You wake feeling terrible, stumbling to consciousness abruptly from a deep slumber. You're...
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You wake feeling terrible, stumbling to consciousness abruptly from a deep slumber. You're disoriented and generally worse off than when you went to sleep.
Only... it wasn't sleep that took you.
Your head doesn't clear for the moment, but you can't rest either. There's blood everywhere, and corpses. It's difficult to describe the negative feelings you get from not noticing yours among them. Staring at the brutalized, now-still bodies of your friends does nothing good for your mental state, so you try to stagger somewhere else. But the walls are swimming, the very air distorted by...
...oh no. This can't... it isn't? Your panic subsides a little as you realize it's not... quite enough to be Nightmare. It's more a corona than a veil... but if you're not in Nightmare, and you have no business being alive...?
"You are banished from death."
You whirl around, which given your current state is more of a stumble. Before you stands a ghost, and you instinctively look down at your own not-ghost hands. Not-crushed either, for that matter. That can't be good, are you in Nightmare after all...?
Looking back at your companion, you see that she's a rather beautiful, serene sort of person, with pointed ears, a frilly backless dress, and a mass of tentacles for a lower half. Nothing about that makes any sense, but you're well past caring by now. Some kind of dead Lost, you'd presume. You stumble a bit towards her, figuring she's a better focal point than how terrible you feel or how terrible the corpses of your friends make you feel. On getting closer, you notice a scar running across her throat; you get the feeling it's not the kind she had time to heal up in life.
"Try to remember," she says, almost kindly. You really don't want to remember, but you really don't want to do anything right now, and if this can help...
What was your name?
[] It doesn't matter. You're dead or worse, along with everyone who ever knew you. A name can't save you now.
[] Write In. Maybe reminding yourself who you are can help you feel like being that person again.
What was your coloration?
[] It doesn't matter. Everything's matted red with the blood of your friends now.
[] Write In. Coloration is traditionally called the expression of one's soul, and while you're not sure you believe in that, it is true that a lot of Guardians define and associate strongly with their colors.
What was your position?
[] It doesn't matter. Your job was to not see your friends and comrades butchered right in front of you.
[] Berserker. You would charge into the fray to wreak havoc.
[] Assassin. You would sneak ahead to dispose of any stragglers.
[] Mage. You would rain death on enemies from afar.
[] Defender. You would screen for your more fragile allies.
[] Skirmisher. You would move opportunistically through combat, avoiding some troubles and hitting others.
[] Healer. You would aid and support your allies rather than act on your own.
[] Pick two. Your preferred role involved elements of two different strategies.
What did you do the day of the incident?
[] It doesn't matter. You squandered everything.
[] Personal Combat Training. You took battle very seriously, and were eager to hone your skills in hand to hand sparring. Not that it helped when screeching Wretches butchered everyone you've ever known.
[] Recruit Combat Training. You took battle very seriously, and were eager to ensure that your less experienced members were always on the path to improvement. You have the sick feeling it couldn't have saved them.
[] Lookout Duty. Ash, dust, ash, dust, ash in a cloud, shambling weaklings that can't make it over the wall. You don't know if you failed abysmally at everything you swore to do or if this evil was really just that cunning and insidious, but either way you reported all clear just hours before everyone was slaughtered.
[] Foray. There was nothing there. A few Faceless, that's it. You took them out without incident or even really effort, you kept walking, you came home. There was nothing out there! Or did you just miss it? Did everyone die because you weren't paying attention?
[] Company. You spent time with your friends and comrades. You did silly things, told stupid jokes, and generally acted like nothing was wrong. You're not sure if you should cherish the moments you had or feel sick about how you let it all slip away.
[] Meditation. For a Guardian, becoming overly focused on physical things is especially dangerous. You took time to center yourself, meditate in the gardens, contemplate things you'd normally find beneath your notice, and otherwise retreat from the world and reorient yourself. It was supposed to prevent just this thing from happening.
[] Relaxation. You took a break. You just relaxed and enjoyed yourself, and now they're all dead and it's your fault.
What did you feel when the storm began worsening?
[] It doesn't matter. Your feelings were no more useful than the rest of you.
[] Caution. It's well known that poor weather is a possible sign of Nightmare, so you were on guard in case something assaulted the walls. Which it did, so good thing you were prepared!
[] Joy. You liked stormy weather, sign of the Enemy or not, and were looking forward to a bit of rain. Happy now?
[] Apathy. You weren't much for superstition or blind cowardice, so you didn't really care if it rained or a few Faceless clawed their way up the ramparts. Your foresight is legendary.
What did you feel when the alarm went up?
[] It doesn't matter. Your feelings were no more useful than the rest of you.
[] Duty. This was literally your job. Repel the invaders at all costs. You failed, and everyone around you paid the price for it.
[] Alarm. No advanced warning, triple alarms? Nothing like that was even supposed to exist out here, and now it's ambushing the walls? You knew immediately something had gone terribly wrong. And not just because you were wearing the badge of a Guardian.
[] Apathy. Eh, another attack. Nightmare aren't terribly dangerous normally, this fortress was well defended, and the Nightmare it guarded against well suppressed. Nothing to slouch about, but you couldn't bring yourself to feel concern. Good instincts, soldier.
