Oh gosh.
It's cold.
It's so horrendously cold.
These are your first thoughts, grasping...
It's cold.
It's so horrendously cold.
These are your first thoughts, grasping...
I am Attacking, Follow Me (A Kantai Collection Quest)
- Thread starter Sturmi
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0. Beginnings
- Location
- USA
Oh gosh.
It's cold.
It's so horrendously cold.
These are your first thoughts, grasping through the blank mesh of nonexistence. Your very being struggling to coalesce through the blackened face of reality. Where are you? What are you?It's cold.
It's so horrendously cold.
You...stand? You stand up into an empty plane. There is nothing. Not the barest speck of light, nothing that you could possibly orient yourself to. It is an empty limbo. In full honestly, you cannot even truly claim that it is dark. There just... isn't light. Did that even make sense?
You glance down on reflex, expecting to find... hands perhaps?
Legs?
Something?
You turn left, and right, up and down, side to side, but there is nothing, nothing but you and whatever reality you have found yourself in.
Alone.
You are completely alone. It is not a swift conclusion, and yet there is no clear alternative. Intuition tells you that you should be able to move something, change your perspective, but you cannot. There should be something that you can touch, something to feel, something to smell, anything that would break this terrifying void of complete and certain darkness.
Nothing is here with you except your own thoughts. Something is welling up inside you. A wave of pressure washes over what you understand to be you, only intensifying in pressure. A buzz within your spirit, voracious and hungry, grasping at you from the inside out.
Is this. Is this terror?
For a brief moment, you lose hope. This maw will consume you, leaving nothing behind but the ashes and du-. No, not even that. There will be nothing. A place where time carries no meaning, a place where there is no change, some twisted madness that the mind refuses to accept. All that's left is you, and you will fail.
Then you hear it.
It is quiet at first. A simple buzz, and yet it grows, whispers in the shadows, begging for a little morsel of your attention.
You cannot help but to give it that little meal.
It crawls at the edges of your subconsciousness, taking little bites, minuscule gnaws just below the surface, almost beyond notice.
Then it burrows deeper. It is no longer content with just this fraction of you.
It asks for more. It knocks on the peripheries of your mind, taking little things that would not be missed.
Then it demands. You wish to refuse, but the need for anything to hold onto in this purgatory fights the urge to preserve yourself. Slowly, you edge the door closed in your mind.
And then it takes. You know it is not happy. It is not satisfied with you. You have not fulfilled its desires, its wants, its needs. You will not stop it.
Suddenly everything is shattered. The stumbling morass of your soul has no chance to finish consolidating. It has come.
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͔͍͖͍̗̲̜̬͇̣̣̩̖z̢̝̩̖̖͚̭̼͕̼̕͟͠ẕ̨̟̠̘̣͞ͅͅͅz̴̙͚̤̬̣͕͙̘̩͠ͅͅz̨̨̛̲̲͖͖̺͍̝̤̫͉͉͕̯̕͢z̨͔̱͍̤̰̰͘͠͝z̶̴̶̡̯͎̹̲̞̼͇̭͉̞̬̠͝
An eldritch mix of noise pierces the fabric of existence. It is overwhelming. It is filled with sounds that should be impossible, things the mind was not meant to comprehend. It is oblivion. The emptiness that you had come to know over the whatever incomprehensible stretch of time had passed begins to pulsate in unnatural ways, as if someone had stretched the surface of a living heart over the entirety of reality.
y̨̺͓̤͉͖̭̖͈̣͈̬̪̯o̶̡̘̩͕͎̤̼̗̭͕̫̲̳̘̠̯̙̬̗̕͠͝ù҉̧͉̺̜̼̻͉̜̼ ̡̛͓̬̪̟͍͘l̷̢̤̭̻̠͓͙͈̰̯̦̥̱̞͔̼͎͓͡e̷̢̬̠̩̜̳͕͎̼͈̝̼̝͞ͅf̴͇̳̺̰̞̖̰̼̯̬̠̳̮͎t̵̡̰̹͚͙͙̳͖̖̜͘ͅ ̸̛͘͏̨̲͖̭̱̜͖̖̮͎̮̰̜̬̪͉͉̻ͅu̶̢͔̣̫̪̫͢ͅs̸͙̖̦̟̟̫͓͕̠̩͎̳̰̙ͅͅ.͢͏̶̜̭͕̲͕͖̯̱̠̙̠͎͍̝̻͜.̨̤̖̮̤͍͚͚̜͚̖̟̖͙.̷̷̡̼̮̩͡.͠͏̲̩̹͇̟̟̣̟̹̕͞Ỵ̷̛͎̮̰͓̫̫͓̟͖̭̻͚͉̰̺̀͞o̵̧͟҉̲͉̬̳̞̹̼̬͙̫̥̞̹̫͔͍̤̕u̖̝͉̻̯̻̮͜͢͜͠ ̥̼̼͈͠l̡̖̲͚̯̬̫͕̥͉͉͜͡é̵̠͓̙̲͜͠f̥̥̮̲́̕͜͝t̨̤͍̬̭̮̫̺̫̻̳̝̹̮͙̗͕̪́ͅͅ ҉͏̹̼̠̤͎ų̵̞̗̜͈̤̻̩͉̙͓̼̙̟̪̀́s̢̬̹̤̹͕͝.̵̶̙̣͉̳̱̞̞͓̫̯͎̮̬͇͍̹̦.̸̧͠͏̗̲͕̩͖̠̤̰.̧̢̦͇̪̮̙͙̺̻͚̺̰̻͡ͅ.̴̷̸̗̥̩͓͈̘̤̳͍͚͔̤͚̜̗͉͞Y̷̧̡̡̦̹̼̫̺̲͇̺̳͈͖͇ͅo̵̧̧̫̮̫̹͓̹̟̟͔̣̬͢ų͕̘͈͈͚̤͚̳̤̻͈̳͡ ̻͕̟̱͉͔͓͔̀ͅĹ҉͎̥̝̗̗͕͖̘̝̫̭̺͞e̵̗̞̺̯̘͕̗̕͠f̸̡̡̭̳͕̘̼͜͞ͅt̡͝҉̛͈̳̰̯͍͈͔̝́ ̷̖̻͎̗̻̗͚̱̺̝̜̫̖͖͖͈͈̙͘͢Ú̸͇̯̺͙̩̬͉͚͉̝͈̩̗͜͠ͅͅs̶͍̮̰̟̮̺̙͓̮̥̰͝.̧̛̯̗̻̮̝́.̢̻̝͇̻͈̘͇̱̜̘̲̤̱̬̟̜͎͉̀͟͝͡.