This is a quest written like "Mare Internum" by
or "Dead Sky" by
This means that the first vote counts, but the same person cannot "vote first" twice in a row (the third or fourth time is fine).
It is for the same fandom/TTRPG: Exalted, and in the same style.
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You marched to war against an enemy that has slain gods and sundered city walls and seduced those who sit upon the thrones of the earth.
The Anathema shone with holy light, the Mark of Damnation clear upon his brow, marking him as one of the Frenzied.
You died when you fight him, but you are born in truth at the moment of your death.
A great wave he made in the skies, an orb of water that fell upon the earth like a thundering flood. You die in it, battered against the bodies of your comrades. You die in it, because you drown. You die in it because the rushing waters carries the spear of an ally into your moth. Many people die in the wave, but this is not the true loss of the battle. This is not the terrible loss that makes Tepet Etrafli gut herself with the sword of her mother, or that makes the All Seeing Eye murder the mortal monks who came to lay the spirits of the dead to rest. This is not the loss that gives you life.
The true loss, the true crime, was this: The Anathema saw fit to use his spirit killing arts with his spells, and so he tore apart the souls of ten thousand of his enemies. They will never be reborn, never feel peace, never join the dragons that made them and the earth they live upon.
You died, torn into a thousand screaming pieces. They found together and from them you were born.
You hungered, in the first stage of your life, when you were a patchwork mass of faces and limbs and whispering, murmuring, howling faces, moving across the immaterial (and occasionally physical) world like a living disaster, consuming the dead and the living.
For two hundred and thirty years you ravaged creation and the Underworld. Then a necromancer found you and bound you with trickery, and he made a net with his spells and his needle-thread while you were bound and powerless to resist him, seeking to bind your glory into a coherent mind.
THE OFFICER: Minds. Plural.
THE MONK: I know we were great. But what does greatness matter if you are too insane to use it? Or too wicked? We were a scourge upon the land.
And the Necromancer sought to bind you form, the vast and terrible, into a lesser frame.
THE FARMER: This again? Why don't you check up on your flowers. Maybe they need watering. Maybe it will help you calm down.
And now your might is gone, and your mind is...
THE OFFICER: Minds. Plural.
Your minds are actually better.
But for all that you have changed, you hunger still. The necromancer stands before you and grins, because he also knows it.
"Does someone want food?" He smiles, his simple joy so alike that of the drunkard, so much like the happiness of a fool. Somewhere, a village is missing its idiot.
"Shuut uuuuup." You shout, calmly.
His face falls into a false frown, betrayed by the twitching at the corner of his lips. And his eyes. He is visibly still happy.
"Well, you know what I think?"
"No one" You breathe in "No one, absolutely no one, cares what you think."
THE OFFICER: This is, technically, insubordination.
"Ow." The necromancer slams his open palm over his hearth "The pain". The twitching at the corners of his lips grow into a full blown smile. He chuckles. "The agony. The suffering." He falls down on his knees, and is now slightly smaller than you. "O woe betide the agony that life has bestowed upon me." He lifts his arms towards the heavens.
Then he opens his mouth to say his dumb words, so you kick him in the leg. His face twitches, but in a funny way, not an annoying one.
"Shut uuuup daaad."
THE FARMER: Young lady, that is absolutely unacceptable.
THE MONK: Kick him again.
You leave in a dignified manner, and slam the door after you with restraint.
Where do you go:
[] To the little monkey you call your youngest brother.
[] To the horrible gremlin you call your older sister.
[] To creepy uncle Walker, and his depressing retinue of unliving abominations.
[] Visit you fathers girlfriend. Well. More like favored prostitute.
[] Everyone sucks. Go play in the cursed forest.
