Call over a guard and find a way to take his keys.

>>10746965
>Guard! HEY GUARD!

At the Bard's plaintive cries, a grizzled face appears before the door. The Guard does not appear all too pleased.

"Wot d'ya wont, ya sot?"

>What I want is to be let out of here, sir!

The Guard's face sets in an ugly scowl as he looks at the Bard through the bars of his cell.

"Pris'ners sh'in't be tokkin', 'less dey wont ta part wiv their teeth; y'understan'?"

>[PICK ONE]
>[Snark]
>[Nice]

Let's go with [Snark]

>>10747109
>At least I've GOT teeth to part with, you slobbering oaf. My god, I could drive a mule train through those gaps!

The Guard leers at you and raps the door of the Bard's cell with something that sounds large and heavy.

"Kip tokkin' yer pretty words, an' see if'n I doan' rough y'up some."

>Oh my, I wouldn't want that, now would I? If you came in here, I don't know how we'd both fit, what with you being larger than a bull ox. A pity, though; you don't smell nearly as good.

Loosing an incomprehensible shout of rage, the Guard pounds against the door again before glaring at you with murder in his eyes.

"Jist y'wait, little man; I'll fix ya real good inna tic."

>Fix me? Why, I am afraid I am far from broken, though I can't say the same for your ugly mug.

Roaring again, the Guard stomps off, leaving the Bard to his thoughts for a time; however, after a minute or so, a jangling and heavy thumping can be heard approaching the cell.

>[What do?]

>>10747109
Snark, it's always snark. We're going to snark our way to the very top.

>>10747247
Find an improvised weapon and hide it behind our back. Prepare to beat him to death when he opens our cell and flee into the night like a madman escaping from a sanitarium.

>>10747247
>The Guard leers at you and raps the door of the Bard's cell with something that sounds large and heavy.

Oh dear; it appears the Guard is going to smack us around with his cock.

>>10747247

Hide under the bed.

Archives are back; for those just tuning in, FCaC 1: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive/10588708

>>10747247
sing of the guard's incompetence and terrible ugliness for all the prison to hear

>>10747272
>...I do believe that man means to beat me.

NOOO, why would he do that? Obviously he has been charmed by your affable personality and means to reward you with freedom.

>SHUT IT!

Oh, I shall, though I'd prefer that YOU went first.

...What are you doing?

>What does it look like? I'm lying in wait for the brute to come back.

...With a tin cup?

>Hey! At least it's got SOME heft to it!

...Very well then.

As the Bard lies in wait for the Guard, the thumping and jangling comes to a stop outside of the Bard's cell. From outside, the voice of the Guard can be heard.

"Oi, y're gonna git it now, y'girly man; I dun think th'jidge'll mind a few marks on ye..."

At the sound of a key turning in the lock, the Bard braces himself behind the door, readying his fearsome cup to smite the evil Gua-

>WILL YOU JUST GET ON WITH IT?

...No appreciation for the dramatic; anyway, as the door swings open, the Bard swings his cup, striking a solid blow against the head of the Guard.

Unfortunately for the Bard, however, a solid blow from a tin cup has as much effect on the Guard as a solid blow with a wooden switch. The Guard is disoriented for a few seconds but turns around, hefting a large cudgel in two hands. The Bard is in the center of the room now, while the Guard is standing in the doorway.

An ugly look of what appears to be amusement settles on the Guard's face. "Y're gonna git it now..."

>[What do?]

>>10747519
Perform the Drunken Trip maneuver from the previous thread.

>>10747519
The only acceptable answer is to whip out his cock and piss in the guards face.

Then either run like hell or tie the guard up and rape him.

Either or, really.

I only just noticed the bard looks like mike meyers

>>10747557

Drunken trip followed by stealing the keys from the guard and locking him inside his own cell!

>>10747557
>I'm gonna try it again.

And what, praytell, is it?

>Remember? What I did in the ba- Ah, what the christ am I saying, of course YOU remember, you bloody repeated it.

Well, are you going to do it or stand around talking to me?

>Just need the right... Opportunity... NOW!

As the Bard prepares to trip the hapless Guard, the Guard decides to take matters into his own meaty hands and charge the Bard, once again roaring incomprehensibly. As the Guard charges forward, however, the Bard nimbly steps aside, sticking out his foot and tripping the Guard. The Guard runs facefirst into the wall and groans, sliding down into a pile of blubber and meat.

>See? All's well that ends well!

I can see you planned this out perfectly. I'd applaud you, if it weren't for one niggling detail.

>And what's that?

What do you intend to do now?

>What?

What do you intend to do now that you've knocked out the guard?