͉̣̩̜̲̜͍̣͘̕̕̕͞Ý҉̨̻̱̱̩̟͍̟̥̘̹͕̻̻̩̥̰̗̖ͅO̶̴̡̰̜͕̙̥͔̝̟̱͔͟U̷͢҉̷̨̥̟̣͖̗͎ ̵̧̯̰̪̖̳̻̀L͏̳͉̤̤͎͉͟͟E̷̟̘̮͕̦͚͚̼̫͓̞̯̭̘̳̥͟ͅF̧̼͈͙̼̻͉̮͉̹̰̻̜͓͈̺͉̞̺̕ͅT̴̸̨̛͇̙͉̯̯̝̠͔͚͓̟̤͎̙̥̤̦̰ ̷̀͏̶̲̭̙̮̖͕̰̰̝̞̼̬U̴̜̲̬̟̫͚̻̟͉͠͡S҉̸̘̫͈͎.̖̥̦̥̜̳̻̹̜̻͈̹͍͖̜͔͇́͘̕͜͝ͅ.҉̴͚̠͕̺̖̀͠.̶̴̲͎̤͕̘̯̱̤͉̳̪̗̟̜̪͜͝ͅy̨̺͓̤͉͖̭̖͈̣͈̬̪̯o̶̡̘̩͕͎̤̼̗̭͕̫̲̳̘̠̯̙̬̗̕͠͝ù҉̧͉̺̜̼̻͉̜̼ ̡̛͓̬̪̟͍͘l̷̢̤̭̻̠͓͙͈̰̯̦̥̱̞͔̼͎͓͡e̷̢̬̠̩̜̳͕͎̼͈̝̼̝͞ͅf̴͇̳̺̰̞̖̰̼̯̬̠̳̮͎t̵̡̰̹͚͙͙̳͖̖̜͘ͅ ̸̛͘͏̨̲͖̭̱̜͖̖̮͎̮̰̜̬̪͉͉̻ͅu̶̢͔̣̫̪̫͢ͅs̸͙̖̦̟̟̫͓͕̠̩͎̳̰̙ͅͅ.͢͏̶̜̭͕̲͕͖̯̱̠̙̠͎͍̝̻͜.̨̤̖̮̤͍͚͚̜͚̖̟̖͙.̷̷̡̼̮̩͡.͠͏̲̩̹͇̟̟̣̟̹̕͞Ỵ̷̛͎̮̰͓̫̫͓̟͖̭̻͚͉̰̺̀͞o̵̧͟҉̲͉̬̳̞̹̼̬͙̫̥̞̹̫͔͍̤̕u̖̝͉̻̯̻̮͜͢͜͠ ̥̼̼͈͠l̡̖̲͚̯̬̫͕̥͉͉͜͡é̵̠͓̙̲͜͠f̥̥̮̲́̕͜͝t̨̤͍̬̭̮̫̺̫̻̳̝̹̮͙̗͕̪́ͅͅ ҉͏̹̼̠̤͎ų̵̞̗̜͈̤̻̩͉̙͓̼̙̟̪̀́s̢̬̹̤̹͕͝.̵̶̙̣͉̳̱̞̞͓̫̯͎̮̬͇͍̹̦.̸̧͠͏̗̲͕̩͖̠̤̰.̧̢̦͇̪̮̙͙̺̻͚̺̰̻͡ͅ.̴̷̸̗̥̩͓͈̘̤̳͍͚͔̤͚̜̗͉͞Y̷̧̡̡̦̹̼̫̺̲͇̺̳͈͖͇ͅo̵̧̧̫̮̫̹͓̹̟̟͔̣̬͢ų͕̘͈͈͚̤͚̳̤̻͈̳͡ ̻͕̟̱͉͔͓͔̀ͅĹ҉͎̥̝̗̗͕͖̘̝̫̭̺͞e̵̗̞̺̯̘͕̗̕͠f̸̡̡̭̳͕̘̼͜͞ͅt̡͝҉̛͈̳̰̯͍͈͔̝́ ̷̖̻͎̗̻̗͚̱̺̝̜̫̖͖͖͈͈̙͘͢Ú̸͇̯̺͙̩̬͉͚͉̝͈̩̗͜͠ͅͅs̶͍̮̰̟̮̺̙͓̮̥̰͝.̧̛̯̗̻̮̝́.̢̻̝͇̻͈̘͇̱̜̘̲̤̱̬̟̜͎͉̀͟͝͡.͉̣̩̜̲̜͍̣͘̕̕̕͞Ý҉̨̻̱̱̩̟͍̟̥̘̹͕̻̻̩̥̰̗̖ͅO̶̴̡̰̜͕̙̥͔̝̟̱͔͟U̷͢҉̷̨̥̟̣͖̗͎ ̵̧̯̰̪̖̳̻̀L͏̳͉̤̤͎͉͟͟E̷̟̘̮͕̦͚͚̼̫͓̞̯̭̘̳̥͟ͅF̧̼͈͙̼̻͉̮͉̹̰̻̜͓͈̺͉̞̺̕ͅT̴̸̨̛͇̙͉̯̯̝̠͔͚͓̟̤͎̙̥̤̦̰ ̷̀͏̶̲̭̙̮̖͕̰̰̝̞̼̬U̴̜̲̬̟̫͚̻̟͉͠͡S҉̸̘̫͈͎.̖̥̦̥̜̳̻̹̜̻͈̹͍͖̜͔͇́͘̕͜͝ͅ.҉̴͚̠͕̺̖̀͠.̶̴̲͎̤͕̘̯̱̤͉̳̪̗̟̜̪͜͝ͅy̨̺͓̤͉͖̭̖͈̣͈̬̪̯o̶̡̘̩͕͎̤̼̗̭͕̫̲̳̘̠̯̙̬̗̕͠͝ù҉̧͉̺̜̼̻͉̜̼ ̡̛͓̬̪̟͍͘l̷̢̤̭̻̠͓͙͈̰̯̦̥̱̞͔̼͎͓͡e̷̢̬̠̩̜̳͕͎̼͈̝̼̝͞ͅf̴͇̳̺̰̞̖̰̼̯̬̠̳̮͎t̵̡̰̹͚͙͙̳͖̖̜͘ͅ ̸̛͘͏̨̲͖̭̱̜͖̖̮͎̮̰̜̬̪͉͉̻ͅu̶̢͔̣̫̪̫͢ͅs̸͙̖̦̟̟̫͓͕̠̩͎̳̰̙ͅͅ.͢͏̶̜̭͕̲͕͖̯̱̠̙̠͎͍̝̻͜.̨̤̖̮̤͍͚͚̜͚̖̟̖͙.̷̷̡̼̮̩͡.͠͏̲̩̹͇̟̟̣̟̹̕͞Ỵ̷̛͎̮̰͓̫̫͓̟͖̭̻͚͉̰̺̀͞o̵̧͟҉̲͉̬̳̞̹̼̬͙̫̥̞̹̫͔͍̤̕u̖̝͉̻̯̻̮͜͢͜͠ ̥̼̼͈͠l̡̖̲͚̯̬̫͕̥͉͉͜͡é̵̠͓̙̲͜͠f̥̥̮̲́̕͜͝t̨̤͍̬̭̮̫̺̫̻̳̝̹̮͙̗͕̪́ͅͅ ҉͏̹̼̠̤͎ų̵̞̗̜͈̤̻̩͉̙͓̼̙̟̪̀́s̢̬̹̤̹͕͝.̵̶̙̣͉̳̱̞̞͓̫̯͎̮̬͇͍̹̦.̸̧͠͏̗̲͕̩͖̠̤̰.̧̢̦͇̪̮̙͙̺̻͚̺̰̻͡ͅ.̴̷̸̗̥̩͓͈̘̤̳͍͚͔̤͚̜̗͉͞Y̷̧̡̡̦̹̼̫̺̲͇̺̳͈͖͇ͅo̵̧̧̫̮̫̹͓̹̟̟͔̣̬͢ų͕̘͈͈͚̤͚̳̤̻͈̳͡ ̻͕̟̱͉͔͓͔̀ͅĹ҉͎̥̝̗̗͕͖̘̝̫̭̺͞e̵̗̞̺̯̘͕̗̕͠f̸̡̡̭̳͕̘̼͜͞ͅt̡͝҉̛͈̳̰̯͍͈͔̝́ ̷̖̻͎̗̻̗͚̱̺̝̜̫̖͖͖͈͈̙͘͢Ú̸͇̯̺͙̩̬͉͚͉̝͈̩̗͜͠ͅͅs̶͍̮̰̟̮̺̙͓̮̥̰͝.̧̛̯̗̻̮̝́.̢̻̝͇̻͈̘͇̱̜̘̲̤̱̬̟̜͎͉̀͟͝͡.͉̣̩̜̲̜͍̣͘̕̕̕͞Ý҉̨̻̱̱̩̟͍̟̥̘̹͕̻̻̩̥̰̗̖ͅO̶̴̡̰̜͕̙̥͔̝̟̱͔͟U̷͢҉̷̨̥̟̣͖̗͎ ̵̧̯̰̪̖̳̻̀L͏̳͉̤̤͎͉͟͟E̷̟̘̮͕̦͚͚̼̫͓̞̯̭̘̳̥͟ͅF̧̼͈͙̼̻͉̮͉̹̰̻̜͓͈̺͉̞̺̕ͅT̴̸̨̛͇̙͉̯̯̝̠͔͚͓̟̤͎̙̥̤̦̰
y̨̺͓̤͉͖̭̖͈̣͈̬̪̯o̶̡̘̩͕͎̤̼̗̭͕̫̲̳̘̠̯̙̬̗̕͠͝ù҉̧͉̺̜̼̻͉̜̼ ̡̛͓̬̪̟͍͘l̷̢̤̭̻̠͓͙͈̰̯̦̥̱̞͔̼͎͓͡e̷̢̬̠̩̜̳͕͎̼͈̝̼̝͞ͅf̴͇̳̺̰̞̖̰̼̯̬̠̳̮͎t̵̡̰̹͚͙͙̳͖̖̜͘ͅ ̸̛͘͏̨̲͖̭̱̜͖̖̮͎̮̰̜̬̪͉͉̻ͅu̶̢͔̣̫̪̫͢ͅs̸͙̖̦̟̟̫͓͕̠̩͎̳̰̙ͅͅ.͢͏̶̜̭͕̲͕͖̯̱̠̙̠͎͍̝̻͜.̨̤̖̮̤͍͚͚̜͚̖̟̖͙.̷̷̡̼̮̩͡.͠͏̲̩̹͇̟̟̣̟̹̕͞Ỵ̷̛͎̮̰͓̫̫͓̟͖̭̻͚͉̰̺̀͞o̵̧͟҉̲͉̬̳̞̹̼̬͙̫̥̞̹̫͔͍̤̕u̖̝͉̻̯̻̮͜͢͜͠ ̥̼̼͈͠l̡̖̲͚̯̬̫͕̥͉͉͜͡é̵̠͓̙̲͜͠f̥̥̮̲́̕͜͝t̨̤͍̬̭̮̫̺̫̻̳̝̹̮͙̗͕̪́ͅͅ ҉͏̹̼̠̤͎ų̵̞̗̜͈̤̻̩͉̙͓̼̙̟̪̀́s̢̬̹̤̹͕͝.̵̶̙̣͉̳̱̞̞͓̫̯͎̮̬͇͍̹̦.̸̧͠͏̗̲͕̩͖̠̤̰.̧̢̦͇̪̮̙͙̺̻͚̺̰̻͡ͅ.̴̷̸̗̥̩͓͈̘̤̳͍͚͔̤͚̜̗͉͞Y̷̧̡̡̦̹̼̫̺̲͇̺̳͈͖͇ͅo̵̧̧̫̮̫̹͓̹̟̟͔̣̬͢ų͕̘͈͈͚̤͚̳̤̻͈̳͡ ̻͕̟̱͉͔͓͔̀ͅĹ҉͎̥̝̗̗͕͖̘̝̫̭̺͞e̵̗̞̺̯̘͕̗̕͠f̸̡̡̭̳͕̘̼͜͞ͅt̡͝҉̛͈̳̰̯͍͈͔̝́ ̷̖̻͎̗̻̗͚̱̺̝̜̫̖͖͖͈͈̙͘͢Ú̸͇̯̺͙̩̬͉͚͉̝͈̩̗͜͠ͅͅs̶͍̮̰̟̮̺̙͓̮̥̰͝.̧̛̯̗̻̮̝́.̢̻̝͇̻͈̘͇̱̜̘̲̤̱̬̟̜͎͉̀͟͝͡.͉̣̩̜̲̜͍̣͘̕̕̕͞Ý҉̨̻̱̱̩̟͍̟̥̘̹͕̻̻̩̥̰̗̖ͅO̶̴̡̰̜͕̙̥͔̝̟̱͔͟U̷͢҉̷̨̥̟̣͖̗͎ ̵̧̯̰̪̖̳̻̀L͏̳͉̤̤͎͉͟͟E̷̟̘̮͕̦͚͚̼̫͓̞̯̭̘̳̥͟ͅF̧̼͈͙̼̻͉̮͉̹̰̻̜͓͈̺͉̞̺̕ͅT̴̸̨̛͇̙͉̯̯̝̠͔͚͓̟̤͎̙̥̤̦̰ ̷̀͏̶̲̭̙̮̖͕̰̰̝̞̼̬U̴̜̲̬̟̫͚̻̟͉͠͡S҉̸̘̫͈͎.̖̥̦̥̜̳̻̹̜̻͈̹͍͖̜͔͇́͘̕͜͝ͅ.҉̴͚̠͕̺̖̀͠.̶̴̲͎̤͕̘̯̱̤͉̳̪̗̟̜̪͜͝ͅy̨̺͓̤͉͖̭̖͈̣͈̬̪̯o̶̡̘̩͕͎̤̼̗̭͕̫̲̳̘̠̯̙̬̗̕͠͝ù҉̧͉̺̜̼̻͉̜̼ ̡̛͓̬̪̟͍͘l̷̢̤̭̻̠͓͙͈̰̯̦̥̱̞͔̼͎͓͡e̷̢̬̠̩̜̳͕͎̼͈̝̼̝͞ͅf̴͇̳̺̰̞̖̰̼̯̬̠̳̮͎t̵̡̰̹͚͙͙̳͖̖̜͘ͅ ̸̛͘͏̨̲͖̭̱̜͖̖̮͎̮̰̜̬̪͉͉̻ͅu̶̢͔̣̫̪̫͢ͅs̸͙̖̦̟̟̫͓͕̠̩͎̳̰̙ͅͅ.͢͏̶̜̭͕̲͕͖̯̱̠̙̠͎͍̝̻͜.̨̤̖̮̤͍͚͚̜͚̖̟̖͙.̷̷̡̼̮̩͡.͠͏̲̩̹͇̟̟̣̟̹̕͞Ỵ̷̛͎̮̰͓̫̫͓̟͖̭̻͚͉̰̺̀͞o̵̧͟҉̲͉̬̳̞̹̼̬͙̫̥̞̹̫͔͍̤̕u̖̝͉̻̯̻̮͜͢͜͠ ̥̼̼͈͠l̡̖̲͚̯̬̫͕̥͉͉͜͡é̵̠͓̙̲͜͠f̥̥̮̲́̕͜͝t̨̤͍̬̭̮̫̺̫̻̳̝̹̮͙̗͕̪́ͅͅ ҉͏̹̼̠̤͎ų̵̞̗̜͈̤̻̩͉̙͓̼̙̟̪̀́s̢̬̹̤̹͕͝.̵̶̙̣͉̳̱̞̞͓̫̯͎̮̬͇͍̹̦.̸̧͠͏̗̲͕̩͖̠̤̰.̧̢̦͇̪̮̙͙̺̻͚̺̰̻͡ͅ.̴̷̸̗̥̩͓͈̘̤̳͍͚͔̤͚̜̗͉͞Y̷̧̡̡̦̹̼̫̺̲͇̺̳͈͖͇ͅo̵̧̧̫̮̫̹͓̹̟̟͔̣̬͢ų͕̘͈͈͚̤͚̳̤̻͈̳͡ ̻͕̟̱͉͔͓͔̀ͅĹ҉͎̥̝̗̗͕͖̘̝̫̭̺͞e̵̗̞̺̯̘͕̗̕͠f̸̡̡̭̳͕̘̼͜͞ͅt̡͝҉̛͈̳̰̯͍͈͔̝́ ̷̖̻͎̗̻̗͚̱̺̝̜̫̖͖͖͈͈̙͘͢Ú̸͇̯̺͙̩̬͉͚͉̝͈̩̗͜͠ͅͅs̶͍̮̰̟̮̺̙͓̮̥̰͝.̧̛̯̗̻̮̝́.̢̻̝͇̻͈̘͇̱̜̘̲̤̱̬̟̜͎͉̀͟͝͡.͉̣̩̜̲̜͍̣͘̕̕̕͞Ý҉̨̻̱̱̩̟͍̟̥̘̹͕̻̻̩̥̰̗̖ͅO̶̴̡̰̜͕̙̥͔̝̟̱͔͟U̷͢҉̷̨̥̟̣͖̗͎ ̵̧̯̰̪̖̳̻̀L͏̳͉̤̤͎͉͟͟E̷̟̘̮͕̦͚͚̼̫͓̞̯̭̘̳̥͟ͅF̧̼͈͙̼̻͉̮͉̹̰̻̜͓͈̺͉̞̺̕ͅT̴̸̨̛͇̙͉̯̯̝̠͔͚͓̟̤͎̙̥̤̦̰ ̷̀͏̶̲̭̙̮̖͕̰̰̝̞̼̬U̴̜̲̬̟̫͚̻̟͉͠͡S҉̸̘̫͈͎.̖̥̦̥̜̳̻̹̜̻͈̹͍͖̜͔͇́͘̕͜͝ͅ.҉̴͚̠͕̺̖̀͠.̶̴̲͎̤͕̘̯̱̤͉̳̪̗̟̜̪͜͝ͅy̨̺͓̤͉͖̭̖͈̣͈̬̪̯o̶̡̘̩͕͎̤̼̗̭͕̫̲̳̘̠̯̙̬̗̕͠͝ù҉̧͉̺̜̼̻͉̜̼ ̡̛͓̬̪̟͍͘l̷̢̤̭̻̠͓͙͈̰̯̦̥̱̞͔̼͎͓͡e̷̢̬̠̩̜̳͕͎̼͈̝̼̝͞ͅf̴͇̳̺̰̞̖̰̼̯̬̠̳̮͎t̵̡̰̹͚͙͙̳͖̖̜͘ͅ ̸̛͘͏̨̲͖̭̱̜͖̖̮͎̮̰̜̬̪͉͉̻ͅu̶̢͔̣̫̪̫͢ͅs̸͙̖̦̟̟̫͓͕̠̩͎̳̰̙ͅͅ.͢͏̶̜̭͕̲͕͖̯̱̠̙̠͎͍̝̻͜.̨̤̖̮̤͍͚͚̜͚̖̟̖͙.̷̷̡̼̮̩͡.͠͏̲̩̹͇̟̟̣̟̹̕͞Ỵ̷̛͎̮̰͓̫̫͓̟͖̭̻͚͉̰̺̀͞o̵̧͟҉̲͉̬̳̞̹̼̬͙̫̥̞̹̫͔͍̤̕u̖̝͉̻̯̻̮͜͢͜͠ ̥̼̼͈͠l̡̖̲͚̯̬̫͕̥͉͉͜͡é̵̠͓̙̲͜͠f̥̥̮̲́̕͜͝t̨̤͍̬̭̮̫̺̫̻̳̝̹̮͙̗͕̪́ͅͅ ҉͏̹̼̠̤͎ų̵̞̗̜͈̤̻̩͉̙͓̼̙̟̪̀́s̢̬̹̤̹͕͝.̵̶̙̣͉̳̱̞̞͓̫̯͎̮̬͇͍̹̦.̸̧͠͏̗̲͕̩͖̠̤̰.̧̢̦͇̪̮̙͙̺̻͚̺̰̻͡ͅ.̴̷̸̗̥̩͓͈̘̤̳͍͚͔̤͚̜̗͉͞Y̷̧̡̡̦̹̼̫̺̲͇̺̳͈͖͇ͅo̵̧̧̫̮̫̹͓̹̟̟͔̣̬͢ų͕̘͈͈͚̤͚̳̤̻͈̳͡ ̻͕̟̱͉͔͓͔̀ͅĹ҉͎̥̝̗̗͕͖̘̝̫̭̺͞e̵̗̞̺̯̘͕̗̕͠f̸̡̡̭̳͕̘̼͜͞ͅt̡͝҉̛͈̳̰̯͍͈͔̝́ ̷̖̻͎̗̻̗͚̱̺̝̜̫̖͖͖͈͈̙͘͢Ú̸͇̯̺͙̩̬͉͚͉̝͈̩̗͜͠ͅͅs̶͍̮̰̟̮̺̙͓̮̥̰͝.̧̛̯̗̻̮̝́.̢̻̝͇̻͈̘͇̱̜̘̲̤̱̬̟̜͎͉̀͟͝͡.͉̣̩̜̲̜͍̣͘̕̕̕͞Ý҉̨̻̱̱̩̟͍̟̥̘̹͕̻̻̩̥̰̗̖ͅO̶̴̡̰̜͕̙̥͔̝̟̱͔͟U̷͢҉̷̨̥̟̣͖̗͎ ̵̧̯̰̪̖̳̻̀L͏̳͉̤̤͎͉͟͟E̷̟̘̮͕̦͚͚̼̫͓̞̯̭̘̳̥͟ͅF̧̼͈͙̼̻͉̮͉̹̰̻̜͓͈̺͉̞̺̕ͅT̴̸̨̛͇̙͉̯̯̝̠͔͚͓̟̤͎̙̥̤̦̰
