The Prodigal Son: Another Life

Writer

"Wake up." You open your eyes to the familiar, yet always somewhat imposing, stone walls of your room in Blackthorn Keep. Your name is Caden Blackthorn, the eldest son and heir of Lord Edric Blackthorn and his dear wife Lady Agatha. At fourteen, the weight of your future responsibilities as the lord of Blackthorn Keep already presses on your shoulders, a constant, if not entirely unwelcome, companion.
The morning sun barely filters through the narrow window, casting long shadows that dance across the floor. You rise, the cool stone beneath your feet a stark contrast to the warmth of the bed you reluctantly leave behind.
Today, unlike most days filled with the rigorous studies and training expected of a lord's heir, promises a brief respite. It's the day of the Autumn Festival, a day when the entire keep and the surrounding villages come alive with music, laughter, and the scent of fresh harvests.

>A) A strange sense of déjà vu washes over you, leaving you with the eerie feeling that this moment has unfolded before.
>B) Fragments of a half-forgotten dream flash through your mind, hinting at terrible things on the horizon.
>C) Memories of another life, filled with a decade of pain and heartbreaks, the adventures of a prodigal son, flood your consciousness vividly.
>D) Your mind is clear, with a focus solely on the present, unburdened by the past.

Anonymous

>D) Your mind is clear, with a focus solely on the present, unburdened by the past

Go into the witches forest where Queen Mazela will give you your physic powers

>>5976163
>C) Memories of another life, filled with a decade of pain and heartbreaks, the adventures of a prodigal son, flood your consciousness vividly.

>>5976163
>B) Fragments of a half-forgotten dream flash through your mind, hinting at terrible things on the horizon.
is this gonna me a redo ? 'coz I didn't read the og

>>5976163
>>B) Fragments of a half-forgotten dream flash through your mind, hinting at terrible things on the horizon.

Writer

>>5976171
>>5976187
>>5976194
>>5976235
Fragments of a half-forgotten dream flash through your mind, hinting at terrible things on the horizon. Yet, it's just a dream, you remind yourself. Reality is what counts.
Your hand brushes against the cold, solid stone walls of your room—tangible and reassuring, unlike the fleeting specters of your nightmares.
As you don the day’s attire—a tunic and breeches that strike a balance between simplicity and the elegance expected of a young noble—you catch your reflection. There, in the mirror, is a fourteen-year-old boy teetering on the edge of manhood, the future lord of the Blackthorn Keep. Despite the ordinariness of the morning, a sense of impending sorrow clings to you, unshakable and ominous. What could it mean?
"Caden, how much longer will you hide in your room?" The voice that breaks through your reverie is unmistakably Mirena’s, her tone playful yet impatient.
Mirena, daughter of Castellan Hugh, has been your closest friend since childhood. Her vibrant spirit, forever wild and free like the winds that roam the Blackthorn lands, always pulls you from the weight of your thoughts, driving away the shadows of duty and expectation that cling to you.
"Mirena," you reply softly, her name a whisper that somehow lightens the burden you feel.
"Were you expecting someone else to fetch you?" She laughs, her mirth echoing around the stone chamber, scattering the shadows that linger from your unsettling dreams. Sunlight catches in her golden hair, creating a halo around her that starkly contrasts with the cold grey stones of the keep. Her smile, radiant and warm, pushes away the encroaching dread that has enveloped you since waking.
Once merely the scrappy, tomboyish girl who raced you through the orchards, Mirena is blossoming into something more—a beautiful, graceful young woman. Day by day, it becomes painfully clear that the feelings you have for her are deepening, transforming your childhood friendship into something far more complex.
Yet, amid this blossoming awareness, a grim voice inside whispers of impending doom, a tragedy that might soon tear her from your side forever.

>A) You sense an urgent need to see your mother, the frail yet gentle Lady Agatha, to comfort her with your presence.
>B) You seek out your father, Lord Edric Blackthorn, a man you deeply admire and strive to emulate.
>C) You head to the courtyard, eager to engage in sword training with your mentor, Sir Allister, and his son, your close friend, the young squire Corwin.
>D) You make your way to Master Lewin, your father's devoted steward and your teacher, seeking his counsel on the matters troubling you.

Anonymous

>>5976247
C) You head to the courtyard, eager to engage in sword training with your mentor, Sir Allister, and his son, your close friend, the young squire Corwin.

We want to be a strong warrior for when we meet witch Queen Mazela

>>5976247
>C) You head to the courtyard, eager to engage in sword training with your mentor, Sir Allister, and his son, your close friend, the young squire Corwin.
>>5976171
>Go into the witches forest where Queen Mazela will give you your physic powers
what was a thing in the og ?

>>5976422
>what was a thing in the og ?
What? I don't get what you're asking

>>5976438
The queen of witches, the all seeing and all knowing. The teacher of magic and psychic powers. The devourer of magic and blood. The incarnation of the magic god Lok'thuk herself.

BOW BEFORE THE QUEEN MORTAL BEINGS !!!

>>5976452
Are you making it up or is this quest a fanfic of something I don't know?

>>5976456
Mortal, you disgrace thy queen.

>Mazela channels her inner being decapitating you limb by limb with her physic powers and throwing you part by part into her demon pit filled where the demons devour your mercilessly. But she does keep 1 particular part for the collection of severed d***s right behind her throne made of crystalized body parts from her once fearsome enemies.

>>5976460
oh, so you're the same troll from the gondola quest

Writer

>>5976339
>>5976422
You push away the looming dread that has shadowed you since waking. "I need to head to sword training now, but I'll meet you at the Autumn Festival later," you promise your childhood friend.
"You could afford to miss one session," Mirena snorts, the graceful young maiden briefly giving way to the spirited, tomboyish girl you grew up with. "You're Lord Edric's only son and heir. Sir Allister wouldn't discipline you like he does the other boys for skipping practice."
"Yet, it's important I don't," you reply, the weight of your future responsibilities firm in your voice. "Especially because I am the heir. I need to be prepared for the day I take charge of this keep, and setting a good example for the other boys is part of that preparation."
Your ultimate goal is to earn your father, Lord Edric Blackthorn’s, pride and respect. Shunning training, even for the Autumn Festival, would not serve that purpose.
"You sound more like an old man than a boy my age," Mirena teases, her eyes rolling playfully before her tone softens, tinged with nostalgia. "I miss the days when I could spar with you and the others."
In her younger days, Mirena was the fiercest of your companions, fiercely independent, always amongst the boys, fighting, exploring, more inclined to muddy her dresses in the castle grounds than sit for needlework. But as adolescence set in, societal expectations nudged her towards more traditional feminine pursuits, sidelining her from the training grounds.
"You don't need the training, Mirena. You're already tougher than many who wield the sword," you say, hoping to cheer her up with a light-hearted compliment. Her smile in response, light and genuine, warms you as she chuckles softly.
"See you later, Mirena," you call out as she walks away, the sunlight highlighting her golden hair, her spirit undimmed by the paths life has chosen for her.