>Well... I suppose I'll go find my things and leave this poor sod to cool off in his own cell!

Leaving the Cell, the Bard enters a Guard Room. On the Bard's left are three Cell doors; on his right is a table with various bags of junk (presumably the belongings of those who have been brought to the jail). Directly ahead is a large wooden door.

>[What do?]

>>10747717
Rummage through the bags of belongings and take our stuff, plus whatever valuables anyone else had stashed away.

>>10747717
Lock the Cell Door behind us now that we've left it, look for our belongings (and anything else that catches our fancy) on the right.

Search through the belongings for anything interesting (by which I of course mean dangerous).

As the Bard rummages through the belongings of his fellow prisoners, he manages to locate his own sack of gear; however, he continues to paw through the possessions of the others incarcerated with him, his greed compelling hi-

>Oh, will you PLEASE stop with that "holier than thou" attitude!

Oh, and I suppose you'd like me to condone your activities?

>At least a bit less commentary on how I make my living would be appreciated.

Ah yes, your "living", as you put it; stealing the belongings of those who cannot themselves guard them.

>Listen, guv, I'm a venture capitalist; what kind of bloke would I be if I didn't capitalize on this venture?

An honest one, I imagine.

>Eh, its your loss, really.

As the Bard continues to rifle through the possessions of the other incarcerated prisoners, he does not find much of interest save for 7 pence, a dull short-sword with a worn-looking scabbard, and a metal flask filled with a heady-smelling liquid; brandy, by the smell of it.

>Hmm... I'd best make sure that man doesn't follow me.

Oh, you mean the officer of the law who you so unceremoniously incapacitated and left in your cell?

>Yeah, that's the bloke. Wouldn't want him on my trail, now would I?

So saying, the Bard locks the door of his former cell behind him.

>[What do?]

>[INVENTORY]
Items
[Lute]
[Clothes]
[Lint]
[Flint]
[15 Pence]
[Black Molly(Spiked Club)]
[Short Sword w/ Scabbard]
[Metal Flask w/ Brandy]

>>10748083
Escape, steal a horse if you need to. We just need to be out of this town as quickly as possible.

>>10748144
>Well, I think my welcome's about exhausted itself in this town; time to light out of here!

And so the Bard headed for the Large Wooden Door, pushing it open on his road to freedom.

Or rather, what would be his road to feedom, if he could pass the scrutiny of the imperious-looking man hitching a horse outside of the small jailhouse.

The man looks at you disdainfully before speaking.

"And where, praytell, is Sloan?"

>[PICK ONE]
>[Snark]
>[Nice]

>>10748083
Lock the guard in the cell. And steal his clothes.

DO IT FAGGOT!

This is cool.
I wish I could stay.

>>10748253
[Snark]

"He drunk himself into a coma"

>>10748287
The Bard feigns a look of surprise.

>Blimey... I thought he'd be out here by now, guv'; usually it don't take him but a few minutes to finish his business with the prisoners.

The Officious-Looking Man raises an eyebrow.

"...His 'Business'"?

>Sure! I mean, sometimes the blokes'll put up a fight, but he usually puts it to 'em in the end!

The Officious-Looking Man looks disgusted as he looks at the door of the Jailhouse.

"Are you telling me that he... SODOMIZES those prisoners?!?"

>O'course, guv'! Its to break their spirits, he says!

The Bard leans in towards the man to whisper, while the Officious-Looking Man leans away.

>Of course, I think he does it 'cos he likes it, no offense. He likes "breaking their spirits" a bit too much, if y'ask me.

With a purple look of rage on his face, the Officious looking man leaves his horse hitched as he storms inside, leaving you alone with his mount.

>[What do?]

>>10748421
Steal a horse
*Advice Bard*
Escape from the authorities

>>10748421
OH WOW HAHAHAHA

YOU FUCKING BARD, YOU'RE AWESOME, YOU KNOW THAT?

>>10748453
>Looks like I'm out and about again!

And let me guess... You're going to "capitalize" on the fact that that public official left you here alone with his steed?

>NOW you're getting it! I may make a venture capitalist out of you yet!

...I feel a sudden and distinct urge to bathe.

As the Bard undoes the knot made by the Official, muffled shouting can be heard from within the Jailhouse. As the Bard mounts the Official's steed and begins to ride away, the Official, along with Sloan the Guard, both run out, with Sloan still waving around his cudgel.

The Bard quickly escapes from the town, however, and is now along a dusty stretch of road. Before him is a crossroads, with roads leading East, West, and North.

>[What do?]

>>10748421
Steal it, and sell it before anyone notices, then buy a cheaper one.

