel like you fared reasonably well given the circuminstances. As a reward of sorts, you're given your own small tent near the middle of the encampment.

It is your first evening in this strange new world you found yourself in, and your first meal as well. The rations are chewy and greasy, but you've eaten worse. You're mostly finished when you hear commotion from the outside.

>We're under attack! It's the Nomads! They're here! Man the walls!

>Where are they coming from?

>Up there! Bring light!

>Extra piece of silver for every desert rat you kill tonight, men!

>They've flanked us!

Wailing and shouting soon create an incromprehensible cacophony and you have hard time making out any more words. Hmm, this could be an opportunity to escape if you so wished. Or maybe do something else to improve your situation.

>Sneak out and try to escape. The nomads must be here to free the prisoners, and you feel like you've had enough of being a prisoner of sorts yourself.

>Go out and try to help the defenders instead. You're not a fighter, but you might still help them spot threats or relay messages or something.

>Hide under a blanket.
>>
>>5471985
>>Sneak out and try to escape. The nomads must be here to free the prisoners, and you feel like you've had enough of being a prisoner of sorts yourself.

Yeah splitting seems like a sound plan. Could even lead the nomads back in via the path Rico escaped on and absolutely rout the encampment. Finish off with some princess freeing and Lady Thona harassing.
>>
>>5471985
>Sneak out and try to escape. The nomads must be here to free the prisoners, and you feel like you've had enough of being a prisoner of sorts yourself.
>>
>>5471985
>Sneak out and try to escape. The nomads must be here to free the prisoners, and you feel like you've had enough of being a prisoner of sorts yourself.

Macguyver an escape
>>
>>5471985
>Hide under a blanket.
>>
>>5471985
>Go out and try to help the defenders instead. You're not a fighter, but you might still help them spot threats or relay messages or something.
>>
>>5471985
>Sneak out and try to escape. The nomads must be here to free the prisoners, and you feel like you've had enough of being a prisoner of sorts yourself.
>>
>>5471985
>Go out and try to help the defenders instead. You're not a fighter, but you might still help them spot threats or relay messages or something

Escape fucking where. This is our best bet for civilization
>>
>>5472042
>>5472083
>>5472100
>>5472139
>>5472469
>>5472596
>>5472672
You briefly consider hiding inside, as avoiding conflicts has been one of your principles. But given the situation, isn't it better to be proactive for once? If one side is clearly winning a fistfight, kicking the man already on ground is sometimes easy and more importantly riskless way to gain some clout among the winner. You decide to wait until the sounds coming outside become muffled and sneak out.

The sight outside is hard to make out due to twilight, but if the still bodies laying near the palisades and circling the valley perimeter are anything to draw conclusions by, it seems the defending side has won the first round. The encampment is bustling with activity. You see officers arranging spearmen into small squads, which gives you an idea. It is unlikely you could just walk out now even if you wanted to, but if you were accepted into a squad, yes... That could work. If the opportunity rises, you could then aid either side as you see fit. A shitty disguise is better than none and has saved your fat ass more than once in the past. You just hope it doesn't cost you an arrow into throat, but life is full of risks.

You creep around until you find a fresh corpse. A small man lies on the ground, still clutching an arrow potruding from his stomach. You take his helmet and crude spear.

>W-ha... h-help...

Ah, looks like the man wasn't quite as dead as you thought. Not your problem. Better leave him as is. You try the stinking helmet, and although small, it just about fits over your scalp. You must look ridiculous, but it is not like there is enough light to see properly anyway.

You wobble toward the nearest goup with your new getup. The men are anxious, but you must look familiar enough as nobody stops you.

Your plan works almost too well, as the officer takes one glance on your general direction and sends you and four men standing next to you to man the outer gate. This is getting a little bit too proactive.

You barely reach the gate before ululating warcries fill the night again. Worse still, there is a new sound, an inhuman roar, and it is coming closer. One man tries to climb on top of the wall to get a better vantage point and almost loses an eye from arrows scattering on the outer side. The dozen men with you start to bar the gate with planks as the roaring and growling comes ever closer. You pretend to help, but notice that you could sabotage their efforts simply by discreetly cutting a few ropes and knocking over a log or two. That would allow the attackers to breach the wall more easily, at which point you could just hide again and join the fleeing prisoners as they are being escorted out. You could instead sneak to the slave pens and free the prisoners yourself. Surely this would convince them and the attackers that you are on their side?
>>
>>5472897

Or maybe it is better to just hide and do nothing? Wouldn't improve your status on anyone's eyes, but it seems like the least risky option.

>Sabotage the gate(requires check)
>Try to free slaves(requires check)
>Find a big enough hole to hide your fat ass.
>>
>>5472899
>Find a big enough hole to hide your fat ass.
Why should we assume nomadic desert raiders aren't ALSO slavers, or cannibals or something? At least our current captor is a hot chick in a metal bikini.
>>
>>5472899
>>Find a big enough hole to hide your fat ass.
>>
>>5472899
>Find a big enough hole to hide your fat ass.
>>
>>5472899
>Find a big enough hole to hide your fat ass.
>>
>>5472899
>>Find a big enough hole to hide your fat ass.

>OH LAWD HE COMIN'
>>
>>5472899
>Sabotage the gate(requires check)
Come on anons, we decided we'd escape but it's not certain yet, let's actually do something interesting.
>>
>>5472899
>Sabotage the gate(requires check)
>>
>>5472899
>Find a big enough hole to hide your fat ass.
>>
>>5472947
>>5472961
>>5472965
>>5472979
>>5472997
>>5473081
>>5473119
>>5473385
>Find a big enough hole to hide your fat ass.

Yep, this monsterhunter business looks way more serious in real life than in videogames. You don't know what is coming through, but you don't care to find out. You slip away and look for place to hide. The women of this world would surely mourn your untimely demise, and you simply can't let them down.