The crisp morning air greets you as you stride into the courtyard, the familiar clank and clash of steel ringing in your ears. You're eager for the day's training with Sir Allister, a seasoned knight who has served your father loyally for years and whose guidance you've relied on since you were just a child swinging a wooden sword. Alongside him, Corwin, his young son and your close friend, waits with a grin, a wooden practice sword in hand.
"Ready to cross swords, Caden?" Corwin calls out, his voice teasing yet competitive. He twirls his wooden sword expertly, a challenge gleaming in his eyes.
You nod, gripping your own sword a bit tighter. "Always ready to best you, Corwin," you reply, the corner of your mouth turning up in a half-smile.
Sir Allister, watching the exchange with a keen eye, steps forward. His armor clinks with each step, the sound of experience and countless battles. "Today, let's focus on defense," he suggests, his voice deep and authoritative. "A good warrior knows how to attack, but a great one knows when and how to defend."
You and Corwin take your starting positions opposite each other, swords raised. As Sir Allister calls out instructions, you begin.

>A) You charge forward with determination, driven by the conviction that the best defense is a good offense.
>B) You hold your ground, conserving energy and adopting a stance that prepares you to counter Corwin's initial strike.

Anonymous

>>5976535
>B) You hold your ground, conserving energy and adopting a stance that prepares you to counter Corwin's initial strike.

>>5976535
>B) You hold your ground, conserving energy and adopting a stance that prepares you to counter Corwin's initial strike.

Witch Queen Mazela is always watching us, since she's the all-seeing witch who always watches over us all. We need to heed the words of our teacher so she'll be proud of us, so she'll see we're learning, if not, she won't teach us the physic powers.

>>5976532
>>B) You hold your ground, conserving energy and adopting a stance that prepares you to counter Corwin's initial strike.

Writer

>>5976578
>>5976697
>>5976957
"Don't be hasty. Wait for your opponent, conserve your energy," Sir Allister instructs, his voice a guiding force in the midst of the clanging swords.
Taking the advice to heart, you hold your ground, conserving energy and adopting a stance that prepares you to counter Corwin's initial strike. Corwin, fueled by youthful zeal, advances with a series of quick, sharp attacks. You meet each with a calculated parry, turning his own force against him under Sir Allister's watchful gaze.
"Good, Caden! Now, remember your footing," Sir Allister calls out. "Balance is key."
You adjust your stance slightly, feeling the gravel shift under your boots. Corwin's blade seeks an opening, but you're ready, blocking his thrust and countering with a firm push that tests his balance. The intensity of your duel escalates, each movement sharpening the edge of your focus.
"Watch his eyes, not just his sword," Sir Allister advises, his experienced eyes catching every subtle cue. Lifting your gaze, you lock eyes with Corwin, and the world shrinks to just the space between you. Your swords clash, their sounds a rhythmic beat in the cool morning air.
You begin to read Corwin's intentions more clearly—his feints, his genuine strikes—and adjust your strategy accordingly. Corwin is skilled, undoubtedly one of the most capable among the young squires, but his eagerness sometimes outpaces his strategy.
Sensing an opportunity, you feign vulnerability, drawing him into a bold, overextended lunge. With precise timing, you use his momentum against him, sending him off balance and his wooden sword clattering to the ground.

"That's enough, lads," Sir Allister's voice cuts through the tension. Both of you are breathing heavily, the rush of the bout flushing your faces. You extend a hand to Corwin, helping him to his feet.
"Well fought, Caden," Corwin says with a good-natured clap on your shoulder, his respect for you undiminished by the defeat. "You're getting better every day."
"And you have a fine way of keeping me on my toes," you reply, returning his gesture with a respectful nod. Despite the disparity in your skill levels, Corwin's challenge is always welcome; it sharpens you both, promising that he will indeed make a fine knight someday.
Sir Allister approaches, a smile of approval softening his usually stern features. "Excellent work today, lads. Remember, the skills you sharpen here will serve you beyond the courtyard. They're not just for combat but for life’s many battles."
As you sheathe your sword, his words linger in your mind. Every lesson in this courtyard is a step toward your future, a preparation not just for battle but for the myriad challenges you will face as lord of Blackthorn Keep. Each drop of sweat, each moment of exertion, is an investment in that inevitable role, shaping you into the leader you are destined to become.

>A) You sense an urgent need to see your mother, the frail yet gentle Lady Agatha, to comfort her with your presence.
>B) You seek out your father, Lord Edric Blackthorn, a man you deeply admire and strive to emulate.
>C) You make your way to Master Lewin, your father's devoted steward and your teacher, seeking his counsel on the matters troubling you.

Anonymous

>>5977003
>under Sir Allister's watchful gaze
You forgot to mention the watchful gaze of our beloved Witch Queen Mazela ! She watches over us, for she is the all-seeing one. The queen is proud of us for heading the words of our mentor. She noticed how eager for knowledge we are, therefore if we continue down this path she'll surely teach us physic powers.

>A) You sense an urgent need to see your mother, the frail yet gentle Lady Agatha, to comfort her with your presence.
We mus not disappoint mother, for the Queen of witches is watching us.

>>5977004
>A) You sense an urgent need to see your mother, the frail yet gentle Lady Agatha, to comfort her with your presence.

>>5977004
>>A) You sense an urgent need to see your mother, the frail yet gentle Lady Agatha, to comfort her with your presence.

Writer

>>5977017
>>5977084
>>5977120
After your rigorous training session with Sir Allister and Corwin, you sense an urgent need to see your mother, the frail yet gentle Lady Agatha, to comfort her with your presence. You need to see her, to ensure she's well, and perhaps to reassure yourself just as much as her.
"Good morning, mother," you say softly as you ease the door open to her sunlit chamber.
"Good morning, my son," Lady Agatha replies, her smile like a burst of sunlight that further illuminates the room, despite her visible frailty.
Your mother, still the image of grace and nobility in her exquisite blue silken gown, her auburn hair flecked with gray and neatly braided, embodies a quiet dignity in her early forties. She has endured much, her health ever precarious. After several miscarriages, you remain her only child, the sole heir to Blackthorn Keep, lavished with all the love she has to give.
Despite the delicate state of her health, her spirit remains strong, a source of kindness and warmth within the often cold, stone walls of your ancestral home. Her presence has long been a shield against the creeping shadows that seem ever-eager to encroach upon your home.
You sit beside her on the bed, taking her hand in yours, noting the fragility of her touch. Her smile is as heartwarming as ever, yet today, it doesn't quite reach her eyes, igniting a flicker of worry in your heart. The room, filled with the soft scent of lavender and the quiet hum of the garden beyond her window, should have felt comfortable, yet a shadow seems to linger around the edges of your perception.
Try as you might, you cannot dispel the gnawing sense of impending darkness—a foreboding that the soft light your mother casts might soon dim, leaving Blackthorn Keep—and your heart—shrouded in sorrow and struggle. This silent warning, this fear that the days ahead may bring pain not only to you but to all who dwell within these walls, weighs heavily upon you.