What did you do when the attack started?
[] It doesn't matter. The attack succeeded. You did not.
[] Rush to the densest concentration of enemies. You were needed. Or maybe more than you was needed.
[] Hold the line. One of the finer points of fortification defense is that blank spots totally defeat the purpose. Accordingly, you stood still and defended against whatever came your way, even when that was nothing. Or nothing you could stop.
[] Kill them all. You focused on thinning enemy numbers. Nightmare often relies on drowning its foes in bodies, so you worked to lessen the tide. Not by nearly enough, apparently.
[] Disrupt their attack. Nightmare is often too large to handle all at once, so you focused on trying to disrupt and distract them, rather than kill or block them outright. Sadly, they had no difficulty doing just that to you.
[] Runner duty. It's not the most glamorous job, but as it turns out giving and receiving updates and orders helps a fortress under attack function as a coherent whole rather than a gaggle of smaller, potentially easier targets. Apparently not whole enough, though.
[] Help the wounded. For most sieges, aiding the wounded is a new recruit's task, or even punishment. This quickly turned into something different, so you focused on trying to preserve as many lives as possible. Needless to say, you failed utterly.
What did you do when they started murdering your friends?
[] It doesn't matter. That they're dead is all you really need to know about that situation.
[] Threaten. It was the proper response, don't do that or you'll kill them slower than usual. They were no doubt very spooked as they continued ritually bludgeoning your comrades to death with a ridged mace.
[] Curse. You knew they weren't getting out of this, so you did the only thing you could think of: Swore vengeance on their wretched hides. They were no doubt very concerned as they finished the last of your friends and then turned to you.
[] Deal. Making deals with Nightmare is one of those things you're not supposed to do. But then, so is letting your friends be murdered in front of you without doing anything. A pity you had nothing they wanted, so it wound up being both.
[] Beg. Nightmare are not known for their pity, but you had nothing left. The only way your friends were getting out of this was if the Nightmare graciously decided they were, and pleading for them to stop was the only thing you could think of. It went about as well as could be expected.
[] Cry. You knew none of them were getting out of this, and while you were supposed to be a tireless soldier against the dark, the realization that you were losing them was too much. Good job, stalwart defender.
What did you do when they started murdering you?
[] It doesn't matter. You probably deserved it anyway.
[] Threaten. In hindsight, it seems unlikely they'd care, but at the time it seemed like the right thing to do. You're sure they thought twice before seamlessly doing it anyway.
[] Curse. Seeing your friends executed in front of you didn't leave you with many illusions about what came next, so you did the only impotent hateful thing you could. No doubt your words haunt them even now.
[] Deal. You wouldn't mind if they leave this part out of the histories, but you tried cutting a deal with them. Needless to say, you had nothing they wanted, and so they butchered you like the treacherous filth you are.
[] Beg. It wasn't your finest moment. You shamelessly begged them not to kill you, having just watched them kill all of your friends. Shockingly, it didn't work, unless you were going for the high score for most shameful service as a Guardian.
[] Cry. It wasn't glamorous, but you had just seen your friends slowly and painfully killed in front of you and were next in line, with nothing you could possibly do to stop it. Other than not be a failure at everything, obviously.
Only... it wasn't sleep that took you.
Your head doesn't clear for the moment, but you can't rest either. There's blood everywhere, and corpses. It's difficult to describe the negative feelings you get from not noticing yours among them. Staring at the brutalized, now-still bodies of your friends does nothing good for your mental state, so you try to stagger somewhere else. But the walls are swimming, the very air distorted by...
...oh no. This can't... it isn't? Your panic subsides a little as you realize it's not... quite enough to be Nightmare. It's more a corona than a veil... but if you're not in Nightmare, and you have no business being alive...?
"You are banished from death."
You whirl around, which given your current state is more of a stumble. Before you stands a ghost, and you instinctively look down at your own not-ghost hands. Not-crushed either, for that matter. That can't be good, are you in Nightmare after all...?
Looking back at your companion, you see that she's a rather beautiful, serene sort of person, with pointed ears, a frilly backless dress, and a mass of tentacles for a lower half. Nothing about that makes any sense, but you're well past caring by now. Some kind of dead Lost, you'd presume. You stumble a bit towards her, figuring she's a better focal point than how terrible you feel or how terrible the corpses of your friends make you feel. On getting closer, you notice a scar running across her throat; you get the feeling it's not the kind she had time to heal up in life.
"Try to remember," she says, almost kindly. You really don't want to remember, but you really don't want to do anything right now, and if this can help...
What was your name?
[] It doesn't matter. You're dead or worse, along with everyone who ever knew you. A name can't save you now.
[] Write In. Maybe reminding yourself who you are can help you feel like being that person again.
What was your coloration?
[] It doesn't matter. Everything's matted red with the blood of your friends now.
[] Write In. Coloration is traditionally called the expression of one's soul, and while you're not sure you believe in that, it is true that a lot of Guardians define and associate strongly with their colors.
What was your position?