The encampent doesn't have too many suitable hiding places. You briefly consider the vicinity of slave pens, but that will surely be a center of action. Storage houses are out of question as well for the same reason. Latrines? No, you're not that desperate, and it could leave who knows what sickness or worse. But there has to be something... Ha! The Stables! Of course. Even if somebody wanted to use or steal the mounts, they would be too occupied to make a thorough search?

The stables are defended, but somehow you manage to sneak in unnoticed. Guess the guards were distracted by the shouts coming from the outer perimeter. A tiny toolshack stands a bit apart from the bigger buildings, so you commandeer it as your personal bunker. You don't know what most of this stuff does, but you recognise an anvil and blacksmith's hammer. Makes sense. The technology you have seen thus far mostly looks like something from iron age, and this fits the picture. There isn't much else interesting inside, so you cover yourself with a heavy leather apron get down in the fartherst corner.

You decide to count seconds to keep track of time. The noise coming from the outside waxes and wanes. After roughly 15 minutes there is a huge crash and lots of shoutin. That is followed by... blue lightning? You decide to risk it and take a peek. A torrent of light shoots up into the sky somewhere from within the encampent. The light is almost blinding after spending so long in almost complete darkness. Crackle and wind torrents cover most of the shouting, until suddenly another pillar of light, this one red, shoots up from the desert and meets the blue one in the sky. For a few seconds they both twist around each others and then they both die off and the darkness returns.

What should you do next?

>Wait for the noises to die off and go check which side won, then try to join them
>Wait until morning. Surely someone will still be left alive, and if everybody is dead, well, you won't be. Probably
>Try to steal a horse
>>
>>5473990

>Wait for the noises to die off and go check which side won, then try to join them

I have no confidence in our horse-riding abilities.
True cowardice and politics are how we will remake our home country of Brazil.
>>
>>5473990
>>Wait for the noises to die off and go check which side won, then try to join them
>>
>>5473990
>Wait for the noises to die off and go check which side won, then try to join them
>>
>>5473990
>Wait for the noises to die off and go check which side won, then try to join them
>>
>>5473990
>Try to steal a horse
>>
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>>5473990
>>Wait for the noises to die off and go check which side won, then try to join them


Also I just realized this guy from that ancient meme is definitely my headcanon for our fat bastard.
>>
>>5473990
>Wait for the noises to die off and go check which side won, then try to join them

>>5474307
Kek, seems about right.
>>
>>5474307
Yeah, that's definitely him about ten years ago, before he lost his virginity and student status in not unrelated incidents.

Also got a cheap surgery to get rid of his glasses.
>>
>>5473990
>Wait for the noises to die off and go check which side won, then try to join them
>>
>Wait for the noises to die off and go check which side won, then try to join them
>>
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>>5474525
>lost virginity
>barred from campus

>totally unrelated


Top Kek
>>
>>5468560
Can somebody help me to find the name of an hentai meme "having papa's dick inside me while mom watch"
>>
>>5475473
No.
>>
ugly bastard sorcerer would be so awesome.
>>
>>5476242
Yes, that is definitely in the cards, in one way or another.

I would apologize for the delay, but I am Ugly bastard, so I won't. Couple of pages in, had to sort a couple of issues first. Try to finish the piece this evening after I get home.
>>
>>5476799
Alright man, waiting warmly
>>
>>5474022
>>5474024
>>5474025
>>5474028
>>5474147
>>5474307
>>5474396
>>5474575
>>5474579
1/3
>Wait for the noises to die off and go check which side won and try to join them

As the lightshow dies, the shouts, cries and clash of weapons return, but they are noticeable more quiet, as a siblings' squabble that continues for a few jabs after the father has already told them to shut up. After a while you wobble out from your hideout, your curiosity winning over your healthy self-preservation instinct.

The gate has been smashed and on front of it lies a corpse of an animal, that to you looks like a hairless bear that has skin like an elephant and that is about as big as one as well. Based on the blood trail that is all that's left of one of its limbs, the impact that killed it must have had tremendous amout of force behind it. You don't think you have seen firearms or cannons so far, perhaps it relates to those lights? Magic? You recall quote from Arthur C. Clarke. ”Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.” Maybe this is just technology you don't understand yet.

You stop yourself before the philosophical implications the scene take you too deep. Now is not the time nor place. There are plenty enough of smaller, humanoid and equally dead corpses all around you, and you don't intent to join them on their eternal rest of this plutonian shore. The darkness of the night is almost complete now, and only thing lighting up the landscape beside fires and torches at the distance, near the center of the encampment, are the countless stars above you. You consider yourself an avid amateur astronomer, but you don't recognize any of the stars or their contellations. Figures. It's not like the sky you're familiar with has two suns either. Still, now that your eyes have accustomed to the gloom, you see well enough to spot wandering figures moving through the ruined gate.

It looks like the battle ended in some kind of a stalemate. The prisoners are leaving, for what you can tell, but the occupying force is still present and seemingly keeping most of their loot to boot. You consider your options. You could stay in your previous hiding place for the rest of the night and return to your original captors come morning, or you could sneak along and leave. Neither option seems enticing, but after considering how your appearance mere hours before and then absence during the fight would look to your captors, the desert savages seem like a a marginally safer option. Even if Lady Thona still bought your more or less honest explanation, that wouldn't help if her underlings lynched you long before you even saw her again.

You ditch your helmet with relief, as it had started to get itchy and would only cause trouble. After considering it for a second you decide to let go of the spear as well.

CONT.
>>
>>5478054
2/3
You only just manage to join the last final stragglers out of the gate. These people seem to be the ones least fit for travel due to age or other condition, and you easily keep the pace with them, first a bit further apart and then ever closer as they seemingly get used to your presecene.