"Mother, how are you feeling today?" you inquire, masking your worries with a tone of casual concern.
"Every day is a gift, especially those that allow me to see you grow, my dear," she replies, her voice soft but filled with a love that knows no bounds. "But tell me about your training. Are you keeping well?"
Her deflection is not lost on you; she's always been more concerned about others, especially about you, than about herself. You tighten your grip on her hand, a silent reassurance. "Training went well. Sir Allister says I'm improving. But it's your health that worries me, mother."
Lady Agatha chuckles softly, her eyes shining with both affection and a trace of melancholy. "Always my protector, aren't you, Caden? Don’t worry about me; I am well cared for, and your love is my greatest medicine." Her words are meant to comfort, but you sense the effort behind them, the will to maintain normalcy despite the signs that all is not as well as she portrays.
You nod, deciding to stay with her longer, to bask in the warmth and light of her presence while you can. For now, at least, you can keep the encroaching darkness at bay, together.

>A) You vow to save her, determined to do whatever it takes to ensure her safety and well-being.
>B) You seek out your father, Lord Edric Blackthorn, a man you deeply admire and strive to emulate.
>C) You make your way to Master Lewin, your father's devoted steward and your teacher, seeking his counsel on the matters troubling you.
>D) You choose to step out of the keep and join the festivities of the Autumn Festival, hoping to find a moment of joy amidst the turmoil.

Anonymous

>A) You vow to save her, determined to do whatever it takes to ensure her safety and well-being.
Queen Mazela will surely be able to help us out with her blood magic. Mother will be well on her feet in no time giving birth to 10s of brothers and sisters. TO THE WITCHES FOREST LADS!

>>5977305
>B) You seek out your father, Lord Edric Blackthorn, a man you deeply admire and strive to emulate.

>>5977305
>A) You vow to save her, determined to do whatever it takes to ensure her safety and well-being.

>>5977305
>>A) You vow to save her, determined to do whatever it takes to ensure her safety and well-being.

Writer

>>5977331
>>5977345
>>5977401
>>5977604
You vow to save your mother, determined to do whatever it takes to ensure her safety and well-being.
Your father, Lord Edric Blackthorn, has spared no expense to treat his beloved wife, ordering his steward Master Lewin to enlist the services of the finest physicians and apothecaries in the land for Lady Agatha's care.
Yet, for all their expertise and concoctions, their knowledge has limits. They are not wizards. They cannot stop the inevitable or cheat death.
"My lady," Mirena announces as she steps gracefully into the room. She wears a feminine dress, a change from her usual practical attire, and curtsies gracefully to your mother. A flush of color rises to her cheeks when she realizes you're also in the room, not accustomed to maintaining such a feminine demeanor in your presence.
"I have asked Mirena to serve as my lady-in-waiting for a bit," your mother explains with a playful yet knowing smile, her eyes twinkling with mischief and understanding that suggests she knows more than she lets on, perhaps even guessing your deepening feelings for Mirena—a realization that brings a flush to your own cheeks as well.
You understand why your mother has chosen Mirena for this role. Mirena, having lost her mother at a young age, was raised solely by her father, Castellan Hugh. As a result, she lacked a maternal figure to guide her through the nuances of womanhood.
Your mother, the kindest soul you know, stepped in to fill this void, and assumed a maternal role in Mirena's life, treating the motherless little girl almost as her own daughter, nurturing her with the maternal affection and guidance she missed in her childhood.
Mirena, once the fearless companion of your childhood adventures, more boyish in spirit than most lads her age, and usually more comfortable in the mud than in silk, has always revered your mother, viewing her as the epitome of grace and femininity—the mother figure she sorely missed.
Now, as a young maiden, Mirena can no longer afford the tomboyish freedoms of her childhood; she must embrace her role in society as a woman of elegance and poise, a transformation guided by your mother's adept hand. There are few better mentors than Lady Agatha, whose nobility and grace have never waned, not even under the shadow of her illness.

Noticing your gaze, Mirena’s cheeks take on a deeper shade of red. Your mother, catching this silent exchange, smiles warmly. "You look stunning today, Mirena," she praises, her voice laced with playful mischief. "I wouldn’t be surprised if a handsome young nobleman falls hopelessly in love with you at the Autumn Festival."
At her words, Mirena offers a shy smile, a sight both rare and endearing—a glimpse of the young woman emerging from the shell of the wild, free-spirited little girl you grew up with. Your mother carefully adjusts Mirena’s hair and smoothes out her dress, adding, "There, you look perfect now. Enjoy the festival. You too, Caden."
You nod, your heart filled with a bittersweet mixture of affection and impending sorrow, appreciating these moments of levity amidst the shadow of your mother’s illness. You silently vow to cherish these moments, fleeting and precious, amidst the looming shadows of the future.
"This Keep needs your light, mother," you whisper to yourself, reaffirming your commitment to do whatever it takes to protect her.

>A) You seek out your father, Lord Edric Blackthorn, a man you deeply admire and strive to emulate.
>B) You make your way to Master Lewin, your father's devoted steward and your teacher, seeking his counsel on the matters troubling you.
>C) You go to see Old Thora, the castle's midwife who delivered you, and whose ancient pagan beliefs have always intrigued you.
>D) You decide to head out to the Autumn Festival, pausing to exchange a few words with Garrick, the loyal gatekeeper, as you leave the keep.
>E) You set out to find the perfect gift for Mirena, something that will surely bring a smile to her face.

Anonymous

>They are not wizards. They cannot stop the inevitable or cheat death.
Wizards? Perhaps not! Witches? Maybe!

>A) You seek out your father, Lord Edric Blackthorn, a man you deeply admire and strive to emulate.
We need to discuss an expedition to the witches forest in order to save our mother with ancient blood magic. Queen Mazela will surely have the knowledge to save our sick mother for she is the all-knowing one

>>5977614
>B) You make your way to Master Lewin, your father's devoted steward and your teacher, seeking his counsel on the matters troubling you.

>>5977614
>>E) You set out to find the perfect gift for Mirena, something that will surely bring a smile to her face.

>>5977614

>>B) You make your way to Master Lewin, your father's devoted steward and your teacher, seeking his counsel on the matters troubling you.