>>10748671
Go South.

>>10748671
Go west young bard, go west.

>>10748671
YE MUST GET YE WESTWARD.

(Forgive my absence. Nature called, and I had to take a message.)

>Y'know, I think I'll head South. I've heard its nice this time of year.

Thats what you thought before.

>I'm sorry?

I said, thats what you thought BEFORE, when you went south in the first place!

>Oh... Right... Wasn't as much fun as I was led to believe, y'know.

I would imagine.

>So... That leaves North, East, and West, right? Well, I came down from the North... Think I left a spot of trouble there... And East's on the way to that poor lass with delusions that I'm the father of her child... Well, best head West then!

So saying, the Bard urges his steed West.

A day or so passes by, during which the Bard stops to graze his horse and drink from a nearby stream, but eventually both steed and rider approach the Great Western Wood, reputed to hold nothing more dangerous than startled pheasants.

[What do?]

>>10748951
BUY A GUN
BECOME A BOUNTY HUNTER

>>10749101
As the Bard urges his steed forward, he ruminates on his lift up till then.

>Y'know, I've been thinking.

REALLY? I must applaud you; certainly it must be trying to both think AND ride at the same time.

>I'm in too good a mood to be bothered by your insults, you twit. But as I was saying, I've been thinking... This is no way to live my life.

You? Showing a shred of decency? Someone ought to notify the Bedlam; I do believe you have gone quite mad.

>No, not like THAT; I mean I've been thinking about my lifestyle and others who live like me. What I've been thinking is that I'm pretty good at what I'm doing right now; why not turn in those who aren't as good as me for a profit?

Again, I must express my amazement. YOU, the Bard, working for the law?

>Purely work of necessity, you understand, along with getting rid of the competition. Plus, what better way to capitalize on other's misfortune than on those who are already doing so? It stands to reason they would already be fatted off of others.

...Sometimes your though processes terrify me, Bard.

As the Bard and his Steed move through the forest, the woods steadily grow silent.

As soon as the Bard notices, he stops his horse; at the same time, a small figure step out of the woods and stands in the middle of the path.

"What's yer business passin' through my woods, traveller?"

[PICK ONE]
[Snark]
[Nice]

>>10749282

For once choose nice,

>>10749282
SNARK

>>10749282
SNARK's our name, SNARK's our game!

>>10749313
The Bard slows, patting his horse on its neck as it snorts uncertainly. Having done that, the Bard turns toward the diminutive figure in the center of the road.

>I've no quarrel with you, good sir. I'm just passing through the woods.

The Diminutive Man grins broadly, his grin showing a mouth full of needle-sharp teeth.

"Ah, see, therein lies the problem; ALL who pass through MY forest without MY permission have a quarrel with me. And I don't recall you asking me if you could pass through."

>I assure you, no offense was meant; perhaps we can work something out?

The Diminutive Man seems to mull the Bard's offer over before he snaps his fingers.

"Say... I like that pigsticker of yours. Whatsay we trade? I'll let ya pass unmolested through the rest of the woods, and you give me that nice sword of yours?"

>[What do?]

>>10749409
Damn it, we should have stayed true to our snark. Offer him a closer look at our fancy new sword, and once he's in close stab him and ride off.

>>10749496
For some reason I'm sensing there's more to this operation than just a small guy. Look around into the land around the road for signs of archers or bandits.

>>10749496
>Hmm... You drive a hard bargain, but I accept your terms. Want to come take a closer look?

The Diminutive Man jumps surprisingly high, landing on the pommel of the Bard's saddle to inspect the sword.

>See here, how the grip is a nice, strong leather... No rot in there... The Blade is a tad dull, but that's nothing a bit of muscle and sweat won't fix... But, if you'll see, the point works JUST FINE!

At the words "just fine", the Bard suddenly moves his blade forward, stabbing the Diminutive Man in the leg.

Cursing, the Diminutive Man falls off of the pommel and rolls around in the dirt.

>You've had my sword; do you still want it?

Without waiting for the Diminutive Man's reply, the Bard clicks his teeth and digs his heels in, sending the horse forward.

Despite moving further down the road, the Bard can distinctly hear the Diminutive Man's words:

"Ye'll regret doing that, y'selfish man! None defy the Old Man of the Woods without consequences!"

At that, the Bard feels a familiar sensation as he once again blacks out.

------------------

>Ugh... My head...

It looks like you've done it again, my friend.

>Wha- Done what?

Remember? A wizened little man in the road? A stabbing? Being cursed?

>Oh yeah...