y̨̺͓̤͉͖̭̖͈̣͈̬̪̯o̶̡̘̩͕͎̤̼̗̭͕̫̲̳̘̠̯̙̬̗̕͠͝ù҉̧͉̺̜̼̻͉̜̼ ̡̛͓̬̪̟͍͘l̷̢̤̭̻̠͓͙͈̰̯̦̥̱̞͔̼͎͓͡e̷̢̬̠̩̜̳͕͎̼͈̝̼̝͞ͅf̴͇̳̺̰̞̖̰̼̯̬̠̳̮͎t̵̡̰̹͚͙͙̳͖̖̜͘ͅ ̸̛͘͏̨̲͖̭̱̜͖̖̮͎̮̰̜̬̪͉͉̻ͅu̶̢͔̣̫̪̫͢ͅs̸͙̖̦̟̟̫͓͕̠̩͎̳̰̙ͅͅ.͢͏̶̜̭͕̲͕͖̯̱̠̙̠͎͍̝̻͜.̨̤̖̮̤͍͚͚̜͚̖̟̖͙.̷̷̡̼̮̩͡.͠͏̲̩̹͇̟̟̣̟̹̕͞Ỵ̷̛͎̮̰͓̫̫͓̟͖̭̻͚͉̰̺̀͞o̵̧͟҉̲͉̬̳̞̹̼̬͙̫̥̞̹̫͔͍̤̕u̖̝͉̻̯̻̮͜͢͜͠ ̥̼̼͈͠l̡̖̲͚̯̬̫͕̥͉͉͜͡é̵̠͓̙̲͜͠f̥̥̮̲́̕͜͝t̨̤͍̬̭̮̫̺̫̻̳̝̹̮͙̗͕̪́ͅͅ ҉͏̹̼̠̤͎ų̵̞̗̜͈̤̻̩͉̙͓̼̙̟̪̀́s̢̬̹̤̹͕͝.̵̶̙̣͉̳̱̞̞͓̫̯͎̮̬͇͍̹̦.̸̧͠͏̗̲͕̩͖̠̤̰.̧̢̦͇̪̮̙͙̺̻͚̺̰̻͡ͅ.̴̷̸̗̥̩͓͈̘̤̳͍͚͔̤͚̜̗͉͞Y̷̧̡̡̦̹̼̫̺̲͇̺̳͈͖͇ͅo̵̧̧̫̮̫̹͓̹̟̟͔̣̬͢ų͕̘͈͈͚̤͚̳̤̻͈̳͡ ̻͕̟̱͉͔͓͔̀ͅĹ҉͎̥̝̗̗͕͖̘̝̫̭̺͞e̵̗̞̺̯̘͕̗̕͠f̸̡̡̭̳͕̘̼͜͞ͅt̡͝҉̛͈̳̰̯͍͈͔̝́ ̷̖̻͎̗̻̗͚̱̺̝̜̫̖͖͖͈͈̙͘͢Ú̸͇̯̺͙̩̬͉͚͉̝͈̩̗͜͠ͅͅs̶͍̮̰̟̮̺̙͓̮̥̰͝.̧̛̯̗̻̮̝́.̢̻̝͇̻͈̘͇̱̜̘̲̤̱̬̟̜͎͉̀͟͝͡.͉̣̩̜̲̜͍̣͘̕̕̕͞Ý҉̨̻̱̱̩̟͍̟̥̘̹͕̻̻̩̥̰̗̖ͅO̶̴̡̰̜͕̙̥͔̝̟̱͔͟U̷͢҉̷̨̥̟̣͖̗͎ ̵̧̯̰̪̖̳̻̀L͏̳͉̤̤͎͉͟͟E̷̟̘̮͕̦͚͚̼̫͓̞̯̭̘̳̥͟ͅF̧̼͈͙̼̻͉̮͉̹̰̻̜͓͈̺͉̞̺̕ͅT̴̸̨̛͇̙͉̯̯̝̠͔͚͓̟̤͎̙̥̤̦̰ ̷̀͏̶̲̭̙̮̖͕̰̰̝̞̼̬U̴̜̲̬̟̫͚̻̟͉͠͡S҉̸̘̫͈͎.̖̥̦̥̜̳̻̹̜̻͈̹͍͖̜͔͇́͘̕͜͝ͅ.҉̴͚̠͕̺̖̀͠.̶̴̲͎̤͕̘̯̱̤͉̳̪̗̟̜̪͜͝ͅy̨̺͓̤͉͖̭̖͈̣͈̬̪̯o̶̡̘̩͕͎̤̼̗̭͕̫̲̳̘̠̯̙̬̗̕͠͝ù҉̧͉̺̜̼̻͉̜̼ ̡̛͓̬̪̟͍͘l̷̢̤̭̻̠͓͙͈̰̯̦̥̱̞͔̼͎͓͡e̷̢̬̠̩̜̳͕͎̼͈̝̼̝͞ͅf̴͇̳̺̰̞̖̰̼̯̬̠̳̮͎t̵̡̰̹͚͙͙̳͖̖̜͘ͅ ̸̛͘͏̨̲͖̭̱̜͖̖̮͎̮̰̜̬̪͉͉̻ͅu̶̢͔̣̫̪̫͢ͅs̸͙̖̦̟̟̫͓͕̠̩͎̳̰̙ͅͅ.͢͏̶̜̭͕̲͕͖̯̱̠̙̠͎͍̝̻͜.̨̤̖̮̤͍͚͚̜͚̖̟̖͙.̷̷̡̼̮̩͡.͠͏̲̩̹͇̟̟̣̟̹̕͞Ỵ̷̛͎̮̰͓̫̫͓̟͖̭̻͚͉̰̺̀͞o̵̧͟҉̲͉̬̳̞̹̼̬͙̫̥̞̹̫͔͍̤̕u̖̝͉̻̯̻̮͜͢͜͠ ̥̼̼͈͠l̡̖̲͚̯̬̫͕̥͉͉͜͡é̵̠͓̙̲͜͠f̥̥̮̲́̕͜͝t̨̤͍̬̭̮̫̺̫̻̳̝̹̮͙̗͕̪́ͅͅ ҉͏̹̼̠̤͎ų̵̞̗̜͈̤̻̩͉̙͓̼̙̟̪̀́s̢̬̹̤̹͕͝.̵̶̙̣͉̳̱̞̞͓̫̯͎̮̬͇͍̹̦.̸̧͠͏̗̲͕̩͖̠̤̰.̧̢̦͇̪̮̙͙̺̻͚̺̰̻͡ͅ.̴̷̸̗̥̩͓͈̘̤̳͍͚͔̤͚̜̗͉͞Y̷̧̡̡̦̹̼̫̺̲͇̺̳͈͖͇ͅo̵̧̧̫̮̫̹͓̹̟̟͔̣̬͢ų͕̘͈͈͚̤͚̳̤̻͈̳͡ ̻͕̟̱͉͔͓͔̀ͅĹ҉͎̥̝̗̗͕͖̘̝̫̭̺͞e̵̗̞̺̯̘͕̗̕͠f̸̡̡̭̳͕̘̼͜͞ͅt̡͝҉̛͈̳̰̯͍͈͔̝́ ̷̖̻͎̗̻̗͚̱̺̝̜̫̖͖͖͈͈̙͘͢Ú̸͇̯̺͙̩̬͉͚͉̝͈̩̗͜͠ͅͅs̶͍̮̰̟̮̺̙͓̮̥̰͝.̧̛̯̗̻̮̝́.̢̻̝͇̻͈̘͇̱̜̘̲̤̱̬̟̜͎͉̀͟͝͡.͉̣̩̜̲̜͍̣͘̕̕̕͞Ý҉̨̻̱̱̩̟͍̟̥̘̹͕̻̻̩̥̰̗̖ͅO̶̴̡̰̜͕̙̥͔̝̟̱͔͟U̷͢҉̷̨̥̟̣͖̗͎ ̵̧̯̰̪̖̳̻̀L͏̳͉̤̤͎͉͟͟E̷̟̘̮͕̦͚͚̼̫͓̞̯̭̘̳̥͟ͅF̧̼͈͙̼̻͉̮͉̹̰̻̜͓͈̺͉̞̺̕ͅT̴̸̨̛͇̙͉̯̯̝̠͔͚͓̟̤͎̙̥̤̦̰ ̷̀͏̶̲̭̙̮̖͕̰̰̝̞̼̬U̴̜̲̬̟̫͚̻̟͉͠͡S҉̸̘̫͈͎.̖̥̦̥̜̳̻̹̜̻͈̹͍͖̜͔͇́͘̕͜͝ͅ.҉̴͚̠͕̺̖̀͠.̶̴̲͎̤͕̘̯̱̤͉̳̪̗̟̜̪͜͝ͅy̨̺͓̤͉͖̭̖͈̣͈̬̪̯o̶̡̘̩͕͎̤̼̗̭͕̫̲̳̘̠̯̙̬̗̕͠͝ù҉̧͉̺̜̼̻͉̜̼ ̡̛͓̬̪̟͍͘l̷̢̤̭̻̠͓͙͈̰̯̦̥̱̞͔̼͎͓͡e̷̢̬̠̩̜̳͕͎̼͈̝̼̝͞ͅf̴͇̳̺̰̞̖̰̼̯̬̠̳̮͎t̵̡̰̹͚͙͙̳͖̖̜͘ͅ ̸̛͘͏̨̲͖̭̱̜͖̖̮͎̮̰̜̬̪͉͉̻ͅu̶̢͔̣̫̪̫͢ͅs̸͙̖̦̟̟̫͓͕̠̩͎̳̰̙ͅͅ.͢͏̶̜̭͕̲͕͖̯̱̠̙̠͎͍̝̻͜.̨̤̖̮̤͍͚͚̜͚̖̟̖͙.̷̷̡̼̮̩͡.͠͏̲̩̹͇̟̟̣̟̹̕͞Ỵ̷̛͎̮̰͓̫̫͓̟͖̭̻͚͉̰̺̀͞o̵̧͟҉̲͉̬̳̞̹̼̬͙̫̥̞̹̫͔͍̤̕u̖̝͉̻̯̻̮͜͢͜͠ ̥̼̼͈͠l̡̖̲͚̯̬̫͕̥͉͉͜͡é̵̠͓̙̲͜͠f̥̥̮̲́̕͜͝t̨̤͍̬̭̮̫̺̫̻̳̝̹̮͙̗͕̪́ͅͅ ҉͏̹̼̠̤͎ų̵̞̗̜͈̤̻̩͉̙͓̼̙̟̪̀́s̢̬̹̤̹͕͝.̵̶̙̣͉̳̱̞̞͓̫̯͎̮̬͇͍̹̦.̸̧͠͏̗̲͕̩͖̠̤̰.̧̢̦͇̪̮̙͙̺̻͚̺̰̻͡ͅ.̴̷̸̗̥̩͓͈̘̤̳͍͚͔̤͚̜̗͉͞Y̷̧̡̡̦̹̼̫̺̲͇̺̳͈͖͇ͅo̵̧̧̫̮̫̹͓̹̟̟͔̣̬͢ų͕̘͈͈͚̤͚̳̤̻͈̳͡ ̻͕̟̱͉͔͓͔̀ͅĹ҉͎̥̝̗̗͕͖̘̝̫̭̺͞e̵̗̞̺̯̘͕̗̕͠f̸̡̡̭̳͕̘̼͜͞ͅt̡͝҉̛͈̳̰̯͍͈͔̝́ ̷̖̻͎̗̻̗͚̱̺̝̜̫̖͖͖͈͈̙͘͢Ú̸͇̯̺͙̩̬͉͚͉̝͈̩̗͜͠ͅͅs̶͍̮̰̟̮̺̙͓̮̥̰͝.̧̛̯̗̻̮̝́.̢̻̝͇̻͈̘͇̱̜̘̲̤̱̬̟̜͎͉̀͟͝͡.͉̣̩̜̲̜͍̣͘̕̕̕͞Ý҉̨̻̱̱̩̟͍̟̥̘̹͕̻̻̩̥̰̗̖ͅO̶̴̡̰̜͕̙̥͔̝̟̱͔͟U̷͢҉̷̨̥̟̣͖̗͎ ̵̧̯̰̪̖̳̻̀L͏̳͉̤̤͎͉͟͟E̷̟̘̮͕̦͚͚̼̫͓̞̯̭̘̳̥͟ͅF̧̼͈͙̼̻͉̮͉̹̰̻̜͓͈̺͉̞̺̕ͅT̴̸̨̛͇̙͉̯̯̝̠͔͚͓̟̤͎̙̥̤̦̰
The maddening screech of damned souls booms throughout the night, fused with cries into the blackness of the void. You cannot even begin to understand what is happening, why it is happening, what could you have possibly done to deserve this?
D̵̸̸̛͉̮̥̭̭̝̠̻̰͕̘̘̠̗̥͠ͅO̴̮͚̙̺̕͝ͅ ̷̨͢͏͏̞͔͕̳̰ͅY̷̵̫͕̼̬͇̹̕O̸̧̧͉̼̻̼̯̠̙̣͟Ú̦̬̟̖͔͞ͅͅ ̞̥̺̰̜̲͉̺͕͈̗̠͚͘͘͞͡R̷̙̯̜̲̩̝͖͍̟̥E͠͏̫̲̮̩̮̹̬͎̯̳̼̬̟̯͎̱̹͕M̕҉̛͕̮̰͎̼̰E̛̮͔̖̰̖͖͡M͞҉̰̘͚̺̟͔̺̰͎̮̖̲̳̹̟͟͞ͅB̧̫̙͇͈̘͈̘̭̙̘͚̙̳̻͔͠E̸̠̫̱͇̫̳̘͓͇͓̤̼̱̭͞R̲̺̬̳̗͉̼͍̭̗̳͈̤̟̜͕̘̩̗͘͘ ̧̨̹͈̭̫̖̠̖̹̲́̕͡Ẃ̵̧̱̖̤͓̟̺̥̲͇͍͚̠͠H̹͙̻͈̱̣̗̬͜͝ͅÒ̷̟̟̰͕͚̜͕͕͕̹͟͠͠ ̡̘͚̰̲̠̻͉͉͇͍͈̩͜͜ͅͅY̺̹͍͈͚̘͖͓͉̲̝͎͠ͅͅƠ̵̮̝̣̗̘͎̙̞̜͎̮̕͠Ú̴̡͇̼̬̞̠̦͕͎̖̼̜̳͖̟͈̗̖ͅ ̵̢͉̩̝͖̪̪̲͘̕A̸̧̱̰̗̤̯̱͎͝͝ͅͅR̨̘͕̩̭̦͔͙̦͔̹̱̕͟͡È̛̬̭̻̺̦̺̝͕̩̤̼̥̻͎̩͎?̵̴̴̧̘͖̥̮͚̦̗͉̮͓͇͖͢ ̵̹̜̰͚̰̜̯̰͎͚͚̻̯̥͠ͅW̵̸̷̡̧͔̜͔̜̟̪͈̦̦̰̰̩̰͔̺̗ͅH̷͔͈͙͔̰̮̼̝͉̙̘͎̩͝ͅÁ̪̜͍͚̯̭̘̗͇̘͍̤͡T̡̡̬̳̹͍͙̺̥̕ ̴̵͙͈̦͔H̵̦̤̤͕̭̼̺̝͔̞̙̪ͅͅẠ̧̠͈͕̘̹̱̙̤̣̀͟P̨̨̯̖̲͇͚̦̯̞̩̪̙̻̰̥̻̟̥̘̟P҉̵̶̣͙͖̟̟̰̲͓̮̺͔̀̕ͅE͏̙̳̳̗̣N̶̵̵̢̮̟͈̟͚̱̥͓̜̤̭E̷̢͏̛̯̲̜͇͍̰̗D̶̨̯̙̥̻͘͞͞?̵̛͍͔͉̪͚̤͈͉͉͝ ̢̥̦̞̝͇̭̙͚̭͉̪̲͝͞ͅͅͅḨ̛͖̣͇͕̺̺̯͔́͘͟O҉̡͚̗̫̱̫̭̜̱̺͖̗̳̹͙͜͞W̵̧̟͙̱͔̺̰̟̺͖̞̭̮͖͍ ҉͢҉̖̹̩͕̟͙͔͓͓̖̭̳̣̙Ç̨̘̦̱̰̬͇̤͔̫͉̘͉̯̦̦̝͖ͅͅA̻̙̙̣̱̜͉͘͝͡Ǹ̡̧̩͓͖̟̰͓͇̪̬͚̯̹͓̀͞ͅ ̧̫̲͖̝̝̠̙̞̝͎̞͓̦̜̮̳̗̕̕͠ͅY̵̧҉͇̟͔̖͘Ǫ̡̖͈̣̖̺̮͘͢Ṷ̵̺͎̳͎̰̫̥̬͉̳̬͚̲͙̭̙͡ͅ ͝҉̛̫͔͔̤̣͖̖̘͈̣͓͉̖̣͉̦̫͞S̛͘͝͞҉͙̬͇͎̦T̸͠͏̧̖̗͙͎̯͉̩̫̫̞̗I̢͙̘͈͟L̢͉̻̜̫̣̻̯͕͚̻̹͈͉̩̼̼͇̭̞͢L͞҉̖̞̠͕͔̖̰͕͙̜̼́͘ ̵͕̩̹̻̯̤͙̝͎̦̝̝̻̼͖̰̼͉̗͢S͠҉̴͇̞̪͕̗̮͓̣̀͜T̢́͢҉̺̞̻͉̫A͏̳̰̮̻̞͖̩͢Ņ̲̦̞͈̘̭̻̻̦͙̘̱͓͙̙͈̪̹͞͞D͏̀͘͏̺̥̬͇͉̻̩̯̹͙̣̻̠̻̬̕ͅ ͢҉̶̘͕̮̞͎̣͈͙͇͙̕Ẁ̶̨̢̪̤̻̥̼͙͙̞̦̻̝̯̜̻͔͓̦̠̕ͅI̵̷̦̼̰̘̗͍̺̜̲̤̩̞͢͜͞T̡̰̤͉̺̤́͟͞͠H͞҉͡҉̩̤̮͉ ̸͏̤͖͖̰͔͙T̴̡̰͖̖͈̥͚͚͙̦͕̕͡ͅH͖͎̭͓̰̝͍̻̞̹̠͍̗̹̖͕̹̕ͅͅO̴̶̶͈̜̳͚̙͝S̶͎̰̤͔̹͈̀͟͜Ę̘̟̝̦̪͉̼̤͙̠̩̟̬͓̫̭͔͠͡ͅ ̶̥̞̮̰͕̳̘̖͈͖̯̹͔́̀̕Ẁ̷̙̺͚̺̬̘̖͔̭̩͚͓͍̀H̺̰̭̼̩̮͕̙͎̬̫̣̥́͞O̡͙̣̣͉͙̳̺͞͞ͅ ̀́͢͞͏̲̖̻͔̳̰̟͙̬̗̗̪͚̖͔̠B̢̡̛̥̲̫̩̖̗̼̮̭̳̲̝͈̦͢R͏̹̜̼͕͖̜̩̞̯̭̥̥͓̞̰̠͕̻͇Í̷̧̦͕͖̦͇͚̣̫͕͉͇̟͞͠ͅǸ̛̜͓̼̜̳̤̙̻͕̳͍͙͇͇͢G̡̨̡̛̙̺͈̪͚̝̼̩̰͘ ̸̷̵̥̭͇͕͚̭͖̳̱͔̺̘͕̜͘͘T͏̶̻̻̻̘̫͔͍̫̰͚̳̬͙̙̪̭̳͠O҉̨̰̯̠͖̭͙͕̖͓͍̫̺̟̦̥́̕ ͟͢҉͏̷̳͈͎͍̖U҉͏͙̠̯͉̦͓͓̱̻̞͉̥̣̰̻̟ͅS͖̗͍͙̦͉̕ͅ ҉̢͡҉̠͍̤̳͉O̴͡҉̢̺̝͇̮̲̯̟̥̟̭̱͝Ṋ͓̬̩̯̺͖̥͉̪̗͔͘L̕҉̘̭̝͓͖̹̘̱̗̠̲̙̦Y͏̴͖̜͉͉͈͕̘͙͘͞ͅ ̶̵̰̱͕̭̖͙̮̲̞̟̝͘͜ͅÓ̶̧̡̧̰͇͈̪͇̙͍̦̦̝̮͍̥̹ͅB̶̢̹͖̥̗̻̯̗̜̕͜L̴̢̞̖̼̞̩͉̤̺̯̜̳̹̤̞Į̴̮͓͖̟̞̰̱͢ͅV̛̹̤̰̟̯̙̤͜I̶̜̺͙̰̫͇͕̻͝Ǫ̸̮͎̟̬͜N̙̘̺͖̻͇̫̹̦͉͉̹͇͜͞͠͝.