Writer

>>5977622
>>5977814
>>5977817
>>5977982
>>5978299
>>5978319
Afterwards, you make your way to Master Lewin, your father's devoted steward, and your childhood teacher, seeking his counsel on the matters troubling you. Master Lewin was the one who taught you to read, to write, shaping the mind behind the young man you are today.
You find Master Lewin in his usual haunt, the study, surrounded by towering shelves filled with ancient tomes and scrolls. Despite his advancing years, the old steward's eyes still spark with intellect and understanding, qualities that have guided you since your childhood.
"Caden, shouldn't you be enjoying the Autumn Festival?" Master Lewin inquires, his tone warm yet tinged with confusion.
"I intend to, shortly," you respond gravely. "But first, there's something pressing I need to discuss with you." You pause, gathering the fragments of a half-forgotten dream, hinting at terrible things on the horizon. "It's about some recurring nightmares... dark visions that haunt me night after night."
"What dreams, Caden?" he asks, his brow furrowing with concern.
"I see my mother's light fading from the Keep," you confess, sharing the vivid images that haunt your sleep. "After that, darkness overwhelms the Keep. Pain and sorrow follow." A wound that never heals. "I'm in a distant, cursed land, far from home, waging a crusade." Fighting against bestial monsters. "I watch Blackthorn Keep crumble, its walls overrun by moss and decay." Your voice drops lower, revealing a personal fear, "And I lose..." Mirena, "my dearest friend...." the girl I love, "forever."
Master Lewin listens intently, his expression thoughtful as he processes your words. "These are just dreams, Caden. You mustn't let them weigh on you," he reassures you gently. Then, his tone shifts, reflecting a deeper contemplation. "You know, I once read a book where a philosopher proposed that dreams are merely echoes of another life."
"Another life?" You echo, intrigued yet perplexed.
"Yes," Master Lewin nods. "He argued that each choice we make in your life alters our path, creating different timelines, different possibilities. According to him, our dreams might simply be glimpses of these other lives, paths untaken, or choices we might still face."
"If a new world is created every time we make a choice, then which world is the real one?" you ask, the philosophical depth of the question dawning on you.
"The world you choose to live in, lad—that's your reality, your truth," Master Lewin answers, smiling kindly. "Of course, these are just the musings of what some might call a mad philosopher. Nothing more."

>A) This is a good life, Master Lewin. I have no wish to find myself in another.
>B) I'm afraid, Master Lewin. I'm afraid of losing my mother, afraid of turning into a broken man I don't recognize, afraid of all my dark visions coming true.
>C) But if I choose this life, won't all the pains and sorrows I've endured and overcome in that other life be in vain?

Anonymous

>>5978466
>A) This is a good life, Master Lewin. I have no wish to find myself in another.
Mazela is always watching, we must not let her down

>>5978466
>A) This is a good life, Master Lewin. I have no wish to find myself in another.
let's take what we can from the visions, but not let them cloud our judgement

>>5978466
>>A) This is a good life, Master Lewin. I have no wish to find myself in another.

>>5978466
>A) This is a good life, Master Lewin. I have no wish to find myself in another.

Writer

>>5978482
>>5978514
>>5978906
>>5978936
>>5978984
>>5979612
>>5979742
"This is a good life, Master Lewin. I have no wish to find myself in another," you affirm, your voice steady with conviction. You are aware that House Blackthorn may not boast the wealth or power of some other noble families, but that does not diminish your appreciation for what you do have.
The love of your mother, Lady Agatha, whose gentleness and resilience inspire you to be kind; the pride of your father, Lord Edric, whose expectations frame your path; the wisdom of mentors like Master Lewin and Sir Allister, who have guided your education and training; and the warmth of friends like Mirena, who infuse your life with joy and a true sense of belonging. These relationships are the true treasures of your existence, far outweighing any material wealth or political influence.
Reaffirmed by this reflection, you leave the study, stepping out into the crisp autumn air, eager to partake in the festival's celebrations. As you enter the courtyard, you encounter your father, Lord Edric Blackthorn. A nobleman nearing fifty, his dark hair just beginning to be graced with streaks of gray, standing amongst his closest and most loyal men, including Sir Allister and Castellan Hugh.
"Sir Allister has been commending your prowess in today's training," your father begins, his voice rich with pride. The affection and expectation he holds for you, his only son and heir—especially precious to him as you were born after several heartbreaking miscarriages by your lady mother—shines in his eyes. "I am truly proud of the man you are becoming, Caden. I shall rest easy when my time comes, knowing that Blackthorn Keep will be in strong hands."

>A) "Thank you, Father. I will continue to strive to meet your expectations and to honor our family's legacy," you affirm, your commitment unwavering.
>B) "I have been blessed to have Sir Allister as my teacher, whose wisdom has always guided my blade," you acknowledge, grateful for his mentorship.
>C) "I pray you have many more years with us, father," you express, hoping for more time to learn and grow under his guidance.
>D) "I pray that I will be strong enough to defend our house, father," you say, your resolve tinged with the hope of proving worthy of your heritage.
>E) "Your legacy will not end with me; I will ensure our family's name continues to be a symbol of strength and honor," you promise, deeply aware of the legacy you carry.

Anonymous

Rolled 4 (1d5)

>>5979864
>A) "Thank you, Father. I will continue to strive to meet your expectations and to honor our family's legacy," you affirm, your commitment unwavering.
>B) "I have been blessed to have Sir Allister as my teacher, whose wisdom has always guided my blade," you acknowledge, grateful for his mentorship.
>C) "I pray you have many more years with us, father," you express, hoping for more time to learn and grow under his guidance.
>D) "I pray that I will be strong enough to defend our house, father," you say, your resolve tinged with the hope of proving worthy of your heritage.
>E) "Your legacy will not end with me; I will ensure our family's name continues to be a symbol of strength and honor," you promise, deeply aware of the legacy you carry.

1 = A, 2 = B, 3 = C, 4 = D, 5 = E

>>5979864
>D) "I pray that I will be strong enough to defend our house, father," you say, your resolve tinged with the hope of proving worthy of your heritage.

Writer

>>5979958
>>5979983
"I pray that I will be strong enough to defend our house, father," you say, your resolve tinged with the hope of proving worthy of your heritage, the weight of your future responsibilities pressing upon you.
"Of course you will be!" your father responds robustly, clapping you on the shoulder with a smile brimming with confidence. "You are my son, the heir of the noble Blackthorn legacy! There's nothing you can't achieve if you set your mind to it."
Your father is a man of immense pride—a trait that has served him well as the lord of Blackthorn Keep, though it sometimes blinds him to the softer, more vulnerable realities of those around him, both family members and servants. He sees only the strength and potential in you, often overlooking the burdens such expectations can impose.
Your mother, with her keen perception and gentle demeanor, has always balanced this perspective. She sees not just the future lord in you but also the young man grappling with his own doubts and fears.
Despite his shortcomings, you deeply admire your father and strive to live up to the lofty visions he holds for you. This drive pushes you to excel in your studies with Master Lewin and your swordsmanship under Sir Allister, fueled by a desire to one day make your father proud.
So far, you have done a commendable job when it comes to making your father proud. In the training yard, his voice always rings the loudest, his applause the most vigorous, as he watches you spar with the other boys. His pride in you is unmistakable, even when he fails to notice your inner turmoil.
When you were a child, he often brought you along on his visits to the many villages under his lordship. Part of this was undoubtedly to acquaint you with the lands you would one day rule. But another, perhaps more personal part, was to boast that he finally sired an heir—the golden heir who could do no wrong in his lord father's eyes. Not a boy struggling with the weight of expectations too heavy for a child to bear

>A) You wish your father could see beyond the future lord he envisions, to understand the hidden fears and hopes of the boy you still are.
>B) You appreciate how your father's high expectations have pushed you forward, sharpening your mind and skills, molding you into a better scholar, a fiercer swordsman, and, you hope, a more capable lord.