[] It doesn't matter. Your job was to not see your friends and comrades butchered right in front of you.
[] Berserker. You would charge into the fray to wreak havoc.
[] Assassin. You would sneak ahead to dispose of any stragglers.
[] Mage. You would rain death on enemies from afar.
[] Defender. You would screen for your more fragile allies.
[] Skirmisher. You would move opportunistically through combat, avoiding some troubles and hitting others.
[] Healer. You would aid and support your allies rather than act on your own.
[] Pick two. Your preferred role involved elements of two different strategies.
What did you do the day of the incident?
[] It doesn't matter. You squandered everything.
[] Personal Combat Training. You took battle very seriously, and were eager to hone your skills in hand to hand sparring. Not that it helped when screeching Wretches butchered everyone you've ever known.
[] Recruit Combat Training. You took battle very seriously, and were eager to ensure that your less experienced members were always on the path to improvement. You have the sick feeling it couldn't have saved them.
[] Lookout Duty. Ash, dust, ash, dust, ash in a cloud, shambling weaklings that can't make it over the wall. You don't know if you failed abysmally at everything you swore to do or if this evil was really just that cunning and insidious, but either way you reported all clear just hours before everyone was slaughtered.
[] Foray. There was nothing there. A few Faceless, that's it. You took them out without incident or even really effort, you kept walking, you came home. There was nothing out there! Or did you just miss it? Did everyone die because you weren't paying attention?
[] Company. You spent time with your friends and comrades. You did silly things, told stupid jokes, and generally acted like nothing was wrong. You're not sure if you should cherish the moments you had or feel sick about how you let it all slip away.
[] Meditation. For a Guardian, becoming overly focused on physical things is especially dangerous. You took time to center yourself, meditate in the gardens, contemplate things you'd normally find beneath your notice, and otherwise retreat from the world and reorient yourself. It was supposed to prevent just this thing from happening.
[] Relaxation. You took a break. You just relaxed and enjoyed yourself, and now they're all dead and it's your fault.
What did you feel when the storm began worsening?
[] It doesn't matter. Your feelings were no more useful than the rest of you.
[] Caution. It's well known that poor weather is a possible sign of Nightmare, so you were on guard in case something assaulted the walls. Which it did, so good thing you were prepared!
[] Joy. You liked stormy weather, sign of the Enemy or not, and were looking forward to a bit of rain. Happy now?
[] Apathy. You weren't much for superstition or blind cowardice, so you didn't really care if it rained or a few Faceless clawed their way up the ramparts. Your foresight is legendary.
What did you feel when the alarm went up?
[] It doesn't matter. Your feelings were no more useful than the rest of you.
[] Duty. This was literally your job. Repel the invaders at all costs. You failed, and everyone around you paid the price for it.
[] Alarm. No advanced warning, triple alarms? Nothing like that was even supposed to exist out here, and now it's ambushing the walls? You knew immediately something had gone terribly wrong. And not just because you were wearing the badge of a Guardian.
[] Apathy. Eh, another attack. Nightmare aren't terribly dangerous normally, this fortress was well defended, and the Nightmare it guarded against well suppressed. Nothing to slouch about, but you couldn't bring yourself to feel concern. Good instincts, soldier.
What did you do when the attack started?
[] It doesn't matter. The attack succeeded. You did not.
[] Rush to the densest concentration of enemies. You were needed. Or maybe more than you was needed.
[] Hold the line. One of the finer points of fortification defense is that blank spots totally defeat the purpose. Accordingly, you stood still and defended against whatever came your way, even when that was nothing. Or nothing you could stop.
[] Kill them all. You focused on thinning enemy numbers. Nightmare often relies on drowning its foes in bodies, so you worked to lessen the tide. Not by nearly enough, apparently.
[] Disrupt their attack. Nightmare is often too large to handle all at once, so you focused on trying to disrupt and distract them, rather than kill or block them outright. Sadly, they had no difficulty doing just that to you.
[] Runner duty. It's not the most glamorous job, but as it turns out giving and receiving updates and orders helps a fortress under attack function as a coherent whole rather than a gaggle of smaller, potentially easier targets. Apparently not whole enough, though.
[] Help the wounded. For most sieges, aiding the wounded is a new recruit's task, or even punishment. This quickly turned into something different, so you focused on trying to preserve as many lives as possible. Needless to say, you failed utterly.
What did you do when they started murdering your friends?
[] It doesn't matter. That they're dead is all you really need to know about that situation.
[] Threaten. It was the proper response, don't do that or you'll kill them slower than usual. They were no doubt very spooked as they continued ritually bludgeoning your comrades to death with a ridged mace.
[] Curse. You knew they weren't getting out of this, so you did the only thing you could think of: Swore vengeance on their wretched hides. They were no doubt very concerned as they finished the last of your friends and then turned to you.
[] Deal. Making deals with Nightmare is one of those things you're not supposed to do. But then, so is letting your friends be murdered in front of you without doing anything. A pity you had nothing they wanted, so it wound up being both.
[] Beg. Nightmare are not known for their pity, but you had nothing left. The only way your friends were getting out of this was if the Nightmare graciously decided they were, and pleading for them to stop was the only thing you could think of. It went about as well as could be expected.