̴͏͓̣͎̝D̵̸̸̛͉̮̥̭̭̝̠̻̰͕̘̘̠̗̥͠ͅO̴̮͚̙̺̕͝ͅ ̷̨͢͏͏̞͔͕̳̰ͅY̷̵̫͕̼̬͇̹̕O̸̧̧͉̼̻̼̯̠̙̣͟Ú̦̬̟̖͔͞ͅͅ ̞̥̺̰̜̲͉̺͕͈̗̠͚͘͘͞͡R̷̙̯̜̲̩̝͖͍̟̥E͠͏̫̲̮̩̮̹̬͎̯̳̼̬̟̯͎̱̹͕M̕҉̛͕̮̰͎̼̰E̛̮͔̖̰̖͖͡M͞҉̰̘͚̺̟͔̺̰͎̮̖̲̳̹̟͟͞ͅB̧̫̙͇͈̘͈̘̭̙̘͚̙̳̻͔͠E̸̠̫̱͇̫̳̘͓͇͓̤̼̱̭͞R̲̺̬̳̗͉̼͍̭̗̳͈̤̟̜͕̘̩̗͘͘ ̧̨̹͈̭̫̖̠̖̹̲́̕͡Ẃ̵̧̱̖̤͓̟̺̥̲͇͍͚̠͠H̹͙̻͈̱̣̗̬͜͝ͅÒ̷̟̟̰͕͚̜͕͕͕̹͟͠͠ ̡̘͚̰̲̠̻͉͉͇͍͈̩͜͜ͅͅY̺̹͍͈͚̘͖͓͉̲̝͎͠ͅͅƠ̵̮̝̣̗̘͎̙̞̜͎̮̕͠Ú̴̡͇̼̬̞̠̦͕͎̖̼̜̳͖̟͈̗̖ͅ ̵̢͉̩̝͖̪̪̲͘̕A̸̧̱̰̗̤̯̱͎͝͝ͅͅR̨̘͕̩̭̦͔͙̦͔̹̱̕͟͡È̛̬̭̻̺̦̺̝͕̩̤̼̥̻͎̩͎?̵̴̴̧̘͖̥̮͚̦̗͉̮͓͇͖͢ ̵̹̜̰͚̰̜̯̰͎͚͚̻̯̥͠ͅW̵̸̷̡̧͔̜͔̜̟̪͈̦̦̰̰̩̰͔̺̗ͅH̷͔͈͙͔̰̮̼̝͉̙̘͎̩͝ͅÁ̪̜͍͚̯̭̘̗͇̘͍̤͡T̡̡̬̳̹͍͙̺̥̕ ̴̵͙͈̦͔H̵̦̤̤͕̭̼̺̝͔̞̙̪ͅͅẠ̧̠͈͕̘̹̱̙̤̣̀͟P̨̨̯̖̲͇͚̦̯̞̩̪̙̻̰̥̻̟̥̘̟P҉̵̶̣͙͖̟̟̰̲͓̮̺͔̀̕ͅE͏̙̳̳̗̣N̶̵̵̢̮̟͈̟͚̱̥͓̜̤̭E̷̢͏̛̯̲̜͇͍̰̗D̶̨̯̙̥̻͘͞͞?̵̛͍͔͉̪͚̤͈͉͉͝ ̢̥̦̞̝͇̭̙͚̭͉̪̲͝͞ͅͅͅḨ̛͖̣͇͕̺̺̯͔́͘͟O҉̡͚̗̫̱̫̭̜̱̺͖̗̳̹͙͜͞W̵̧̟͙̱͔̺̰̟̺͖̞̭̮͖͍ ҉͢҉̖̹̩͕̟͙͔͓͓̖̭̳̣̙Ç̨̘̦̱̰̬͇̤͔̫͉̘͉̯̦̦̝͖ͅͅA̻̙̙̣̱̜͉͘͝͡Ǹ̡̧̩͓͖̟̰͓͇̪̬͚̯̹͓̀͞ͅ ̧̫̲͖̝̝̠̙̞̝͎̞͓̦̜̮̳̗̕̕͠ͅY̵̧҉͇̟͔̖͘Ǫ̡̖͈̣̖̺̮͘͢Ṷ̵̺͎̳͎̰̫̥̬͉̳̬͚̲͙̭̙͡ͅ ͝҉̛̫͔͔̤̣͖̖̘͈̣͓͉̖̣͉̦̫͞S̛͘͝͞҉͙̬͇͎̦T̸͠͏̧̖̗͙͎̯͉̩̫̫̞̗I̢͙̘͈͟L̢͉̻̜̫̣̻̯͕͚̻̹͈͉̩̼̼͇̭̞͢L͞҉̖̞̠͕͔̖̰͕͙̜̼́͘ ̵͕̩̹̻̯̤͙̝͎̦̝̝̻̼͖̰̼͉̗͢S͠҉̴͇̞̪͕̗̮͓̣̀͜T̢́͢҉̺̞̻͉̫A͏̳̰̮̻̞͖̩͢Ņ̲̦̞͈̘̭̻̻̦͙̘̱͓͙̙͈̪̹͞͞D͏̀͘͏̺̥̬͇͉̻̩̯̹͙̣̻̠̻̬̕ͅ ͢҉̶̘͕̮̞͎̣͈͙͇͙̕Ẁ̶̨̢̪̤̻̥̼͙͙̞̦̻̝̯̜̻͔͓̦̠̕ͅI̵̷̦̼̰̘̗͍̺̜̲̤̩̞͢͜͞T̡̰̤͉̺̤́͟͞͠H͞҉͡҉̩̤̮͉ ̸͏̤͖͖̰͔͙T̴̡̰͖̖͈̥͚͚͙̦͕̕͡ͅH͖͎̭͓̰̝͍̻̞̹̠͍̗̹̖͕̹̕ͅͅO̴̶̶͈̜̳͚̙͝S̶͎̰̤͔̹͈̀͟͜Ę̘̟̝̦̪͉̼̤͙̠̩̟̬͓̫̭͔͠͡ͅ ̶̥̞̮̰͕̳̘̖͈͖̯̹͔́̀̕Ẁ̷̙̺͚̺̬̘̖͔̭̩͚͓͍̀H̺̰̭̼̩̮͕̙͎̬̫̣̥́͞O̡͙̣̣͉͙̳̺͞͞ͅ ̀́͢͞͏̲̖̻͔̳̰̟͙̬̗̗̪͚̖͔̠B̢̡̛̥̲̫̩̖̗̼̮̭̳̲̝͈̦͢R͏̹̜̼͕͖̜̩̞̯̭̥̥͓̞̰̠͕̻͇Í̷̧̦͕͖̦͇͚̣̫͕͉͇̟͞͠ͅǸ̛̜͓̼̜̳̤̙̻͕̳͍͙͇͇͢G̡̨̡̛̙̺͈̪͚̝̼̩̰͘ ̸̷̵̥̭͇͕͚̭͖̳̱͔̺̘͕̜͘͘T͏̶̻̻̻̘̫͔͍̫̰͚̳̬͙̙̪̭̳͠O҉̨̰̯̠͖̭͙͕̖͓͍̫̺̟̦̥́̕ ͟͢҉͏̷̳͈͎͍̖U҉͏͙̠̯͉̦͓͓̱̻̞͉̥̣̰̻̟ͅS͖̗͍͙̦͉̕ͅ ҉̢͡҉̠͍̤̳͉O̴͡҉̢̺̝͇̮̲̯̟̥̟̭̱͝Ṋ͓̬̩̯̺͖̥͉̪̗͔͘L̕҉̘̭̝͓͖̹̘̱̗̠̲̙̦Y͏̴͖̜͉͉͈͕̘͙͘͞ͅ ̶̵̰̱͕̭̖͙̮̲̞̟̝͘͜ͅÓ̶̧̡̧̰͇͈̪͇̙͍̦̦̝̮͍̥̹ͅB̶̢̹͖̥̗̻̯̗̜̕͜L̴̢̞̖̼̞̩͉̤̺̯̜̳̹̤̞Į̴̮͓͖̟̞̰̱͢ͅV̛̹̤̰̟̯̙̤͜I̶̜̺͙̰̫͇͕̻͝Ǫ̸̮͎̟̬͜N̙̘̺͖̻͇̫̹̦͉͉̹͇͜͞͠͝.̴͏͓̣͎̝D̵̸̸̛͉̮̥̭̭̝̠̻̰͕̘̘̠̗̥͠ͅO̴̮͚̙̺̕͝ͅ ̷̨͢͏͏̞͔͕̳̰ͅY̷̵̫͕̼̬͇̹̕O̸̧̧͉̼̻̼̯̠̙̣͟Ú̦̬̟̖͔͞ͅͅ ̞̥̺̰̜̲͉̺͕͈̗̠͚͘͘͞͡R̷̙̯̜̲̩̝͖͍̟̥E͠͏̫̲̮̩̮̹̬͎̯̳̼̬̟̯͎̱̹͕M̕҉̛͕̮̰͎̼̰E̛̮͔̖̰̖͖͡M͞҉̰̘͚̺̟͔̺̰͎̮̖̲̳̹̟͟͞ͅB̧̫̙͇͈̘͈̘̭̙̘͚̙̳̻͔͠E̸̠̫̱͇̫̳̘͓͇͓̤̼̱̭͞R̲̺̬̳̗͉̼͍̭̗̳͈̤̟̜͕̘̩̗͘͘ ̧̨̹͈̭̫̖̠̖̹̲́̕͡Ẃ̵̧̱̖̤͓̟̺̥̲͇͍͚̠͠H̹͙̻͈̱̣̗̬͜͝ͅÒ̷̟̟̰͕͚̜͕͕͕̹͟͠͠ ̡̘͚̰̲̠̻͉͉͇͍͈̩͜͜ͅͅY̺̹͍͈͚̘͖͓͉̲̝͎͠ͅͅƠ̵̮̝̣̗̘͎̙̞̜͎̮̕͠Ú̴̡͇̼̬̞̠̦͕͎̖̼̜̳͖̟͈̗̖ͅ ̵̢͉̩̝͖̪̪̲͘̕A̸̧̱̰̗̤̯̱͎͝͝ͅͅR̨̘͕̩̭̦͔͙̦͔̹̱̕͟͡È̛̬̭̻̺̦̺̝͕̩̤̼̥̻͎̩͎?̵̴̴̧̘͖̥̮͚̦̗͉̮͓͇͖͢ ̵̹̜̰͚̰̜̯̰͎͚͚̻̯̥͠ͅW̵̸̷̡̧͔̜͔̜̟̪͈̦̦̰̰̩̰͔̺̗ͅH̷͔͈͙͔̰̮̼̝͉̙̘͎̩͝ͅÁ̪̜͍͚̯̭̘̗͇̘͍̤͡T̡̡̬̳̹͍͙̺̥̕ ̴̵͙͈̦͔H̵̦̤̤͕̭̼̺̝͔̞̙̪ͅͅẠ̧̠͈͕̘̹̱̙̤̣̀͟P̨̨̯̖̲͇͚̦̯̞̩̪̙̻̰̥̻̟̥̘̟P҉̵̶̣͙͖̟̟̰̲͓̮̺͔̀̕ͅE͏̙̳̳̗̣N̶̵̵̢̮̟͈̟͚̱̥͓̜̤̭E̷̢͏̛̯̲̜͇͍̰̗D̶̨̯̙̥̻͘͞͞?̵̛͍͔͉̪͚̤͈͉͉͝ ̢̥̦̞̝͇̭̙͚̭͉̪̲͝͞ͅͅͅḨ̛͖̣͇͕̺̺̯͔́͘͟O҉̡͚̗̫̱̫̭̜̱̺͖̗̳̹͙͜͞W̵̧̟͙̱͔̺̰̟̺͖̞̭̮͖͍ ҉͢҉̖̹̩͕̟͙͔͓͓̖̭̳̣̙Ç̨̘̦̱̰̬͇̤͔̫͉̘͉̯̦̦̝͖ͅͅA̻̙̙̣̱̜͉͘͝͡Ǹ̡̧̩͓͖̟̰͓͇̪̬͚̯̹͓̀͞ͅ ̧̫̲͖̝̝̠̙̞̝͎̞͓̦̜̮̳̗̕̕͠ͅY̵̧҉͇̟͔̖͘Ǫ̡̖͈̣̖̺̮͘͢Ṷ̵̺͎̳͎̰̫̥̬͉̳̬͚̲͙̭̙͡ͅ ͝҉̛̫͔͔̤̣͖̖̘͈̣͓͉̖̣͉̦̫͞S̛͘͝͞҉͙̬͇͎̦T̸͠͏̧̖̗͙͎̯͉̩̫̫̞̗I̢͙̘͈͟L̢͉̻̜̫̣̻̯͕͚̻̹͈͉̩̼̼͇̭̞͢L͞҉̖̞̠͕͔̖̰͕͙̜̼́͘ ̵͕̩̹̻̯̤͙̝͎̦̝̝̻̼͖̰̼͉̗͢S͠҉̴͇̞̪͕̗̮͓̣̀͜T̢́͢҉̺̞̻͉̫A͏̳̰̮̻̞͖̩͢Ņ̲̦̞͈̘̭̻̻̦͙̘̱͓͙̙͈̪̹͞͞D͏̀͘͏̺̥̬͇͉̻̩̯̹͙̣̻̠̻̬̕ͅ ͢҉̶̘͕̮̞͎̣͈͙͇͙̕Ẁ̶̨̢̪̤̻̥̼͙͙̞̦̻̝̯̜̻͔͓̦̠̕ͅI̵̷̦̼̰̘̗͍̺̜̲̤̩̞͢͜͞T̡̰̤͉̺̤́͟͞͠H͞҉͡҉̩̤̮͉ ̸͏̤͖͖̰͔͙T̴̡̰͖̖͈̥͚͚͙̦͕̕͡ͅH͖͎̭͓̰̝͍̻̞̹̠͍̗̹̖͕̹̕ͅͅO̴̶̶͈̜̳͚̙͝S̶͎̰̤͔̹͈̀͟͜Ę̘̟̝̦̪͉̼̤͙̠̩̟̬͓̫̭͔͠͡ͅ ̶̥̞̮̰͕̳̘̖͈͖̯̹͔́̀̕Ẁ̷̙̺͚̺̬̘̖͔̭̩͚͓͍̀H̺̰̭̼̩̮͕̙͎̬̫̣̥́͞O̡͙̣̣͉͙̳̺͞͞ͅ ̀́͢͞͏̲̖̻͔̳̰̟͙̬̗̗̪͚̖͔̠B̢̡̛̥̲̫̩̖̗̼̮̭̳̲̝͈̦͢R͏̹̜̼͕͖̜̩̞̯̭̥̥͓̞̰̠͕̻͇Í̷̧̦͕͖̦͇͚̣̫͕͉͇̟͞͠ͅǸ̛̜͓̼̜̳̤̙̻͕̳͍͙͇͇͢G̡̨̡̛̙̺͈̪͚̝̼̩̰͘ ̸̷̵̥̭͇͕͚̭͖̳̱͔̺̘͕̜͘͘T͏̶̻̻̻̘̫͔͍̫̰͚̳̬͙̙̪̭̳͠O҉̨̰̯̠͖̭͙͕̖͓͍̫̺̟̦̥́̕ ͟͢҉͏̷̳͈͎͍̖U҉͏͙̠̯͉̦͓͓̱̻̞͉̥̣̰̻̟ͅS͖̗͍͙̦͉̕ͅ ҉̢͡҉̠͍̤̳͉O̴͡҉̢̺̝͇̮̲̯̟̥̟̭̱͝Ṋ͓̬̩̯̺͖̥͉̪̗͔͘L̕҉̘̭̝͓͖̹̘̱̗̠̲̙̦Y͏̴͖̜͉͉͈͕̘͙͘͞ͅ ̶̵̰̱͕̭̖͙̮̲̞̟̝͘͜ͅÓ̶̧̡̧̰͇͈̪͇̙͍̦̦̝̮͍̥̹ͅB̶̢̹͖̥̗̻̯̗̜̕͜L̴̢̞̖̼̞̩͉̤̺̯̜̳̹̤̞Į̴̮͓͖̟̞̰̱͢ͅV̛̹̤̰̟̯̙̤͜I̶̜̺͙̰̫͇͕̻͝Ǫ̸̮͎̟̬͜N̙̘̺͖̻͇̫̹̦͉͉̹͇͜͞͠͝.̴͏͓̣͎̝D̵̸̸̛͉̮̥̭̭̝̠̻̰͕̘̘̠̗̥͠ͅO̴̮͚̙̺̕͝ͅ ̷̨͢͏͏̞͔͕̳̰ͅY̷̵̫͕̼̬͇̹̕O̸̧̧͉̼̻̼̯̠̙̣͟Ú̦̬̟̖͔͞ͅͅ ̞̥̺̰̜̲͉̺͕͈̗̠͚͘͘͞͡R̷̙̯̜̲̩̝͖͍̟̥E͠͏̫̲̮̩̮̹̬͎̯̳̼̬̟̯͎̱̹͕M̕҉̛͕̮̰͎̼̰E̛̮͔̖̰̖͖͡M͞҉̰̘͚̺̟͔̺̰͎̮̖̲̳̹̟͟͞ͅB̧̫̙͇͈̘͈̘̭̙̘͚̙̳̻͔͠E̸̠̫̱͇̫̳̘͓͇͓̤̼̱̭͞R̲̺̬̳̗͉̼͍̭̗̳͈̤̟̜͕̘̩̗͘͘ ̧̨̹͈̭̫̖̠̖̹̲́̕͡Ẃ̵̧̱̖̤͓̟̺̥̲͇͍͚̠͠H̹͙̻͈̱̣̗̬͜͝ͅÒ̷̟̟̰͕͚̜͕͕͕̹͟͠͠ ̡̘͚̰̲̠̻͉͉͇͍͈̩͜͜ͅͅY̺̹͍͈͚̘͖͓͉̲̝͎͠ͅͅƠ̵̮̝̣̗̘͎̙̞̜͎̮̕͠Ú̴̡͇̼̬̞̠̦͕͎̖̼̜̳͖̟͈̗̖ͅ ̵̢͉̩̝͖̪̪̲͘̕A̸̧̱̰̗̤̯̱͎͝͝ͅͅR̨̘͕̩̭̦͔͙̦͔̹̱̕͟͡È̛̬̭̻̺̦̺̝͕̩̤̼̥̻͎̩͎?