Anonymous

>A) You wish your father could see beyond the future lord he envisions, to understand the hidden fears and hopes of the boy you still are.

>>5980036
>A) You wish your father could see beyond the future lord he envisions, to understand the hidden fears and hopes of the boy you still are.

>>5980036
>>A) You wish your father could see beyond the future lord he envisions, to understand the hidden fears and hopes of the boy you still are.

Writer

>>5980041
>>5980208
>>5980345
You wish your father could see beyond the future lord he envisions, to understand the hidden fears and hopes of the boy you still are. Yet, you know this is perhaps a hope too high. Your father loves you deeply but lacks the insight to decode your quieter, more personal struggles: your unspoken fears and hidden feelings.
"Let us return to our earlier discussion, my lord," Castellan Hugh interjects, drawing your father's attention back to matters of state. Mirena's father, a stern and diligent man who rose to the respected rank of Castellan despite his common birth, is a man known for his rigid traditionalism and strict discipline. To many, he is seen as an opportunist, an upjumped commoner grasping at noble straws. Mirena, though fiery and outspoken by nature, still behaves submissively in his presence, her vibrant spirit dimmed by strict disciplining.
"A new crusade has been announced," Hugh continues, his voice carrying a note of urgency. "It is a campaign deep into the cursed lands, aimed at confronting the pagan cults of the 'leopard woman.' It is repugnant, the worship of such savagery by those heathen scum. The church requests that we send young men from our lands to aid in this fight."
You feel a knot of anxiety tighten within you, recalling the fragments of your dark dreams. Does your father expect you to volunteer and fight in the cursed lands?
"Any young man eager to forge his reputation in the Crusade has my blessing," your father declares, his gaze then shifting to you. "However, my son must remain here. He is the heir to Blackthorn Keep, my only son. It would be unwise to send him to such a distant conflict. Caden's place is here at Blackthorn Keep."
"Understandable, my lord," Castellan Hugh responds, nodding in agreement, his expression unreadable. Sir Allister also nods, his face a mask of stoic approval.
Relief washes over you. While your father's aspirations for you are lofty, they do not extend to risking your life in the cursed lands against pagan cultists.

"There you are, Caden! I've been searching everywhere for you—" Mirena's voice cuts through the courtyard, lively as the girl you remember racing through the orchards. But her demeanor shifts abruptly as she notices the company you're in, and she quickly curtsies, saying, "My apologies, Lord Blackthorn."
"Ah, you're Castellan Hugh's daughter, aren't you?" Your father regards Mirena, who looks striking in her dress, with an appreciative eye. "I remember when you were just a scrawny little thing always tagging along with Caden... you've blossomed into quite a beautiful woman."
"Thank you, my lord," Mirena replies, her voice tinged with discomfort. Her response lacks the blush and shy smile that your mother's compliments usually evoke; instead, there's an edge of unease. It's clear she's not accustomed to such attention from older men, and it visibly unsettles her.
"She may have grown prettier, but she remains as willful and disobedient as ever," Castellan Hugh interjects with a scowl, his tone harsh. Hugh is a man of old beliefs, firm in the conviction that women should be obedient to men, "I thought I told you to wear the red dress?"
"Lady Agatha thought that one a bit too immodest," Mirena murmurs, her gaze dropping to the floor.
Castellan Hugh’s face tightens in disapproval. He's not one to challenge Lady Agatha's decisions, respecting her status as the Lady of the Keep, but his displeasure in being overridden by a woman’s judgment is evident. He views the Autumn Festival as an opportunity, a chance for Mirena to catch the eye of a potential suitor, perhaps a second son of a lord or a wealthy merchant, with a dress that might show a bit more skin than Lady Agatha deems appropriate.
You understand his motives all too well. Throughout his life, Hugh has been derided as an upjumped commoner and now seeks to elevate his daughter's station by any means necessary—even if those means involve exploiting Mirena's appearance, blatantly ignoring her comfort and feelings in the process.
As you stand there, watching the interaction, you feel a protective stir within you. Mirena is more than just a pawn in her father's ambitions. She is your friend, a person with her own will and right to dignity. You resolve to support her, to ensure that during this festival, she experiences the joy and freedom deserving of her spirited nature, not the weight of her father's schemes.

>A) You resolve to confess your love for her today, the decision heavy in your heart but clear, as you know it's the truth you can no longer keep hidden.
>B) You decide to wait, letting her make her own choice, too afraid of risking the cherished friendship you share in case she doesn't feel the same way.

Anonymous

>>5980402
>A) You resolve to confess your love for her today, the decision heavy in your heart but clear, as you know it's the truth you can no longer keep hidden.

>>5980438
>A) You resolve to confess your love for her today, the decision heavy in your heart but clear, as you know it's the truth you can no longer keep hidden.
We're going to get some pussy tonight lads

>>5980438
>>5980587
>>5980788
>>5980815
You resolve to confess your love for her today, the decision heavy in your heart but clear, as you know it's the truth you can no longer keep hidden. If you hesitate, you risk losing her to another, and that is a possibility you cannot bear to entertain.
As you turn to accompany Mirena to the festival grounds, your steps falter when you spot Old Thora, the aged midwife of Blackthorn Keep. She is an old woman shrouded in mystery and steeped in the old pagan beliefs of the land. However, having delivered you into the world fourteen years ago, Old Thora has always held a special place of favor in your mother's heart.
"You should make an offering today, milord, from your house to the Old Woman of Winter," Old Thora suggests, her voice carrying the weight of ancient customs, ancient customs that precede the church by centuries. "The Autumn Festival was never truly a day for celebration. In my youth, half a century ago, it was a day to appease the spirits of winter, to ensure we are spared their wrath when their season comes."
"Those are merely pagan superstitions, Thora, tales to frighten children," your father responds dismissively, his voice laced with exasperation. "We shall not waste our time with such trivialities."
"I implore you to reconsider, milord," Thora insists, her fingers tightly clasping the pagan runes hanging around her bony neck. "If the Old Woman of Winter is not appeased voluntarily in Autumn, she will take something far more precious in the Winter."
"Enough, Thora," your father interjects, a man of practicality who has little patience for what he deems mere superstition. "The Old Woman of Winter is nothing but a tale. It's time you forgot such foolishness and joined the rest of us in the present. The old gods are dead, Thora. We live in a new world now."
"They are merely sleeping, milord," Thora counters quietly, her gaze deep and unsettling, as if seeing beyond the veil of the present into a world ruled by forgotten gods. "When your churches turn to dust, the old gods will rule these lands once more."
As you witness this conversation, your heart races with an inexplicable urgency. A sense of foreboding fills you, whispering that this moment may be a pivotal one in your life. This choice, whether to heed the old traditions or to embrace the new ways, can alter your life forever.

>A) You dismiss Old Thora's warning and focus on enjoying the festival with Mirena, opting to embrace the joy of life over the dread of ancient winter spirits.
>B) You decide to heed Old Thora's warning; before the festival begins, you sneak away to light a candle in the old, forgotten temple in the forest outside the keep, an offering to the Old Woman of Winter, keeping your plans secret from everyone.
>C) You choose to make a quiet offering to the Old Woman of Winter at an old pagan temple before the festival, but first, you apologize to Mirena for leaving her side, explaining what you need to do.