[] Cry. You knew none of them were getting out of this, and while you were supposed to be a tireless soldier against the dark, the realization that you were losing them was too much. Good job, stalwart defender.
What did you do when they started murdering you?
[] It doesn't matter. You probably deserved it anyway.
[] Threaten. In hindsight, it seems unlikely they'd care, but at the time it seemed like the right thing to do. You're sure they thought twice before seamlessly doing it anyway.
[] Curse. Seeing your friends executed in front of you didn't leave you with many illusions about what came next, so you did the only impotent hateful thing you could. No doubt your words haunt them even now.
[] Deal. You wouldn't mind if they leave this part out of the histories, but you tried cutting a deal with them. Needless to say, you had nothing they wanted, and so they butchered you like the treacherous filth you are.
[] Beg. It wasn't your finest moment. You shamelessly begged them not to kill you, having just watched them kill all of your friends. Shockingly, it didn't work, unless you were going for the high score for most shameful service as a Guardian.
[] Cry. It wasn't glamorous, but you had just seen your friends slowly and painfully killed in front of you and were next in line, with nothing you could possibly do to stop it. Other than not be a failure at everything, obviously.
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[X] Arisa Beck
[X] White and Red
[X] Pick two. Your preferred role involved elements of two different strategies.
-[X] Mage. You would rain death on enemies from afar.
-[X] Skirmisher. You would move opportunistically through combat, avoiding some troubles and hitting others.
[X] Company. You spent time with your friends and comrades. You did silly things, told stupid jokes, and generally acted like nothing was wrong. You're not sure if you should cherish the moments you had or feel sick about how you let it all slip away.
[X] Joy. You liked stormy weather, sign of the Enemy or not, and were looking forward to a bit of rain. Happy now?
[X] Duty. This was literally your job. Repel the invaders at all costs. You failed, and everyone around you paid the price for it.
[X] Disrupt their attack. Nightmare is often too large to handle all at once, so you focused on trying to disrupt and distract them, rather than kill or block them outright. Sadly, they had no difficulty doing just that to you.
[X] Cry. You knew none of them were getting out of this, and while you were supposed to be a tireless soldier against the dark, the realization that you were losing them was too much. Good job, stalwart defender.
[X] Curse. Seeing your friends executed in front of you didn't leave you with many illusions about what came next, so you did the only impotent hateful thing you could. No doubt your words haunt them even now.
[X] White and Red
[X] Pick two. Your preferred role involved elements of two different strategies.
-[X] Mage. You would rain death on enemies from afar.
-[X] Skirmisher. You would move opportunistically through combat, avoiding some troubles and hitting others.
[X] Company. You spent time with your friends and comrades. You did silly things, told stupid jokes, and generally acted like nothing was wrong. You're not sure if you should cherish the moments you had or feel sick about how you let it all slip away.
[X] Joy. You liked stormy weather, sign of the Enemy or not, and were looking forward to a bit of rain. Happy now?
[X] Duty. This was literally your job. Repel the invaders at all costs. You failed, and everyone around you paid the price for it.
[X] Disrupt their attack. Nightmare is often too large to handle all at once, so you focused on trying to disrupt and distract them, rather than kill or block them outright. Sadly, they had no difficulty doing just that to you.
[X] Cry. You knew none of them were getting out of this, and while you were supposed to be a tireless soldier against the dark, the realization that you were losing them was too much. Good job, stalwart defender.
[X] Curse. Seeing your friends executed in front of you didn't leave you with many illusions about what came next, so you did the only impotent hateful thing you could. No doubt your words haunt them even now.
[X] Alia Reed
[X] Silver
[X] Berserker. You would charge into the fray to wreak havoc.
[X] Foray. There was nothing there. A few Faceless, that's it. You took them out without incident or even really effort, you kept walking, you came home. There was nothing out there! Or did you just miss it? Did everyone die because you weren't paying attention?
[X] Joy. You liked stormy weather, sign of the Enemy or not, and were looking forward to a bit of rain. Happy now?
[X] Kill them all. You focused on thinning enemy numbers. Nightmare often relies on drowning its foes in bodies, so you worked to lessen the tide. Not by nearly enough, apparently.
[X] Curse. You knew they weren't getting out of this, so you did the only thing you could think of: Swore vengeance on their wretched hides. They were no doubt very concerned as they finished the last of your friends and then turned to you.
[X] Cry. It wasn't glamorous, but you had just seen your friends slowly and painfully killed in front of you and were next in line, with nothing you could possibly do to stop it. Other than not be a failure at everything, obviously.
[X] Silver
[X] Berserker. You would charge into the fray to wreak havoc.
[X] Foray. There was nothing there. A few Faceless, that's it. You took them out without incident or even really effort, you kept walking, you came home. There was nothing out there! Or did you just miss it? Did everyone die because you weren't paying attention?
[X] Joy. You liked stormy weather, sign of the Enemy or not, and were looking forward to a bit of rain. Happy now?