After a while you notice that the original fairly even line of people has stretched further and further as each person walks their own pace instead of forced march. This seems unreasonably gentle choice given the situation, but you don't complain. It is not like marathon running has ever been your strong suit.

The line stretches and streches, until you only see a group of maybe dozen people around you, the rest having already walked accross the next hill or two. At first this concersn you, as you can barely see the faint footmarks on the ground left by the group ahead. What if you get lost? These worries leave you as you catch a glimpse of a pair of nomads shadowing your sup-group. Figures. Rescue party or slavers, they'd be fools if they didn't look after you after the trouble they went trough to get you out.

You walk like this for an hour, maybe two, until you stop for a short rest. Small and hidden cave entrance hides a small and hidden spring, which you use to quench your thirst. You feel sleepy and you doubt any of your new fellows feels energetic either, but nobody even suggests staying this close to the place you left. One of the nomads is now directly guiding you and leads your group deeper into the cave. This is a bit alarming, as even you can see the marks left by the previous group leading accross the next hill. You decide to voice your concerns.

>Uhh, Excuse me, sir, but aren't we following the rest? Why are we going underground?

The man looks back at you with tired eyes and mutters:

>Have to break up with the others... shortcut...

Acting like that is an sufficient answer, he then emotes more furiously for you to follow, which you begrudgingly do.

The cave passage is narrow and steep, especially for your rubenesque frame, but you just manage to keep up with the others. Just when you feel like the clammy air is starting to suffocate you, a breath of fresh air reveals the coming exit. As your group emerges from beneath the gound, you don't notice a huge difference in the surrounding landscape, other than it being more... sandy? Yes, there are proper dunes now.

CONT.
>>
>>5478057
3/3
You continue your treck, led by your sour guide. Some of the escapees are in worse condition and require help from others. You of course won't offer help unless absolutely mandatory in order to not lose face, you have enough to carry with your titanic intellect. The others slow you down, especially an older gentleman who won't shut up about his hurting leg.

There are fewer landmarks now thanks to thesand, but you seem to head towards a particular mountain peak that has similiar silhouette to Sugarloaf mountain back home in Rio. Sure enough, after half-an hour of more walking you reach it. The Nomad guide leads you to a steep rockface and with a few words and gestures tell you to climb a series of narrow steps and handleholds, carved into gray granite who know how long ago. Your group is allowed to take a short powernap before continuing.

The steps are too narrow to allow more than a few people to climb at a time. By sheer chance you end up as the dead last in the line. Good thing the steps are divided into shorter series of stairs with wider ledges between them, so you can all stretch and rest your legs a bit between each climb in relative safety.

You've now climbed for what, an hour? What there even is at the top? While the darkness was almost opressive when you began your climb, the faint glow hints at the coming sunrise. The first of the two, you remind yourself. While more light makes climbing easier, you can't set the pace, as the guy in front of you, the very same who complained about his leg, moves so slowly that you fear he soon starts to move backwards. You haven't seen nor heard about the old woman who was next in the line for quite a while now. She is probably at the top now, with the others. If it weren't for this asshole, you would be as well. Maybe that can be arranged?

>Be the bastard you are and give the old man a helping hand. Shove him off the cliff. No one will ever know!

>Keep your decent person act up for now and show patience instead.
>>
>>5478060
>Go a little beyond pretending to be a decent person and actively help the old man get up - legitimately, not as a ruse or anything. Later on, you'll squeeze him for all he's worth from doing him a favor. People being indebted to you is your most powerful tool, after all...
I hope this old geezer has a hot daughter and granddaughter we can relieve some stress with.
>>
>>5478060
>Keep your decent person act up for now and show patience instead.

Those nomads could be anywhere, watching us from the sands. They kept us all alive for a reason, even this old man, if we were to push him off we might find ourselves with some angry sandpeople as company
>>
>>5478060
>Go a little beyond pretending to be a decent person and actively help the old man get up - legitimately, not as a ruse or anything. Later on, you'll squeeze him for all he's worth from doing him a favor. People being indebted to you is your most powerful tool, after all...
Having a good reputation makes being a total bastard easier
>>
>>5478060
>Go a little beyond pretending to be a decent person and actively help the old man get up - legitimately, not as a ruse or anything. Later on, you'll squeeze him for all he's worth from doing him a favor. People being indebted to you is your most powerful tool, after all...
>>
>>5478088
+1

Let the long game be our specialty
>>
>>5478060
>Go a little beyond pretending to be a decent person and actively help the old man get up - legitimately, not as a ruse or anything. Later on, you'll squeeze him for all he's worth from doing him a favor. People being indebted to you is your most powerful tool, after all...
>>
>>5478060
>Go a little beyond pretending to be a decent person and actively help the old man get up - legitimately, not as a ruse or anything. Later on, you'll squeeze him for all he's worth from doing him a favor. People being indebted to you is your most powerful tool, after all...
>>
>>5478060
>Go a little beyond pretending to be a decent person and actively help the old man get up - legitimately, not as a ruse or anything. Later on, you'll squeeze him for all he's worth from doing him a favor. People being indebted to you is your most powerful tool, after all...
>>
>Go a little beyond pretending to be a decent person and actively help the old man get up - legitimately, not as a ruse or anything. Later on, you'll squeeze him for all he's worth from doing him a favor. People being indebted to you is your most powerful tool, after all...
>>
>>5478088
>+1
>>
>>5478088
+1
>>
>>5478088
>>5478090
>>5478092
>>5478204
>>5478275
>>5478303
>>5478309
>>5478317
>>5478458
>>5478626
>>5479032
1/3
>Go a little beyond pretending to be a decent person and actively help the old man get up - legitimately, not as a ruse or anything. Later on, you'll squeeze him for all he's worth from doing him a favor. People being indebted to you is your most powerful tool, after all...