>>5981332
>C) You choose to make a quiet offering to the Old Woman of Winter at an old pagan temple before the festival, but first, you apologize to Mirena for leaving her side, explaining what you need to do.
Follow our intuition

>>5981332
>>C) You choose to make a quiet offering to the Old Woman of Winter at an old pagan temple before the festival, but first, you apologize to Mirena for leaving her side, explaining what you need to do.

Writer

>>5981336
>>5981376
>>5981418
You stand silently, trying to grasp why your father so quickly dismissed Old Thora's suggestion to make an offering to the Old Woman of Winter. Certainly, he is a practical man with little patience for superstitions. Yet, there might be another reason. The Autumn Festival will draw many visitors—nobles, knights, and clergymen alike. Your father would not want to appear as a backward country lord still clinging to pagan rituals in their presence.
What if you make a quiet offering to the Old Woman of Winter instead? You mull it over. There's no harm in it, you reason. Besides, your nightmares consistently feature winter as the backdrop for your mother's fading light and the ensuing darkness over Blackthorn Keep. It feels unnerving how your half-forgotten dreams match Old Thora's superstitious beliefs.
You recall an old, forgotten, moss-ridden pagan temple you discovered years ago in the forest outside the keep, a memory from the days of 'monster hunting' with your childhood friends. What if you sneak out during the festival and light a candle there in honor of the Old Woman of Winter, a quiet plea to spare your mother come winter?
"What are you thinking, Caden?" Mirena asks, noticing your deep contemplation.
You wouldn't normally share such a plan to honor an old pagan deity with anyone. But Mirena is different; you would trust her with your life. You confide in her, "What Old Thora said... it's been haunting me. I've been having these nightmares about mother... about winter. I want to make an offering to the Old Woman of Winter... just in case Thora is right. Remember the old pagan temple we found as children?"
"I remember," Mirena replies, her expression turning serious. "I'll come with you, Caden."
"It's not safe—" you start to argue.
"Lady Agatha is like a mother to me, too. If there’s even a slight chance that this could help her, I need to be involved," Mirena interrupts firmly. "Besides, this keep isn't safe either, not in the way you believe it to be. I’d rather relive our monster hunting days, chasing after old pagan temples together with you, than stay at the festival and endure being ogled at by old men commenting on how much I've 'blossomed.'"

>A) "All right, Mirena, let's go on an adventure together, one last time," you agree, feeling a mixture of excitement and nostalgia as you plan this unexpected journey.
>B) "I'm sorry, Mirena, I cannot take a young woman into the forest," you say reluctantly, concerned about the dangers that might lurk away from the safety of the keep.
>C) "I'm sure my father didn't mean anything like that by his comment. You'll be safe here at Blackthorn Keep, whether I'm here or not," you assure her, trying to alleviate any concerns she might have.

Anonymous

>>5981491

>A) "All right, Mirena, let's go on an adventure together, one last time," you agree, feeling a mixture of excitement and nostalgia as you plan this unexpected journey.
Lads, I think we're going to bang her in that old pagan temple. I can smell it

>>5981491
>D) Beat up your dad for what he did in the old timeline

Writer

>>5981493
>>5981506
>>5981509
>>5981574
"All right, Mirena, let's go on an adventure together, one last time," you agree, feeling a mixture of excitement and nostalgia as you plan this unexpected journey.
The Autumn Festival, bustling with hundreds of visitors, will surely distract everyone at the keep. Your father will be occupied with greeting noble guests, and the guards will be too busy managing the festive chaos to notice your absence.
You quickly grab your sword to defend yourself and Mirena against any potential threats in the forest. Mirena gathers the candles you plan to light at the old, forgotten pagan temple, and together, you start your journey.
The weight of your sword feels reassuring at your side as you approach the gates of Blackthorn Keep, the crisp autumn air filling your lungs, sunlight casting a golden glow around you.
"Who goes there?" Garrick, the middle-aged gatekeeper, calls out upon spotting you and Mirena.
"It's me, Caden of House Blackthorn," you respond with a steady voice, "taking a walk."
"Lord Caden?" Garrick murmurs, squinting. "And who's the lady with you?"
"It's me, Garrick," Mirena says with a roll of her eyes. "Just because I'm wearing a dress doesn't mean I've turned into someone else!"
You can't help but smile as you step outside the keep. Mirena catches your expression and queries, "What's so funny?"
"I'm just glad," you answer warmly, "that no matter how you look, dress, or sometimes act, you're still the same Mirena I've always known."
"I will always be the same Mirena, Caden," Mirena assures, touching your hand gently as you walk through the lush forest surrounding the keep. "And we will always be friends."
"Always," you echo, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. A deep sense of relief washes over you, dispelling your earlier fears that growing older or even your deepening feelings might change the bond between you.
"Are you sure we're going the right way?" Mirena suddenly asks, her voice tinged with doubt as the forest grows denser around you.

>Roll D100

Anonymous

Rolled 8 (1d100)

>>5982097
man, what shitty rolls we got

>>5982442
>man, what shitty rolls we got
This might be the rolls for her virginity, I think we fucked up lads. No sexy time in the temple in front of the winter gods for us

Rolled 56 (1d100)

>>5982097
lucky 4th
>>5982447
>This might be the rolls for her virginity
kek, but I think that's for any dangers in the forest

>>5982451
>kek, but I think that's for any dangers in the forest
That's the danger, what if we get her prego on our first try. It's a full money today, we should be careful and not porky no condy. But father would probably be proud that we're already thinking about the future of the House Blackthorn

Writer

>>5982126
>>5982224
>>5982442
"I'm not sure," you admit, feeling a slight unease. You know your father's lands like the back of your hand and have passed through this forest countless times. Yet, for some inexplicable reason, you feel disoriented today.
You recall a vivid nightmare where you are in this very forest at night, being hunted by a monstrous figure—a nude woman with the head of a leopard. It's only a dream, of course, but it feels so real, as if it happened in another life.
You tighten your grip on the sword at your side and press forward, pushing through the dense underbrush. Today is the Autumn Festival, a day that once held significance for the old pagans who made offerings to their ancient, dark, and primordial gods.
Despite the bright autumn sunlight, a sense of being lost washes over you—a feeling you've never experienced before while roaming your father's lands as a child.
"Was that here before?" Mirena's voice breaks through your thoughts, tinged with unease. You both stop at the sight of an old hut that appears suddenly in a clearing. Its architecture is rugged, primitive, and distinctly pagan, like something out of a forgotten era.
"This part of the forest... it was always said to be uninhabited," you respond slowly, your voice low, as you scan the area, your senses heightened. The hut looks as if it has stood here for centuries, untouched by time, yet neither of you recalls ever seeing it on your childhood explorations.
"Do you think someone lives there?" Mirena asks, her curiosity piqued despite the apparent danger.