̵̴̴̧̘͖̥̮͚̦̗͉̮͓͇͖͢ ̵̹̜̰͚̰̜̯̰͎͚͚̻̯̥͠ͅW̵̸̷̡̧͔̜͔̜̟̪͈̦̦̰̰̩̰͔̺̗ͅH̷͔͈͙͔̰̮̼̝͉̙̘͎̩͝ͅÁ̪̜͍͚̯̭̘̗͇̘͍̤͡T̡̡̬̳̹͍͙̺̥̕ ̴̵͙͈̦͔H̵̦̤̤͕̭̼̺̝͔̞̙̪ͅͅẠ̧̠͈͕̘̹̱̙̤̣̀͟P̨̨̯̖̲͇͚̦̯̞̩̪̙̻̰̥̻̟̥̘̟P҉̵̶̣͙͖̟̟̰̲͓̮̺͔̀̕ͅE͏̙̳̳̗̣N̶̵̵̢̮̟͈̟͚̱̥͓̜̤̭E̷̢͏̛̯̲̜͇͍̰̗D̶̨̯̙̥̻͘͞͞?̵̛͍͔͉̪͚̤͈͉͉͝ ̢̥̦̞̝͇̭̙͚̭͉̪̲͝͞ͅͅͅḨ̛͖̣͇͕̺̺̯͔́͘͟O҉̡͚̗̫̱̫̭̜̱̺͖̗̳̹͙͜͞W̵̧̟͙̱͔̺̰̟̺͖̞̭̮͖͍ ҉͢҉̖̹̩͕̟͙͔͓͓̖̭̳̣̙Ç̨̘̦̱̰̬͇̤͔̫͉̘͉̯̦̦̝͖ͅͅA̻̙̙̣̱̜͉͘͝͡Ǹ̡̧̩͓͖̟̰͓͇̪̬͚̯̹͓̀͞ͅ ̧̫̲͖̝̝̠̙̞̝͎̞͓̦̜̮̳̗̕̕͠ͅY̵̧҉͇̟͔̖͘Ǫ̡̖͈̣̖̺̮͘͢Ṷ̵̺͎̳͎̰̫̥̬͉̳̬͚̲͙̭̙͡ͅ ͝҉̛̫͔͔̤̣͖̖̘͈̣͓͉̖̣͉̦̫͞S̛͘͝͞҉͙̬͇͎̦T̸͠͏̧̖̗͙͎̯͉̩̫̫̞̗I̢͙̘͈͟L̢͉̻̜̫̣̻̯͕͚̻̹͈͉̩̼̼͇̭̞͢L͞҉̖̞̠͕͔̖̰͕͙̜̼́͘ ̵͕̩̹̻̯̤͙̝͎̦̝̝̻̼͖̰̼͉̗͢S͠҉̴͇̞̪͕̗̮͓̣̀͜T̢́͢҉̺̞̻͉̫A͏̳̰̮̻̞͖̩͢Ņ̲̦̞͈̘̭̻̻̦͙̘̱͓͙̙͈̪̹͞͞D͏̀͘͏̺̥̬͇͉̻̩̯̹͙̣̻̠̻̬̕ͅ ͢҉̶̘͕̮̞͎̣͈͙͇͙̕Ẁ̶̨̢̪̤̻̥̼͙͙̞̦̻̝̯̜̻͔͓̦̠̕ͅI̵̷̦̼̰̘̗͍̺̜̲̤̩̞͢͜͞T̡̰̤͉̺̤́͟͞͠H͞҉͡҉̩̤̮͉ ̸͏̤͖͖̰͔͙T̴̡̰͖̖͈̥͚͚͙̦͕̕͡ͅH͖͎̭͓̰̝͍̻̞̹̠͍̗̹̖͕̹̕ͅͅO̴̶̶͈̜̳͚̙͝S̶͎̰̤͔̹͈̀͟͜Ę̘̟̝̦̪͉̼̤͙̠̩̟̬͓̫̭͔͠͡ͅ ̶̥̞̮̰͕̳̘̖͈͖̯̹͔́̀̕Ẁ̷̙̺͚̺̬̘̖͔̭̩͚͓͍̀H̺̰̭̼̩̮͕̙͎̬̫̣̥́͞O̡͙̣̣͉͙̳̺͞͞ͅ ̀́͢͞͏̲̖̻͔̳̰̟͙̬̗̗̪͚̖͔̠B̢̡̛̥̲̫̩̖̗̼̮̭̳̲̝͈̦͢R͏̹̜̼͕͖̜̩̞̯̭̥̥͓̞̰̠͕̻͇Í̷̧̦͕͖̦͇͚̣̫͕͉͇̟͞͠ͅǸ̛̜͓̼̜̳̤̙̻͕̳͍͙͇͇͢G̡̨̡̛̙̺͈̪͚̝̼̩̰͘ ̸̷̵̥̭͇͕͚̭͖̳̱͔̺̘͕̜͘͘T͏̶̻̻̻̘̫͔͍̫̰͚̳̬͙̙̪̭̳͠O҉̨̰̯̠͖̭͙͕̖͓͍̫̺̟̦̥́̕ ͟͢҉͏̷̳͈͎͍̖U҉͏͙̠̯͉̦͓͓̱̻̞͉̥̣̰̻̟ͅS͖̗͍͙̦͉̕ͅ ҉̢͡҉̠͍̤̳͉O̴͡҉̢̺̝͇̮̲̯̟̥̟̭̱͝Ṋ͓̬̩̯̺͖̥͉̪̗͔͘L̕҉̘̭̝͓͖̹̘̱̗̠̲̙̦Y͏̴͖̜͉͉͈͕̘͙͘͞ͅ ̶̵̰̱͕̭̖͙̮̲̞̟̝͘͜ͅÓ̶̧̡̧̰͇͈̪͇̙͍̦̦̝̮͍̥̹ͅB̶̢̹͖̥̗̻̯̗̜̕͜L̴̢̞̖̼̞̩͉̤̺̯̜̳̹̤̞Į̴̮͓͖̟̞̰̱͢ͅV̛̹̤̰̟̯̙̤͜I̶̜̺͙̰̫͇͕̻͝Ǫ̸̮͎̟̬͜N̙̘̺͖̻͇̫̹̦͉͉̹͇͜͞͠͝.̴͏͓̣͎̝D̵̸̸̛͉̮̥̭̭̝̠̻̰͕̘̘̠̗̥͠ͅO̴̮͚̙̺̕͝ͅ ̷̨͢͏͏̞͔͕̳̰ͅY̷̵̫͕̼̬͇̹̕O̸̧̧͉̼̻̼̯̠̙̣͟Ú̦̬̟̖͔͞ͅͅ ̞̥̺̰̜̲͉̺͕͈̗̠͚͘͘͞͡R̷̙̯̜̲̩̝͖͍̟̥E͠͏̫̲̮̩̮̹̬͎̯̳̼̬̟̯͎̱̹͕M̕҉̛͕̮̰͎̼̰E̛̮͔̖̰̖͖͡M͞҉̰̘͚̺̟͔̺̰͎̮̖̲̳̹̟͟͞ͅB̧̫̙͇͈̘͈̘̭̙̘͚̙̳̻͔͠E̸̠̫̱͇̫̳̘͓͇͓̤̼̱̭͞R̲̺̬̳̗͉̼͍̭̗̳͈̤̟̜͕̘̩̗͘͘ ̧̨̹͈̭̫̖̠̖̹̲́̕͡Ẃ̵̧̱̖̤͓̟̺̥̲͇͍͚̠͠H̹͙̻͈̱̣̗̬͜͝ͅÒ̷̟̟̰͕͚̜͕͕͕̹͟͠͠ ̡̘͚̰̲̠̻͉͉͇͍͈̩͜͜ͅͅY̺̹͍͈͚̘͖͓͉̲̝͎͠ͅͅƠ̵̮̝̣̗̘͎̙̞̜͎̮̕͠Ú̴̡͇̼̬̞̠̦͕͎̖̼̜̳͖̟͈̗̖ͅ ̵̢͉̩̝͖̪̪̲͘̕A̸̧̱̰̗̤̯̱͎͝͝ͅͅR̨̘͕̩̭̦͔͙̦͔̹̱̕͟͡È̛̬̭̻̺̦̺̝͕̩̤̼̥̻͎̩͎?̵̴̴̧̘͖̥̮͚̦̗͉̮͓͇͖͢ ̵̹̜̰͚̰̜̯̰͎͚͚̻̯̥͠ͅW̵̸̷̡̧͔̜͔̜̟̪͈̦̦̰̰̩̰͔̺̗ͅH̷͔͈͙͔̰̮̼̝͉̙̘͎̩͝ͅÁ̪̜͍͚̯̭̘̗͇̘͍̤͡T̡̡̬̳̹͍͙̺̥̕ ̴̵͙͈̦͔H̵̦̤̤͕̭̼̺̝͔̞̙̪ͅͅẠ̧̠͈͕̘̹̱̙̤̣̀͟P̨̨̯̖̲͇͚̦̯̞̩̪̙̻̰̥̻̟̥̘̟P҉̵̶̣͙͖̟̟̰̲͓̮̺͔̀̕ͅE͏̙̳̳̗̣N̶̵̵̢̮̟͈̟͚̱̥͓̜̤̭E̷̢͏̛̯̲̜͇͍̰̗D̶̨̯̙̥̻͘͞͞?̵̛͍͔͉̪͚̤͈͉͉͝ ̢̥̦̞̝͇̭̙͚̭͉̪̲͝͞ͅͅͅḨ̛͖̣͇͕̺̺̯͔́͘͟O҉̡͚̗̫̱̫̭̜̱̺͖̗̳̹͙͜͞W̵̧̟͙̱͔̺̰̟̺͖̞̭̮͖͍ ҉͢҉̖̹̩͕̟͙͔͓͓̖̭̳̣̙Ç̨̘̦̱̰̬͇̤͔̫͉̘͉̯̦̦̝͖ͅͅA̻̙̙̣̱̜͉͘͝͡Ǹ̡̧̩͓͖̟̰͓͇̪̬͚̯̹͓̀͞ͅ ̧̫̲͖̝̝̠̙̞̝͎̞͓̦̜̮̳̗̕̕͠ͅY̵̧҉͇̟͔̖͘Ǫ̡̖͈̣̖̺̮͘͢Ṷ̵̺͎̳͎̰̫̥̬͉̳̬͚̲͙̭̙͡ͅ ͝҉̛̫͔͔̤̣͖̖̘͈̣͓͉̖̣͉̦̫͞S̛͘͝͞҉͙̬͇͎̦T̸͠͏̧̖̗͙͎̯͉̩̫̫̞̗I̢͙̘͈͟L̢͉̻̜̫̣̻̯͕͚̻̹͈͉̩̼̼͇̭̞͢L͞҉̖̞̠͕͔̖̰͕͙̜̼́͘ ̵͕̩̹̻̯̤͙̝͎̦̝̝̻̼͖̰̼͉̗͢S͠҉̴͇̞̪͕̗̮͓̣̀͜T̢́͢҉̺̞̻͉̫A͏̳̰̮̻̞͖̩͢Ņ̲̦̞͈̘̭̻̻̦͙̘̱͓͙̙͈̪̹͞͞D͏̀͘͏̺̥̬͇͉̻̩̯̹͙̣̻̠̻̬̕ͅ ͢҉̶̘͕̮̞͎̣͈͙͇͙̕Ẁ̶̨̢̪̤̻̥̼͙͙̞̦̻̝̯̜̻͔͓̦̠̕ͅI̵̷̦̼̰̘̗͍̺̜̲̤̩̞͢͜͞T̡̰̤͉̺̤́͟͞͠H͞҉͡҉̩̤̮͉ ̸͏̤͖͖̰͔͙T̴̡̰͖̖͈̥͚͚͙̦͕̕͡ͅH͖͎̭͓̰̝͍̻̞̹̠͍̗̹̖͕̹̕ͅͅO̴̶̶͈̜̳͚̙͝S̶͎̰̤͔̹͈̀͟͜Ę̘̟̝̦̪͉̼̤͙̠̩̟̬͓̫̭͔͠͡ͅ ̶̥̞̮̰͕̳̘̖͈͖̯̹͔́̀̕Ẁ̷̙̺͚̺̬̘̖͔̭̩͚͓͍̀H̺̰̭̼̩̮͕̙͎̬̫̣̥́͞O̡͙̣̣͉͙̳̺͞͞ͅ ̀́͢͞͏̲̖̻͔̳̰̟͙̬̗̗̪͚̖͔̠B̢̡̛̥̲̫̩̖̗̼̮̭̳̲̝͈̦͢R͏̹̜̼͕͖̜̩̞̯̭̥̥͓̞̰̠͕̻͇Í̷̧̦͕͖̦͇͚̣̫͕͉͇̟͞͠ͅǸ̛̜͓̼̜̳̤̙̻͕̳͍͙͇͇͢G̡̨̡̛̙̺͈̪͚̝̼̩̰͘ ̸̷̵̥̭͇͕͚̭͖̳̱͔̺̘͕̜͘͘T͏̶̻̻̻̘̫͔͍̫̰͚̳̬͙̙̪̭̳͠O҉̨̰̯̠͖̭͙͕̖͓͍̫̺̟̦̥́̕ ͟͢҉͏̷̳͈͎͍̖U҉͏͙̠̯͉̦͓͓̱̻̞͉̥̣̰̻̟ͅS͖̗͍͙̦͉̕ͅ ҉̢͡҉̠͍̤̳͉O̴͡҉̢̺̝͇̮̲̯̟̥̟̭̱͝Ṋ͓̬̩̯̺͖̥͉̪̗͔͘L̕҉̘̭̝͓͖̹̘̱̗̠̲̙̦Y͏̴͖̜͉͉͈͕̘͙͘͞ͅ ̶̵̰̱͕̭̖͙̮̲̞̟̝͘͜ͅÓ̶̧̡̧̰͇͈̪͇̙͍̦̦̝̮͍̥̹ͅB̶̢̹͖̥̗̻̯̗̜̕͜L̴̢̞̖̼̞̩͉̤̺̯̜̳̹̤̞Į̴̮͓͖̟̞̰̱͢ͅV̛̹̤̰̟̯̙̤͜I̶̜̺͙̰̫͇͕̻͝Ǫ̸̮͎̟̬͜N̙̘̺͖̻͇̫̹̦͉͉̹͇͜͞͠͝.̴͏͓̣͎̝D̵̸̸̛͉̮̥̭̭̝̠̻̰͕̘̘̠̗̥͠ͅO̴̮͚̙̺̕͝ͅ ̷̨͢͏͏̞͔͕̳̰ͅY̷̵̫͕̼̬͇̹̕O̸̧̧͉̼̻̼̯̠̙̣͟Ú̦̬̟̖͔͞ͅͅ ̞̥̺̰̜̲͉̺͕͈̗̠͚͘͘͞͡R̷̙̯̜̲̩̝͖͍̟̥E͠͏̫̲̮̩̮̹̬͎̯̳̼̬̟̯͎̱̹͕M̕҉̛͕̮̰͎̼̰E̛̮͔̖̰̖͖͡M͞҉̰̘͚̺̟͔̺̰͎̮̖̲̳̹̟͟͞ͅB̧̫̙͇͈̘͈̘̭̙̘͚̙̳̻͔͠E̸̠̫̱͇̫̳̘͓͇͓̤̼̱̭͞R̲̺̬̳̗͉̼͍̭̗̳͈̤̟̜͕̘̩̗͘͘ ̧̨̹͈̭̫̖̠̖̹̲́̕͡Ẃ̵̧̱̖̤͓̟̺̥̲͇͍͚̠͠H̹͙̻͈̱̣̗̬͜͝ͅÒ̷̟̟̰͕͚̜͕͕͕̹͟͠͠ ̡̘͚̰̲̠̻͉͉͇͍͈̩͜͜ͅͅY̺̹͍͈͚̘͖͓͉̲̝͎͠ͅͅƠ̵̮̝̣̗̘͎̙̞̜͎̮̕͠Ú̴̡͇̼̬̞̠̦͕͎̖̼̜̳͖̟͈̗̖ͅ ̵̢͉̩̝͖̪̪̲͘̕A̸̧̱̰̗̤̯̱͎͝͝ͅͅR̨̘͕̩̭̦͔͙̦͔̹̱̕͟͡È̛̬̭̻̺̦̺̝͕̩̤̼̥̻͎̩͎?̵̴̴̧̘͖̥̮͚̦̗͉̮͓͇͖͢ ̵̹̜̰͚̰̜̯̰͎͚͚̻̯̥͠ͅW̵̸̷̡̧͔̜͔̜̟̪͈̦̦̰̰̩̰͔̺̗ͅH̷͔͈͙͔̰̮̼̝͉̙̘͎̩͝ͅÁ̪̜͍͚̯̭̘̗͇̘͍̤͡T̡̡̬̳̹͍͙̺̥̕ ̴̵͙͈̦͔H̵̦̤̤͕̭̼̺̝͔̞̙̪ͅͅẠ̧̠͈͕̘̹̱̙̤̣̀͟P̨̨̯̖̲͇͚̦̯̞̩̪̙̻̰̥̻̟̥̘̟P҉̵̶̣͙͖̟̟̰̲͓̮̺͔̀̕ͅE͏̙̳̳̗̣N̶̵̵̢̮̟͈̟͚̱̥͓̜̤̭E̷̢͏̛̯̲̜͇͍̰̗D̶̨̯̙̥̻͘͞͞?̵̛͍͔͉̪͚̤͈͉͉͝ ̢̥̦̞̝͇̭̙͚̭͉̪̲͝͞ͅͅͅḨ̛͖̣͇͕̺̺̯͔́͘͟O҉̡͚̗̫̱̫̭̜̱̺͖̗̳̹͙͜͞W̵̧̟͙̱͔̺̰̟̺͖̞̭̮͖͍ ҉͢҉̖̹̩͕̟͙͔͓͓̖̭̳̣̙Ç̨̘̦̱̰̬͇̤͔̫͉̘͉̯̦̦̝͖ͅͅA̻̙̙̣̱̜͉͘͝͡Ǹ̡̧̩͓͖̟̰͓͇̪̬͚̯̹͓̀͞ͅ ̧̫̲͖̝̝̠̙̞̝͎̞͓̦̜̮̳̗̕̕͠ͅY̵̧҉͇̟͔̖͘Ǫ̡̖͈̣̖̺̮͘͢Ṷ̵̺͎̳͎̰̫̥̬͉̳̬͚̲͙̭̙͡ͅ ͝҉̛̫͔͔̤̣͖̖̘͈̣͓͉̖̣͉̦̫͞S̛͘͝͞҉͙̬͇͎̦T̸͠͏̧̖̗͙͎̯͉̩̫̫̞̗I̢͙̘͈͟L̢͉̻̜̫̣̻̯͕͚̻̹͈͉̩̼̼͇̭̞͢L͞҉̖̞̠͕͔̖̰͕͙̜̼́͘ ̵͕̩̹̻̯̤͙̝͎̦̝̝̻̼͖̰̼͉̗͢S͠҉̴͇̞̪͕̗̮͓̣̀͜T̢́͢҉̺̞̻͉̫A͏̳̰̮̻̞͖̩͢Ņ̲̦̞͈̘̭̻̻̦͙̘̱͓͙̙͈̪̹͞͞D͏̀͘͏̺̥̬͇͉̻̩̯̹͙̣̻̠̻̬̕ͅ
You look into yourself, curled up in a ball, scrunched up, desperately searching for something, anything, that you could hold onto, something that could stop you from losing all that you are. You plead with your mind, clawing at the refuse of your brain for the barest reminder of whatever sorry creature you must have been to deserve a fate like this.
You are answered.