You look at the old man catching his breath, considering how easy it would be to just knock him over the edge. Then again, maybe the old fool is more useful alive than dead. Patience is one of your few virtues, after all. You decide to encourage him instead.

>Easy there, grandfather. Take all the time you need.

>*wheeze* Thankyou, young man. This rotten leg of mine is making it so much worse. *pant *

>Say, why don't I take a look?

The man agrees and you feel it up. The ankle is hot and swollen, but nothing seems to be broken. Probably strained.

>Hey, you're that man we picked up on the way. What are you even doing in these parts? Never seen a man of your complexion before.

>I come from Brazil, but my ancestors (at least 75% of them) hail from Germania. They are lands far, far away and I don't know how I got here or the way home.

>Such a sad fate. Such a sad fate. A decade ago the lands of Miralona would have shown more hospitality for a weary traveller, but now it, like all of Bomarthia, are headed towards turmoil.

Bomarthia? That was the name of this World? Sounds like something out from shitty Isekai. You'd love to pump more information out from the old geezers, but he is tired enough already and there are lots of steps to climb. You help him up one flight of steps at a time and keep exhanging a few words each time you rest between them. You learn some things, such that his name is Ormo and he was a tax collector. The late king was killed in a duel with a neighboring head of state shortly before the army led by Lord Hiroshimoor attacked the city. And that the city itself, while housing the royal house and administration, only housed a faction of the population under its control, as most people lived either in nomadic tribes living from their herds, or in small agricultural communities scattered along the riverbanks. Each tribe and community is led by a chieftain, or earl, who only answers to the royal crown.

CONT.
>>
>>5479718
2/3
The first sun finally comes up and shortly after you reach the end of the steps. The way leads inside the mountain, and after short tunnel you come into a sizable gallery. A few openings higher up let in enough light that you can make out a group of people, around double of that which climbed with you. They are divided into smaller groups, some resting, some conversing quietly. Bags of equipment and gear lie in the corners. Few people seem to notice your arrival, them being asleep or too focused in some task or conversation. The two of you stand awkwardly, not knowing whether to announce something or just lay down with the rest. Seconds later someone breaks the silence.

>Ey, Ania! Two more! That's 12 in total, right? You two are the last, right? The last one was rather unclear how many were still coming.

A young woman in cream-coloured desert robes emerges from the back.

>Pipe it down Rolan! People are sleeping...

She pauses mid-sentence.

>Uncle?

She strides towards you and embraces Ormo.

>You're alive! I thought you were dead for sure!

>Ah, Ania! I knew it had to be your brother who rescued us!

His expression becomes grimmer.

>Although he wasn't entirely succesful...

>What happened? I've heard rumours, but nothing solid...

>Well, as you know, the city was ransacked. Many were killed. Too many. But we were lucky enough to gain the honor of enslavement. Three days they marched us like pack animals!

CONT.
>>
>>5479720
Ormo spits on the ground.

>But then your borther and his forces attacked the slave camp that held us! They had even unleashed a wild stonebear at them, you should have seen the gate! But then that witch of theirs came forth and killed it with a few words and gestures! The battle would have been lost then and there, had our side brought such support of their own. Don't know who or what, it came from too far. But it seemed to end in a stalemate. At this point our dear princess had seen enough and pleaded the fighting to end. She agreed to remain hostage with all the loot as long as the rest of the prisoners were released. The Witch was too occupied with the duel to parley, so the next in command agreed instead. Guess our attack had taken its toll on them as well! Our boys from the desert were too tough for these Western devils!

The man that had been called Rolan before steps up.

>Not just ”your boys from the desert”! My men took part as well and expect payment in full! That's 12 people in this batch alone we helped to save! It was copper bar per person, remember, Ania?

>Yes, yes. You mercenaries will get their blood money when this is over.

She turns at you.

>But... this is not one of ours! Did you brought a spy with you?

Ormo steps in.

>No, not spy. This is a traveller named Ricadão from a far away country called Braa-zil. He was imprisoned along us when we travelled. Why, wihout his help I would still be stuck on those blasted steps with this lousy leg of mine. Been years since I have walked past the city walls and this trek was more than these old bones can manage.

>Even then, he is not ours. Eleven persons, Rolan.

>Now, wait a moment! We did not agree on such a condition! A person saved is a person saved!

Rolan must be a miser, being ready to argue in such a situation.

>Wouldn't you agree, stranger?

How should you answer?

>Side with Rolan the Mercenary: A person saved is person saved and Ania's people should pay for your rescue.

>Side with Ania: You just happened to be there. Technically they didn't even rescue you, you just happened to escape with them, but you keep such minor details to yourself.

>Suggest you pay the fee yourself. How much is copper bar worth anyway?
>>
>>5479722
>Side with Ania: You just happened to be there. Technically they didn't even rescue you, you just happened to escape with them, but you keep such minor details to yourself.
>>
>>5479722
>Side with Ania: You just happened to be there. Technically they didn't even rescue you, you just happened to escape with them, but you keep such minor details to yourself.

I think we should have stayed with the witch, but if we're traveling with these folks, it looks like Ania is top dog around here. Mercenary-man can fuck off.
>>
>>5479722
Holy shit, buttering up the old man is already paying off. He has a hot neice...
>Side with Ania: You just happened to be there. Technically they didn't even rescue you, you just happened to escape with them, but you keep such minor details to yourself.
>"Eleven is fair no matter how you look at it. I'm not one of her people, and Ormo wouldn't have made it this far if I didn't help him along, so you're lucky to get more than Ten. I'm a stranger in even stranger lands, so I was taking a gamble when I decided to follow your trails instead of going a different way. In the end I'm here by my own choices, no?"
>>
>>5479722
>Side with Ania
>>
>>5479722
>Side with Ania: You just happened to be there. Technically they didn't even rescue you, you just happened to escape with them, but you keep such minor details to yourself.
>>
>>5479782
+1
>>
>>5479722
>Side with Ania: You just happened to be there. Technically they didn't even rescue you, you just happened to escape with them, but you keep such minor details to yourself.
>>
>>5479722
>Other: Tell the mercenary you can teach him how to make a trebuchet
Surely our nerd brains absorbed how those function, I assume since the world is in the early Iron Age they wont have knowledge of the late medieval siege weapons
>>
>>5479722
>>Side with Ania: You just happened to be there. Technically they didn't even rescue you, you just happened to escape with them, but you keep such minor details to yourself.