As the Bard becomes more aware of his surroundings, he notices that he appears to be deep in the forest; a babbling brook is nearby, and his horse is nowhere to be seen. However, all of his gear appears to still be with him.

[What do?]

>>10749701
Follow the the babbling brook and hope to find a settlement. Attempt to perceive if this is all a dream and we're tapped in our own heads or some other uninspired magical curse nonsense.

>>10749701
Piss in the brook.

>>10749701
find dimunitive man

COMMIT MURDER

>>10749743
This, its been a long jaunt so far, need to keep yourself ready for anything.

>>10749750
In other words, burn down the forest.

SOUNDS LIKE A PLAN TO ME

>>10749734
Getting up and holding his head gingerly, the Bard unsteadily begins gathering his gear.

So, what's the plan?

>Plan?

Yes.

>Hmm... I'm not quite sure at the moment.

Ah, what a relief. And here I thought you were simply going to hit something with Black Molly until you got tired.

>Naw, my head hurts too much for that. Think I'll head down the brook a bit, see if I can find somebody. Or maybe Gerald.

Who the blazes is Gerald?

>My horse, of course.

...Very well. And so the bard set off down the brook, in search of... Gerald.

As he goes forth, the Bard finds no sign of Gerald, but he begins to hear a faint singing coming from further downstream.

>[What do?]

>>10749861
PISS IN THE GODDAMN BROOK, OUR BLADDER NEEDS RELIEF

BURN DOWN THE GODDAM FOREST

>>10749884
What are you doing?

>Pissing.

...In the brook? REALLY?

>Why not?

Its just not DECENT.

>What do I care? I'm in the middle of the bloody woods; its not like somebody's going to tell me off.

Yes... But...

>And besides, if I piss in the brook, I won't leave a trace something or someone can use to track me; less I leave behind the better.

....I suppose.

And so the Bard emptied his bladder in the babbling brook, heedless of propriety as he straddled the waters and let loose a strong stream into the flow of water.

From farther downstream, the singing seems to be growing slightly fainter.

>[What do?]

BURN DOWN THE FOREST MOTHERFUCKER

Burn down the forest. Goddamn old people gotta learn not to threaten us.

Burn down the forest. Then go into the brook, find whatever was singing.

Should we leave a floater in the brook first?

>>10750018
>You know what? I'm sick and tired of being yanked around without any say in the matter.

Surely you jest, Bard; you've made every choice in your tale so far, good and bad. 'Tis not my fault or anyone else's if some have been downright suicidal or psychotic.

>I just don't care anymore. If that little twit thinks he can outsmart me, he's got another thing coming.

NOW what are you doing?

>Setting fire to this gods damned forest.

...Have you thought about what might happen if you set fire to a forest while you're INSIDE IT?

>Of course! I'll take control of my life!

I suppose, if by control you mean "die horribly in flames".

>Oh, you're just exaggerating, you big worry-wart.

Suit yourself, I suppose.

And so the Bard attempted to set the woods aflame, gathering a small pile of tinder and striking his shortsword with his flint to create sparks.

Unfortunately, there is not much dead foliage nearby, and all the Bard manages to do is cause a great deal of smoke to rise upward while the fire smolders.

>Not. One. Word.

Perish the thought.

The singing from farther downstream has vanished.

>[What do?]

For coin and cleavage? Sounds like my average game of the witcher. Cause that's all I've been doing in that game, foightan, gamblin', and whoran.

>>10750136
It'll dry out as the heat evaporates the water.

Soon, soon.

>>10750136
Go see what our piss killed downstream.

Maybe it's something edible!

>>10749984
Follow the pretty singing.

>>10750164
I think we killed that with the flow from our Hyper Weapon.

Stab the Narrator.

>>10750162
>Well, looks like that didn't work.

Oh, really? I hadn't noticed.

>SHUT IT. Anyway, might as well keep going downstream.

The Bard once again began picking his way downstream, hugging the riverbank as the woods began to close in.

A bit farther downstream, the Bard happens upon a small pond with an island in the center; in the center of the island is a large tree.

No sign of who or what was singing is visible, though the Bard gets the feeling he is being watched. Out of the corner of his eye, the Bard catches lightning-fast movement near the edge of the woods, but nothing else seems to be moving aside from the brook.

>[What do?]

Leave the smoldering pile to its own infernal devices, it knows what do do.

>>10750261
Play the lute.

>>10750283
second

>>10750261
Whip it out, relieve ourselves again. Have to mark the territory.

>>10750261
>in the center of the island is a large tree

Dryad Detected.

Take out lute, begun strumming out notes.

Pretend do not notice the watcher, and setup a cunning trap.

>>10750286
later , once we've seduced this dryad.......

