Rowan Ember lived and fought in a hell of a Hamlet, giving his life not out of the goodness of his heart or for the compassion of Humanity, but merely out of spite. What else would drive someone cursed with that otherworldly glow towards the greatest sacrifice? Now he's traveling through worlds, death not being the end, but merely a new beginning amongst the gentle strange and horrible stars.
Some friends will come along with him in his journey, and he just hopes that there's enough whiskey to deal with the headache.
A Jumpchain project that I've been wanting to do for a while. Primarily due to wanting to do something with Darkest Dungeon, but going along with everything else anywyas for the hell of it. Heavily modified with Universal Drawbacks chocked into everything. Going to have Companions and Warehouse, though most of the former is relegated to the background.
A wonder, it truly was, that the world only seemed mad in hindsight. Oh yes, sorcerers, witches and liches rising to power and bickering amongst each other was strange, and yet it only seemed… quaint. Nostalgic, irritating, and yet oddly amusing.
Rowan Ember had been nothing more than just another peasant boy living his life in the village, one of the many that had been under the control of King Arthur, wielder of Excalibur. A simple life he lived, day in and day out working amongst the rest of his community, out in the fields during the day, while resting in the night. It was a simple life, a fulfilled one filled with ease and comfort amongst the safety that King Arthur and his knights had brought.
His only complaint would be the nightmares that plagued him. The memories of another life, one filled with darkness, horrors of eldritch flesh and the refracted pale furious light of the stars. Of constant battle and onslaught from monsters and evil man, forever throwing themselves into the fray, zealous in their efforts to kill everyone in their little Hamlet.
The green-eyed, red haired man had many sleepless nights. Dark, creeping, lonely hours when he wondered if he was going mad. When the only reason why he didn't scream in his sleep was due to the instinct that had been honed in that previous life. That was how they'd been ambushed so many times, after all. One of their companions having been unable to keep their night terrors quiet, drawing skeletons and swine men towards them like a beacon of Darkness. Yet, they had succeeded in their efforts in the end.
Rowan knew this. He had been there after all. Using every last ounce of that wretched light and will to kill that damned thing. No… not kill it. Put it back to sleep. A momentary victory, before it one day woke up again.
Yet, it would be worth it. He was here after all. In a different world, one disconnected to that cursed cavalcade of haunting melodies.
Only, the peace he loved, that he'd earned, was short-lived. A mere fifteen years before the Convergence took hold. And his world and so many more were twisted together into something new. Something dark where heroes died, the light dimmed, and the dark he hated grew into something… more. A familiarity that he greeted with old hate.
And so he picked up his pitchfork and fought.
Which is why he was currently now running away from the Cauldron Men. The rotting corpses of what had once been his friend's. Bill was in the lead, that thin reedy man's glasses long sine having become nothing more than wired frame stuck on his teeth. The book that he'd always carried with him scattered into pages with the cover molded and torn apart, barely hanging together by scraps. The rest of their old friends were right behind him, charging after Rowan with an undead gait that didn't care about the cracks or twigs in the way as the village around them burned. The corpses of the girls that they'd used to crush on tearing everything to pieces, while the smaller former children screamed and tore their parents to pieces.
Their little resistance movement that had been building up for the past year or so was breathing it's last. Death and ruin already squeezing it's rotted iron grip around their heart, the beat having long since gone still and empty.
It was his fault. He'd believed that they could fight, and they did for a time. Managing to take some territory surrounding them, bringing those that could fight, that wanted to fight, together and forming something resembling unity. They would strike while the Horned King focused on taking back his territory from Mor'du the cursed bear.
None of them had anticipated that a year's long war would end in only one. His focus back on them, the Horned King struck quick and true, Cauldronmen tearing their way through their defenses, the fallen only becoming more fodder for his undead army.
"ARGH!" He screamed as a bolt pierced his leg, causing the young man to tumble down the street, his body jostled around, bruises and scrapes forming along his thin frame.
Gritting his teeth, he manages to get back to his feet, the stabbing burning pain in his leg sending fire ants through his senses with every movement, but he ignores it as he turns back towards the approaching corpses. Spitting some blood to the side, he raises his pitchfork up, the dull broken points meaningless against the dried up bones and flesh that came against him.
But he didn't care. He didn't lay down and die in his last life, he wasn't going to do the same here now.
Then… he felt something in his brain just… click. And he felt that old, horrendous glow bubble up once again behind his eyes. An angry, otherworldly light that illuminated the secrets held against the swirling stars.
A light that gleamed through his eyes and tore his skin, revealing that incandescent glow against the gloom of darkness that encroached against him, anger and hate both his own and not building to a wondrous crescendo.
With a scream, not of a farm boy who only knew blissful peace, but of an old scholar cursed with fractal light, he exploded in a wash of scentless wind and blue ethereal light. He stood there now, taller than before by at least a meter, far wider as well, his rough sown clothing barely contained around his enlarged frame. Cracks were formed all up along his exposed skin, a spiderweb of them spreading out from his nose, leaving his face a barely held together mask. Both of his arms were segmented, separated and floating from the rest of his appendages, held together by that ethereal blue glow that reached out from his body.
The pitchfork in his hand was changed as well, no longer a simple piece of wood and roughly forged metal, instead encrusted in glowing blue crystals, the broken points forged once again in azure green daggers.
His red shaggy hair billowed over his head, as if he were underwater, ephemeral, and floating in space. The Cauldronmen didn't care for his change, though. They simply charged ahead at him, uncaring for his eldritch transformation.
They come for you, grasping bony hands in the dark, eager to welcome a new brother into their unholy cause.
"Let them come then!" He roared out, voice raspy and echoing in the chamber of this mortal world. Even as he lifted a hand, energy collecting in his palm as he focused in his cursed hex, more and more screams joined in the undead collective, the rest of their brethren no doubt focusing in on his light.
Running was no longer an option. Not when his speed was dwindled even more given his new crystalline form. Which meant that fighting was his only way out.
Reality broke around his as he released the spell from his hand, daggers of crystal releasing from his palms, tearing their way through the corpses in front of him as if they were mere glass instead of reanimated golems. Some managed to get away, losing only limbs or pieces of their flesh, but that was fine.
The true prize were those that slowly shifted from preserved flesh into pillars of blue crystals. Slamming his pitchfork into the ground, he watched in dispassionate satisfaction as the pillars exploded at his command, jeweled shrapnel digging through those that survived while two seemed to replace each one that he cut down.
Ducking underneath one that had been trying to sneak up behind him, he stabs them with the changed pitchfork, the undead releasing an almost pitiful gasp as it too was encased in his curse.
Be wary, triumphant pride is followed by a dizzying fall. Those familiar words registered just as those screams did.
And then the children came rushing through the monstrous horde, small and fast, their speed only intensified in their death. Skeletal grinning faces bit into this shoulder and leg, one of them managing to find the wound where blue blood leaked from the bolt still stuck in his leg.
Screaming, he threw them off, slamming, stabbing, and releasing a wave of blue light that bought him seconds, but only just. Those moments of pain had been enough for the horde to focus in on him, the flames reaching a new brightness as smoke covered the half moon sky. The entire population of their little resistance group now added to the legion that came for his head.
Yet he fought on. Because what other choice did he have? He didn't survive and sacrifice his life just to have newest one end in this! Not when he wasn't even drinking yet! Whiskey! Whiskey! How he missed it!
The thought of that heavenly burn stirred him forward, ignoring the burning of his wounds, ignoring his own horror of his former friends and family's corpses doing their best to kill him again. This was nothing compared to the dungeon of shifting flesh and the revelation of the family of man. Nothing could compare to that, no matter how much he wished to forget.
Their numbers dwindled, but his wounds only increased, and consciousness was a mere thing marched on by his will rather than his strength, the transformed pitchfork in his hands dimmed to a bare glow, the crystalline daggers flinted and bare. One fractured arm lay limp at his side, even as broken bodies and shattered crystal surrounded him in a growing pile.
Yet, the hope that he held in his heart did not dim. Although, it was a bit too spiteful to be called pure hope. It flared in his chest, brighter than the light that had once consumed him, due to the simple fact that he wasn't the last living person here.
Everyone else in the village was now gone, another faceless body added towards the Horned King's growing army, but there were two more lives here that had arrived during his final stand. He didn't know who they were, or what they were doing here, but he knew they were there.
On the bare edge of his awareness, the glow radiating off him sending back their presence to his mind as he parried the sword of an armored Cauldronman, headbutting its skull with his own hardened skin. It stumbled back due to the force, just enough for the Fractured Man to release a blast of light from his mouth, shredding its upper body in a haze of crystals. Just in time for another bolt to find its way into his chest, the iron tipped projectile barely digging into his chest, but still enough for it to burn.
Amongst the shadows, skulking figures finally slunk into the light, their forms ready and taught amongst the ash and rot that surrounded their feet, horror, and hope somehow alight in their hearts. Those whispered words were enough to bring a smile to his cracked face.
