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Trolling for Followers
the Lamb in Stand Still Stay Silent
Permalink Mark Unread

They spin out together like a spider's drifting thread, through distant spaces so alien and terrifying that groping blindly through lightless lifeless nothingness for the souls of the dead seems downright cozy in retrospect. The crown sometimes forges ahead with strength and purpose, and other times flails in total confusion through a place so warped that even its alien and terrifying senses have nothing familiar to grasp. Everything in its capacious pockets burns away, every coin, every bone, every last fragment of every blade of grass, all consumed to fuel their headlong flight.

It might perhaps have been safe to stop there, but the crown understands the depth of its bearer's terrified urgency. There must be no remaining possibility that the Chained One could find them. There must be no remaining possibility that they could have gone just a little farther, could have obscured their trail just a little better. So it pushes and keeps pushing, until they're both exhausted, until it feels like exhaustion is all they've ever known. It steers them into a howling emptiness that claws relentlessly at their conjoined souls, and presses blindly onward in the shelter of the Lamb's fiercely stubborn will to live, rekindled at last by the slim hope that there might be a life out there worth living.

By the time they land once more in a physical realm, with dirt below and sky above, neither of them has the faintest idea how long they might have been traveling for. All they know is that they can go no farther.

It's not a dramatic arrival; you could be forgiven for missing it entirely, if you didn't happen to be looking. One moment there's nothing in particular happening on this unassuming patch of dirt, and then a wavering black rift opens just wide enough for just long enough that a small fluffy body can slip sideways into reality.

She makes some sort of hoarse quiet sound with her voice, and tries to sit up, and can't remember how. Her crown darts anxiously from her head to her hands and back, flowing through the air like a weightless splash of ink, as she slowly refamiliarizes herself with the business of living. Right, those are her lungs, already breathing on their own, good job lungs, and these many miscellaneous aches all add up to the shape of the four limbs and a head that she distantly remembers having, and which bit is the eyes again? Right, those. She opens them.

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This place is kind of fucked up! Admittedly, in a different way than where she used to be. It looks old, like someone built whatever strange building she's in ages ago and left it to rot. The white, painted walls are crumbling and falling away in places, exposing concrete and rusty metal behind them. The wooden doors are ajar, damaged, worn away. Behind the closest one is some sort of bedroom, but a strange one, and also showing clear signs of age. Half of the lovely flat and clear glass windows are broken, and the rest are filthy.

Oh, and there's... Bulging red pustules and lines of flesh growing out of the walls in horrible bundles, down by the end of the hallway.

Oh, wait. The bulbous pustule-things seem to be waking up! Those are eyes, and that's a fucked up face, full of thick oily rolls of fat and oozing blisters. It lets out an excited rattle and starts walking towards her on four legs with soft squishy noises.

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At first she just lies there, trying to recollect her senses and remember how moving works—

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—and then the matter becomes rather more urgent, and she reacts accordingly. Her crown flashes into her hand in the familiar shape of a sword, which she holds ready at the creature's approach, though she's still a little shaky on her feet. It'll pass.

Ugh does she ever hate having to stand, though

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It wobble-wobble-wobbles towards her. It does not really look... Healthy, or tough (aside from what sheer mass affords it). Angry, or maybe hungry, though, yes.

One of the pustules on its flank bursts, sending foul-smelling green stuff that smokes when it splatters onto the wall and floor. It comes straight at her in the narrow hallway, blocking most of it.

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The Lamb is very grumpy about having to stand upright so soon after she landed; as the creature approaches melee range, she snarls at it, just in case it's intimidateable.

If it's not intimidateable, Plan B is sword.

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It seems... To be a cowardly creature. It squeals in fright and grinds to a sudden halt, and then hunger and fear are visibly warring on its ugly visage.

It decides on hunger and advances again, one massive foreclaw raised to crudely slash.

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It can just stop having that foreclaw, then.

—weirdly, as soon as her blade connects, her crown wakes to a sudden excitement. She's not sure what's up with that but she's willing to follow its lead; she presses the attack rather than give the creature a chance to retreat. Slash hack slash.

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The acid inside the many, many horrible pustules will hurt her if she's not careful.

It dies easy enough. And there seems to be a person inside of it. Not physically, but something intangible the crown can latch on to. Not really a... Whole one, though. It's an entirely new flavor of weird and broken.

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Avoid weird fluids, especially if they came out of pustules. Basic rule of combat, at least where the Lamb's from. That's not to say she doesn't get splashed a bit, but she comes through okay.

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The crown is DELIGHTED by this FASCINATING PUZZLE. If it just nuuuuudges things a little... in just the right way... then yes! It can make a person out of this!