>>5480817
i think we should save that kind of knowledge for ourself.

>>5479722
>But then that witch of theirs came forth and killed it with a few words and gestures!
damn i knew we should have stayed with the lady. there goes the magic. plus she has all our stuff.
>>
I'm very interested in this quest, I'm gonna draw some of your stuff if you don't mind, OP.
>>
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>>5480897
What am I even doing, asking for consent? Here's Thona.
Although I'm thinking your vague descriptions are for everyone to make their own versions of the characters, putting one design as the go-to for a character that will look like however the reader wants to would be stupid
>>
>>5480897
>>5480940
Sure, go ahead. I was considering to make a few sketches of the cast myself between threads when it wouldn't eat up my writing time, but it is not like I have solidified the visuals yet ( or great artistic ability).
>>
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>>5481028
here's us
>>
>>5481032
Drop the beard. Mustache can be negotiated.
>>
>>5481036
Can the mustache be twirly?
>>
>>5481028
Did you have a specific vision for the characters we've known yet? Thanos, Rico, Mirabel, Ania, old Man Ormo?
>>
>>5481159
Overall I've think it is something along the lines of "what is Conan was 80's anime".

As per character:
Thona has changed quite a lot, at first I envisioned her to look younger, but I think slightly older look (by anime standards is more fitting). Pale skin and some curves, but overall pretty thin.

Ricardão is an ugly bastard. The same bodytype as the OP pic, but more hair, maybe enough to have a hair knot, and olive skin tone. Maybe some pockmarks and thin mustache.

People in Miralona have medium white to light brown skin and red and brown hairs are the most common ones.

Mirabel has long, reddish orange hair and curvy if somewhat short body, but there is something fragile in her outlook.

Ania has lived more active life and her body is more toned thanks to that, but her robes hide most of it. I think Natalie Portman from Star Wars Episode II is pretty close.

Old man Ormo is, well, old. In his fifties, not very fit. Bushy mustashe that show some gray.

Rolan looks somewhat like the MC in Prince of Persia (2008).

Hope this helps.
>>
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>>5481225
I just got free time now, and here's what I got for Thona, you choose OP, or you could go true /qst/ and leave it to the dice
>>
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>>5481225
And here's her armor (or what I came up with)
>>
>>5481810
Based drawfun. Middle column is best, methinks, especially top middle.
>>
>>5480940
>>5481810
Bottom middle is sex.
>>5481818
Very cool that we got a drawfag in the thread. Nice art.
>>
>>5481810
left bottom for me
>>
>>5482029
Agreed
>>
>>5482128
cultured OP
>>
>>5481225
I have a question about Ricardão. Will he ever pull off some batshit insane big-brain powermoves or will he remain a gross nerdy failure?
>>5481810
Top middle
>>5481818
Sex
>>5481048
No
>>
>>5482291
Well, it's entirely up to your choices (with dice having their say as well). Hard to pull powermoves if you don't have any leverage or foreknowledge, unless you happen to get really, really lucky and the opportunity falls into your lap.
>>
>>5482309
Yeah but who needs realism when you could have the power of anime on your side?
>>
>>5482324
That is a tough balancing act, as I can't hide hacky writing behind flashy animations.
>>
>>5482330
just post D-cups with an update and you'll be fine
>>
>>5479723
>>5479742
>>5479782
>>5479833
>>5479978
>>5480074
>>5480659
>>5480817
>>5480883
1/5
>Side with Ania: You just happened to be there. Technically they didn't even rescue you, you just happened to escape with them, but you keep such minor details to yourself.
>"Eleven is fair no matter how you look at it. I'm not one of her people, and Ormo wouldn't have made it this far if I didn't help him along, so you're lucky to get more than Ten. I'm a stranger in even stranger lands, so I was taking a gamble when I decided to follow your trails instead of going a different way. In the end I'm here by my own choices, no?"

You consider your options for a second before answering. Ania is clearly some sort of authority here, despite looking so young. Pretty little thing, with her short red hair tied back like that, and you like girls with some spunk. Rolan in comparison looks closer to your age, and while he also has command of some sort, his rugged good looks are wasted on your heteronormative preferences. So guided as much by your dick as your brain, you side with Ania.

>Eleven is surely a fair number. And if it weren't for me, it could be only ten, as Ormo here wouldn't have made it up here all by himself. I am a stranger in these strange lands and chose to follow your trails on my own.

Rolan has a look like he's about to argue, but then gives up.

>Psh. Have it your way. But don't expect me to help freeloaders in the future!

With the matter settled, you're finally given a seat and something to eat. Jerky has never been you favourite, but it will do for now. You listen absentmindedly as you chew. Clearly this is not a permanent settlement, maybe some kind of watch tower or depot? People talk about their lost friends and families. Good you get rid of yours years ago. Useless baggage once you pump out their wallets dry.

You see now the difference between the locals and the mercenaries. Locals favor light and earthly colors in their robes, while the mercenaries have more bright colours and tend to wear more armor over their clothes. The latter also tend to be taller, although there is more variety in their lot.

The morning chores come to a halt when a messenger climbs up the steps.

>Greetings! Good to see you all in good health! Ah, Ania! Your brother wanted to see you, he should still be at the Standing stones. You too, Rolan.