The familiar sound of a lute playing, that old oh so familiar tune, only causing it to grow even wider, even as he knew that headaches were going to be in his immediate future. Accompanying the bright, cheerful magical melody that stirred his body and sharpened his mind, the sound of lit fuses harmonized in the background as two orbs were thrown from one of the few remaining rooftops of the surrounding buildings.
The explosions of fiery light sent corpses and crystals flying into the air, even as a thin lithe figure in red danced through the crowd, dagger, and sickle in either hand as he slung a treasured lute onto his back. All while a mad cackle echoed long after the last note died away.
He will be laughing still, at the End.
"Now, now Rowy boy, I didn't come chasing your ugly face just to watch it crumble away! Let's have some fun and finish up their funeral! They look like they're overdue!" He jeers and shouts as he drops more of those orbs behind his mad dash, cutting and slicing at those that he could as he headed towards me. The figure in red's tailed hat jingling as the bells danced in the wind, a bone white featureless mask, barring the two eyeholes, coming closer and closer, yet I couldn't help but see the smile underneath.
"If I'm so ugly, then why are you the one that's always wearing that damn mask!" I shouted back, echoing voice finally allowing relief back out into the world.
"Wouldn't want to have all these idiots screaming away from me! Where would the fun in that be!? When instead the joke is that they're going to be blown away anyway!" A cacophony of explosions follow in his wake, corpses sent careening away, chaos sown in the battlefield as I add my own pillars of crystal to the bombardment, even as I watch another figure land just a few feet away from us.
A far smaller figure rushed towards us, smaller than Sarmenti the Jester and certainly more so than my transformed height. Chestnut hair was cut short, explosives, and the like hung from belts across her chest, trousers and a blue cloak over her shoulders as she pointed behind us.
"Gentlemen, I don't wish to interrupt this lovely reunion, but we truly must be off!" With that, she lit another explosive and launched it away from us, the orb like grenade sailing through the air as I conjured another pillar near it's landing spot to increase the radius.
"Bah, such a killjoy! Why not enjoy the slaughter just a bit longer?" Sarmenti beside the woman, twisting his body, so his head was right next to the woman tilted to one side. He danced away when she went to stab him with a dagger she pulled out of… somewhere. "Hehehehe, now my dear, stabbing is for the second date, not the first."
"I truly hope that you have more sense in your skull than this one." She directed towards me as we ran, well, they ran, I hobbled, away from the explosions and mines she left behind them.
I was… surprised that she wasn't screaming away from me?
"Your not afraid?" Rowan asked the comparatively tiny woman.
"Of course not. Fearing an ally is truly counterproductive to an alliance, especially against someone like this damned Horned King." Her almost posh voice was pleasant, like a melody dancing through the air, though I could see that gleam in her eye. The one that said she herself wasn't completely sane either. When you fought in the Hamlet, day in and day out, you knew where to spot that.
It helped avoid the ones that were about to lose their minds, or who to stick close to when everything went to shit.
The moans and groans of the undead behind them stirred them forward, enough so that Rowan could ignore the dimming of his consciousness and the shame that echoed in his skull. All those people dead… because of him. If only he had regained everything just a day beforehand. Maybe more people would be alive now. Maybe he wouldn't have had to turn his little sister into a live grenade that way.
Instead of a horse or a carriage, a bigger surprise lay before them at the entrance to the soon-to-be abandoned village. A metal construct on wheels… an automobile. The symbol of a strange upside down triangle stamped across the doors in gold paint.
Metal and steam, forged by the hands of men.
They opened the doors, and he bit his tongue as he covered the light inside of him, forcing it back, to dim into mere embers. It was… far easier than before. And more concrete as well. That blazing sun in the back of his head no longer hurting to merely look at or feel.
Unfortunately, that allowed the blood of his wounds to pour out and his feet to finally give up on him, much like that damned Houndmaster had when the bandits finally came for them. At least the dog had stayed behind. Sarmenti threw him into the back of the vehicle, climbing into the passenger seat at the front as the woman ignited the ignition and stomped on the pedal.
The roar of the engine and the dying sound of those monsters' gasp was music to his ears, a better melody than the strumming of a lute. Hissing in a breath, he looked at the woman. "Please tell me you have a medicine kit somewhere?"
"Underneath the seat." The woman said distractedly, staring at the glass of a mirror that hung in the middle of the ceiling in front of her.
"Damn, Rowy, bet you hate your life right now!" The jester said in a sing-song voice as I dug through the bag with a green cross in the middle, dousing my wounds in alcohol while fiddling with the bandages. "Puberty was a bitch, and you were already a cunt all grown up! Hope you manage to get that stick out of your ass this time around!"
"How about I stick it up yours inste-AAAAH!" I barely managed to hold back my scream as I forced my broken arm into a sling, trying the broken wood of my pitchfork with some cloth using my teeth.
Most of my wounds were cleaned and bandaged, though I left the bolt in my leg. That had to be treated with better care and two hands instead of the one that I was stuck with.
"I know that I should say my thanks, but I hope that you have more people waiting wherever you're taking us, miss. Doubt that you would be happy to save my life only to lose it, cause of a bad crossbow wound."
"There is no need to worry on such things, Mr. Embers, I assure you that we shall have as much assistance as you require." Her posh accent was quite and worried, not for the horde that we'd long since outran, but for me instead, seeing that consciousness was a bare thing in my eyes.
"Why the concern for me? I'm no one special."
"I beg to differ, young man." She started before being interrupted by Sarmenti.
"Yeah, Rowy, I just saw you mow through more undead than when we got lost in that mill house. Guess that death only pissed you off even more than that old bastard did!"
The mad melody finds a chip in the light's armor, recognition, and clarity glimmering like blood in torchlight. Wonderful commentary you old bastard, it's unneeded.
Him being here was… strange. I didn't know why I lived, but I certainly didn't expect to ever see him again. That can wait until later though, because I can feel my head beginning to loll towards the softened seats, sleep an incredible reprieve from this cataclysmic night.
"Before I pass out, can I get your name? I prefer knowing who I owe my life too, especially if I might lose it soon."
"Jane Porter. It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Embers, though, I would prefer it if you didn't die quite yet." There was a hardened edge to her voice, one that reminded me of Junia, that powerful, sacred Vestal that went with us even though she was terrified of everything that lingered in the dark.
I smile at her even as I feel consciousness leave me. "Don't worry, I'm too angry to die." I was gonna get some Whiskey before I hit the bucket in this life, dammit. The good shit, not that cheap crap.
A little something that I have been wanting to do for a while. I think I've started to storyboard and roadmap no less than four or five jumpchains, but this is the one that I finally landed on. Nothing quite like a crapsack world, with at least a few glimmering lights to lead you forward. This is going to be a modified version of Villains Victorious, though some of them probably won't pop up till much later in the story. A lot of inspiriation for some of this is of course due to the Villains Victorious project, but also for the Relentless Verse of the VV project, headed by NeoHikato. For what that looks like, basically at least one setting managed to get a happy ending amongst the villains winning almost everywhere else. Guess this is more akin to Villains Almost Victorious, but hey, as this chapter has shown, there is plenty of dark shit around.
This is the second 'jump', though only in the technical sense. For those of you that picked up by now, Rowans first life was Darkest Dungeon which is ah, not the most cheerful of places. Anyways, had fun writing this and already planning stuff for the future so I hope that some of you enjoyed.
Single-Shot [+100]: Death is no longer a revolving door for your Companions. Those that die in a Jump stay dead until the end of the Jump, rather than respawning after a day or three. If they have a Perk, Power, or Item that allows them to respawn (a 1-up), that works as normal. If you have Rez abilities, you can use them, though it is actively draining to do so. Incompatible with All By Yourself or Kidnapper-San.All your Companions gain 100 CP automatically every jump this is active for. If taken with Hate Squad,they gain an additional 200 CP every jump,just to annoy you more. If a Companion is not imported,they cannot get freebies or origins. If you don't have any
current Companions,this cannot be taken as a JumpDrawback, and it grants no points as a ChainDrawback.
One and Done [Another +100]: Your Companions don't respawn at all without a Perk, Power, or Items of their own that allows them to prevent or recover from being dead. Once they die in a Jump, just like you,they're dead, although you may Rez them if you possess the ability to do so, though this is extremely traumatic to your Companion... better than being dead though. Rezzing a dead Companion also requires you to deactivate 10%of your current cumulative CP total worth of perks until the end of the current jump. Requires and Replaces the effects of Single-Shot. This gives any Companions you have an extra 300 CP automatically every jump (in addition to whatever CP they may or may not receive for being imported). Cannot be taken with Hate Squad. If not imported,they cannot get freebies or origins.