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why is the person so large

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The person flops on the ground before they can catch their balance! And then jumps up and looks around in a panic and screams loudly at all the gore!

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That's so fair.

"Hey, it's okay, you're—uh—"

Are they even going to speak the same language? They are not.

"—you know what, fuck it." She reaches out with the crown and pockets the person in a quick swish of unholy radiance. Once she's explored enough to find a less gross place to set up, she can restore them to physical reality and try to establish communication.

Speaking of which. She takes a few deep breaths, then finds her balance again and strides away from the place that the creature came out of. What is there besides fucked-up ruins around here? Anything?

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The rest of the ruin is much less fucked up than the bit that had a horrible monster. It has lots of random stuff in it, lots of beds in particular. And some of the other buildings outside look intact-ish. There's trees and other plants. A broken road. A few birds. Weird cart things? 

A church down the road is practically pristine in comparison to everything else.

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Oh boy, a temple-looking thing. Concerning.

She'll investigate, though. Intact buildings are nothing to sneeze at in a situation like this.

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A tall person dressed in long black clothes comes out when she approaches. She phases straight through the door and gives off a severe look.

"I sense a foreign power on you, visitor. All are welcome in the house of God, but do not interfere with His flock that I stand vigil over."

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Partway through the first sentence, the language goes click into her brain with an uncomfortable jarring sensation.

"I am extremely foreign," she says, fairly agreeably but also pretty wary what with the. Situation. "What, uh... what do you mean by flock? Whose flock?"

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"The believers of the one true god came here for sanctuary when the old ended. But some were already sick. Their souls remain trapped until such time as he will free them for the afterlife. It is my duty to protect those whose souls are still chained here so they might be saved from degradation into monsters."

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"Is that, uh... is that what happened to the people outside? I found a. Creature. And I think it used to be a person."

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"Almost certainly, yes."

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"Well. Uh. Good luck with your... trapped souls. Are they... are they okay? Being a trapped soul sounds uncomfortable."

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"They are dreaming. Fitfully, perhaps, but 'tis far better than becoming a troll. I await a sign that it is time for them to move on. Perhaps a mage shall find a way to free them when I can only protect them, and I will welcome the charity if it is so. It seems that you do not know how to do that at the moment."

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"I... hmm. I'm not sure. I'd have to think about it. And there's not much I can do now, anyway, I'm..." how does she summarize this long ugly story in any sane and sensible fashion "...very tired. I might be able to figure something out eventually, though. But—if there's a god laying claim to them—wouldn't he mind some weirdo messing around with his people?"

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"The Lord works in mysterious ways. I would explain, but gospel is not what you need right now. Come in and rest if you wish, I'll make no demands of you. It'll be nice to have company for a bit."

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"Is it safe to come inside? I won't get caught up in any soul-trap stuff?"

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"...Good question. If you're not immune, it's not any safer out there than in here, I think. Close encounters with the sorry things would do it just the same."

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"Immune to... the thing turning people into monsters?" Crown?

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She will not be turning into a monster. Even as diminished as it is right now, it can promise that much.

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"It was a disease. You got sick and died. And only then turned into monsters." She lets out a deep, tired sigh. "An ignoble end to a messy society. God tests us most stringently, sometimes."

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"Oh. Yeah, that won't be a problem for me." Though she sure is concerned about the implications. "So if there's a risk of something happening to my soul if I come inside, I should probably stay out." Not that she thinks she'd stay trapped, if something tried to trap her, but this person might get caught in the crossfire, and so might the other trapped souls, and it'd be a messy business all round.

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"I can't entirely rule it out, I'm afraid." 

The tall person grimaces, with a brief look of anxiety and buried horror.

"It's tiring to - manifest like this. I had better not push it. Go in peace, odd one."

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"Good luck with your, uh, souls. I'll come back if I figure out something I can do for them."

She moves on. Besides the soul-trapping church, what else is there around here to find? Particularly in the way of, say, trees she could cut down to build a house with. She doesn't think she'd trust a repurposed ruin nearly as much as a log cabin built with her own hands and crown.

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Well, there's kind of a lot of trees. The cone shaped pointy kind mostly. There's a river a bit down the road, with a big concrete bridge over it, mostly intact.

There's also another monster looking at her from inside a ruin. It seems afraid of the bright sunlight.

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...she can... leave the monster alone for now. Wow, that bridge is weird, it's all made of... ruins-stuff.

How about she cuts down some trees while it's still light, and assembles them into a cabin with hard work and a touch of magic, and once she has four solid walls and a roof, she can unpocket her captive and see if they're any more coherent in a less disgusting environment.

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"Aaah! What the fuck! Who are you! What's going on?!"

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"I'm the Lamb. You were a monster and when I defeat monsters sometimes they turn into people. So now you're a person. Sorry about... well, sorry about this whole situation, really."