Rolan jumps up and stretches his arms.

>It's about time we left this stinking hole! Lets go, men!

As they prepare to leave, he suggests:

>Yo! Fatman? Why don't you come with us? Gotta get something out of your ”rescue”, and you might be of help. Your choice! Don't worry about walking, we should have a spare steed on hand that can handle your weight!

CONT.
>>
>>5482415
2/5
Your legs ache and you've slept maybe three hours last night combined, so leaving right now sounds painful, but it's not like you have anything to do here either. Better stick to those that have power around these parts, right? So reluctantly you agree and start the long and painful descent with the others.

Their horses are hidden inside a nearby outcrop fromation. The mercenary steeds are proper warhorses, big and stocky, while the nomadic counterparts are more nimble and skittish. Your mount looks like an overgrown mule and is about as stubborn as well. Nevertheless, a mount is a mount, and you are thankful for not having to walk for a change.

Your cavalcade walks for about two hours, which is almost enough time for you to fall asleep. Nobody seems to be interested to drill you with questions yet, so you think about your situation instead. This place, Bomarthia, seems rather underdeveloped by modern standard. As it looks like you're here for good, it wouldn't hurt to... uplift it a litte? Maybe that is why you were sent here in the first place. To kickstart the civilization and maybe score some nice benefits inthe process? You almost wish you had watched more anime back home, as these kinds of scenarios were very popular in it before you left. Then again, based on what little you've seen, they might have just filled your head with unrealistic tropes instead of useful knowledge. Like going to a warzone after learning your skills from military shooters. Yes, maybe it is best to keep an open mind and trying to find ways to exploit your situation with your modern knowledge instead. If anime-rules do apply in this universe, it's not like you have to struggle to game them.

The Standing stones look like the local version of Stonehenge. Ancient and unlegible runes and scriptures cover these ochre colored megaliths, of which few are in their original configuration, most having toppled over time and are now laying half-buried in sand. A few hundred men, some mounted, most on foot, are camping nearby. You also see some of the prisoners who escaped with you, probably the fittest ones, as they must have walked most of the night to reach this far. You dismount and walk the rest of the way.

A group of people, mostly men, discuss in the middle of the ruined circle of stones. You, Ania and Rolan approach them. The man standing in the middle must be Ania's brother. He is older than his sister, but looks fairly young. Still, he has air of authority around him most men twice his age fail to match. His outfit looks a bit like a mix between the ones nomads and mercenaries wear, although it is more ornate. His light-brown hair is fairly long and is tied to back in a ponytail. Right now he is listening intently to a report, keeping his green eyes keenly on messenger kneeling before him.

>...given those factors, there is no doubt they will travel via Canyon of Eagles, arriving there shortly before nightfall.
CONT.
>>
>>5482419
3/5
Your entourage enter the circle as the messenger ends his report. Ania's brother raises his eyes and his grim facial expression softens as he spots his sister.

>Dame Ania, I see you arrive in good health. I've already met mister Rolan, but I'm afraid I can't say the same about the other gentleman in your presence.

>Hello, big brother. This here is mister Ricadão. He is a traveller from the far away country of Braa-zil, who was captured and then released among the other prisoners. Rolan insisted we drag him along in case he is of some use. The sky knows we can use all the help we can. Mister Ricadão, this is Felion, my brother and Earl of Eastern Miralon.

Felion aknowledge you with a single nod before continuing his inquiry.

>And what about those prisoners, what of them?

>Eleven in total. EXCLUDING mister Ricadão, who is obviously an outsider and shouldn't be counted. Among them was our dear uncle Ormo, who by some miracle managed to survive through it all.

>Eleven... That makes 187 people we saved last night in total. We lost seventeen men and eight horses. I'd say that was a fair trade. From what I saw, the enemy lost twice as many.

>Is it true what they say, that the Princess negotiated a ceasefire in order to save more people?

>It is indeed so, although the cost was her freedom. Time will tell whether it was a wise move from her part. We must do everything in our power to save her and the lost heirlooms of our people, especially the crown.

These words cause a small uproar among those gathered. ”Last night was already too bold and you want to strike the enemy again?” ”My men and their horses need rest, you can't expect us to ride behind them to reach the canyon in time and then fight on even terms, it would mean suicide!” ”That witch is going to kill us all now that she knows to prepare in advance!” ”Who is going to pay for all of this?”

Felion raises his hand and those in presence shut their traps immediately.

>Do you have any suggestions, master Lionel?

CONT.
>>
>>5482420
4/5
A man you hadn't noticed before steps from the back. He is wearing red robes and has his head covered by a cowl. Despite his hunched posture, many wrinkles and more than a few strands of gray in his otherwise brown beard, he radiates power. He taps the staff in his right had with his long bony finger before answering.

>It is true that Lady Thona is far more dangerous now that she knows what she's up against. An attack like last night would lead to disaster and we simply don't have time to even attract another stonebear to fight for us. Then again, if we don't act now, Lady Thona will surely forced march her troops through the night until they reach their base camp and after that I fear the Princess and the crown may be beyond our reach forevermore. A rescue mission inside enemy territory would be outright suicidal against such a powerful opponent as Lord Hiroshimoor. Knowing this, our only remaining option is to device a plan that our enemy haven't anticipated or can't outmanoeuvre. A rockfall in the canyon could do, but I fear the collateral damage would cost the Princess her life. Indeed, her guards may be under orders to take her life themself in such a situation.

The congreagation starts to murmur upon hearing this. You listen intently, logical probelms like this being your forte. You decide to interject.

>So, what if we manage to incapacitate the witch, then what?

Lionel twitches, clearly not used to interruptions.