Treasure Hunt [Discount on all items worth more than 50 CP, double discounts are 1/4th price. Triple Discounts free]: All items that you don't receive free of charge before this drawback is applied are now scattered all over the setting of each jump. Hints appropriate to your intelligence and search skills will be provided, but the items are scry proof. You must search them out to claim them. If you don't, they will be scattered again in your next jump. Failing to claim an item three times will result in forfeiture of that item and its price will not be refunded. Companion purchases / import options, even though often included in the Items section of jump docs, are not considered items for this purpose, either for discount or scattering. Chain Only. Hiatus costs 200 CP. The more expensive the item is before discounts,the harder to find it will be
Without Why [+200 or +300]: You never met any Jump-chan, never heard of Jump-Chain, have no clue what happened, and you'll only learn about the limited duration of Jumps when you move from the first to the second Jump. While the build for the Jump is made as normal, the Jumper doesn't know what the build is (unless it's obvious from background), so if you have a non-obvious or subtle Perk, Power, or Item (such as most luck perks) you won't know about it until it comes into effect, and then you might overcompensate and think you're luckier than you actually are (such as for limited use abilities). You'll have an instinctive gut feeling related to any specific win/loss conditions related to the individual jump you're in or from Drawbacks though it'll be a vague sense of impending doom. For instance you'll know that losing your job in Nine to Five could risk everything, but not exactly why. Chain-Only. No Hiatus. This automatically includes 'What are Drawbacks'. Since your Companions also have no idea what's going on with their builds, they gain +100 CP in jumps they are imported into. It is strongly suggested that you also take Semper Preparatus, and so you gain an additional +100 if you do.
Why Not Without [+200 or +300]: Your Benefactor fills out your Jumps Do For you. For an additional 100 CP, they do it not with your best interests in mind, but with what they would find the most entertaining. Chain Only. Cannot Hiatus.Unwise to take with Bitch-Chan.
Start at the Beginning [+100] (SATB): You begin every jump (that is not a direct sequel of a previous jump where you're the same individual you were in the previous jump) at the birth of your alter-ego (or as a foundling for drop-ins) for that jump, your age roll in years before normal jump-start(minimum 11 years of age roll isn't part of the jump). Your local powers mature as you grow as makes sense for the setting.For your out of jump powers and skills... they'll begin manifesting in your toddler years (1% per year until you hit puberty for a standard human, though for races that mature slower, it will be proportional... thus a race that takes 100 years to hit puberty instead of 10 years would mature 1/10th as fast). Once you hit puberty it'll increase to 6% per year (or proportional time unit). Expect to be back to full strength around the time the jump would normally start though, so this might be slower or faster in some jumps. Your memories of your other selves start out as dreams as you age and become more and more real until they naturally just merge at the moment of jump-start. You have a form of slowly decreasing plot armor as you get closer to the start of things. The more helpless you are, the stronger it is. This applies to all your Companions who are imported into the jump with you, giving them +100 CP to be spent however the import rules allow, or only on Perks if they would normally not gain CP. Unimported Companions do not gain this, and will join you as soon as your warehouse opens...at the start of the normal jump timeline. It cannot be Revoked or put on Hiatus if it is a Chain-Drawback and applies even to Gauntlets. Yes,this makes Monopoly sooo much worse. You'll never know which Monopoly game is'The One that Will Set You Free!' If possible, you must make age rolls. Power returns qualitatively/ geometrically, not in absolute terms.
+200 Setting Amnesia. Regardless, the MC is not going to have any knowledge of the setting, same for Companions. This of course will not apply to anything that they might learn.
Cannot Into Drop (CID) [Special]: You cannot be a Drop-In... ever. In exchange, you gain a 50%discount on any origin that costs more than 100 and can take any 100 CP or less origin for free. If The jump has 2 origin types(Race and Occupation perhaps), this applies to only whichever one has the drop-in option for that jump. If The Jump has no Drop-in options or only drop-in options, this has no effect. You may treat any two Drop-In perks or items as if they were discounted for you in each jump. If any origin can be made drop-in, you get one discount from an origin you didn't take and may not use the drop-in toggle. Chain-Only. Putting this on Hiatus costs you 300 CP.
Coin Flip [+50]: Every jump you must flip a coin to see if you're male or female. Such sex-changes are free but cannot be bought off with CP for any reason. All alt-forms become the assigned sex if possible. Voluntary Gendershifting doesn't change your actual sex, merely your outward appearance. If a form belongs to a single sexed race (Asari,Hutt...Dwarves?), obviously this doesn't apply. Chain-Only.
What are Drawbacks? [Variable]: Jump-chan thinks preparation isn't any fun! Once you commit to a Drawback, you'll forget you did, forgetting all the details of that drawback. The value of this is based on the quality of the Drawbacks you took. If they're annoying but not dangerous, this is worth +10 CP per 100 CP value. If they're dangerous but not deadly, this is worth +25CP per 100 CP value. If They're deadly dangerous or potentially chain ending, this is worth +50CP per 100 CP value. This cannot be taken with No Drawbacks for You, nor applied piecemeal Nonspendable CP automatically rolls to the next jump, but must be spent there if possible. Any attempt made to transmit the details of drawbacks to yourself or your Companions will fail. The Maximum Value from this is +800 from all Drawbacks combined. This Is automatically included in Without Why and thus does not modify it. Chain-Drawbacks only get benefit from this on the first jump they are active for.
You've Gotta Want It! [+200]: It's about time you start actually earning these powers, you lazy Jumper. You no longer automatically receive your purchases at the start of a jump. Instead, they must occur organically. If you buy an education perk, you'll have to actually sit through the lessons and do the homework. If you buy a fighting perk, you'll have to obey your sensei and do the due diligence. If you have genetic augment,cybernetic implant, or exaltation, you'll have to undergo the process. Whatever the perk or item might be, if it's possible to find, learn, acquire, you'll have to do the work. You will actually have to learn, research, find, befriend, steal, perform mad experiments, gamble in the souls of the damned, or whatever other way there isto acquire them. In addition, all these methods will be somewhat resistant to the effects of your other perks- learning modifiers will only be half as effective, luck and treasure senses will not pick up items as easily. Even replenishing food items might require a quest. In the case of innate or genetic abilities, you'll have them from the get go, but they'll be at an average level for the setting/a fifth of their power (whichever is higher) with no skill at using them, and will need to be trained
to their 'original' power. As a circumstantial bonus, if an ability requires you to die as a part of the process (i.e. undeath, reincarnation, etc), those - AND ONLY THOSE - will not trigger the end of your chain. Since you're spending top-quality CP, however, I will grant you this: You're guaranteed to come across a way of getting your purchases, be it catching the eye of a rich philanthropist, meeting a drunk scientist searching for test subjects, or hearing a legend about where the Ultimate Weapon might be. This only gives you the opportunity,though; you might end up antagonizing your Companion-to-be, your teacher might feel you're not doing your best and find another apprentice, and the evil overlord might sweep the Macguffin from your hands,so take care. If, and only if, you absolutely squander your chance to acquire what you paid for, for whatever reason, in the next jump you'll get another chance in the next jump... and the next... and the next... and so on. Really, can't you stop pissing people off long enough to learn how to knit?What do you mean you weren't buying a knitting perk?Are you sure?
It was 600 years ago. The only things that bypass this requirement are perks/ items required to keep you alive in a specific starting environment that the jump gives you for free. Chain-Only.
Not-So Out Of Context [+200 if Chain, +100 if Not]: It's kind of unfair that you get to bring all these amazing abilities from a universe where they are known quantities to universes that might have no effective counter to them at all, isn't it? "But Jump-Chan,"I hear you cry,"That's the point of Jumpchain, surely?" Wrong! The point of Jumpchain is to keep me amused, and I think it will be extra amusing to have you find that any OOC ability you bring with you from one Jump to another will have been incorporated to at least a degree into all future reality you visit while this Drawback is active. For instance, if you have been to the Harry Potter Jump, Harry Potter style
magic will appear in future jumps, among people of all walks of life, be they neutral towards you, allied with you, or antagonistic to you. Magic items related to Harry Potter magic, such as Horcruxes and Pensieves, might be a thing, especially if you bought one yourself or a companion did. If you have a Stand from Jojo, expect to find others who have Stands... and don't be surprised if a Stand Arrow or a Stone Mask show up. If you're a Conduit, expect other Conduits. If you're a Lantern, expect other Lanterns. If you're a Cultivator, expect Cultivation to be a
known quantity and for counters to exist. Cannot be Hiatused if Chained. Can be Revoked. Provides +100 CP to your Imported Companions every jump if this is a Chain Drawback.
Note: These abilities, powers, and items will always be distributed in such a way that they don't overly disrupt the overall local balance of power and may not be exactly the same as your choices (going back to the Stand example, the people who do have Stands have different ones from you) but it may take a lot of the surprise out of your OOC abilities away, as well as making your Jumps a good deal more dangerous if you're in the habit of using your Out of Context abilities and equipment to take the danger out of settings you visit. On the flip side, it may make your own progress in mastering and expanding those abilities easier, since supplies and techniques you've never seen before in the source universe may exist in the new universes
Contagious Context [Another +100]: Even powers and abilities that you and your Companions didn't take in Jumps that you've visited in the past are now on the list of things that might show up in future jumps. This does not include abilities that are significantly more powerful than those you did take, so that's both a mercy and a bit of a limitation. Such abilities are now a step more common than they were in the source reality. Requires Not So Out of Context, and has the same restrictions. Does not increase Companion CP.