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"I- What? That doesn't make any sense... I don't remember anything. Except being surrounded by blood. But I still know how to talk?"

He sneezes suddenly.

"Uh, sorry. This is weird."

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"Yeah, everything about this is very weird." She takes a deep breath. "Okay, uh. It's not safe for you out here, I'm pretty sure. I have two options for you and they're both very sketchy, sorry about that. There's some lady nearby with a building full of trapped souls that she says she's saving from turning into monsters because there's a disease that turns people into monsters. She seems all right but I don't know that for sure, and I don't know if the god she works for is good or safe; and I'm not sure she can keep any more people safe than she's already got, but if you want, we can go there and ask. Or there's me - I can protect you from monsters and make sure you don't turn into one. The protecting part is easy, but making sure you don't turn into one is harder; for that I need you to be my Follower, which is a magic way of keeping you connected to me so I can protect you, but it also makes you like me and want to do what I say. I guess I don't really know if I'm good or safe either but I'm trying my best. And there's a third option, which is to just wander off into the woods and die; I won't stop you if that's what you decide, but it seems like a bad idea, and it doesn't help me any since you'll probably just turn back into a monster and then I'll have to defeat you in battle again and then we'll be right back where we started."

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"I mean, I kind of want to go see the monsters for myself before just taking your word for it. If you... Demonstered me... I already think that's kind of likeable. Being a monster sounds horrible."

He sneezes again.

"...Sorry. I think that's going to be a thing."

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"I don't actually know if the sneezing is because you already have monster disease but I'm kind of afraid it might be. We can go look at some monsters if you want."

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"I'm just kind of sneezy. I know it like I know how to talk. I guess the things I think I know might be wrong." He rubs his face. "This is so fucked up but I have to see it."

He heads outside, looking around.

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She follows, sword at the ready.

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The monster from the ruins seems to be missing now.

(Also, was that pile of leaves there before?)

The guy looks around doubtfully and heads towards the road, being at least minimally cautious. Nothing immediately attacks him.

"Oh man, there's not going to be any electricity or anything. It looks like Chernobyl out there. I don't know how to survive in the wilderness, so score one against leaving, even without the monsters..."

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"I know how to survive in the wilderness, I've been doing it all my life," the Lamb volunteers. "I can keep you fed and sheltered if you're my Follower. Especially if you're willing to learn to cook."

...she squints at the pile of leaves. After a couple of seconds she decides against prodding it with her sword, but she does maintain awareness of it as they pass.

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The pile of leaves, wisely, remains still.

"Why wouldn't I cook? I mean, I've never done it over, like, a campfire... I've never done it at all. These fake memories are weird, ugh."

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She's so glad the pile of leaves knows what's good for it.

"I've had trouble in the past with people who didn't want to learn to cook because they were... scared of fire, I guess? Awkward to feed a lot of people when I'm the only one who hunts and the only one who cooks. I made it work but only because I spent all night fishing a few times."

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"Well, I can cook if I have like. Water. And a knife." He sighs. And sneezes. Then says, "Yeah, keeping going into ominous ruins at night? Fuck that. I'll hang around you because there's nothing better. Not that I don't appreciate it, uh."

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"No, that's pretty reasonable, honestly. Let's get back in the house. I'm sorry I don't have any better options for you."

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(The pile of leaves freezes in its slooooow creeping (away) when they turn around.)

The guy goes back inside the little cabin. 

"Dunno what to... Do next."

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"...well, if I'm going to stop you from turning into a monster, I need to make you a Follower. So that should... probably be next. If you're okay with it. I can... try to explain it more if you want?"

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"Nah, just do it. Once you accept something as your best option the exact details don't really matter to me."

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"...all right, suit yourself."

Being made into a Follower involves, for some reason, levitating into the air and experiencing cosmic bliss, and then descending to the ground again with clothes newly dyed red and a brain newly dyed Lamb. Orienting to her is instinctive; her mood and opinions carry more weight than they should; she is Obviously Good And Important, and there is a draw to the idea of doing what she says that's like the draw to sleep when tired or eat when hungry.

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He sneezes again.

 

"...Christ, that was a whole acid trip crammed into five seconds. Oof. Yeah, still not regretting this compared to the monsters. What do, boss?"

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"First thing, I think, we gather materials to build you a bed. I don't need one when it's just me, but I want you to have somewhere comfortable to sleep. It should be safe enough as long as we stick close to each other so I can protect you if a monster shows up, but if you'd rather stay home, I can gather materials myself and then you can help build it when I get back—I'll show you how."

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"-I'd be more comfortable going out there with some kind of armor or weapon but if I stick close 's prolly fine."