>Then we still would have a hundred strong war party against us, but yes, that would raise our odds tremendously. But if it was a simple matter, we wouldn't be having this discussion. I could construct a magical trap for the job in time, but for such a device to work one would need to get close enough to touch her. And I doubt she has presence of mind to let anyone that near.

CONT.
>>
>>5482424
5/5

Still...

>Suggest that you could be able to smuggle the trap device through the enemy lines if you pretend that you were captured by the nomads who just happen to cross the roads with the invading warparty
>This is not your fight, observe and try to gain leverage from the situation
>come up with a crazy isekai-anime-plan(writeup)
>>
>>5482426
>In my homeland, we have perfected an art known as Guerilla Warfare. A warband, especially one on the move through hostile territories with no reliable resources, can be broken through random skirmishes - quick battles that end just as quickly as they start, enough to badly wound just a few of them before you retreat, maybe set a few of their goods on fire. Alarms will raise, but by the time anyone can do anything about it we'll be gone. Then we repeat that over...and over...and over, for days. Their morale will have reached a breaking point, with casualties amassing and tiredness seeping in. They'll be paranoid, but they'll start getting sloppy. That's when you hit them for real, and we'll be as fresh as ever. We just need to make sure this happens in a place with plenty of places to fall back to and hide - lots of cover.

Friendly reminder that wounded soldiers consume WAY more resources than dead soldiers do. Bleed them dry...
>>
>>5482426
>>5482485
+1
a great idea, but how would we deal with the witch?
>>
>>5482488
The hourly alarms are going to leave her just as tired as the rest of the soldiers. A tired witch is an ineffective witch.
When your powers rely on occultism and possible mental concentration, you need to be well rested to be effective.
Of course, if we wanted to develop a specific countermeasure for her? Tell them how to make bolos.
If you can restrain her arms and legs in an instant, she'd only be able to cast spells that require strictly verbal components. Which is kind of rare in most sword and sorcery settings, but not entirely rare.
And managing to take her alive makes for good stress relief.
>>
>>5482493
If we know how to make bolos, this is a wonderful option. I just feel we don't know enough about the witch's capacity to know how she will take exhaustion, or how easily she can be taken down. We should be very cautious with her, but otherwise hit and run guerilla tactics should work magic.
>>
>>5482519
Oh, it's hella easy. Pretty much anyone can make one.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aJk8CvaSYz4
>>
>>5482426
>>5482485
>>5482488
>>5482493
>>5482519
do we have enough time to make the bolas and carry out the guerilla warfare plan into action before they reach their camp?
>>
>>5482485
+1
>>
>>5482488
>>5482493
I like it!

>>5482485
Supporting.
>>
>>5482485
+1
i don't even know where choices are desu
>>
>>5482799
choices are at >>5482426
>>
>>5482485
>>5482488
>>5482633
>>5482683
>>5482703
>>5482799
1/4
>In my homeland, we have perfected an art known as Guerilla Warfare. A warband, especially one on the move through hostile territories with no reliable resources, can be broken through random skirmishes - quick battles that end just as quickly as they start, enough to badly wound just a few of them before you retreat, maybe set a few of their goods on fire. Alarms will raise, but by the time anyone can do anything about it we'll be gone. Then we repeat that over...and over...and over, for days. Their morale will have reached a breaking point, with casualties amassing and tiredness seeping in. They'll be paranoid, but they'll start getting sloppy. That's when you hit them for real, and we'll be as fresh as ever. We just need to make sure this happens in a place with plenty of places to fall back to and hide - lots of cover.

The congregation listens to your suggestion before the murmur begins anew. Hit and run attacks? Well, that would slow the invaders down if nothing else and give them more time. With nothing better coming up, Felion immediately gives orders to several of his lieutenants to arrange riding parties to harrass and wound enemy soldiers without killing them. If they can prevent the enemy from entering the canyon before nightfall, it would give ”your” side time to lay traps and barricades inside while the enemy would be forced to camp outside. That gives you another idea, one that might help you deal with Tona.

As those with missions depart, Lionel approaches you.

>Not a perfect plan, but a faulty plan executed now is better than a perfect plan executed next week, mister Ricardão. But where are my manners? Lionel Farwurth, Magister of arts, peddler of artifacts and a Wizard for hire, at your service!

He gives a slight bow. He doesn't look like any of the local you're seen, nor does he resemble any of the mercenaries either. His skin doesn't seem to have a hint of pigmentation, and his features are outright hawkish and gaunt. His clothes don't match with the others either, his embroidered robes more fit to royal court than desert campaign. You are unsure whether his staff is made from bone or wood so white it resembles chalk. It was probably him who thwarted Thona's outburst last night. Without a doubt a powerful magic user himself and someone you'd better to keep on your side, especially if you have now burned some bridges leading towards Lord Hiroshimoor and his sexy witch.

>Bom dia! Am I wrong to assume it was you behind that red tornado last night?

>Ah! Well, you could say that, yes. I am afaraid the details are a trade secret, though.

>I have some secrets of my own, perhaps we can trade?

>Hohoo, perhaps, perhaps. But right now I have more urgent business with my current employer.

>Yes, I was actually coming to that. Say, you mentioned something about those traps. I have an idea regading the design, and a plan...

CONT.
>>
>>5484950
2/4
Many hours later you lay on your stomach on a dune. The Canyon of Eagles is on your left, and you can just make out some of the nomads hiding nearby. Many of their squads were sent into the canyon to make it harder to traverse by creating rock slides, traps and such, but if everything goes to plan, that was not neccessary. The second sun sets and there is still no sign of the enemy cargo train. That makes only sense, as the guerilla tactics you suggested should slow it down considerably, but you can't help but feel anxious. What if they took different route? No point to worry about it now, it's out form your hands.

After another hour or two of waiting later you finally see them. The cargo train is considerably smaller now, even discounting the prisoners freed last night. You estimate there are less than fifty of them now and the bowine beasts of burden seem to been halved in numbers as well. But the remaining force would be still dangerous, even without the hostage.