Gaze of the Abyss (100 CP)(Free)- "The abyss returns even the boldest gaze." It is said that
when you gaze into the abyss, the abyss gazes back. But you will not be the first to blink. Your mind is made of sterner stuff, and fear and panic has less sway- even eldritch forces will not distort your sanity as it would the uninitiated. Your own spells and blows also seem to cut especially well against eldritch forces, perhaps as a consequence of your familiarity with them. But be wary; a death of a thousand cracks in the mind can kill just as easily as a thousand cuts to the flesh.
Cursed Hexes (200 CP)(100)- "Curiosity, interest, and obsession- mile markers on my road to damnation." Among the vast variety of spells and incantations are those most suitable for combat; perfect for supporting nearly any other hero as their debilitating effects take hold of the enemy or offering mixed benefits to your allies. You have a trio of such hexes, curses, and dark blessings; perhaps you stitch your allies together with chaotic magic, which can do more harm than good, or maybe you weaken your enemies physically or leave them open to future attack somehow.
Antiques and Relics (400 CP)(200)- "Idol, amulet, or lucky charm- the simplest object can be a talisman against evil." The best support one can provide, aside from keeping your allies on their feet, is monetary in nature. As someone with an eye for curios and relics- as well as the skill at packing needed to stuff even more of the boundless treasures you will encounter in these darkened halls into your sacks and satchels- you would be a welcome addition to any team. Not only do you often find valuable artifacts and gold in the mud and ruins, but also powerful trinkets- masterfully crafted or supernatural equipment that can give your allies benefits when worn, used, or kept. Though, a large amount are double-edged swords; sometimes because of their unsettling nature, other times because of their construction or nature. Although the Trinkets purchased here don't have this restriction, a person can also only use two at a time even if they are seemingly mundane.
Medical Warden (400 CP)(200)- "The preponderance of rare and exotic injuries make this place perfect for the study of suffering." Ah, science. As a learned scholar in the fields of medicine, surgery, and rehabilitation, your skills are best put to use in town where you can operate with frightening speed in the right circumstances, curing both debilitating mental illnesses and crippling disease in around a week's time- though soothing stresses and other therapeutic methods are, ironically, not your strong point. But should you take to the dungeon you'll find
yourself still capable of putting your skills to use, at least if you can take the time to enact them- the usage of leeches to suck out bad humors is a delicate one, after all, not something one can do in the midst of combat. To say nothing of how your knowledge of vital organs, muscles, and veins allows you to bleed enemies like a stuck pig with only a simple dagger, or how your knowledge can let you quickly patch up the mildly injured even in a fight.
Dark Communion (600 CP)(300)- "Let me share with you the terrible wonders I have come to know..." An arcane ritual; a pact with something from beyond time and space. Having struck a bargain with some fickle entity of the abyss, you now have the ability to direct it in battle; summoning tendrils- an insignificant portion of the beast's true form- from hellish portals to batter your enemies into submission, pull them from their ranks, and flatten them with the eldritch force imbued in each grasping limb. Or, if this servitude is unagreeable then you can set yourself as a master of the living dead instead. Although your necromantic powers will have yet to grow to maturity you can still cause the dead to burst forth from the ground to grasp the ankles of your enemies, pulling them out of line or simply tearing them limb from limb… with enough time to "negotiate" or further your studies, you may conjure even greater things to do your bidding- or even make them fight alongside you autonomously, rather than merely following your commandments. Lastly, you may commune with this being- or the spirits of the dead- to petition them in warding your camp, strengthening an ally, or even bringing one back from death's door... at increasing cost to both the light of your campfire and the sanity of yourself and your fellows, as a price for their meddling in mortal affairs. So long as they don't differ from these principals, you may choose something aside from the eldritch or the undead to command, as well- perhaps plant-life that grows and wilts with unnatural speed, or swarms of rats to gnaw your foes to death?
The Voice of the Ancestor (50 CP)- "In time, you will know the tragic extent of my failings..." The voice of the Ancestor will follow you on your journey, serving as both commentator on the actions you take and narrator- always having a suitably grisly story for the places you visit and the ferocious beasts you encounter. Perhaps humorously, he may even claim to have been involved in their origin. His sardonic words may also be heard by those in your party, should you wish it, though his transcendent voice will not reach the uninitiated- his role is to inform, not distract.
Virtuous (200 CP)- "A moment of valor shines brightest against a backdrop of despair." Driven to the brink, and yet not broken. When stress and fear come to claim their due many fall to their dark whispers, driven mad by desperation and their own will to survive. But you? You tend to surge through it- gaining a second wind, a burst of inspiration, the will to fight. Most stresses fade away when this happens, to make room for your new-found resolve, and even your allies will take heart when they see the shining beacon you have become. For as long as your good mood lasts you will strike harder and faster, words of courage and bravado flowing from your tongue to further inspire your crew.
Luck of the Draw (100 CP)- "Good fortune and hard work may yet arrest this plague." Luck; that most ephemeral of qualities that all seem to claim, for good or for bad. Just as the roll of a dice determines the winner at the gambling hall, so to does chance play a part in combat. Fortunately the fates seem to smile upon you; a roll of the dice and the flip of a coin landing in your favor more often than not. Although this won't save you from certain peril or truly unfortunate circumstances your good luck can make the difference between narrowly avoiding harm or death- and what's more, your own strikes seem to be far more likely to both hit their mark and deal grievous harm. Needless to say, but you could easily win a good stake at the gambling tables. Abominable Transformation (300 CP)- "The man is slave to the beast, and the beast is slave to the moon." Through twisted experiment or daemonic possession your body may undergo a stressful transformation into a half-beast, half-man creature. Like the Abomination the decision to transform is yours- barring the onset of madness- but although the act itself will actually heal minor wounds, the transformation may incur stress not only on yourself but on any compatriots who witness the monstrous shifting of flesh and muscle. Luckily, you may also partially transform while retaining your mostly human body in order to defend yourself, which is far less taxing. The form you take on when fully transformed will be similar to that of the Abomination, featuring rending claws, teeth and inhuman strength, as well as caustic bile- the differences, if any, being limited to cosmetics. If you purchase one of the seven "disease" perks below you will have the opportunity to design an entirely new form, with its own set of benefits and demerits. Just be aware that, regardless of form, the superstitious souls of the Hamlet may not be too happy about your presence here- and those of a religious sort may even refuse to adventure alongside you entirely. Should you wish, you may also choose to make your "transformed" state permanent instead- this will eliminate the penalties related to transforming, but you will lose the ability to take on a different form for the duration of the Jump. Needless to say that being stuck as a monster will do little to endear you to those who distrust or hate your kind, too. Refracted Husk (300 CP)- "No rest, no peace for this wretched soul." After
the Comet arrived those unfortunate enough to be bathed in its cosmic colors
found themselves shattered, and refracted across time and space- made a slave to
the Comet's will, and forced to serve it for all eternity. These unfortunate souls, now only husks of their former selves, have become vessels for the Comet's power. Even the heroes sent to stem the tide are not safe; those that succumb to madness or death there often return to the Hamlet, gibbering nonsense about cosmic lights and the hateful hues found therein. But as overwhelming as the Comet's influence may be, there are still some who find the strength to fight its influence- even in the utter depths of its embrace. Consider the poor miller himself; a slave he may be in his twisted unlife, but even he can still recognize the face of his beloved. And Mildred, the woman in question, seems to have retained enough of her sanity to avoid attacking people entirely. And like those two, you have resisted the worst of the Comet's influence. Caught between life and death, the lights you have seen have revealed many truths to you both great
and terrible. As a result, while your mind may be more susceptible to trauma you'll find that enemies will always fail to escape your notice- no matter how well they hide, so long as they're close enough to be a threat you will see them. Additionally your encounters with otherworldly energy has made it easier for you to bleed and poison your enemies. Your innards have started to harden, granting you protection from attack but also slowing your movements considerably; your eyes glow with blue, eldritch light thanks to the crystal shards gestating inside of you, though they don't illuminate much. With Abominable Transformation you can further your transformation. Your skin will form a rocky hide, blue light emerging from cracks in your cosmic
armor. Your limbs may detach from your body, connected by tendrils of otherworldly light. Not only will this further increase your defenses, but the light you emit can be used offensively, altered to take on hues both splendorous and haunting and almost anything in between. Bathed in the ethereal glow your allies may find themselves more inclined towards heroism, their stress melting away as their body strengthens; or the light may reveal a previously unseen weakness in the enemy, possibly even causing them to go mad- if they are even susceptible to such a thing.
Items: Provisions (50 CP)(25CP)- Enough tinned, boxed, and jarred food to feed a party of four for a day, a shovel, a vial of anti-venom, a bundle of bandages, some medicinal herbs, a skeleton key, a vial of holy water or laudanum, a set of four torches, or a few treats that increase the vigor of beasts; you get one of these things a week, but may purchase this option multiple times if you wish.
The Cure (150 CP)(75)- A vial of unknown liquid of presumably holy origin; when imbibed, it will cure the Crimson Curse- or any form of vampirism, post-Jump. You get one vial a week.