Out of the corner of your eye, you see it. A single point of light, so far away, and yet constant in this hellish nightmare. It takes effort, an inhuman amount of effort. You struggle off of the ground, tears flowing out of your eyes. Figures begins to appear out of the corner of your eye. A pale and ghostly white. W-what are they doing? Oh gosh, they're coming right for you, they're coming for you.
You run. Your legs burn like a star shell, blazing in the night, carrying you like a panicked rabbit sprinting for its home as the hunting owl continues its malevolent advance. You don't need to look back. You can feel them approaching. This entire world is wrong, an all encompassing feeling of raw disorientation and nausea threatens to bring you to the ground again, but you know you cannot stop. It's close now, so close, salvation so near and yet so far. Something lashes out from behind you, striking you in the shoulder. The pain is indescribable. It is not numbed by adrenaline, instead burrowing deep into your very essence. It is infused with the madness of the void around you. You have no time to pay it mind. Forward. It is the last order dragging your unready body to the light. This hellish plane of existence redoubles its assault upon you, trying to break what remains of you as hope finally approaches arms reach.
Instincts yell with coarse and broken lungs not to, and yet. You steal a glance backwards as the light begins to blind you moving forward. You wish you did not. What you would have given to have just stayed looking forward.
V̼̠͓̹̔́ͦ͌̇̽̚a͔̰͔ň̗̥͓̻̻̝̝ͯ̽̃mid̯͚̫̏̋d̥̹͎͚͚ͮ̚a̯̠̮̖̘g̓ͮͫͥ̀ ͉̩̻͌b̦̬̟̼̗̳̂̽̍̉̄ͥo͐̀mͭ͌̈́b̺͉̗̖͚̗͇̑̓̐a̬̞̥͉̮̻̿̏̃r͕̍d̪͓̺̦̮͔e̼̲͋̒̎̏̃̋e̾͗̂̔͋r̦̱̣̼̝̾̾̏ͮd͓͖̮͈̲̜̄̔͛ͥ̒e͓̭ͪ͊̂̚ ̖͖ͤ̐ͬ͒̓͛D̽ͧͭ̉̿ͅu̮̩̯̪̼͚ͨ̄it̲̬͔̣̲̂̈́s͎̺̠̫͔͖ͧ͒̏͛l̮̱̲̥̮̈́ͫ̉͆͊̾̊a̩͖̳̦̩̳̪͑̈́̈̆ͮͣ̄n̗̠̱͑̇̎͗̍̿d̪̤̦͓̼̦͉̉̔ͯ̚ ͉̙̼̥͔R̠̘̗͍̮̺̼ọ̹̘͎̌t͎̙̤̣̳̄̓͋̀͒͗̚t͚̳͇̐ͤ̾e͍̩̖̜̘̫͈͆ͥ̋ͩͣ̔͆rͥ̃̓́ḓ͉̱̳̣̖̰͛̃̚a̻ͦ͋̋̌̈̚̚m̗͇̯̔ͤͣ̔,̠̖͑̐͌̇ ̮̠͈̳̺̖ͮͬ̉t̗̱͌̄̿̏̆̚e͓̼̟̩̒̅ͮ̀̔r͓͔̜͚ͯ̂͑͐ͣw̤̮̭͔̺ī͊͗j͎̜͈̪͈͖̾͊ͮ͛ͮ͒l̝̙͎̩̚ ̳̘̝U̙̙͈̳͎̼̤ͦͪͮ̓̆ͩt̗̯̮̭̱̤̊ͥ́͆̾r̬͙̠͇͉̩ͯe̲̯͈̖̥ͅͅc̗͍ͣ̉ͨͧ̚̚h͓͎̳̠͖̲̱ť̹̱̙͖͓͕̈́̃͑̓ͯ̑ ͙͙͚̺̒̃ͭ͑ͨo̩͓̱̹̠̥̓͐́ͧ́̂̚o̗̱̝̱͉ͩ̉ͨ̂ͮͤ͑k̲̪͂͒̈̇ ͇̟͚͚ͤͭ̈͂̄̐ͤw̻͑ͣe͉͊̓̂ͪͯ̐r̬d͍̫̗̗̺̘̩̅͗ ͍̰͕̼̰̻̑̓̏̄̋ḇ̥̦̱̲̩̦̅ͪ͋̚e͖̮̹͙͔ͭ̔̇̓̍d͕̭̣̾ͨ́ͣ̍r̪͉̞̹̯̬ͭ̐̂̇e̎̏ͩi̩̗̹͔͎ͮͪ́̆̉̊ͤg̬͈̩͇d̫͉̰̗̥̤̣̆̿͑ͧ ͇̥ͤ͂̎̇͋m͒̈́ͬ̉ͤ̔e͙̮̪̳̲͚̤ͨ̒t͈̞̯̬̖̞ ̤̙͓͙̙̦v͈͎͖̖̣͓̚e̝͔̱͖̮̩̊͐͌̓ṙ͇̰̠̘̻̳ñ̜͎̟̰͎̭ͣ͛̒ͅí̝ͮḛ̭͑͛͐̾̓tͣͪ̃̏i̼̎ͣ̍̈̏̑́g̱̥̝ͪi̺̤͆ͫ͐͗̔́̓ͅng̥̮͉̻̤̮̰͑̒ͣ.͉̘̟̃̌̅͐̉ ͕͍̻̼̝̓ͤO̺̙̰ͩ̾̔̂̒͋m̩̜̩͖̐ͧͧ̊ ̺̌̑d̰̫̦̱̜̓̌e̖̜͇͓̟̜ͧ ͖͆b͙̟͇̗̥uͨͭ̑ͥ̽̐̆ṙ̪g̞̙e̦̳̬ͤͯ͋̽͋͒r̰̬̎͋ͧ̋̔b̥͖̩̰̥̖͖̎͆̋̂̈̽e͔͎͔͓̻͖̣ͮͯṿ͇̤̳̤ͩo̺͈̒ͩ̓l͆k̖̪͍͒ͫi̮̊̔̑̑ǹ͎̗ͮͧ͊̉ͯ̆ͅg ͙̟͔͖̝̍̓͂ͪ̉t̺̳̲̘̣͕̹ͨ͐ē̬̮͕͈̿ͦ̿ ̩͕̝̮̖̳̫s̰̈́͋ͮ̍p̜̟̻̂̿͛ͧͬ̋̎a͇̞̹͓̦̒͌ͬ̌̽̚ŕ̲̖͙̥̖e̟̤̭͈̣͈n̦̳̗̥͇̮ ̑̂e͖͈̟͙̝ͣ̒n̑̓ͩ̄ͬ ̏͑ͥ̾̒ͦȏ͍̞̼̦̪́͛̃m͓ͪ ͉̮̙̳͎̣͒̉ͯv͖ͣͧe̪̝̓̚r̦̠͍̳̖͖̅͗̓̔ͪd̦̰̪͕̉ͨ͆̃̓̚e͕̟ͫ̀͐̅̋̎r̙̙̪̫̥ͨͤͅ ̟̈͊͒̚b͈ͣͪl̘͈̗̲̘̯̯̆́̓ͮ̋ȏ̊͆̀͋ͩe̘̭͈̥͂̒ͯ̈͐͂̚d̩͇̺̜̪͔ͣͬ̿v̼͉̯͓̼̺̿͊e̟͉̺̱̫͙ͨ̔̉̑͗̃r̦̰̖̠̻g̭͍̤̗̯̍̈́ͨͥͯi̘̯̩̖̻ͣe̯͆̍̈ͣṯ̍͆̍̅e͇̳̅n̗̤͚̲̥͖̿ͣ̔ t̳̺͕̝̘e̞̺̍̆̄̏ ̓̈́̋̆̀̄v͚̔̎̇o̹͕̩ő̙̠̱̮̉͋̄͋͐ͅr͇̼͈̞̦̠k̜̳̫̣͍̙͙͌o̤̹̯̓͗̍m̬͑̄ͥͧ̄̎ͧͅē̘̩͔̟̈̒̐́ͩn͍̻ͬ̀,̰̄͆͑ͣ ͕̖̤͎̠̪͖̐ͥ̅̇ͣ̈̚v̟ͅͅi̖̘̭̬͙̮n͉̲d͉͉̖͔̟̞̮ͮͩ̏̄ͧ͂ ̾̌̽ͫͪ̏ͭi̟̓̋ͨ͐͋̚k̠̥͎ͨ̈́̅ͨ̿ͥͅ ͓̳̖̟̝̼ͯ̏̅̉ͤ̐̂ͅh̫̳ͥ̉ͦ̔͆e̟̐̐ͫ͊ͣt͎̤̾̌ ͓͎͎̈́ͭͦ̍ͣ̇ͅg̣͎̻̲̩̉ͨ͛̉̽ͧͅe͓͎̳͇̲̔̅ͤ̚r̄̌e̫̩̦̪̬͍̒̾̾ĉ̒̽̌ḧ̯̣̘́̍̃̽͆t̘̼͙͕̘͔̯̓ͤ̍̿͊v͍͆͂̉̃a̜̤̬̝͎͇à̹̠͒ͮ̊ͯͣ́r̫͒͋̓ͫͣd͓̺̳i͎̣̰͉͆͆͛g̘̭̪̖̞͎͓̑ͮd̳̹͔͉̿̒ͤͮ ̹ͫ̽̈̄͊̐o̟̹̲̫̠͗m͙̟͍̗̲̻͎̒ͣ̾́ͯͧ̚ ̮̙̗̲̍̽a͒͊ͤ͑ͪ̔̏ḷ̝̪̉̏̓̽̀͊͆l̖͖̝͇̓e̼̰̪ͤ͌ͤͬ̏ ͓̐ͥb̟̤ͦͮ̐ͫ͛e̯̻̤̓̎̀́̚ṱ̬͉͛͌͗͑̂r̹̣̲̜̠̺̗̄̄ͮ͗̽̔o̼̭͓͛̏ͩ͆̏̾k͙̈́ͣ̊̒͛̏̓ǩ̻̺͇̭͂eͬn͖̎ͫ͐ ̹̳͈͂͑̄̅ṫ̗͍̺ͥ͑ͬ͛͒r͎̹͊̆o͍̾̊ë͇p̯̣̜e̬͙̰̮n͚̂͂̾͛ ̗̖͉͊͒̔ͯ̽t̞̥̫̥̬̱̤͌͊̓ͩ͗ͤ͌e̗̤̦͕̊ͮ ̼͉̮̗͓b̟̰̠͇̲̜̤̎͗ͭͫ͋͑́e͓̜̩̪̭v̥̟ͫ͗ͧ͒́͌ͪo͊̒͌͋̚l̄ě͎͇̂̉̋̓̄ͩṇ̘̯͓̮ͅ ̳̯̇ͭ̏ͅh̺̯͎̱̺̖̟̽ͣ̍͗͆u͖̺̤͎̗ͮ͐̓̄n̥̠̣͚̞ ̠͙̝̲̬̝̋ͧ͒o͕̯̪̤̥̟ͪͮͪ̓̅p̱̦̞̌̾̎e̘̤͇͇̥r̿̇̓ǎ̤̻̰̆̔̎t̤̯̼̗̣͔ͬͤ̓͆̉̒ͨi̺̮̘̚e̙̬͚͒͌͐͆ͦͭ̓s̹̻̦͖̳̺̽̐̌͐̈́͑͑ͅ ͎͛ͯͯ͌̒o̜̥̙̼̫̣̼ͧ̾͌͆̌͌̉ṕ̻̩̦̰̲̇ͬ̿̈ ͈͒̿̎̌͗͑ṫ̜̩̖̺̺̬͉̉͐̋̋ͫe̅͗ ̝̘̽ͤs̱̥̖̙͋ͭc͙͋̄̋̋͗ͭh̾̆͆͒̄ͧo͚̟̺̗̼̖̼r͔̎̿ͮ̿̿ť̼̙̮̖͖̱e̠͓̫͓̲ͫn̯̫̳̬͊ͅ ͖͍͔̅͊͗ͯ̌.͈͚̫͙ͩͨ̾̀.̭̼̲͎̪ͮ̂ͤͭ.̥̫͕͈̹̰͛̐ͥ̇̊̽ ̱͎̹̱ͭͅD̝̬ͪ͋̎ͮo͙̫̮̺͎͓̤ͥͯo͙͒͐̏ͣ̚ͅr̼̹͖̜̥ͧͪͩ͛̔ ̜̳̬̋͋͆̓g̩̖͉͍̮̹̺̑̋ͦ̋͂r͗ͦͮo̖̹͖̻͈͇͇͗͋ͤ̎ͦt̟̘̤̻̎e̠̣̮͇̼͈ͩ̐̈͗̚ ̼̰̟͒ͥ͒͋͌ͦͭs̖͊ͨ̍̍ͮ̚u̞̣̳͒̔̍ͣͯp̞̜̫̙͉̜̈́̋͂ͨe̲̼̻r͚i̞̹͐o͎͉͔̦͉̩̦͊͗͆̓ͯͮř̫̆̏i̯͈̲͙̘̎ͭ̎͛̋ͯ̄ͅt̤̎̎̉ͩ͒͂e̪̯̩͇̭ͥ̿́ͅǐ̳ͤ̅ͯͩ́ṯ̝̞̙̹̙̽͂͛ ͔̱̩͓̰̥ͣv͉̬͈̣̥̼̦a̦̥̳̝̖̬͖ͤ̃͐͌ͦͩn̞ͫͅ ̬̱̝d͇ͅḙ̰̣̯͙̠̌̓̎͊ͥ̏ ̬͍̲͖̑m̜͍ͭ̀̄̒̔ͬo̰̟̣͍̲͇̍ͫ̆d̘̉̉̑ȅ̗̳̹͖̝͓̰̎r̭̩̞̹͓ͣ͊n̅ͤ̄̈̏̂͒ṣ̝̯̰̹̜͊ͬͯ̏̿͆͆ͅt̟̙̤̖͚ͯe̦̼͇͈̙̯ͯ̈̆̽̿͋̄ ̥̥͙͓͚̒m̜̪̤̘̙͈̎̓ͭ̍̅̎iͨ̂̆̓ͧd͑͊̋̑ͤ̂d̻̼̘͚̝̦́͐̉e̥͔̺͇͕̋͐l̜͚̯̻ͫ̎e̗̜̥̼̩ͮn̖͉̭͈̖̪̔̾͊͐́ͤͯ ̠̾͗ȋ̮͔̳̘̮̜͖̇ͧ̎s̐̌̓ ̠͖̝̼̯̭̐ͤ̑̾[̰̤͓̱͖͈ͬͯ̚d̖̜̗̺͍̜̓͋ͦ͛̇é͓̊̈ͩ ͔̜̻̩̫̝̇̉̓̚ͅṽ̝̲̹͇̗͋i̚j̣̎a̤n̩̬̘̰ͅḓ̹͚̭̱̝͕̄̐̏͊ͫ̑]͇͇͕̤͍̠͉͒ ͤ̏͋ͦ̓ͩ̊e͍̞̳̺̾̿̆͑̈r̻̝͈̪͇̠̈́ͣ̉i̪͓̻̻̥̣ͮ͋͛̈n̺͍̩ͮ̐̊̈́̿͊͋ ̺̣ͥͣ́̆̏ǧ̅ͯ̚ě̯͇̓ͣ͑̑ͯs̝l̮̩̟͉̯̣͓͛̏͆͂ă̭͚ͪ̅̏ͅa̪̻̟͙̓g̾d̼ͣ ̬̤̙͎͉̯̃̍͗ͩͥo͙͈̺̱͋ͩ̇ͮ̓ͮ̓n̰̞̮̂̏̀̃̿s̳̰ͬ̈̎̊ ̹̫̖ͪ̑̆̉̃͐v̪̟̩̬͙̘̍̔̃́e̝̱̪̒̊̾̐̅ṙ̭̖̻̩̏̚z̮̥͔̜̭ͣͥͩ̑̍ͯe̚ẗ̠̻̰ ͓̘̙t̳̂̅͂ͤ͆e̦͈̥̟̺̪̪ͦ̓ͮ̇ ̲̜͕̬̳̊͛̎b̹̳̟̼͙͛̓̿r̪̪̆̆̋ͥe̍̂̿͑k̙͓̩̹̓ͧͩe̪͕͙̍̃͌n̲̦͕̙͈͚.͕̥͖̣̟̹̼̾ͤͭ̂ͫ͗ ̟͎̗̠͚̰͋͂ͧW͓̣̣̟̽̅ͦ̀͋e͚̙͔͛̆̾̉ ̤͕̭̾͑ͭ̽ͥ̑ͅh̥̰̙͉̞̙̉ͭ̚e̪̠̥͓̞͔͔̔̈b̦̺͚͉͚̲̑ͥ̃̆͛̎b̭̙̼̺̐̀͆ͫ́̀͑e̙̯͓n̹̘͔̪͔͍ ͊̏ͩͅn̼͎̜̲͕͂̇ͮ̊̈͛̿i͔͉̝ͦ͒ͮ̂ͭȅ͕̰͕̭̘̻̿ͥ̑ͥ͆ͬṫ̳͋̉̎̿ͥs̞̻̳̘̼͖̋̽̌͂ ͉̞̭̒͛́͛̉õ̆̊m̦͕̥̯̩̅ͥ͊ͭͅ ̜̮̊͑̈́̓̐ͩọ̟͓̿̽ͫ̾͛̽n̺̥̭̗͔̠̠̑ͮ̽ͩs̗̘̻̱͑̆̽z̤̠̥͉̰ͯ̅͆ͧ̐͌͐e͍̞̲̟͇ͫl̙͔͚ͬ͛̀ͧ̂f̝̤ ̮͚͕̘̹̂̇̄̿ve͚̼͒ͣ̊rͪͧw̌ͨ̉͊̄ͥi͙ͨ͛jt͇͓̝̾ͫ̚e̫͙͚̳̔ͤ̎̆̀ͩ̇ͅn̘̪͚͓̒̈́͊ ̞̭̰͙̯̬̭̀̄͒̉̾ͪt͋̓͋̾̾̍ͣe̩͉͖̭͑ ̝͋͆̉ͬ͊̍̇m̘̲ͦ̽͗ͩ̚ạ͍̟̏̈́k̘̗e̖̝͉̺̊̒̐̚n͈̳̫̥̭̜ͩ̎̂ͨ̉ ̜͉̟̠̲̝̎̇̊̑̒ͦi̯̼̼͇̾͗ñ͖͖̝͕͇ͦ̔̐͐̎ ̳̺̹͍͎̯̤ͩ̿̐̃ͥͮv̺̱͓̥͎̯̻̾̎͌ͩ͆ĕ̙̳̮͕rb̲̗ͬ̈́͑͊ͬa̅̊̉̅n̫̖̺̗ͯ͐d̄ͪ͒͊͊̊̂ ̺̹̦ͩ̉̎̌ͭͥm̜̝̹̥̼̩͍̐̊e̺̟̳͖̙̜̳ͪ̋̂̆ͣͮ̚t͓̞̳̯͓̗̩̓̓̿̏ͯ́͊ ̰̠̝ͥ͒̓̔ͧ̏ͅd͛ͮ̅̾e͉͔̦͎̝̐ͮzͥ̋̽ͫͪ̂e̘̯̼̼͐͆ ̹͙͈̰̉̃̽̔ͬo̭͆̔̏̏ͪ̄͒o̦͖͓ͬ̀ͪr͎ͥͩ̇̈̇ͬ̿l̦̮͖̭ͭ̾̿ͦ̽ͪͅo̖̲g̺̥̎ͣ.̥̖̾͐̓ ̯̝̫͚̆J̿̒̅͂ë̞̭̺̯͔́̑ ̘̺͎͎̻̓̔͆̆̽̚̚h̤͎̘̲͛ŏ͗̾͛̚ȗd̫̘͈ͪ͒ͭͬͥͬ̂i͎̘̼͔͙ͭ̅ͯ͗̆ͥn̥͒̌͋̇g̫͎͗͐̓ ̓̿̃͑̿̐e̠͈͓͈̋ͭ̃̂̉ͮn̝̖͕͗ͨ͂ͮͩ̇ ̉d͇̱̖͖͚̦̟̾ͦͦ̇̍̆ĩ͈̮̂͛̔ͪ̚ẻ̝̻̲̠̄͆͑ͦ ͚̠̼̟̬̤̟ͨ̆v͉͍͚̙̭̯͊̏ͣa̯̜̫͕n̮̫̘̻̝̙ͦ́͒ ̪͔̺̯͚̰̀d̙͉͈̙͌͗ė̐̽̓̂̏ ̳͗͛s̝̮͇̗͉̯̺̄t͔̞͔ͯr͙̥̟͐i̠̪̱͙͌̊́̇j̉̆̽ͥ̉d̽ͯͫk̼͎͈̬̞̬͛̓ͣ͛̈́͂r̻̺̹̬͓̤̯̅́ͯ̋̆a̝̬͉̻̰̩͙̍ͮ̚c͋͋͊̉͆h̗̱̤̉ͪ̔̄͑̇t̟̘̪͉̮̉ͮͮ̈ͨ̀̃e̬͍̥͇ͧ͛͊̆͛̑n̥̲̞̒͂̃ ̹̠̙̥̼̪͓ͪͬ͒̃̽͐̓w͔̙̥̲̻̅ͯ̄â̘̬̣͂ͪ̚s ̘̘̾ͥͮ̈́k͔͖̲̜̖̈́ͥ̍̂a͓̪̯̰͈̭͔l͛̽̈͒m̖͉͚̦̦̜̄ͯ̇,̪͈̣̙̠̊̃̈́ ͉̽́ḋ̦͇̬̺̦͍̤̑o̟̥̾̂̃̔e̬̻̰̲̼͖ͧ̅̄͌̌̔ͫl̙̼g̻͇̖̜̯͆ͭ̆̓e̗̠̝͉͙͍͕͗̂̐͂ͬr̻͉̩̗̲̩̥ͨ̃̏ͯ͆̽iͥ̓̐̂c͍͇̞͓͚̽̿̒̑h̖̟̞̤̑ͧt̹̬̦̪͔͉̬̀ͯ̓͆̈ ̫͈͉͊̑͒̉͐͛̈́ͅͅe̮n͓̣͓̞̪͕͌̑ͨ̐ͯͥ ̹͎͛̎͛Ň̀ͦ͂e̖̣ͥͬd̰̲͍e̥̥͔͈̫̤͂́͌͌ͅr̭ͫͣl͎̙̞͖̜͎̖͗̎a̬̻̣̬̫̩ͪ̽ͅn̙͙̝͔̒ͫ͗̋̅d̙̞͎̠̂ͩ͋͑͐ ̠̘̩̳̞͍̜ͪ̇̊̚ẘ̮á̰̰̦͐a̻̪̅r̮̈́ͪ͗̿̿ͨḓ͛ͪ̄̎̍̋i̹̳͋̉ͨͪ̍́ͪg̟̰̹̣̻͂̿̆͂ͅ.̳̲͚̝̠̙̎
H̢̡̭͘e̬ͅl͖̪̳̞̀ͅl̶͙̰͜o̟̟̞̼̹̟͕͈̯͜
H̢̡̭͘e̬ͅl͖̪̳̞̀ͅl̶͙̰͜o̟̟̞̼̹̟͕͈̯͜
Something within you snaps, and can take no more. You lose any semblance of consciousness as you fall into the light.
You awake supine upon placid waters, a welcome and blinding sun shines in the sky with a perceived majesty that would make sense to no one but you. Nothing would make you feel better right now than to simply fade from the world, but something within you refuses. You do not want to die, not after having spent so much to stay alive. Sore legs protest your commands with a sharp and unyielding pain. To your surprise, you do not find your body upright, submerged in shallow water off some beach somewhere. Instead, your feet find purchase in the water, and with a monumental push, you will your body into a a vaguely upright and bipedal position. You don't need a mirror to know that you look exhausted, you know you don't even need to glance at the reflection in the water to tell.
Only now does it actually hit you. You are standing on the water. That is... not something a human can do, right? Upon closer inspection, you find that this is not the last surprise for today. In your hand, held in an unconscious grip is a small turret, cannon sticking outwards.
You take a few tentative steps forward, experimenting with your evidently unnatural capacity to walk on water. Your body, however, has quite strenuous objections to your request, and with a brief yelp, you find your face firmly implanted onto the surface of the water.
Only then does it become blatantly apparent that you have quite a sizeable structure on your back. A strange mix of... no. Not so strange. You recognize these, who knows how. This is your funnel.
My funnel?
My hull.
This is me.
You are HNLMS De Ruyter, flagship of the Royal Netherlands Navy, ABDACOM, and of Rear Admiral Karel Doorman. You are also a human(?) girl having experienced purgatory and appeared randomly in some equatorial region. Something does not add up.
Who are you?
Why are you?
These are things you cannot help but ponder, as you circle aimlessly in this strange, yet oddly familiar sea. You suppose you are somewhere in the Dutch East Indies. It's not too unreasonable to hope for at least some sort of continuation from your past life.
Are you here because you did badly? Did you fail Queen Wilhelmina? Did you fail ABDACOM?
Did you fail your admiral?
You cannot help but feel some of those feelings from earlier. Dread. Terror. Abandonment.
You cannot help but come to the conclusion you have done all of these things. You couldn't stop them at Sumatra. You couldn't stop them at Bali. You couldn't even stop your own task force from dying.
What kind of terrible flagship are you?
At least it probably won't kill you here. Probably.
Your musings are interrupted by the annoying, yet welcome caw of a seagull, reminding you that the world exists, that this is not some otherworldly dimension of punishment.
You suppose its better to do something than nothing at all, wallowing in your failures. What options are there?
Where to?:
[] North. Is moving towards Japan a good idea? Probably not. Then again. The war is probably over by now. Right?
[] South. Knowing who you are, there is a better than average chance that you will at some point hit Java, or Australia. Either is fine.
[] East. Sooner to nightfall, the sooner you'll have any bloody idea where you are.
[] West. Follow the setting sun. More daylight never hurt anybody.
Welcome to my quest!
This is the first one I have ever run, and is honestly probably not that well planned. i just wanted to write Dutch Kanmusu and run with it. Now for an important vote~
Mechanics:
[] Mechanics Light. I'll stick mostly to narrative pathing with dicerolls for almost nothing.