>A) "Let's check it out, but stay close," you suggest, curiosity piqued by the unexpected discovery, cautious yet driven to explore.
>B) "We should turn back," you consider, suddenly aware of how far you've strayed and the fading light.

Anonymous

>>5984114
>A) "Let's check it out, but stay close," you suggest, curiosity piqued by the unexpected discovery, cautious yet driven to explore.
Is this the witches hut of our beloved queen?

>>5984114
>B) "We should turn back," you consider, suddenly aware of how far you've strayed and the fading light.
staying far away from anons magical realm

>>5984114
>B) "We should turn back," you consider, suddenly aware of how far you've strayed and the fading light.

>>5984114
>A) "Let's check it out, but stay close," you suggest, curiosity piqued by the unexpected discovery, cautious yet driven to explore.

>>5984114
>>A) "Let's check it out, but stay close," you suggest, curiosity piqued by the unexpected discovery, cautious yet driven to explore.

>>5987477
Don't worry, he's sleeping with the fishes

Writer

>>5984122
>>5984249
>>5984295
>>5984301
>>5984573
"Let's check it out, but stay close," you suggest, curiosity piqued by the unexpected discovery, cautious yet driven to explore.
You remember the tales spun around the fireside of witches and doppelgangers that inhabit these woods—stories designed to instill fear in the hearts of children. You shake your head slightly, trying to dispel the unease. No, those are just tales to frighten children, you whisper to yourself. At fourteen, standing on the brink of manhood, you shouldn't let fairytales unsettle you.
Stepping cautiously towards the hut, you keep one hand on the hilt of your sword, the metal cool under your touch. The forest seems to close in around you, each step forward increasing the intensity of the silence that hangs like a shroud.
Mirena follows closely, her presence a reassuring constant at your side. "You think it's safe?" she asks, her voice barely above a whisper, as if afraid to break the heavy stillness that envelops the clearing.
"We'll be fine as long as we're careful. Let’s just take a quick look," you reply, trying to sound more confident than you feel. The hut, with its timeworn walls and thatch roof that seems to blend into the surrounding foliage, looks like it could belong to another world—a remnant of the old ways perhaps, hidden away from modern eyes.
As you approach, the details of the hut become clearer: the wood is gnarled and mossy, windows shuttered tightly, and an eerie stillness surrounds it. You pause, listening for any sign of life, but there is only the whisper of the wind through the trees.
"Strange that we never saw this place before," you murmur, scanning the clearing for any signs of recent activity. "It looks like it's been here for ages."
Mirena nods, peering curiously at the structure. "It does feel like it's from a different time... Maybe it's abandoned?"
"Maybe," you agree, though the atmosphere suggests anything but abandonment. A tingle of forewarning crawls up your spine as you reach out to gently push the door open, wondering what secrets lie within the shadowed interior of the ancient hut.

>Roll D6

A) <s>Dried herbs, small animal bones strung together, and signs of recent animal sacrifice.</s>
B) <s>A friendly adventurer who calls himself the Vulture Knight.</s>
C) <s>A beautiful woman sitting cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by a circle of candles, chanting in a low, hypnotic voice.</s>
D) <s>Two identical boys, one of them holding an obsidian mirror.</s>
E) <s>An old man with covetous eyes, with an ancient chest in the corner that looks untouched for decades, its lock rusted but begging to be opened.</s>
F) <s>A roughly carved stone idol of a forgotten pagan goddess, and a series of faded murals on the walls depicting the old pagan rituals and deities.</s>

Anonymous

Rolled 4 (1d6)

>>5987969
>You remember the tales spun around the fireside of witches

>C) A beautiful woman sitting cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by a circle of candles, chanting in a low, hypnotic voice.

Witch Queen Mazela?! Is that you?!?!?

Writer

>>5987991
As you step inside the hut, your eyes gradually adjust to the dim light. It's a cluttered room, filled with dried herbs hanging from the ceiling, small animal bones strung together like ghastly garlands, and dark stains that hint at recent animal sacrifices. The air is thick with an earthy, metallic scent that makes your stomach churn.
"We need to leave," you whisper urgently, your grip tightening on the hilt of your sword. Every instinct screams that this place is not merely abandoned, but inherently malevolent.
Mirena, standing close beside you, nods in silent agreement. Her face is pale, her eyes wide as they dart around the room, taking in the macabre details. "Yes, there's nothing good that dwells here," she murmurs back, her voice trembling slightly.
The sense of dread is heavy, pressing in on you from the shadowy corners of the room. You can't shake the sensation of being watched, of trespassing in a space that has been claimed by something dark and ancient.
"They are merely sleeping, milord, when your churches turn to dust, the old gods will rule these lands once more," Old Thora's haunting words echo in your mind.
With one last sweeping glance at the eerie interior, you step backward, eager to leave the oppressive atmosphere of the hut. Mirena follows closely, and as you both exit, the fresh air of the forest feels like a cleansing breath.
"Let's put some distance between us and this place," you suggest, driven by an urge to escape the lingering, unnerving feeling that claws at the back of your mind.
"Agreed," Mirena says, quickening her pace. "I don't think I could stand another moment in there."
As you walk briskly back through the trees, the lightness of the open air does little to dispel the heaviness in your hearts. What you saw in the hut was a reminder of the old gods, remnants that refuse to be forgotten or ignored.

>A) You continue your quest towards the old pagan temple, determined to make an offering to the Old Woman of Winter in hopes of safeguarding your mother's life.
>B) Feeling overwhelmed by what you found in the hut, you decide to head back to the castle, seeking solace in its familiar, less mystical surroundings.

Anonymous

>>5988008
>A) You continue your quest towards the old pagan temple, determined to make an offering to the Old Woman of Winter in hopes of safeguarding your mother's life.

Fuck, why didn't we stay, we could've meet our Queen... We fucked up

>>5988008
>>A) You continue your quest towards the old pagan temple, determined to make an offering to the Old Woman of Winter in hopes of safeguarding your mother's life.

Writer

>>5988014
>>5988057
>>5988432
>>5988446
>>5989075
>>5989269
You continue your quest towards the old pagan temple, determined to make an offering to the Old Woman of Winter in hopes of safeguarding your mother's life.
The daylight begins to wane, but the familiarity of your father's lands offers a measure of reassurance. These parts are free from bandits and dangerous wild animals, and even the local wolves, though known to roam the forests, were not known to attack men, especially so close to human habitation.
"I think I remember this path," Mirena says, her voice tinged with confidence. She was always the better tracker when you played 'adventurers' as children. It doesn't surprise you when she points out signs you missed, skillfully guiding you along the correct path to the forgotten pagan temple just as the sun begins to set.
"Thank you for coming with me," you whisper softly, your gratitude mingling with the cool evening air.
"Someone needs to make sure you don't get lost, Caden," Mirena replies with a playful smile. Yet, beneath her light-hearted banter, there's a layer of solemnity—a shared understanding of the seriousness of your quest. "And guide you back home."
You take a deep breath as you approach the temple, its ancient stones covered in moss and ivy, a testament to centuries passed. The air grows cooler, the shadows longer, as you step into the temple, built long ago in honor of pagan deities whose names have faded from memory.
The inside of the temple is dim, lit only by the last few rays of the setting sun piercing through the gaps in the stone. You feel a strange sense of timelessness here, as if the temple exists in a perpetual twilight, untouched by the passage of centuries outside its walls.
Taking a candle from Mirena, you light it carefully, placing it on an old stone altar at the center of the temple. The flame flickers gently, casting eerie shadows on the walls, carved with the figures of the old gods, watching silently as you make your offering.
"This is it," you say, the words more to yourself than to Mirena, as you step back from the altar, the weight of your actions settling on your shoulders.
Mirena stands beside you, her presence a comforting constant. "Let’s hope the Old Woman of Winter hears us," she murmurs, her voice a soft echo in the vast silence of the temple.