The Jester, Sarmenti (50 CP)- "He will be laughing still... at the end." Clad in mildewed cloth and an unsettling mask, the Jester turns the battlefield into a stage performance- alternatively slashing with his wicked sickle or playing tunes to inspire his compatriots, or dirges to dishearten the enemy; all the while building up momentum for a final strike when he takes to the front. Around the campfire he uses honeyed words and his lute to reassure the party- or singles one of his companions out for mockery, causing laughter at their expense.
Well, color me intrigued. I never really enjoyed the use of meta-knowledge in fanfiction, so a jumpchain that removes all the meta-knowledge from the jumper is right up my alley. Starting on the second jump is a very good idea in my opinion, especially with your choice of jumps. Those poor unfortunate souls will never know what hit them...
Well, color me intrigued. I never really enjoyed the use of meta-knowledge in fanfiction, so a jumpchain that removes all the meta-knowledge from the jumper is right up my alley. Starting on the second jump is a very good idea in my opinion, especially with your choice of jumps. Those poor unfortunate souls will never know what hit them...
A way that I have chosen to sidestep the whole meta knowledge hurdle is from using people born in specific jumps. Example, Rowan was born in Darkest Dungeon and lived there his whole life until his death, with no knowledge of what the fuck is happening, which is half the fun.
Instead of a concrete idea of what's going to happen, I more have a nebulous web of ideas floating around on directions that this can go, and I hope that you will enjoy.
He woke up to that familiar tune. A cheery melody that was almost magical in nature, with the way it lifted his spirits and urged him towards the fight. To move faster, clear his vision and increase the perception of those that heard it. Though, somehow, it felt as if the song was far clearer than before, stronger than it had once been.
Then the headache and pain hit. An ice pick to his brain, while his arm and leg burned and bruised, as if they were being beaten from the inside out with freshly forged clubs. It… hurt so much more than any of his wounds used to. As if he was mere flesh and blood, instead of reanimated crystal given unholy light.
I guess I am more human now, though. He couldn't help but smile at the pain, that unfamiliar sensation that he had once missed so many years ago. Before being trapped in that maze of convoluted dimensions, forced to wander for years before finally making it back to the Hamlet, alive yet forever changed.
The light was still there, at the back of his mind. Waiting, always waiting, like an eager mutt anticipating his favorite chew toy. But it was no longer a completely apathetic companion, a thing that did not care for his wellbeing, and merely a herald of the comet. It felt… more his, rather than being a badge announcing what he had been touched by.
Now that the memories were complete, no longer mired in bits of hazy nightmares, he marveled at just how… quiet his head was. With the only voice whispering to him being his, instead of that damned racket and whispers from beyond the stars.
Then his lonely, quiet voice screamed. Railing against the walls of his mind, no longer dulled from the heat of battle or the knowledge that bombarded him with his transformation.
Everyone that I ever knew is dead… because of me. Because of him. Rowan lay there, broken and in pain, both in body and mind, urging it all back into the bottle where they belong, when the cheerful tune that had been playing in the background changed. It was a sad melodic tune, one that told a story that was far too familiar to be a coincidence.
"It is alright to break, when the battle is done." Sarmenti whispers to his friend from a few feet away, having remained there every waking hour since those quacks had finished up their work. "No being is completely impervious to pain, especially not in the heart. Let those tears flow, I, for one, shall not judge you for it. What kind of jester would I be then?"
And so he does.
For the first time in… perhaps decades, he finally allows himself to break. No longer fearful of the loud light hijacking his body, or leaving those around him to die should the bandits attack again. After all, everyone that he could worry about was now dead, the bloody Jester right beside him and more than capable of taking care of himself. Even if those memories were now marred with their corpses rushing to kill him, the children digging their tiny bone clawed fingers into his rocky skin, doing their best to rip his bones out of his body.
He weeps, loud painful things, both at the deaths that lay on his hands, and the loss of what he had believed to be his paradise. Now wreathed in death once again. Just like his past one.
No more harvest festivals, or Friday baking night, when the Wreaths would open up their oven's for everyone to use. No more hoping someday to be able to explore the world, sending back letters and whatever trinkets I could find back home, a pleasure that had always been denied to me in m old life.
No more keeping in my night terrors to myself in the fear that everyone would see just how much of a broken mind I truly held beneath the veneer. All of that… gone.
The true battle is not in the war of the body, but in that of the mind. Even the old bastard's voice was mournful in its own way. For as much as that monster could feel for other people. I hope that you're rotting in hell, you Ancestral fuck.
The young man didn't know how long he lay there, wracked with guilt and sobs. The old mournful tune of the lute playing the entire time, a rock that his sanity clung onto amidst this sea of hopelessness and loss. Eventually, though, the tides receded, and he finally came gasping for air, his throat tight with pain while his eyes were puffy and red, like blood lilies freshly bloomed from red watered soil.
He opens his eyes to a wooden shack, the sound of activity on the outside telling him that they were't alone. Jester was next to him, seated in a chair, his lute cradled gently in his hands as he strummed away, the music once again changing to something far more… lackadaisical. Weary, yet expectant.
Of course, his bone white mask remained on his face, but I knew that his eyes were focused on me even behind his second face.
"So, what exactly happened after you died?" The music stopped and he affixes his beloved instrument behind his back, leaning forward in his seat as he tilted his head at me in an exaggerated manner. "You just wake up here in a new life?"
Sighing, Rowan lets the last of my grief, the flickering echoes, back into the bottle. "In a way. I grew up in this world… just another farmer in a little village on the outskirts of the kingdom of Camelot. I didn't remember everything… at least not at first." He still remember that first night when the memories had come back… and the nightmares. His mother had held him that night, even as he screamed in fear of the swine men coming to take him away, or the skeletons in the dark forcing that vile wine down his throat.. "What about you? You're the spitting of what you did before we went into the Dungeon." Before the flesh overtook our world, and we were trapped in a hell beyond what we could imagine.
He laughs, not the mocking one that he liked to use against our enemies or with that tomb stealing bitch, but a genuine one that was only slightly tinged with madness. "Whatever the hell it is that happened to you, it might have done the same to me. I'm definitely younger under this thing, even took some of those nasty little diseases that I used to have!" Rowan shivered as he remembered those diseased blades the pigs had used in the warrens. That was certainly a way to get chlamydia. "But, let's just say that the world didn't just magically fix itself after you put the damn thing to sleep. If anything, the world only went crazier than before."
Instead of being distraught or horrified that my sacrifice had meant so little… he remained unsurprised. Certainly not after the previous night. No, if anything, he'd expected the world he gave his life up for to simply remain the hell hole that it was. To spit his gift back in his face, regardless of the cost he'd paid for it.
If I never have to deal with cultists ever again, it will be too soon.
A chance for redemption perhaps, or simply another attempt for ruination. Fuck you old man.
"Perhaps a story for another time, then?" He laughs again, this time the mocking thick on his voice like the armor of that damned crab.
"What, don't want to hear about the Fanatics or the Cultists? They got worse you know!" The faux cheer in his voice was enough to tell Rowan that, no, he didn't want to know.
"How long have I been out?" Rowan asked before Sarmenti could continue with his teasing.
"Oh, but a few hours. The sun came out and it's only slightly more depressing than the Hamlet." Jester said, pointing at the gray sky that could just barely see outside the window. "Made it quite a bit away from your village, managed to make it to the edge of Dumnonia, wherever that is. Seriously, this land is confusing. Feels like that time we got lost in the Warrens and wound up somewhere in the Weald." Sarmenti sighed with a chuckle, flapping his hands too and fro, his dagger and sickle glinting underneath their hiding spots in his clothes.
"What about that woman that was with you? Jane Porter." He sighed again, the holes of his mask managing to look downcast.
"Total boor that one, wouldn't laugh at a single joke and threatened to throw me off that steel wagon of hers when I made joked about keeping one of those Cauldronmen skulls as a trophy on the front. Truly, she doesn't know how to have any fun!"Rowan had a feeling this was going to be a constant headache if they remained with this woman. If only because Sarmenti couldn't help but make himself a nuisance.
Scratching my beard with a groan, I get up, gritting my teeth as the broken arm remained broken, but the various cuts, bites, and bruises were already healing. Good. Guess the Light was still useful, even if it didn't infect my body like it used to.
"What are you doing?" A familiar female accent said from the doorway, lo and behold, the woman that we were just speaking of stood there at the doorway, sans explosives, staring at the lanky youth with a disapproving glare. "Young man, you are far too injured to be trying to stand on your own."
Sarmenti guffawed, slapping his knees. "Listen little Jane!" Her hand twitched towards her waist, where no doubt a dagger waited. "Calling him young man is like calling me sane! He's way older than both of us combined."
I wanted to be irritated at him for just… blurting my past life out into the open, but I realized in irritation that it was probably inevitable. She'd already seen my… changed form, so there was that horrible secret out already.
To only further my surprise, the brunette woman doesn't blink an eye at that. "His age is irrelevant, whatever wounds he still has have yet to heal, and he needs bed rest." She glares at me, and I just stare back at her, neither one of us daring to concede.
Eventually, I let out another sigh. "Miss, as you saw earlier, I'm not really someone… normal. I've always healed faster than the normal person. Look-" I reach up and pull down the rough spun shirt that I'd been changed into, ripping off the bandages that had been over a nasty set of tiny claw marks tor reveal unblemished flesh. "-see? Good as new."