[] Mechanics Medium. Dice rolls will consistently be used for most actions, but will be subject to fudging if I believe it feels too cheap(say roll 4 1s in a row and die), as well as a more number oriented stat system.
[] Mechanics Heavy. I did build a stat system for this and tested it several times, but I also think it involved far too many rolls and technicalities to actually be good fun, especially as I'm an unproven QM.
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Character Sheets
- Location
- USA
Description: A Dutch girl of a fairly strong build for her apparent age, standing in at roughly 5'5". A veritable mop of fairly short blonde hair, blotched and dirtied, covers her head, as she happily stares you down with occasionally intensely blue eyes. Otherwise she's roughly what one would expect of a teenager, with a modest bust and developing body.
Base Stats:
Base Stats:
- Health: 100%
- Happiness: 72%
- Energy: 64%
- Gunnery Accuracy: Adept
- Torpedo Accuracy: Untrained
- AAA Efficiency: Adept
- Submarine Detection: Student
- Maneuverability: Adept
- Grit: Skilled
- Intuition: Veteran
- Leadership: Skilled
- AAA: Par
- Armor: Mediocre
- Speed: Great
- Main Battery: Par
- Torpedo: Nonexistent
- Secondary Battery: Nonexistent
- Stand Against the End (Even against impossible odds, you stand fast. Leadership, Intuition and Grit are advanced by 3 ranks, with all other Skill Stats being advanced by 1 rank whenever under 35% health, or when facing a vastly superior opponent. If a rank advance would bring a Skill Stat over the established limit, the overflowing advances are spread to all allies in battle.)
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Mechanics
- Location
- USA
I'm going to take a page out of Omicron-senpai(and in turn Maugan Ra-senpai)'s book, and make the stat system here more narratively driven with a tiering system rather than with raw numbers(I'm sorry people that voted medium mechanics, but I think this quest is gonna go downhill real fast if i try to shoehorn raw numbers in for stats).
Base Stats:
- Health: How close you are to death, rated from 0-100%
- Happiness: Your mental state, rated from 0-100%
- Energy: Your capacity to take intensive actions, rated from 0-100%
Skill Stats:
- Incapable - Not technically a level as such, this will only show up on a character sheet in the rare event that some circumstance makes it utterly impossible for you to learn or use a particular skill.
- Untrained - This represents the baseline, what you can accomplish without any focused training.
- Student (500xp) - Having received some basic training in the skill in question, you have started down the long road to mastery. For the majority of shipgirls, this level almost always requires that someone specifically educate you in the skill in question, though future improvements can be attained through solo practice. The vast majority of Kanmusu will come into existence with at least this level of expertise.
- Adept (1500xp) - You have supplemented your initial lessons with hard-won experience, and can now employ the skill with considerable confidence. Most of the sub sapient abyssals will have one or two skills here, while "fresh" destroyers will find themselves here with perhaps 1 or 2 skills depending on their past life experiences.
- Skilled (3000xp) - Abilities become truly notable at this level, allowing one to go toe to toe with opponents that would otherwise be out of your weight class if handled with sufficient intelligence. Most squadron leaders possess at least 3 skills at this level. Abyssal standard capital ships are likely to have at least 1 skill at this level.
- Veteran (5000xp) - Finesse of this degree is quite rare, perhaps consisting the best of what your average naval base has to offer. At this level, Kanmusu will begin to be able to reasonably teach others in this skill.
- Master (7500xp) - Ability of this caliber begins to affect the strategic situation, as your skill begins to consistently show itself in every engagement to an undeniable degree. Unique abyssals are likely to have at least 3 skills in this category.
- Champion (10500xp) - Your skill is awe-inspiring, capable of sweeping aside those of lesser worth with minimal effort. The baseline for installation type abyssals, and very elite formations of shipgirls will likely have at least 2 or 3 skills at this level.
- Legendary (14000xp) - You have reached the heights of true mythical beings, and there are none who can even truly to hope to match you in this aspect. The gap between you and a normal shipgirl has grown to the point that you could likely attempt successful solo sorties against the average abyssal battlegroup.
- Gunnery Accuracy: A measure of the ability to consistently hit opposing targets.
- Torpedo Accuracy: The ability to consistently predict the course of opponents and consequently launch torpedoes accurately.
- AAA Efficiency: The general effectiveness of antiaircraft guns already present.
- Submarine Detection: The ability to detect submarines.
- Maneuverability: The ability to avoid incoming fire, torpedoes, and commit complex battlefield movements.
- Grit: Capacity to remain calm under extended combat conditions.
- Intuition: Ability to consistently determine the next moves of the opponent.
- Leadership: Ability to lead other Kanmusu into battle.
Innate Stats:
These are stats that cannot be improved through, and represent "hard" statistics, innate limitations to ships that can be only truly improved through long, tedious, and rare remodeling opportunities.
- Nonexistent - It either isn't there, or is so minimal it may as well not be. ex: AAA score for most WW1 ships without refit, Torpedo for Iowa.
- Mediocre - The capacity for ability in this regard is at best... unsatisfactory. ex: AAA score for most Japanese Destroyers prior to some sort of refit, Armor of De Ruyter.
- Acceptable - Unremarkable, unimpressive, but at least something that can be relied upon. ex: De Ruyter's torpedo.
- Par - The approximate mean of all existing warships. ex: Leander's Main Battery.
- Good - A cut above your average warship. ex: Speed of King George V, Armor of Lion.
- Great - The cutoff line for a truly remarkable characteristic in a ship. ex: Armor of Iron Duke, or Firepower of Dunkerque.
- Grand - Generally where a ship will be for a defining characteristic, or design priority. ex: Armor of Queen Elizabeth, or Main Battery of California.
- Excellent - A truly standout exemplar of a specific aspect. ex: Armor of King George V, AAA of North Carolina(late war).
- Sublime - Unmatched in a given role. ex: Armor or Firepower of Yamato or Musashi, Speed of Shimakaze, Tashkent, or Le Fantasque.
- AAA: Antiaircraft armament of a ship.
- Armor: Armoring of a ship.
- Speed: Flat out line speed of a ship.
- Main Battery: Firepower of the main battery.
- Torpedo: Torpedo armament of the main battery.
- Secondary Battery: Firepower of the secondary battery.
Traits:
These are the most asymmetrical aspects of a shipgirl. They are very likely to be unique to the girl in question. They do not possess a level, and have very powerful effects, if sometimes bizarre effects. Most girls don't have one of these.
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ARBITRACOM
Sic transit gloria mundi
[X] South. Knowing who you are, there is a better than average chance that you will at some point hit Java, or Australia. Either is fine.
[X] Mechanics Medium. Dice rolls will consistently be used for most actions, but will be subject to fudging if I believe it feels too cheap(say roll 4 1s in a row and die), as well as a more number oriented stat system.
[X] Mechanics Medium. Dice rolls will consistently be used for most actions, but will be subject to fudging if I believe it feels too cheap(say roll 4 1s in a row and die), as well as a more number oriented stat system.
[X] West. Follow the setting sun. More daylight never hurt anybody.
[X] Mechanics Light. I'll stick mostly to narrative pathing with dicerolls for almost nothing.
For those interested in the Zalgo text:
DO YOU REMEMBER WHO YOU ARE? WHAT HAPPENED? HOW CAN YOU STILL STAND WITH THOSE WHO BRING TO US ONLY OBLIVION.
This afternoon, Germany bombed Rotterdam, while Utrecht was also threatened with destruction. In order to spare the civilian population and to prevent further bloodshed, I think it is justified to order all troops involved to suspend their operations ... By great superiority of the most modern means, [the enemy] has succeeded in breaking our resistance. We have nothing to blame ourselves for in connection with this war. Your attitude and that of the armed forces was calm, goal-oriented and worthy of the Netherlands.
Well, seems like De Ruyter had a sad ending. No wonder the Abyss beckons.
[X] Mechanics Light. I'll stick mostly to narrative pathing with dicerolls for almost nothing.
For those interested in the Zalgo text:
you left us....You left us....You Left Us...YOU LEFT US...
DO YOU REMEMBER WHO YOU ARE? WHAT HAPPENED? HOW CAN YOU STILL STAND WITH THOSE WHO BRING TO US ONLY OBLIVION.
(After running through Google Translate)
This afternoon, Germany bombed Rotterdam, while Utrecht was also threatened with destruction. In order to spare the civilian population and to prevent further bloodshed, I think it is justified to order all troops involved to suspend their operations ... By great superiority of the most modern means, [the enemy] has succeeded in breaking our resistance. We have nothing to blame ourselves for in connection with this war. Your attitude and that of the armed forces was calm, goal-oriented and worthy of the Netherlands.
Well, seems like De Ruyter had a sad ending. No wonder the Abyss beckons.
