Petals of Silver & Blood; a genre remix

Years ago...

Dawn is alive with the sounds of terror and violence. Valiant heroes invade the lair of evil with light and flame and holy silver, ready to die to purge unclean things from the world. You run for your life down a grand hallway, your feet thudding against black quartz tile, your heart pounding in your chest. Paintings of undying aristocrats watch your progress with cold disdain as you pass.

You can feel the blood of the woman you carry against your chest soaking into the white cloth of your shirt. Her pale hands clutch the hilt of the sacred dagger protruding from her chest, the vice grip she maintains one of the only signs that she's still alive. Or at least not truly dead.

A scream echoes down a spiral stairwell, followed by a body tumbling down to land in a heap of blood and twisted limbs — a Day Guard with a spear driven through the breast of his red-and-black uniform. He claws madly at the shaft of the weapon even as he bleeds his life away onto the tile. After barely a pause, the sound of footsteps and voices follow behind, the guard's attackers coming to confirm his death.

Ignoring the burning in your lungs and the aching of your limbs, you put on another burst of speed. If the invaders catch you with her, they will kill you both. They know as well as you do that she's the worst monster here. Protecting her is a sin these people will never forgive. You hear them reach the bottom of the stairs behind you, calling after you to stop, then giving chase.

If you drop her, you'll go faster. If you drop her, they'll prioritise killing her over chasing you. You don't, though. It's not out of loyalty or heroism. You don't love her yet in these early days. But whatever the reason — pity for her injuries, sheer adrenaline, or simple fear of her family — you don't let go. You take a right, careening down the next hallway ahead of your pursuers.

The building shakes and you stumble, almost falling. You're running past a row of towering stained glass windows in red and black, each depicting a thorny rose motif, filtering the sunlight from outside a charnel red. Beyond the glass gigantic shadows move, accompanied by the clash of metal and yet more ground-shuddering impacts. The sight sends a thrill of fresh fear twisting through your gut — you hadn't realised they were so close.

Your pursuers call after you again, much closer this time. In a moment they'll catch you and that will be it. It's only chance that saves your life, even as it comes perilously close to ending it. A deafening metallic crash sounds from outside, and one of the shadows grows rapidly larger beyond the window. Then the giant slams into the bank of windows, sending red glass and masonry and twisted window panes raining down. You fall forward, barely hanging onto the woman as your knees slam into the floor hard enough to draw a ragged gasp from you. Something impacts the floor just behind you hard enough to make the entire building shudder again.

Sunlight streams in through the new hole in the wall and the woman screams, the first sound she's made since you picked her up. She curls up in your arms, pressing herself into your shadow to hide from the merciless rays. Thin wisps of acrid smoke rise up from the pale skin that the sun touches.

You lurch back up to your feet, hurling yourself back down into the darkness of the hallway before the mechanical giant's thrashing limbs can crush you, before the light hurts the woman anymore than it already has.

She stirs in your arms, the pain of her fresh injuries having jolted her back into awareness. With a throttled shriek of effort, she pulls the knife free from her chest, letting it drop to the floor behind you. She reaches a blood-soaked hand up to grip you by the collar, hauling herself agonisingly up to hiss into your ear: "Armoury. Hangar. The stairs."

You see the stairs she means just up ahead, branching off of the hallway. Without even thinking, you take them, and seal your fate.

Article:

You were with your lady on the day she nearly died, but you hadn't been sworn to serve her yet. She might not have noticed you at all if it weren't for the disastrous events of that day.

Who were you, back then?

[ ] A broken thing

No one seems to know exactly who you are or what you came from, including you. Anyone who could say more than that perished in the attack. Whoever you were before, your training is unmistakable — you're absolutely lethal with any kind of a weapon in your hand.

High stat: Steel. Toughness, immovability, dealing violence.
Low stat: Blood. Connectivity, blood ties, resisting or manipulating supernatural bonds.


[ ] An exotic bauble

You were born across the system in a distant habitat, hand selected by your peoples' leaders as suitable tribute to your lady's family. Beautiful, charming, trained to please and flatter and entertain. You'll put your skills to surprising use in your new life, however often and however badly you're underestimated because of them.

High stat: Flame. Emotionality, spontaneity, inspiring feelings in others.
Low stat: Steel. Toughness, immovability, dealing violence.


[ ] An unfinished meal

Arrested for stealing from the crown and sentenced to die to sate their hunger. No one would miss a thief and a former street urchin, refuse from the habitat's most squalid slums. Your lady will choose to defer that punishment indefinitely, and will be rewarded by talents unique among all those in her service.

High stat: Shadow. Stealth, secrets, moving unobserved.
Low stat: Ice. Cold unflappability, precision, resisting influence.


[ ] An unwilling sacrifice

The daughter of a clan of hereditary sun witches, you were born with almost no affinity for your family's arts. As a desperate last resort, they bartered you away to their great enemy, their least loved and least valuable child served up as a sacrificial lamb to seal a lasting peace. Even dormant, a power sleeps in your blood that can literally be tasted by your lady's kind. You'll find ways to make use of it that your family would never approve of.

High stat: Ice. Cold unflappability, precision, resisting influence.
Low stat: Shadow. Stealth, secrets, moving unobserved.


[ ] A well-bred hound

You are the last of a once-great line of caretaker-nobles, mortals who have watched over and defended your lady's family over the centuries, giving blood for their sake in as many ways as are required. Due to misfortune, bad decisions, and outright treason, you were the very last of your line, consigned to labour as a common servant in a little-used palace. You still received an upbringing that befits a scion of your lineage, and will easily adapt to a place at her side.

High stat: Blood. Connectivity, blood ties, resisting or manipulating supernatural bonds.
Low stat: Flame. Emotionality, spontaneity, inspiring feelings in others.

At times, voting options in Petals of Blood & Silver will call for a die roll. This roll will always consist of two six sided dice, modified up and down by one of five stats, which can have values ranging from -2 to +3. They are as follows:

• Blood: Connectivity, blood ties, resisting or manipulating supernatural bonds.
• Flame: Emotionality, spontaneity, inspiring feelings in others.
• Ice: Cold unflappability, precision, resisting influence.
• Shadow: Stealth, secrets, moving unobserved.
• Steel: Toughness, immovability, dealing violence.

A result of 10 or higher is an unconditional success. What you are attempting to do is successful without drawbacks.

A result of 7-9 is a conditional success. What you are attempting to do is successful, but with meaningful drawbacks. This will often generate a secondary vote to determine the precise consequences.

A result of 6 or less leads to a hard choice. This outcome will always further the story, but it will not be one you were hoping for.