"That arm still looks to be injured." She retorted, glaring at my right arm that was still in a sling.
"Bones take a little while longer to heal compared to cuts, bruises, and bite marks. Guarantee that in less than a week I'll be up in fighting shape again." I promised her, not budging an inch, until she eventually sighs.
"Very well, if you insist, it is your choice and health on the line, not my own." Without another word, she gracefully turns around and gestures outside. "Come along then, I believe that it would be best if you meet some of others."
"Others?"
"Come along, you'll meet some of them close by." Following behind her, I'm surprised by the absence of the green haze that plagued the British Isles. No longer did I feel a constant ache in my soul, a sapping of strength and will that had to be constantly fought against, lest you lose the will to fight.
That was only the first sign that something was very different from the norm of what was now Prydain. While the sun was still a distant memory in the sky, the grey didn't feel so… oppressive like before. More like a cloudy day rather than a storm brewing on the horizon. While the crops on the outskirts of the town still looked downcast, there was a bloom of new growth scattered on the roots of the dying plants.
Then there was the actual town to consider. It was… not what Rowan had been expecting. Instead of the rough strewn cottages and shacks that had become the norm in Prydain, strong homes of wood and metal towered over them. Shining crystals of azure light, a different, more hopeful hue compared to his own inner Light, shined high overhead, and he couldn't help but marvel at the constructs.
He didn't know what they were, but he could feel that they pushed away the worst of the corruption that the Horned King had imbued into the very land. The cloying dark magic trying to worm its way through the crystal's domain… only to be rebuffed at every turn.
Behold, the great bastions of man, the bulwark and fragile defenders against this immutable rancid world. Fuck you old man.
The people were the next jarring scene. Instead of the normal peasant folk, the downtrodden and hungry, those with no hopes or dreams except to maybe see another day, a much different ilk levied to and fro. Men and women, most appearing to be soldiers, each appearing to be foreigners in this land. Rowan could tell by the way that they walked, the way that they always watched for danger at any moment, and the sheer variety in differences that he saw amongst them. There were women that wore trousers and holstered weapons, a very odd sight especially here, men with skin as dark as the soil beneath their feet, other's with smaller eyes lighter skin far thinner frames. More exotic, were the ones with darker skin and pure white hair. White hair and looking young enough to have barely hit adulthood a few winters ago. Though, most looked supremely well-fed, especially compared to everyone else that Rowan had known all his life.
Each and every one of them had a crystal hanging from their necks, a shining blue long pyramid thing with eight faces, each one emitted the same wavelength that the giant one above their heads did. Instead of wielding swords, spears, or maces, long rifles were slung over their shoulders, some of them sporting smaller pistols on their hips that were far more advanced than anything Rowan had seen in his previous life.
Certainly more so than when he lived as Rowan the farmboy. Then again, Jester wasn't wrong when he said that Rowan had yet to finish puberty. How he wished to be at his former height and strength, especially during the previous harrowing battle, instead of this limp noodle that had yet to be properly cooked.
Speaking of, his stomach decided that now as the time to make its displeasure known, a timber amidst the cacophony of constant town motion.
"Ah, that's right, you haven't eaten since before… everything happened." Jane said, pursing her lips and changing directions slightly, leading them slightly west instead of north bound. Right to a mess hall chocked full of people, with the rich smell of a bevy of foods filling our noses. Succulent meats and grilled vegetables reached my nose, and I found myself at the back of the line with a tray I'm not completely sure where I got, in my hands. Er, hand. One of them was still broken for at least a few days.
My stomach growled the whole time, while Sarmenti giggled behind me, playing away a tune on his lute that the surrounding people seemed to enjoy. Didn't matter to me right now, I required food, damn it.
Arriving at the front didn't come soon enough, and I was greeted by a young woman with dark skin, full lips stretched into a wide smile, brown eyes and her long curly hair tied back with a green bandana. "What can I get for you suga'?" There was an accent to her words that I couldn't quite recognize, almost like a drawl, but brimming with cheer and compassion.
"Don't worry, he ain't picky. Well, 'cept for pork. I don't we can eat pork any more." Both Sarmenti and I shiver at that, remembering the damn things that bred in the dark and filth.
"Alright, no pork, one sec hon!" The tray disappears in a second, and woman becomes a motion of activity, filling up the tray piled high with some sort of chicken stew, a nice loaf of bred, a nice heaping of corn, and a pudding like thing that smelled of potatoes. "Now, careful, it's a bit hot-"
I don't let her finish, shoving a spoonful of the chicken into my mouth and positively melting as the hot delicious stew reached my stomach, satiating the damned gluttonous thing. Before I took another bite, I remembered my manners, and turned to the woman, bowing my head in thanks.
"Thank you miss, it's delicious." That smile of hers only grew even larger and she gave a loud boisterous laugh. It wasn't lady like at all, yet I couldn't help but find it charming.
"Well, thank you kindly for the compliment! Sure is nice to have some appreciation around here!" The woman raises her voice higher, just loud enough to carry over the din of conversation around us, causing the crowd of people to flinch in shame. Jester simply cackled behind me, tuning away his lute, a jaunty hum about 'foolish soldiers dying to food poisoning' or something on his lips. Rowan kicks him with the back of his foot. No point in pissing off thee nice people that were currently housing them, now was there? "If you ever need a bite to eat child, you just come by, ya hear? Ain't no way I'm lettin a kid go hungry."
Rowan keeps his grumbling about his age to himself. No point in letting any more cats out of their mangy bags.
"Thank you for this Tania, I know that your work load is already heavy as it is." Jane says, to which Tania simply scoffs with a smile, shoving the lighter skinned woman with a playful bump.
"Now, you know I have no problem giving a hungry stomach some food to eat! You sure you don't want anything, Jane honey?" Tania asked the woman behind him while Rowan began to inhale the food in front of him, leaning against the counter and balancing it one one knee while he using his remaining functioning hand to shovel food into his mouth.
"I assure you, I've already had enough to eat, I promise." Jane promised with a dainty laugh, to which Tania merely glared at her and pointed a spoon in her direction that glinted dangerously in the blue crystal light.
"You better, else I'm going to have to drag you back into another girls night and actually make you eat somethin!" They leave soon after that, Rowan practically licking his plate clean before doing so, and Jane leads them to a room at the center of the growing town. It was a simple-rounded building, vast, though comfortably in it's furnishing.
Entering it, they found three people waiting for them. Sitting closest to the doorway was an older large man with bright red hair, streaks of white spreading through his mane and growing more numerous. Deep circles ringed his eyes, yet they were hardened blades that seemed to cut into him when the three of them arrived.
Closer to the fireplace of what might have been the lobby of this… home? Looked like a home. Was a tall blond woman with dark eyes, wearing light clothing that was… more revealing than what Rowan was used to. Not as much as the Dancer, but certainly more so than most women wore in the Hamlet. He did notice the muscles on her arms, the way that her eyes sized him in less than a moment, as well as the pistol on her hip and the dagger inside of her boot. This was a woman used to combat, and could probably beat him into the ground before his… changes had occurred.
The lass occupant of the room was probably the most out of place person in the room, well, besides him and Jester. It was a mouse. A little mouse, that wore a bright red coat and matching tall hat, embroidered with gold buttons and strings. He would have thought it was a pet, if the mouse didn't turn up to look at him and waved.
Even Sarmenti couldn't help but stare dumbfounded at the seemingly intelligent mouse, and the two men from a different world could only wave back in a daze.
"So, our mystery monster is awake." The blond woman asked, nodding in appreciation towards Jane, who nodded back. "Certainly looks a lot younger than I would have thought. Shorter too."
"I would volunteer for a demonstration, but I do believe it would be best if your men saved their ammunition for our enemies instead of myself." Rowan offered as he himself took a seat, sighing in pain at his weary body.
"Oh, I don't know! I think it be a bit riveting for some of these dead men walking! Who knows! It might be a story that they tell their grandkids if they survive." Sarmenti said with a giggle.
"And is there a reason why they might die?" The red haired man asked, leaning forward in his seat, danger in his eyes even if they were lined with age. The callouses on his hands were those of one who knew how to use a sword and bow.
"They're soldiers! Of course, some of them are going to die! War is a play, and they happen to be the tragedy! I've enacted plenty to know." The frown on the man's face only deepened as Sarmenti continued to laugh.
Rowan didn't bother to hide his groan. "I apologize for him, he never learned any manners."
"Oh, I know them! I just don't use them! More fun that way! It isn't a party if someone hasn't tried stabbing your tongue off! Hahaha!" All four of the native people look at him with different levels of either disgust or disturbance, and Rowan chooses to just… push through this bout of uncomfortableness.
"I thank you for taking us in, but who are you? Certainly not the locals that once lived here." Thankfully, I did see them milling about around the people here, helping with the workload or simply going about their lives.
"Think the better question here kid, is who are you?" The woman asked with hardened eyes, though I didn't miss the way that she crossed her legs or moved her shoulders so that the small strap of her shirt slipped down one of her shoulders. "It isn't like a kid changing into an almost ten-foot tall shining blue giant."