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- Location
- Behind you :0
[X] South. Knowing who you are, there is a better than average chance that you will at some point hit Java, or Australia. Either is fine.
[X] Mechanics Light. I'll stick mostly to narrative pathing with dicerolls for almost nothing.
[X] Mechanics Light. I'll stick mostly to narrative pathing with dicerolls for almost nothing.
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- Location
- california
[X] South. Knowing who you are, there is a better than average chance that you will at some point hit Java, or Australia. Either is fine.
[X] Mechanics Medium. Dice rolls will consistently be used for most actions, but will be subject to fudging if I believe it feels too cheap(say roll 4 1s in a row and die), as well as a more number oriented stat system.
[X] Mechanics Medium. Dice rolls will consistently be used for most actions, but will be subject to fudging if I believe it feels too cheap(say roll 4 1s in a row and die), as well as a more number oriented stat system.
[x] North. Is moving towards Japan a good idea? Probably not. Then again. The war is probably over by now. Right?
[x] Mechanics Medium. Dice rolls will consistently be used for most actions, but will be subject to fudging if I believe it feels too cheap(say roll 4 1s in a row and die), as well as a more number oriented stat system.
[x] Mechanics Medium. Dice rolls will consistently be used for most actions, but will be subject to fudging if I believe it feels too cheap(say roll 4 1s in a row and die), as well as a more number oriented stat system.
[X] West. Follow the setting sun. More daylight never hurt anybody.
[X] Mechanics Light. I'll stick mostly to narrative pathing with dicerolls for almost nothing.
West, more daylight, towards the sun.
[X] Mechanics Light. I'll stick mostly to narrative pathing with dicerolls for almost nothing.
West, more daylight, towards the sun.
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- Location
- United States
[X] South. Knowing who you are, there is a better than average chance that you will at some point hit Java, or Australia. Either is fine.
[X] Mechanics Medium. Dice rolls will consistently be used for most actions, but will be subject to fudging if I believe it feels too cheap(say roll 4 1s in a row and die), as well as a more number oriented stat system.
[X] Mechanics Medium. Dice rolls will consistently be used for most actions, but will be subject to fudging if I believe it feels too cheap(say roll 4 1s in a row and die), as well as a more number oriented stat system.
[X] South. Knowing who you are, there is a better than average chance that you will at some point hit Java, or Australia. Either is fine.
[X] Mechanics Medium. Dice rolls will consistently be used for most actions, but will be subject to fudging if I believe it feels too cheap(say roll 4 1s in a row and die), as well as a more number oriented stat system.
[X] Mechanics Medium. Dice rolls will consistently be used for most actions, but will be subject to fudging if I believe it feels too cheap(say roll 4 1s in a row and die), as well as a more number oriented stat system.
[X] South. Knowing who you are, there is a better than average chance that you will at some point hit Java, or Australia. Either is fine.
[X] Mechanics Medium. Dice rolls will consistently be used for most actions, but will be subject to fudging if I believe it feels too cheap(say roll 4 1s in a row and die), as well as a more number oriented stat system.
[X] Mechanics Medium. Dice rolls will consistently be used for most actions, but will be subject to fudging if I believe it feels too cheap(say roll 4 1s in a row and die), as well as a more number oriented stat system.
[X] West. Follow the setting sun. More daylight never hurt anybody.
[X] Mechanics Light. I'll stick mostly to narrative pathing with dicerolls for almost nothing.
[X] Mechanics Light. I'll stick mostly to narrative pathing with dicerolls for almost nothing.
[X] South. Knowing who you are, there is a better than average chance that you will at some point hit Java, or Australia. Either is fine.
[X] Mechanics Medium. Dice rolls will consistently be used for most actions, but will be subject to fudging if I believe it feels too cheap(say roll 4 1s in a row and die), as well as a more number oriented stat system.
[X] Mechanics Medium. Dice rolls will consistently be used for most actions, but will be subject to fudging if I believe it feels too cheap(say roll 4 1s in a row and die), as well as a more number oriented stat system.
- Location
- USA
Inserted tally
Alright everyone, thank you for voting, I'm very sorry but I'm going to cheat slightly with the vote and do a weird mix of light and medium, bear with me here, it was close, so I think that somewhere in between would be best.
Otherwise, vote closed.
*realizes that the vote tally isn't up to date
Sigh.
Alright everyone, thank you for voting, I'm very sorry but I'm going to cheat slightly with the vote and do a weird mix of light and medium, bear with me here, it was close, so I think that somewhere in between would be best.
Otherwise, vote closed.
*realizes that the vote tally isn't up to date
Sigh.
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- Location
- Hug the Moebot; Save the world
From what a quick Wiki-walk told me was that De Ruyter was woefully unequipped and unprepared for the battle she had to face. She was apparantly lacking in armor, anti-aircraft guns and firepower because of cost cutting and pacifism. Sank in the battle of the Java sea after taking a single torpedo.
- Location
- USA
For her tonnage, De Ruyter was a very impressive ship. For one, consider the date the ship was laid down, 1933, with the design having been completed earlier. While the design was altered multiple times throughout the construction, even at this early stage, the Dutch did recognize the threat of aircraft earlier than most other nations from what I can tell, with De Ruyter having been equipped with an unprecedented 10 of the excellent Bofors 40mm gun, along with the quite advanced Hazemeyer antiaircraft fire control system.
Consider the Agano-class cruiser - Wikipedia .
At an approximately comparable tonnage, the Dutch managed a ship that was only slightly inferior in armoring, superior in armament and antiaircraft armament, and only moderately inferior in speed, on a hull produced a full decade prior to the Japanese CL.
Unfortunately, greater tonnage is a trump card in almost every situation.
As for Java sea... we'll learn what she has to say about it later. Also, I have intentionally avoided describing her, because we'll do that once we actually get on dry land, as the final part of the introduction.
Consider the Agano-class cruiser - Wikipedia .
At an approximately comparable tonnage, the Dutch managed a ship that was only slightly inferior in armoring, superior in armament and antiaircraft armament, and only moderately inferior in speed, on a hull produced a full decade prior to the Japanese CL.
Unfortunately, greater tonnage is a trump card in almost every situation.
As for Java sea... we'll learn what she has to say about it later. Also, I have intentionally avoided describing her, because we'll do that once we actually get on dry land, as the final part of the introduction.
- Location
- Hug the Moebot; Save the world
Heh this is part of why i enjoy Kancolle stories. Its a fun mix of dark without being too grim, cute girls and learning new things about warships.
- Location
- Canada
[X] South. Knowing who you are, there is a better than average chance that you will at some point hit Java, or Australia. Either is fine.
[X] Mechanics Medium. Dice rolls will consistently be used for most actions, but will be subject to fudging if I believe it feels too cheap(say roll 4 1s in a row and die), as well as a more number oriented stat system.
[X] Mechanics Medium. Dice rolls will consistently be used for most actions, but will be subject to fudging if I believe it feels too cheap(say roll 4 1s in a row and die), as well as a more number oriented stat system.
1. Out of the Frying Pan
- Location
- USA
[X] South. Knowing who you are, there is a better than average chance that you will at some point hit Java, or Australia. Either is fine.
You don't want to think.
Instead, you simply appreciate the calm waters, the siren touched kiss of the wind lapping upon your exposed skin.
A normal person perhaps could have taken a guess at what is more or less south by tracking the progress of the sun, rising in the east, setting in the west, moss always growing north or whatever that insane drivel was, and going from there.
But you have something else. You have little explanation why, but you simply know which direction is south. Not just south. You mean exactly south. Not accidentally flailing southeast as the sun wanders over the sky in its predictable, yet lopsided arc throughout the sky thanks to the tilt of the Earth, you bloody well mean the south pole, the invisible part of the globe because they put a stick through it, the opposite side of the world to Santa Claus's workshop.
But how? Why is this something you simply know?
Perhaps it is the same reason you very quickly realized that walking on water was not the most efficient use of your ability to stand on liquids.
Instead, for the past hour or so, you had been more or less skating over the water. Had someone been watching, they would likely have first remarked on the very good chance that they were drunk, considering what they would be seeing, and then second, be remarkably disappointed at your complete and utter lack of enthusiasm for such a unique and magical experience.
You just didn't have it in you right now to do much more than the most lazy and unenergetic pace you could manage. Even so, you could understand the strange irony of the swiftness that such an ability had become so utterly mundane.
Why had you chosen to go south anyway? Perhaps you are subconsciously still in fear of Japan, fleeing the battlefield once more against the tide of the rising sun. You can't help but feel a surge of shame at that. No amount of rationalization will make it go away though. Intellectually you understand full well that the naval component of your forces was not only largely inferior to the Japanese forces in the area, but also not in a position to withdraw, not with the crown jewels of the Dutch colonial empire at stake.
Emotionally, however, you can't help but run by your last weeks over and over again. What did you do wrong? What could you have done better? Was it a mistake to keep attacking after the destroyer screen had been sunk or forced off? Should you have waited to fi-
Something within you screams. Danger is near. Danger is near.
You are startled out of your rut, and reflexively swerve to port with surprising grace, just in time to see a torpedo sail just meters to your left.
The horizon is scanned with all due swiftness. This is the kind of laziness that killed you and your friends last war.
You fear for a moment you will find nothing, but then you see it.
Raw and unfiltered panic brings your mind to a complete halt for a handful of seconds.
Roughly a kilometer away is a the only thing that could have just tried to kill you. A piercing blue eye continues to stare at you from just a few hundred meters away. It's followed you oh gosh whatelsecoulditbeimgoingtodie-
NO.
No. You can't lose your nerve.
It. It has to be a submarine. There's no other possibility. If it has failed to submerge by now, it either can't or won't be able to fast enough.
Instinct takes over as firing calculation go over dozens of times in your head. Range, 238 meters. Windspeed, negligible. Elevation, negligible. Ammunition loaded, high explosive.
You level your turrets at that thing from hell. Now that you think of it, the eye is quite the convenient target.
Seven shots go off nearly simultaneously, over half a ton of steel accelerating to 800 meters per second in the blink of an eye. You wish that one of the shells had destroyed its mouth.
It dies. It most certainly dies. It screams in an ear shattering wave of sound, far, far too close to the hell that you had experienced just half a day before. But thankfully, it is short.
Time to see your tormentors face to face. This time you are cautious. There is no detail not worth your attention, from the sound of fish and some far off whale, or the strange oil like substance flowing into the water from the submarine given human form. You will not be caught off guard again.
You stop a few meters from the corpse in case it has any last tricks. Before its body had been roughly halfway submerged under the water, ink black hair having been splayed out across the water, a small turret not too different from your own sitting near its shoulder. Now it lays, much like you did upon the surface of the water, gazing into the now nearly setting sun. Only difference is that upon waking up, you weren't missing half of your torso and both arms, bleeding into the ocean. Maybe this would have been you in another reality. Thoughts for another time.
It will be night soon. From there you will be able to get a more exact bead on your position. But now you have made contact with whatever wants to kill you, and if that thing had enough time to launch a torpedo at you...chances are that they know which direction you were going as well.
As if today had not been long enough, you hear something familiar. The very distant sound of cannon fire. It is unmistakeable. Perhaps something has been triggered by your sinking of the submarine. Or maybe you were simply too introspective earlier to notice that a battle was going on to the south.
You briefly glance at the floatplane sitting on a rail on your back. At some point while trolling through your memories, it became quite clear you had one. It may have enough fuel to last the entirety of the coming fight, or it may not. Perhaps it is time to make use of it.
All you know, is that after that? You can't sit back. You won't fail again. This time, you will fight, and you will win.
This is a neat way of forcing myself to write. We will now engage in battle fight for the first time as a Kanmusu, at least something that can fight back. Mechanics will be up before the next update, and part of the character sheet.
Where to?
[] Continue south. It's payback time.
-[] Wait until nightfall so you have a better idea of your positioning to approach the battle. Unfortunately that also means fighting at night.
-[] Intervene immediately. You won't sit back like you have so many times before.
[] Leave. You aren't strong enough to fight this battle.
Eyes in the sky?
[] Launch floatplane.
[] Do not launch floatplane.
You don't want to think.
Instead, you simply appreciate the calm waters, the siren touched kiss of the wind lapping upon your exposed skin.
A normal person perhaps could have taken a guess at what is more or less south by tracking the progress of the sun, rising in the east, setting in the west, moss always growing north or whatever that insane drivel was, and going from there.
But you have something else. You have little explanation why, but you simply know which direction is south. Not just south. You mean exactly south. Not accidentally flailing southeast as the sun wanders over the sky in its predictable, yet lopsided arc throughout the sky thanks to the tilt of the Earth, you bloody well mean the south pole, the invisible part of the globe because they put a stick through it, the opposite side of the world to Santa Claus's workshop.
But how? Why is this something you simply know?
Perhaps it is the same reason you very quickly realized that walking on water was not the most efficient use of your ability to stand on liquids.
Instead, for the past hour or so, you had been more or less skating over the water. Had someone been watching, they would likely have first remarked on the very good chance that they were drunk, considering what they would be seeing, and then second, be remarkably disappointed at your complete and utter lack of enthusiasm for such a unique and magical experience.
You just didn't have it in you right now to do much more than the most lazy and unenergetic pace you could manage. Even so, you could understand the strange irony of the swiftness that such an ability had become so utterly mundane.
Why had you chosen to go south anyway? Perhaps you are subconsciously still in fear of Japan, fleeing the battlefield once more against the tide of the rising sun. You can't help but feel a surge of shame at that. No amount of rationalization will make it go away though. Intellectually you understand full well that the naval component of your forces was not only largely inferior to the Japanese forces in the area, but also not in a position to withdraw, not with the crown jewels of the Dutch colonial empire at stake.
Emotionally, however, you can't help but run by your last weeks over and over again. What did you do wrong? What could you have done better? Was it a mistake to keep attacking after the destroyer screen had been sunk or forced off? Should you have waited to fi-
Roll:30 DC10
Something within you screams. Danger is near. Danger is near.
You are startled out of your rut, and reflexively swerve to port with surprising grace, just in time to see a torpedo sail just meters to your left.
The horizon is scanned with all due swiftness. This is the kind of laziness that killed you and your friends last war.
You fear for a moment you will find nothing, but then you see it.
Raw and unfiltered panic brings your mind to a complete halt for a handful of seconds.
Roughly a kilometer away is a the only thing that could have just tried to kill you. A piercing blue eye continues to stare at you from just a few hundred meters away. It's followed you oh gosh whatelsecoulditbeimgoingtodie-
NO.
No. You can't lose your nerve.
It. It has to be a submarine. There's no other possibility. If it has failed to submerge by now, it either can't or won't be able to fast enough.
Instinct takes over as firing calculation go over dozens of times in your head. Range, 238 meters. Windspeed, negligible. Elevation, negligible. Ammunition loaded, high explosive.
You level your turrets at that thing from hell. Now that you think of it, the eye is quite the convenient target.
Seven shots go off nearly simultaneously, over half a ton of steel accelerating to 800 meters per second in the blink of an eye. You wish that one of the shells had destroyed its mouth.
It dies. It most certainly dies. It screams in an ear shattering wave of sound, far, far too close to the hell that you had experienced just half a day before. But thankfully, it is short.
Time to see your tormentors face to face. This time you are cautious. There is no detail not worth your attention, from the sound of fish and some far off whale, or the strange oil like substance flowing into the water from the submarine given human form. You will not be caught off guard again.
You stop a few meters from the corpse in case it has any last tricks. Before its body had been roughly halfway submerged under the water, ink black hair having been splayed out across the water, a small turret not too different from your own sitting near its shoulder. Now it lays, much like you did upon the surface of the water, gazing into the now nearly setting sun. Only difference is that upon waking up, you weren't missing half of your torso and both arms, bleeding into the ocean. Maybe this would have been you in another reality. Thoughts for another time.
It will be night soon. From there you will be able to get a more exact bead on your position. But now you have made contact with whatever wants to kill you, and if that thing had enough time to launch a torpedo at you...chances are that they know which direction you were going as well.
As if today had not been long enough, you hear something familiar. The very distant sound of cannon fire. It is unmistakeable. Perhaps something has been triggered by your sinking of the submarine. Or maybe you were simply too introspective earlier to notice that a battle was going on to the south.
You briefly glance at the floatplane sitting on a rail on your back. At some point while trolling through your memories, it became quite clear you had one. It may have enough fuel to last the entirety of the coming fight, or it may not. Perhaps it is time to make use of it.
All you know, is that after that? You can't sit back. You won't fail again. This time, you will fight, and you will win.
This is a neat way of forcing myself to write. We will now engage in battle fight for the first time as a Kanmusu, at least something that can fight back. Mechanics will be up before the next update, and part of the character sheet.
Where to?
[] Continue south. It's payback time.
-[] Wait until nightfall so you have a better idea of your positioning to approach the battle. Unfortunately that also means fighting at night.
-[] Intervene immediately. You won't sit back like you have so many times before.
Eyes in the sky?
[] Launch floatplane.
[] Do not launch floatplane.
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ARBITRACOM
Sic transit gloria mundi
[x] Continue south. It's payback time.
[x] Intervene immediately. You won't sit back like you have so many times before.
[x] Launch floatplane.
[x] Intervene immediately. You won't sit back like you have so many times before.
[x] Launch floatplane.
- Location
- United States
[x] Continue south. It's payback time.
[x] Intervene immediately. You won't sit back like you have so many times before.
[x] Launch floatplane.
[x] Intervene immediately. You won't sit back like you have so many times before.
[x] Launch floatplane.