>A) You pray for your mother's health.
>B) You pray that this life never changes.
>C) You ask for protection from your nightmares.

Anonymous

>>5990103
>A) You pray for your mother's health.

>>5990121
I guess that if we pray for her health she'll 100% die and then we'll be cursing the old ones for the rest of our lives crusading everyone who worships them. I'm calling it right now, since OP did say in this post >>5981332

>A sense of foreboding fills you, whispering that this moment may be a pivotal one in your life

>>5990103

>A) You pray for your mother's health.

>>5990103
>>A) You pray for your mother's health.

Writer

>>5990121
>>5990161
>>5990170
>>5990715
>>5990747
You kneel before the stone altar, the flickering candle casting long shadows that dance across the walls. With Mirena by your side, you close your eyes and clasp your hands together, the ancient chill of the temple seeping into your bones.
The carved figures of forgotten gods gaze down upon you, watching silently as you offer your whispered prayer to the Old Woman of Winter. "Please … protect my mother, Agatha Blackthorn. Spare her from the harshness of the coming winter," you murmur, your voice trembling with the weight of your plea.
Your words hang in the air, absorbed by the cold stone around you. The echoes of your voice fade into the vast silence, leaving only the soft crackle of the candle to break the stillness. Beside you, Mirena whispers her own prayers, her voice barely audible but lending strength to your own plea.
The pagan temple feels frozen in time, a sanctuary untouched by the passage of years. The cool breeze rustles through the gaps in the walls, brushing against your skin like the touch of the old gods themselves. Despite the darkness encroaching from the outside, a sliver of hope flickers within you.
You linger for a moment, the weight of your prayer still pressing on your heart. Finally, you rise, stepping back from the altar and glancing over at Mirena. "Let's head back," you say softly, knowing that your offering is now in the hands of powers beyond your control.
Mirena nods, and together you leave the temple, the fading candlelight behind you symbolizing your hopes. As you step into the cool evening air, a sense of anticipation washes over you. The offering has been made. What happens next is out of your hands.

>Roll D100

>>5991596
>>5991713
>>5992153
When you and Mirena return to Blackthorn Keep, darkness has already fallen. The Autumn Festival has come and gone, leaving the grounds empty and quiet. There's always next year, you think to yourself, suppressing a sigh.
"I found them!" One of the guards shouts upon seeing you and Mirena nearing the gates.
Soon, your father, mother, Castellan Hugh, Sir Allister, and others arrive. It’s clear your absence was noted and didn’t go unnoticed.
"This is unbecoming of you, Caden," your father, Lord Edric Blackthorn, shakes his head, disappointment lacing his words. "I understand that Mirena has blossomed into quite a pretty woman, but a nobleman should take care not to disgrace a woman living in his castle."
"We didn’t do anything like that!" you protest, your face flushing. The implication that you sneaked out to indulge in illicit activities with a common-born girl sends a ripple of anger through you. Castellan Hugh looks furious, clearly unhappy with the idea that his daughter may be considered tainted, ruining her chances of finding a suitable match.
"Caden and Mirena are childhood friends who went on a walk, nothing more," your mother, Lady Agatha, steps forward in your defense, looking noticeably healthier than she did that morning. She smiles at Mirena. "Isn’t that right, Mirena?"
"Yes, my lady, we went on a walk. Caden escorted me safely," Mirena adds hastily, her cheeks reddening. "He did nothing dishonorable."
"Even so, this could cause a scandal," Castellan Hugh mutters. "People may think my daughter is ruined, harming her prospects for marriage."
"In that case, perhaps I can play matchmaker and propose a good match for Mirena, here and now," your mother suggests with a smile, nodding at you and Mirena before turning to your father. "I propose we betroth Caden to Mirena. Our son will soon need an heir to carry the Blackthorn legacy, don’t you think so, Edric?"
"This is a bit sudden," your father replies, taken aback. Clearly, he had hoped for a match better suited to his only son and heir than the castellan’s daughter. "We should think about it longer."
"Edric, they have been in love since they were children," your mother insists, making both you and Mirena blush, your heart pounding in your chest. "It would be a crime to tear their young love apart for political reasons. I don’t think we’ll ever find a better match for our son than the girl he has always loved."

"What do you think, Caden?" your father asks, genuinely considering your mother’s proposal.
"I would be honored if Mirena takes me as her husband," you reply, your voice surprisingly steady despite the racing of your heart.
"And you, girl?" your father turns to Mirena, eyeing her appraisingly. "Would you take my son as your husband?"
"She would," Castellan Hugh interjects, speaking for his daughter. He had hoped to marry her to a second son or an old widowed lord. Marrying his daughter to the lord’s heir is a match he could have only dreamed of. So, he doesn’t bother with his daughter’s consent.
"Let Mirena answer for herself, Castellan," your mother says firmly, a quiet strength in her voice that makes Hugh back down and lower his eyes. "Mirena, would you take Caden as your husband? You are free to answer truthfully, without fear of coercion."
"I’ll be honored to marry Caden, my lady," Mirena murmurs, filling your heart with happiness. "I have... always been in love with him."
"I know, girl," your mother smiles, then turns to your father. "What do you think, Edric?"
"Well, I’m not the kind of monster that would tear these young lovers apart," your father chuckles, "Social status aside, any man would be fortunate to have such a pretty bride. You have both my permission and blessings, Caden."
And just like that, you became betrothed to your childhood friend, the girl you’ve loved for as long as you can remember. Yet, not everything is perfect—you remember the pagan hut you had seen in the forest and the evidence of blood sacrifice within. You'll need to raise this matter with your father and investigate further to protect the peace of the Blackthorn lands.
But that is a problem for another day. Tonight, you’re the happiest man in the realm.

This is where we'll leave Caden and Mirena in this timeline. The next chapter will likely return to the original timeline, where the crusade veteran Caden awakens in the inn where we left him in the first story.

Anonymous

>>5993146
alright, thank you OP. As I haven't played the og quest, can you give me a summary of it ? all I know is the "cucking" that happens since anons always talk about it whenever this quest is mentioned

https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.<wbr>com/qstarchive.html?searchall=prodi<wbr>gal+son

archived this quest since it wasn't done before.