Ah, intimidation mixed with seduction? It would have worked if I was really just a fifteen-year-old boy. Still though, honesty was probably the best here. No point in lying if there was nowhere else to go.
"I'm a man from a different world tha grew up as a farmer in this one. You say that my gigantism is an, ah, affliction that I gained many years ago." The Refracted man gestured towards Sarmenti, who merely tilted his head to the side, bells jingling, waving at the pretty lady sarcastically. "He's a friend who woke up here a few days ago, before you ask, we don't know why. You can call me Rowan Embers, he's Sarmenti."
She pursed her lips, while the large man remained stoic and silent, as the mouse moved across the room at great speeds and hopped onto the desk next to the seat Rowan was at. He took off his head and took a bow.
"It is a great pleasure to meet you Rowan! Anyone that is willing to fight those horrid monsters is a friend in my book, even if you happen to be a bit on the more monstrous side sometimes! Who am I to judge, I'm just a mouse!" He squeaked up, a big friendly smile on the rambunctious mouse's face as he offers up a hand. Tentatively, I take the tiny paw in two of my fingers and shake it, unable to help the smile that grows on mine. What a strange world this was. Strange, not horrible or nightmarish.
Bravery and hope, larger than that of any man, lies humorously inside of this diminutive creature. Though, the cries of flapping ears may haunt his memories. Shut up you old man.
While the other two occupants still looked at the two newcomers with suspicion, the large man does let out a sigh and stands to his towering height. "While we might not know you, anyone that fights against the Horned King is an ally in our opinion. I am Ser Kay.Knight of King Arthur. Timothy here is another, though a far newer addition to our retinue, as is the Lady Jane that you already know. We are the newest Knights of the Round Table, working together to bring back King Arthuer to his rightful place."
Rowans eyes bug out of his face, the Light shining in them for all but a moment, glancing from one occupant to the next. Knights of the Round Table. What in the world?
"Alright lady, they introduced themselves, now why don't you share your own name with the rest of the class if you would be so kind?" Sarmenti says with a giggle and boisterous bow, gesturing at the blond woman to do the same. She glares at him, and her hand momentarily reaches for the gun at her side.
"Helga. Helga Sinclair. I'm not a knight, don't think that they would accept me as one anyways." Helga says with a flip of her hair, leaning back into her seat while inspecting us again. "Let's just say that I'm from out of town."
"And where exactly are you from? Don't think that I've ever seen that emblem before." Rowan asks as he points towards the upside down triangle on the jacket draped over the chair.
"My exact position is… nebulous at best. As for where I am from, across the pond as a lot of you like to say, from the United Remnants of America. Let's just say that our President Whitmore gives an ear to someone that reads a bit too much. Even if Thatch's theories tend to be more correct than not." For once in my many years of living, I was left not understanding a good deal of the words that were just spoken to me. What was a President? Or an America?
Perhaps those were questions best left for later, though. "You all seem to take the whole, 'from another world' part in stride." All four of them snort.
"Kid, I'm a mouse, we're dealing with an undead horned asshole while his bone men slaughter everyone that tells them no or wants to learn how to paint. Compared to that, you're more like a nice side attraction." I couldn't help but laugh at that.
"While I am apprehensive, Ser Timothy has it right. Anyone willing to fight against the Horned King and his Cauldronmen is someone that I am willing to fight next to. If only to see him dead." Ser Kay, King Arthur's step-brother said with a resolution that reminded me so much of Baldwin or Reynauld.
"Hm, and what makes you so sure that I'm going to want to continue fighting against the Horned King instead of just hitting tail and running?" I asked with a raised eyebrow.
"I know rage when I see it, son. I see it every day that I look in the mirror." Was Key's simple answer, and I couldn't find a way to answer that. How long had it been since I let anger blaze freely in my heart? Unafraid of the Color from taking it and twisting it into something that was no longer mine? I was no longer human yes, even with the Light being mine and mine alone now. But these emotions, these feelings of rage? As human as it could get.
And they were mind damint. Which meant that the Horned King had to die.
"There it is." Kay says with finality. "That rage." Rowan looks up and realizes that the same flame burned bright in the older knights eyes, just as fresh as when they were first lit.
"Before I agree though, I want to know if there is an actual plan. There has to be right? You wouldn't have built all this on the Horned Kings land without one?" At this, the three Knights of Camelot share a glance and turn to him, a shared gleam in their eyes that made Rowans heart ache.
I see it clearly in their eyes, here and now. Something rare and more precious than the rarest of stones. A glimmer… of hope. For once, I couldn't disagree with you old bastard. Rot in hell.
"Our goal is the same one that I have followed for the past few years." Ser Kay said, standing up straighter, the very image of a knight even outside of his armor. "To bring back King Arthur, and help him reclaim the throne."
Well… I managed to make one miracle happen right? Whose to say I'm not two for two? After all, it's never too late for hope to burn brightly once more. Even in the darkest of dungeons.
"I thought I was done having to babysit egg heads." The leggy blond woman said as Rowan scribbled equations and numbers on the board that looked like cut up chicken scratch. Every now and then she thought she saw a one or a two in there, but it was lost amongst the various other symbols of "I don't know".
The young redhead hummed at her, and finishing up his chalk writing, dusting his hands off while staring at the black board. "I'm surprised that you had one of these around."
"Yeah, so are we. Knew that Milo had snuck something aboard that we didn't know about." Helga said as she looked at anywhere that wasn't the strange mix of equations and mangled garbage. She keeps the fact that it's actually useful for planning to herself though. "What exactly are all of these for?
"My own personal research." He whispered to her as he dug through the bag he'd asked the local mechanics for. Yes, they were meant for engineering and the like, not true carving, but he was nothing if not good at improvising. All those years wandering through the crystalline labyrinth had taught him that particular set of skills. "Nothing that will truly help the rest of your group, not without some… loss of their sanity."
She glanced at him by the corner of her eyes, and he was refreshed that she no longer was trying that seduction trick on him. For the first few days Helga would walk around wearing loose clothing, always moving in ways that drew attention to certain details of herself. When she realized that neither he nor Sarmenti were going to bite the bait, she'd given up.
He'd been around plenty of beautiful women back at the Hamlet, and he had learned to beware that beauty did not mean a clear sanity in their minds. Certainly not when one of those women had been a pair of twins haunting the same body, and the other was an inhuman snake creature.
Sarmenti just didn't seem to care either way. He laughed in her face and made a joke about a 'blond's clumsiness with her clothes', and then laughed even harder when she'd thrown a dagger at his head. She'd missed, but managed to cut one of the tails of his hat.
He still poked fun, but would retreat when he felt that she was feeling throwy again.
The brown eyed woman watched him like a hawk as he produced some of his crystals and began etching the numbers into the stone. He was careful to only dig deep enough to etch them in without shearing away too much of it. "I'm restocking my arsenal."
"Of those stones?" She asked, leaning away from the glowing blue rock, no doubt feeling the… sensation that they gave off. As if time itself was pulsating off it, able to change it at any moment.
"Let's just say that they are a medium to some of my more… esoteric capabilities." I answered back, relaxing at the old pastime that I used to get up to. It was always something that tended to quiet the nerves that I'd build up during our delving into the lands of the Hamlet. Something that required my focus and kept my mind away from the voices and sounds in my head, beckoning to give myself to the Light. To give up everything I was to what it could bring and be.
Now? I relished in the quiet that was my own grief and nightmares. Alone at last to wallow in my desperation and hollowness. It was the closest thing to bliss that I could experience now.
"What he means is that those are his little 'fuck you' bombs." Sarmenti says while strumming his lute in a chair that he hadn't been in just a few moments before. Helga brandishes a pistol and aims it at him in surprise, while Rowan chooses to instead focus on his work. "Now, now, I assure while I am worth the bullet, almost everyone is after all, I don't think that my blood should be used to decorate this wall. I think that the natural brown really brings everything in together, don't you?"
For just a moment, her finger twitches towards the trigger instead of underneath it, but she eventually lets out a huff of irritation and holsters her gun, throwing daggers at the masked man. "What exactly can these… 'bombs' do?"
"It's less that they're bombs, and more that they are temporal effects sealed into the crystal until I allow them to be unleashed." Rowan said with a toneless voice, finishing the first set of eldritch numbers, and moving onto the rest, gaining speed as familiarity returned to his calloused hands. It was funny, before they had been crystal smooth, after all what need did have of martial competence when he was primarily a scholar? And after his journey through the time warped maze, his body lacked the capacity to change from its time locked trance.
There were little differences in this body compared to his previous one. A wonder what a change in diet and upbringing could bring. His freckles were more plentiful on his face, his red hair lightening due to his time in the sun. Yet his mind was just as bright as it had always been, if a bit more creaky and rusty.
Which is why his light arithmetic had been more to exercise his mind, rather than a necessity for his work.
"For specifics, they tend to… alter space and time in various ways. Minor tweaks honestly, I'm not going to be able to remove someone's temporal marker, but stopping them for just a little while isn't out of the realm of possibilities, if quite a bit taxing." Rowan offered while he finished the first crystal, a minor warping one that released concussive force. Basic, which meant it required less work and was less draining on his strength compared to some of his longer equations.