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"I'll see about getting you armor and weapons after you have somewhere to sleep."

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"So I'll stick close to you if we go gathering until that happens."

He's happy to carry stuff, for all that helps. It's not really much help compared to the crown's efforts.

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Mostly she wants him along so she can explain what she's gathering and how and why. She is done doing things for people that they are helpless to try for themselves unless the things are literal magic they literally can't do. He won't be an expert in wilderness survival or anything by the time they get back, not on such short acquaintance, but he'll be starting to get the basic idea.

Then she cheats at bed construction with magic anyway, because she'd rather he have a pretty good bed he can't make for himself than a pretty bad bed that he can. She can always teach him to make the pretty bad bed later.

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"If you don't want to be bothered building furniture, there might be intact stuff in some of the buildings. If it's not all... Monstery or rotten through with age."

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"I think most of it is probably too rotten or monstery to be worth much except as raw materials, if that, but I can check."

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This is approximately when the monster that was watching them earlier shrieks extremely loudly off in the distance, sending a herd of large, clammy cows stampeding in panic through the ruined streets in their general direction.

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This is the Lamb's grumpy face!

She can kill as many cows as it takes to keep them off her Follower. If things start looking dicey she'll pocket him until the ruckus dies down.

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Her Follower would rather run away back to the cabin, and starts to do that!

The cows are a stubborn mass that pushes forward like a solid wall of muscle. Even as she cuts twenty down, twenty more behind them threaten to trample her.

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Yes, of course he is running away, the point at which she pockets him will be the point at which it starts looking like running away is not enough—which it does very shortly; if she's this occupied just slowing down the cows, she won't be able to protect him from the next thing. So she dashes to catch up with him, says "hold on, I'll get you to safety," and her crown extracts him from reality into its otherworldly pocket where time does not pass.

There. Now she can focus on making a fighting retreat back to the cabin.

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Swarm of crows! Flying feathers and noise assails and distracts her!

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That's very irritating of them, but you see, luckily she has this sword. And is pretty difficult to distract.

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........So does that mean the long, snakey, sneaky thing slinking along the treeline to attack while she's distracted is not so sneaky?

It'll retreat if it realizes it's spotted. It can be patient.

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She doesn't give off any incredibly obvious signs of having noticed a specific sneaky snakey thing snaking sneakily up on her. She just diligently murders whatever crosses her path, without seeming to be put much out of her way about it, and no matter how thunderously the crows may flap their wings she remains steadily capable of killing the ones in swording range and ignoring the rest.

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Then it will attempt to slice her in two with a long, razor-sharp tongue, in a lightning-quick strike from well out of range of sword.

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It turns out that her swording range was rather longer than she was letting on!

She blurs into motion to dodge, and swipes her sword at the tongue though she's a hair too slow to catch it, and blurs again twice to cross the distance between her and the new threat, the better to sword it with.

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Up close, it's plenty as horrible as other things she's fought! An absurdly long body, many times what one would normally expect a sensible body plan to be, that can't seem to decide whether it's scaled, feathered, or leathery, interspersed at regular intervals with short clawed limbs like an infernal millipede, slicing at her if she gets too close. Its head is a face like a bird, but without a beak, instead having a circular maw from which that razor tongue occasionally lashes. It's bulky and tough, thrashing around to try and shake her off or crush her, splintering young trees and damaging older ones as it does so. The tail, too, ends in flexible whip with a dozen sharp tendrils that comes in to attack her from multiple angles when it can.

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It is, in short, an awful bastard creature, but it's not that much worse of an awful bastard creature than the ones she's fought before, it's just different. She picks up a few scrapes in the process of learning how it moves and what its tricks are, but she is just as fast as it is and considerably more maneuverable and thoroughly dedicated to the project of cutting it into manageably sized pieces one slash at a time.

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When she manages to cut a chunk out of its middle, the two parts both turn and flee towards the river, the front one bleeding vast amounts of gore from its ruined end and the back one quickly growing a new head.

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This seems like the sort of enemy you pursue so it doesn't come back to (very literally!) bite you later. She takes off after it.

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The front one slows down, bleeds out, and dies during the pursuit. The other one repeats this behavior in a smaller segment along the way, and the front part of that one dies too. But a quarter of an enormous snake monster makes it to the river and dives in without hesitation, swimming downstream in a great splash of ichorous water.

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Can she follow? Should she follow?

...eh. It has probably learned to fear her. If not, she can always supply an updated lesson next time it tries something.

She lets it get away, and returns home to the cabin with her Follower.

"Things out there are more fucked up than I realized," is the first thing she says after unpocketing him. "You all right?"

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"-Yeah, I guess so." He shakes his head. "Actually, not really, but what am I gonna do about it? Lay down and die?"