[X] Kill them all. You focused on thinning enemy numbers. Nightmare often relies on drowning its foes in bodies, so you worked to lessen the tide. Not by nearly enough, apparently.
[X] Curse. You knew they weren't getting out of this, so you did the only thing you could think of: Swore vengeance on their wretched hides. They were no doubt very concerned as they finished the last of your friends and then turned to you.
[X] Cry. It wasn't glamorous, but you had just seen your friends slowly and painfully killed in front of you and were next in line, with nothing you could possibly do to stop it. Other than not be a failure at everything, obviously.
Look to the Left
Back from the Void
- Location
- OH CANADA!!!
[X] veekie
ChildishChimera
A umbran summon
- Location
- New York
[X] Shiro Ayamu
[X] Red and black
[X] Pick two. Your preferred role involved elements of two different strategies.
-[X] Berserker. You would charge into the fray to wreak havoc.
-[X] Defender. You would screen for your more fragile allies.
[X] Company. You spent time with your friends and comrades. You did silly things, told stupid jokes, and generally acted like nothing was wrong. You're not sure if you should cherish the moments you had or feel sick about how you let it all slip away.
[X] Joy. You liked stormy weather, sign of the Enemy or not, and were looking forward to a bit of rain. Happy now?
[X] Duty. This was literally your job. Repel the invaders at all costs. You failed, and everyone around you paid the price for it.
[X] Rush to the densest concentration of enemies. You were needed. Or maybe more than you was needed.
[X] Curse. You knew they weren't getting out of this, so you did the only thing you could think of: Swore vengeance on their wretched hides. They were no doubt very concerned as they finished the last of your friends and then turned to you.
[X] Cry. It wasn't glamorous, but you had just seen your friends slowly and painfully killed in front of you and were next in line, with nothing you could possibly do to stop it. Other than not be a failure at everything, obviously.
[X] Red and black
[X] Pick two. Your preferred role involved elements of two different strategies.
-[X] Berserker. You would charge into the fray to wreak havoc.
-[X] Defender. You would screen for your more fragile allies.
[X] Company. You spent time with your friends and comrades. You did silly things, told stupid jokes, and generally acted like nothing was wrong. You're not sure if you should cherish the moments you had or feel sick about how you let it all slip away.
[X] Joy. You liked stormy weather, sign of the Enemy or not, and were looking forward to a bit of rain. Happy now?
[X] Duty. This was literally your job. Repel the invaders at all costs. You failed, and everyone around you paid the price for it.
[X] Rush to the densest concentration of enemies. You were needed. Or maybe more than you was needed.
[X] Curse. You knew they weren't getting out of this, so you did the only thing you could think of: Swore vengeance on their wretched hides. They were no doubt very concerned as they finished the last of your friends and then turned to you.
[X] Cry. It wasn't glamorous, but you had just seen your friends slowly and painfully killed in front of you and were next in line, with nothing you could possibly do to stop it. Other than not be a failure at everything, obviously.
DON'T SCARY
Hope is the road to disappointment....
[X] Berryalise Cadwell
[X] Orange and Blue
Because why not.
[X] Berserker. You would charge into the fray to wreak havoc.
-[X] Mage. You would rain death on enemies from afar.
Pretty balanced.
[X] Company. You spent time with your friends and comrades. You did silly things, told stupid jokes, and generally acted like nothing was wrong. You're not sure if you should cherish the moments you had or feel sick about how you let it all slip away.
[X] Apathy. You weren't much forsuperstition or blind cowardice, so you didn't really care if it rained or a few Faceless clawed their way up the ramparts. Your foresight is legendary.
[X] Apathy. Eh, another attack. Nightmare aren't terribly dangerous normally, this fortress was well defended, and the Nightmare it guarded against well suppressed. Nothing to slouch about, but you couldn't bring yourself to feel concern. Good instincts, soldier.
[X] Hold the line. One of the finer points of fortification defense is that blank spots totally defeat the purpose. Accordingly, you stood still and defended against whatever came your way, even when that was nothing. Or nothing you could stop.
[X] Curse. You knew they weren't gettingout of this, so you did the only thing you could think of: Swore vengeance ontheir wretched hides. They were nodoubt very concerned as they finished the last of your friends and then turned to you.
[X] Threaten. In hindsight, it seems unlikely they'd care, but at the time it seemed like the right thing to do. You're sure they thought twice before seamlessly doing it anyway.
This vote is partially inspired by one of my new favorite reads and the main character of it.
[X] Orange and Blue
Because why not.
[X] Berserker. You would charge into the fray to wreak havoc.
-[X] Mage. You would rain death on enemies from afar.
Pretty balanced.
[X] Company. You spent time with your friends and comrades. You did silly things, told stupid jokes, and generally acted like nothing was wrong. You're not sure if you should cherish the moments you had or feel sick about how you let it all slip away.
[X] Apathy. You weren't much forsuperstition or blind cowardice, so you didn't really care if it rained or a few Faceless clawed their way up the ramparts. Your foresight is legendary.
[X] Apathy. Eh, another attack. Nightmare aren't terribly dangerous normally, this fortress was well defended, and the Nightmare it guarded against well suppressed. Nothing to slouch about, but you couldn't bring yourself to feel concern. Good instincts, soldier.