>>10750311
Glad to see we're on the same page.

Seduce first, despoil later.

>>10750311
That's what the "whip it out" part is for.

How else are you going to seduce a dryad, other than showing her your wood?

>>10750352
That's what the music is for.

Get her relaxed and talking, seduce, whip out wood and have our way with her, then despoil her glade with our piss for the lulz.

>>10750368
Somehow I feel like Bards tale was actually written by /tg/ when I read things like this.

>>10750368
And then we burn the forest down.

>>10750368
....piss is actually good for plants you know. She wouldn't have a problem with it. Unless you pissed on her personally. At which point she might sink you halfway into a tree and leave you stuck there. Or worse.

Xiombarg's Storyteller wrote a horror story about guys and dryads.

>>10750283
>Hmm... Let me try something...

Slowly putting down his gear, the Bard picks up his Lute and strums a few notes experimentally before he begins to play.

As the surprisingly good playing of the Bard reaches across the water, h-

>"Surprisingly" good? Give me more credit than that, idiot.

My apologies. I meant to say "the preternaturally exotic and heart-rendingly beautiful chords which emerged from the Bard's instrument flowed across the water like a fine wine", a change comes overr the island in the center of the pond. At first imperceptibly, then visibly, the island begins moving towards the shore at a steady pace.

>Huh... That's unexpected.

Isn't that what you were trying to do?

>No, I just thought I'd put whoever's out in the woods asleep; my playing's good, but it bores me to tears.

...Why such a man as you was gifted with talent, I will never know.

Anyway, as the Island moves closer to shore, you can see the tree taking on human aspects; a subtly curving branch, a strategically placed bole, a provocative knot, all come together to give the illusion of a woman hidden within the wood of the tree.

Suddenly, a head seems to flow out of the wood, trailing tresses of "hair" which on closer inspection are made of bark. The head sings on in tune to your playing, though it is in no language which you recognize.

>[What do?]

>>10750457
still , the symbolism of the action would be quite evident

>>10750457

>Xiombarg's Storyteller wrote a horror story about guys and dryads.

I have to know.

Did it involve sappy vaginal fluid and ants?

SUMMON RAT WITH LUTE

>>10750470
Oh... Its one of THOSE dryads :<

I doubt we'll get good head (or anything for that matter) without getting splinters :C

>>10750470
keep playing

a fipfac may be in order

>>10750482
No. It involved maple syrup being the result of his body being subsumed by the tree she melded him inside.

Forever.

>>10750470
Sing along.

>>10750506
Canadian Vore? Kinky

>>10750506

OH FUCK LINK NOW PLZ

>>10750470
RAEP TIEM

NOW

Yo Narrator, I'm the guy from the last thread who wanted to use the bed pan as an improvised weapon to knock out the guard.

I can see that I wasn't alone in that train of thought. I'm just glad it didn't lead to his death.

>>10750528
As the Bard continue playing, more of the creature's form becomes humanlike, though she (and there is no mistaking that it IS a she) still remains wooden; her fingers are made of trailing roots, her hair is of leaves, and her face is nothing but two narrow, glowing orbs and a wide slit.

>Well... That's interesting.

Having said that, the Bard grew bolder, and began singing along with the Dryad:

>"Long of leg and wide of hip,
>Some say this would be worth the trip,
>Some would not travel thus, not even for free;
>For not many others would care for a tree!"

At the Bard's words, the Dryad seems to snap out of her trance and shrieks, searching the area as her hands twist into gnarled talons.

>...That did not go as planned.

As soon as the Bard resumes playing, however, the Dryad once again becomes enthralled, singing to its hearts content. The hands, however, remain talon-like.

----------------------------

Unfortunately, with this I must be off. Tune in next Friday at around 23:30 /tg/ time for the next installment of Coin and Cleavage!

And a link to the archive of FCaC II: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive/10746919

>>10750686
That Dryad has no taste. That song was awesome.

>>10750686
>"Long of leg and wide of hip,
>Some say this would be worth the trip,
>Some would not travel thus, not even for free;
>For not many others would care for a tree!"

Oh lord, no wonder the bitch went apeshit. She's probably singing about some heartachingly beautiful thing, then we bust in there rhyming about her T&A

>>10750795
>implying those two subjects are mutually exclusive

We're a Bard. We call 'em as we see 'em.

If what we see is DAT ASS, that is what we sing.

>>10750795
Totally fitting for the bard though.

In fact this is pretty much how I remember all of his songs going more or less.

So... Assuming we try to sleep with the cthulhudryad, do we roll SAN checks or just drink our flask of brandy and lose ourselves?