You watch in silence as the company marches, more than a few limping, towards the canyon. It doesn't surprise you when they stop and start to build a camp instead of marching through the canyon in total darkness. In fact you were counting on that.

The tents are pitched and wounds tended . You see a figures that must be Thona with two goons dragging something towards the outer rim of the campsite. Your suspicion is confirmed as they stop at the closest thing the encampment has for an entrance. Unnatural blue light illuminates the group and you now see the thing the soldiers were dragging was Princess Mirabel, bounded and gagged.

You almost have a heart attack when you hear Thona's voice whispering right behind your ear, but after a second of panic you calm down as rationalize it must be ”just” her voice amplified by magical means. Still, the effect is ghastly in the darkness of the night.

>I know you are there, for I can see and feel every one of you clearly as you were standing on my palm. I also know you want to continue your wasteful attacks against my men through the night. But know this. From now on, each time you attack, I cut one finger from your precious princess. After I run out of fingers, I cut her ears, nose, breasts, eyes. After I've mutilated her thusly, I start to capture your skirmishers and torture them to death instead. I can do this for days. If you instead let us go in peace, I can guarantee your precious princess survives this unharmed and ends up in a position more fitting for her status than a mere rural head of a dying microstate.
>>
>>5484951
3/4
You check where she is standing and flee a tinge of joy. This is going better than you anticipated. The two goons on the back are standing in awe, their eyes fixated to their leader. Too occupied to notice the shifting sands to their right. It is only fitting that they ended up camping on the top of the hiding hole of Bruto, Princess Mirabel's bodyguard. He was one of the many who volunteered for this crazy plan of yours after the details were confirmed and one of the few that had the ability to pull it off. He and those few others were then buried alive on spots you saw as most likely campsites for the night, protected by sheets that protected them and hid them from magical scrying. Lionel grumbled, but complied after negotiating his prices.

Well, you've done all you could and it's all up to Bruto to make the finishing move of your master plan. He moves slowly but steadily. Thona is still too occupied with her speech to notice either. Bruto creeps within ten paces of Thona before pulling his arm back. Each of the volunteers were armed with simple weapons for self defense, but they also carry a bola of special design you managed to create with Lionel in a couple of hours. It is a bit unwieldy as a throwing weapon, but each men buried were able to hit stationary targets with one after short practice. You wait with baited breath, and Thona must also have been sensing the changing athmosphere, for she pauses mid sentence.

You not only see but also feel the bola hitting Thona on her ankle, as the psychic scream jolts you to the core. Every man and woman on sight are trashing as well, as inhuman wailing fills everyone's skull, like icepicks through temples. After 10-15 seconds of painful eternity later the wailing ceases and you find yourself in fetal position, holding your head and grasping for air. Some people must have recovered quicker, as you can hear the first ululating warcries before you've managed to make the full stock of your condition.

The ensuing battle is brief and chaotic. What few fires are lit only manage to blind people, but after the psychic shock and loss of their leader and greatest asset the invading force fails to muster meaningful resistance. Before long every enemy soldiers either dies, flees or surrenders.

You approach the victors, expecting congratulations for your own not insignificant part, but people are more interested to celebrate Earl Felion and Bruto. This is just like back home. Even in University, many a time you were playing the part of a brain in a group assigment only for some schmuck with prettier face than yours to gain all the fame. Still, a victory party is a victory party, and people make good use of the rations and retrieved stolen goods. More than a few amphoras of wine and other beverages are found and opened and a small bonfire is erected from material available.
CONT.
>>
>>5484956
4/4
You sit alone with your thoughts and a mug of not entirely terrible wine in your hand. The fire starts to die out due to lack of material to burn. Feeling the need to relief yourself, you exit the camp. After completing your business you're about to turn back, when you notice something from the corner of your eyes. A pair of people, laying on a side of the dune facing away from the camp. Feeling curious, you creep closer.

You hear the two and recognize the two voices. Rolan and Ania! Well well well. This is interesting. From what you saw earlier, the two seemed to hate each other, but now they have hidden away from the others to do who knows what.

You listen the two and Ania sounds more than a little inebriated, while Rolan, well, he sounds brash like always.

>...No, I said... no... I...

>C'mon, I know you wanted this when you said you had something to say, a girl like you...*hic*

Hmm, it doesn't seem entirely consensual. Maybe you should intervene and hope it pays off later.

>Interrupt in non-confrontational manner: ”Ania, is that you? Your brother wanted to see you. Now!”

>Go full white-knight mode: ”UNHAND THE LADY!”

>Remain where you are and observe. Perhaps you can use this for blackmail later.

>Try to gain leverage in other way (write up)
>>
>>5484963
>Interrupt in non-confrontational manner: ”Ania, is that you? Your brother wanted to see you. Now!”

Oh boy, I don't like where this is going.
>>
>>5484963
>Interrupt in non-confrontational manner: ”Ania, is that you? Your brother wanted to see you. Now!”
>>
>>5484963
>Remain where you are and observe. Perhaps you can use this for blackmail later.
Seems bastardly.
>>
Sorry for the lack of art, lads, been very busy. Though I have something in the works for our fat bastard and some ideas for the world (I'm pretty sure we're in a Bronze Age world of sorts, but I want to ask OP >>5484963 for clarification before drawing since I'd rather not fuck up and waste hours drawing wrong designs)
>>
>>5485224
No problems. "Bronze age" is in the right ballpark, though iron tools and weapons do exist.
>>
>>5484963
>Interrupt in non-confrontational manner: ”Ania, is that you? Your brother wanted to see you. Now!”
>>
>>5484963
>Interrupt in non-confrontational manner: ”Ania, is that you? Your brother wanted to see you. Now!”



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