[X] Hold the line. One of the finer points of fortification defense is that blank spots totally defeat the purpose. Accordingly, you stood still and defended against whatever came your way, even when that was nothing. Or nothing you could stop.
[X] Curse. You knew they weren't gettingout of this, so you did the only thing you could think of: Swore vengeance ontheir wretched hides. They were nodoubt very concerned as they finished the last of your friends and then turned to you.
[X] Threaten. In hindsight, it seems unlikely they'd care, but at the time it seemed like the right thing to do. You're sure they thought twice before seamlessly doing it anyway.
This vote is partially inspired by one of my new favorite reads and the main character of it.
- Location
- St. Petersburg
Well, that's one way to start the quest. No way but up, eh?
Surprisingly, veekie's vote mirrors what I want almost to a 'T'. Must be a sign.
[X] Arisa Beck
[X] Emerald Green.
[X] Pick two. Your preferred role involved elements of two different strategies.
-[X] Mage. You would rain death on enemies from afar.
-[X] Skirmisher. You would move opportunistically through combat, avoiding some troubles and hitting others.
[X] Foray. There was nothing there. A few Faceless, that's it. You took them out without incident or even really effort, you kept walking, you came home. There was nothing out there! Or did you just miss it? Did everyone die because you weren't paying attention?
[X] Joy. You liked stormy weather, sign of the Enemy or not, and were looking forward to a bit of rain. Happy now?
[X] Duty. This was literally your job. Repel the invaders at all costs. You failed, and everyone around you paid the price for it.
[X] Disrupt their attack. Nightmare is often too large to handle all at once, so you focused on trying to disrupt and distract them, rather than kill or block them outright. Sadly, they had no difficulty doing just that to you.
[X] Cry. You knew none of them were getting out of this, and while you were supposed to be a tireless soldier against the dark, the realization that you were losing them was too much. Good job, stalwart defender.
[X] Curse. Seeing your friends executed in front of you didn't leave you with many illusions about what came next, so you did the only impotent hateful thing you could. No doubt your words haunt them even now.
Surprisingly, veekie's vote mirrors what I want almost to a 'T'. Must be a sign.
[X] Arisa Beck
[X] Emerald Green.
[X] Pick two. Your preferred role involved elements of two different strategies.
-[X] Mage. You would rain death on enemies from afar.
-[X] Skirmisher. You would move opportunistically through combat, avoiding some troubles and hitting others.
[X] Foray. There was nothing there. A few Faceless, that's it. You took them out without incident or even really effort, you kept walking, you came home. There was nothing out there! Or did you just miss it? Did everyone die because you weren't paying attention?
[X] Joy. You liked stormy weather, sign of the Enemy or not, and were looking forward to a bit of rain. Happy now?
[X] Duty. This was literally your job. Repel the invaders at all costs. You failed, and everyone around you paid the price for it.
[X] Disrupt their attack. Nightmare is often too large to handle all at once, so you focused on trying to disrupt and distract them, rather than kill or block them outright. Sadly, they had no difficulty doing just that to you.
[X] Cry. You knew none of them were getting out of this, and while you were supposed to be a tireless soldier against the dark, the realization that you were losing them was too much. Good job, stalwart defender.
[X] Curse. Seeing your friends executed in front of you didn't leave you with many illusions about what came next, so you did the only impotent hateful thing you could. No doubt your words haunt them even now.
- Location
- The World
[X] It doesn't matter. You're dead or worse, along with everyone who ever knew you. A name can't save you now.
[X] It doesn't matter. Everything's matted red with the blood of your friends now.
[X] Berserker. You would charge into the fray to wreak havoc.
[X] Mage. You would rain death on enemies from afar.
[X] Foray. There was nothing there. A few Faceless, that's it. You took them out without incident or even really effort, you kept walking, you came home. There was nothing out there! Or did you just miss it? Did everyone die because you weren't paying attention?
[X] Apathy. You weren't much for superstition or blind cowardice, so you didn't really care if it rained or a few Faceless clawed their way up the ramparts. Your foresight is legendary.
[X] Kill them all. You focused on thinning enemy numbers. Nightmare often relies on drowning its foes in bodies, so you worked to lessen the tide. Not by nearly enough, apparently.
[X] It doesn't matter. That they're dead is all you really need to know about that situation.
[X] Curse. Seeing your friends executed in front of you didn't leave you with many illusions about what came next, so you did the only impotent hateful thing you could. No doubt your words haunt them even now.
[X] It doesn't matter. Everything's matted red with the blood of your friends now.
[X] Berserker. You would charge into the fray to wreak havoc.
[X] Mage. You would rain death on enemies from afar.
[X] Foray. There was nothing there. A few Faceless, that's it. You took them out without incident or even really effort, you kept walking, you came home. There was nothing out there! Or did you just miss it? Did everyone die because you weren't paying attention?
[X] Apathy. You weren't much for superstition or blind cowardice, so you didn't really care if it rained or a few Faceless clawed their way up the ramparts. Your foresight is legendary.