Silence, well, mostly silence, Jester was still playing his lute in the corner, a new tune that Rowan had never heard before, and he could imagine the look on Helga's face at his explanation.
"You're not joking, are you?"
"Nope." He answered the woman, producing a larger crystal in the shape of a flat stone, he'd need the extra space for this one.
She sucks in a breath and lets it out. "Can anyone else use these?"
"HAHAHA! Not if you don't want them turning into a pile of stones!" Jester said with a laugh and a particular loud strum. "We had this one idiot in our group, claimed that he would 'confiscate and sanctify' Rowy's rocks, only to turn into a statue when he tried messing with it!"
Helga took a very large step away, which Jester waved away. "Holdin one isn't going to have the same effect. The Light is just a bit… touchy about who tries to use it."
Rowan snorts at that. Anyone that tried interfering directly with the Light tended to feel just why it was called the Color of Madness.
"Regardless of this… weird numbering, if these can do you say they do, then it should be helpful in the expedition. I'll be sure to inform everyone not to interfere with any of your equipment." She motions to leave the small room, and glances back at the equations on the board, humming to herself for a moment. "You know anything about machines kid?"
The question cause him to pause in his work and he looks up, his eyebrow raised. "I might know some mathematics related to engineering, yes. It wasn't my preferred profession, physics was, but I dabbled in it during my years of solitude."
"Good. Maybe hang around some of the engineers. Maybe you can be useful for more than just a fight and milking cows." The words were harsh, and she left with forceful feet, but he didn't take it personally.
Not everyone was proficient in dealing with his… changes. She'd demanded that he show her what he could change into. "I don't want to shoot you in the middle of a firefight by accident." She'd said. So, he had complied. There had been some screaming and panicking, but it had quieted down when Jester started a barfight over someone's mother.
He'd always been good at being the distraction when he needed to.
On the day went, him engraving his crystals while Jester played his Lute, a companionable silence that they had long since gotten accustomed to. It was required when one adventured together during long expeditions into haunted tombs, and swine infested warrens. There was a surprise that he wasn't expecting, though.
The wonderful smell of cooked beef and roasted vegetables reached their noses, and both young men turned to find Jane walking in through the door, the small mouse Timothy riding on her shoulders as she greeted them with a smile. "I didn't see you at dinner, and interpreted that perhaps you'd forgotten. I see that I was correct."
Rowan blinked and looked out the window, surprised to already see the sun setting, and the pile of his crystals already higher than he had anticipated. "My apologies, I tend to get lost in my work rather easily."
She gave him a rather strange look, even as she passed the plates out to him and Sarmonti, the Jester thanking her with a rather jaunty string of notes as he placed his instrument down.
"We heard from Queen Bitch out there that you were working on something 'trippy'. Figured that you'd want some better company than her!" Timothy squealed as he zipped over to a pair of books on the table and took a seat, swinging his tiny legs up and down over his ledge.
Rowan chuckles at the colorful descriptor. "She isn't that bad."
"Yeah, least she isn't trying to convert us every couple of minutes or following us around with new 'toxins' to experiment with." Jester mumbles as he wipes the edges of his mask, the food already gone from his plate, both newcomers blinking at him in surprise.
"When the heck did eat! I didn't even see you move your mask!" Timothy exclaimed.
"I did! It's not my fault that you all blink so slowly!" Jester cackled, leaning back in his seat with a content sigh.
"I take it that isn't the only reason for your late visit today?" Rowan asked as he took a bit of the wonderfully cooked cow, appreciating the seasoning with closed eyes, fully embracing the taste without the constant ringing in his head.
"We wanted to see if you were having any second thoughts on the expedition." Jane said quietly, a stark contrast to the almost feral look that she'd had in her eyes when she was chunking explosives all the over the place.
"You have nothing to worry about on that front. While the goal might seem outlandish… what other choice do I truly have?" Rowan said, speaking mainly for himself, as Jester tended to do whatever the blasted hells he felt like doing. Why he chose to stick around, Rowan didn't really understand, but they were kinda friends.
At least, he thought so.
"I am wondering how sure you all in this lead?" Jane's eyes shifted to steel, while Timothy radiated energy and just a smidge of hope.
"Very. We have… a source that we have been in contact with. He prefers to remain hidden, but he is the reason why we have been brought together." The brunette reaches towards her neck, gripping a necklace that seemed to have been made from bone, the jagged tip polished as if it was cleaned daily. "Though, we all have our own reasons for why we are here. Different reasons for fighting."
"Oh? And, what, by chance, might those be?" Jester was the one who asked, and both the mouse and woman were surprised by the cordiality in his voice. Gone was the constant mirth and jeer that permeated every word, replaced by genuine curiosity, that Rowan felt as well.
Timothy was the first one to squeak out. "Because It's the right thing to do!" He hollered out, with the bravery and ferocity of a hundred men, instead of that from what some would call a lowly mouse.
Vast is his bravery, entombed in what some might call an unworthy container. Yet, this rodent shall climb the highest of mountains on his infinitesimal paws.
"Is that it?" Rowan asks, surprise that someone would commit to such a cause for such a simple reason.
"And why not? It's the right thing to do! What the heck else am I supposed to do, just let that ugly bony gremlin keep this place the way it is!? I ain't seen the sun shine, or the green of grass since I woke up in this dang place! If it means bringing back King Arthur, then you can bet I'm gong to do it!" Timothy proclaimed, his tiny fist shaking in the air, as if daring something to argue with him.
While ridiculous… Rowan couldn't help but smile at the reason. It was… simple. He had missed simple. Even in mathematics, the complexity of everything wore down his psyche, his mind, and simplicity was a bastion that lit his way. His reason was the same. He was going to murder that damned thing not out of the goodness of his heart, but because he ripped what goodness he had earned.
That brought their attention back on the other Knight of the Round with them. Jane's eyes flit around, as if trying to find some way out of having to explain herself, though Timothy jumping onto her shoulder in a brown blur, relaxes her. She pats his head, and the mouse pats her own cheek with his paw.
"My cause is far less noble than his is, though I do wish to bring back the days of simply living instead of fearing a necromancer that decides who lives and who dies." She takes in a deep breath, and something darker touches the coroner of her eyes. Something that he saw in his own. "While I do wish for a place to call home once again, my reasoning are far more… ignoble than that. I wish to find someone. Someone who has risen to power, and make them pay for what they did to me." That wild gleam returned to her eyes, and the hand gripping her necklace tightened even further. "I know that it might be a shot in the dark, but I would hope that helping rebuild a kingdom would garner some favors for myself. It isn't like the one that I'm after is a good man. No. Anything but." The bitterness in her voice is palpable, as thick as the murky mud that he used to wade through in the fungus covered Weald.
Revenge as well, then. He wasn't surprised. Her demeanor had tipped him off that it was a dark reason, but now he understood why she had been so empathetic in his own plight.
The green swallowed everything that she had once loved. Nature, her father, and the man that had ignited the wild of her heart. All due to the abandonment of one man's glory.
"By chance, what is it that we are trying to find on this expedition?" Rowan asked when the British woman had gone silent. "It is something that you never mentioned."
The two became cagey once again, shifting eyes darting to the dark corners before focusing once more on the floating azure crystal that was so unlike his own.
"Listen, I get that certain death, and a torturous painful end is all but certain, but there's no point in throwing our lives away if we don't know what it's for, right?" Jester said, his telltale laugh back in full force.
While that doesn't endear the two Knights to him, it does at least loosen up their lips a bit.
"We are looking for something. An artifact that was lost during the Horned King's rise and the fall of the former Knights of the Round table." Jane said quietly, being truthfully, but keeping something to herself. The details, Rowan didn't know. He wasn't much before the world had changed, just another farm boy. Anything that happened at the height of power, anything that truly mattered in the realm of kings and kingdoms, was firmly out of his sphere of knowledge. An irony considering that at one point, it had been the complete opposite, though mostly due to his work in the realm of mathematics rather than the circumstances of his birth. "We hope, no, we believe that it will be the key to bringing King Arthur back to power. A method that the Horned King thought was truly lost to the world."
"Are you sure that this is going to work? That you aren't just chasing phantoms and empty hopes?" They both stopped for a moment, before they shook their heads.
"We have it on good authority that this should work. That this isn't a wild goose chase meant to keep us running around." Timothy said firmly, paws gripped tightly into fists. "It should work. It has to."
While there was hope in the mouses voice… there was also desperation there.
Rowan looks out over the building village, hidden from the Horned One's eyes due to enchantments and technology that he doesn't understand, and realizes just how little they truly had. How much pure power and forces the Horned King had at his disposal compared to what they did.
And he found himself hoping that they were right. That whatever it was that they were looking for was hidden somewhere, waiting for them. That it would work. That it would help.
Because he needed more than just himself to kill the bastard.
That didn't mean that he was going to quite in his own works.
There had to be an equation, some combination of numbers that should help against the damned monster. That would ensure he would never rise again, that would splatter his cursed Cauldron, forever scattered to the winds.