[X] Kill them all. You focused on thinning enemy numbers. Nightmare often relies on drowning its foes in bodies, so you worked to lessen the tide. Not by nearly enough, apparently.
[X] It doesn't matter. That they're dead is all you really need to know about that situation.
[X] Curse. Seeing your friends executed in front of you didn't leave you with many illusions about what came next, so you did the only impotent hateful thing you could. No doubt your words haunt them even now.
[X] veekie
Pretty much what I want, except for one of the roles
Pretty much what I want, except for one of the roles
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Skarmory
Girl from the Black Lizard Planet
- Location
- Case Western Reserve University
Meh, I'm not all that much of a fan of blind bandwagoning even when I show up late, so I'll just vote for what I want whether or not it has any chance of winning.
[x] Cassidy Jones
[x] The bluish-green coloration of a pristine lake.
[x] Skirmisher. You would move opportunistically through combat, avoiding some troubles and hitting others.
[x] Foray. There was nothing there. A few Faceless, that's it. You took them out without incident or even really effort, you kept walking, you came home. There was nothing out there! Or did you just miss it? Did everyone die because you weren't paying attention?
[x] Joy. You liked stormy weather, sign of the Enemy or not, and were looking forward to a bit of rain. Happy now?
[x] Duty. This was literally your job. Repel the invaders at all costs. You failed, and everyone around you paid the price for it.
[x] Disrupt their attack. Nightmare is often too large to handle all at once, so you focused on trying to disrupt and distract them, rather than kill or block them outright. Sadly, they had no difficulty doing just that to you.
[x] Curse. You knew they weren't getting out of this, so you did the only thing you could think of: Swore vengeance on their wretched hides. They were no doubt very concerned as they finished the last of your friends and then turned to you.
[x] Curse. Seeing your friends executed in front of you didn't leave you with many illusions about what came next, so you did the only impotent hateful thing you could. No doubt your words haunt them even now.
[x] Cassidy Jones
[x] The bluish-green coloration of a pristine lake.
[x] Skirmisher. You would move opportunistically through combat, avoiding some troubles and hitting others.
[x] Foray. There was nothing there. A few Faceless, that's it. You took them out without incident or even really effort, you kept walking, you came home. There was nothing out there! Or did you just miss it? Did everyone die because you weren't paying attention?
[x] Joy. You liked stormy weather, sign of the Enemy or not, and were looking forward to a bit of rain. Happy now?
[x] Duty. This was literally your job. Repel the invaders at all costs. You failed, and everyone around you paid the price for it.
[x] Disrupt their attack. Nightmare is often too large to handle all at once, so you focused on trying to disrupt and distract them, rather than kill or block them outright. Sadly, they had no difficulty doing just that to you.
[x] Curse. You knew they weren't getting out of this, so you did the only thing you could think of: Swore vengeance on their wretched hides. They were no doubt very concerned as they finished the last of your friends and then turned to you.
[x] Curse. Seeing your friends executed in front of you didn't leave you with many illusions about what came next, so you did the only impotent hateful thing you could. No doubt your words haunt them even now.
[X] Arisa Beck
[X] White and Red
[X] Pick two. Your preferred role involved elements of two different strategies.
-[X] Mage. You would rain death on enemies from afar.
-[X] Skirmisher. You would move opportunistically through combat, avoiding some troubles and hitting others.
[X] Company. You spent time with your friends and comrades. You did silly things, told stupid jokes, and generally acted like nothing was wrong. You're not sure if you should cherish the moments you had or feel sick about how you let it all slip away.
[X] Joy. You liked stormy weather, sign of the Enemy or not, and were looking forward to a bit of rain. Happy now?
[X] Duty. This was literally your job. Repel the invaders at all costs. You failed, and everyone around you paid the price for it.
[X] Disrupt their attack. Nightmare is often too large to handle all at once, so you focused on trying to disrupt and distract them, rather than kill or block them outright. Sadly, they had no difficulty doing just that to you.
[X] Cry. You knew none of them were getting out of this, and while you were supposed to be a tireless soldier against the dark, the realization that you were losing them was too much. Good job, stalwart defender.
[X] Curse. Seeing your friends executed in front of you didn't leave you with many illusions about what came next, so you did the only impotent hateful thing you could. No doubt your words haunt them even now.
[X] White and Red
[X] Pick two. Your preferred role involved elements of two different strategies.
-[X] Mage. You would rain death on enemies from afar.
-[X] Skirmisher. You would move opportunistically through combat, avoiding some troubles and hitting others.
[X] Company. You spent time with your friends and comrades. You did silly things, told stupid jokes, and generally acted like nothing was wrong. You're not sure if you should cherish the moments you had or feel sick about how you let it all slip away.
[X] Joy. You liked stormy weather, sign of the Enemy or not, and were looking forward to a bit of rain. Happy now?
[X] Duty. This was literally your job. Repel the invaders at all costs. You failed, and everyone around you paid the price for it.
[X] Disrupt their attack. Nightmare is often too large to handle all at once, so you focused on trying to disrupt and distract them, rather than kill or block them outright. Sadly, they had no difficulty doing just that to you.
[X] Cry. You knew none of them were getting out of this, and while you were supposed to be a tireless soldier against the dark, the realization that you were losing them was too much. Good job, stalwart defender.
[X] Curse. Seeing your friends executed in front of you didn't leave you with many illusions about what came next, so you did the only impotent hateful thing you could. No doubt your words haunt them even now.
Voting and Mechanics
- Location
- The Internet
Voting Rules
-Persuasive (to our main character) reasoning is generally more important than raw numbers
-Write ins are always an option
Mechanics
There are six main stats:
Melee covers attempting to harm things in close range.
Stealth covers attempting to harm something from ambush.
Magic covers attempting to harm something at range. This does include using not-very-magical methods such as mundane bows.
Defense covers avoiding harm, whether from the above three stats or other hazards.
Mobility covers engaging and avoiding engagement by targets of your choice.
Support covers aiding allies, including by hindering foes.
Combat and other tests are resolved by stacking the values of each participant and rolling between them. For instance, if a character with 3 Melee attempts to beat a character with 2 Defense to death, the result will be 3vs2, with the attacker succeeding on a 1, 2, or 3, and failing on a 4 or 5.
Generally speaking, each successful attack deals 1 point of damage. When reduced to 0 HP, a character is "slain." For weaker enemies, this usually means they actually die (or at least that you can't tell the difference). More persistent foes may have obnoxious and impolite habits regarding staying dead.
Combat with multiple foes gets tricky... for the outnumbering forces. Sufficiently trained or coordinated foes may be able to attack simultaneously or grant each other bonuses, but disorganized mobs are often forced to attack one at a time, lest they bungle each other's efforts.
More mechanics will be revealed as they become relevant.
-Persuasive (to our main character) reasoning is generally more important than raw numbers
-Write ins are always an option
Mechanics
There are six main stats:
Melee covers attempting to harm things in close range.
Stealth covers attempting to harm something from ambush.
Magic covers attempting to harm something at range. This does include using not-very-magical methods such as mundane bows.
Defense covers avoiding harm, whether from the above three stats or other hazards.
Mobility covers engaging and avoiding engagement by targets of your choice.
Support covers aiding allies, including by hindering foes.
Combat and other tests are resolved by stacking the values of each participant and rolling between them. For instance, if a character with 3 Melee attempts to beat a character with 2 Defense to death, the result will be 3vs2, with the attacker succeeding on a 1, 2, or 3, and failing on a 4 or 5.
Generally speaking, each successful attack deals 1 point of damage. When reduced to 0 HP, a character is "slain." For weaker enemies, this usually means they actually die (or at least that you can't tell the difference). More persistent foes may have obnoxious and impolite habits regarding staying dead.
Combat with multiple foes gets tricky... for the outnumbering forces. Sufficiently trained or coordinated foes may be able to attack simultaneously or grant each other bonuses, but disorganized mobs are often forced to attack one at a time, lest they bungle each other's efforts.
More mechanics will be revealed as they become relevant.
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Character List and Maps
- Location
- The Internet
Known Characters
Known Maps
Current Region (Name, if any, unknown)
Arisa Beck
White/Red Sniper, Ronin
5/5 HP
Melee 2
Stealth 2
Magic 2
Defense 1
Mobility 3
Support 2
Master's Hand: Upon being slain, gain final chance to undo attacker. If successful, return to life.
Chilling in her very own tomb.
White/Red Sniper, Ronin
5/5 HP
Melee 2
Stealth 2
Magic 2
Defense 1
Mobility 3
Support 2
Master's Hand: Upon being slain, gain final chance to undo attacker. If successful, return to life.
Chilling in her very own tomb.
Known Maps
Current Region (Name, if any, unknown)
First Room, "Kitchen": A comfortable room with a few stone sarcophagi doubling as tables.
-Multicolored cooking fire with pot
-Basic "cooking" tools
-2 Units "Bones", 2 Units "Leather", 2 Units Adhesive
Second Room, "Storage": A comfortable room with a few stone sarcophagi doubling as tables.
-Assorted Wretch-quality gear
-3 Units Oily Metal Ingots, 3 Units Black Leathercloth, 3 Units "Wood"
-Coil of rope, small roll of silk, jagged black axe, chest of clay coins
-Chest of singing crystals
Third Room, "Barracks": A comfortable room with a few stone sarcophagi doubling as tables.
-Cards, meaning unknown
-Chips of strange materials
-Large tooth or claw
-Assorted rags
Fourth Room, "Forge": A comfortable room with a few stone sarcophagi doubling as tables.
-Coal pit with attached bellows, only slightly animate
-Anvil and/or random piece of carapace
-Assorted hard to categorize things
Main Chamber, "Home": A large room decorated with looming weapon racks and trophy cases. Stone sarcophagi add to the density.
-Assorted trophies
-Assorted elite (by Wretch standards) weaponry
-Multicolored cooking fire with pot
-Basic "cooking" tools
-2 Units "Bones", 2 Units "Leather", 2 Units Adhesive
Second Room, "Storage": A comfortable room with a few stone sarcophagi doubling as tables.
-Assorted Wretch-quality gear
-3 Units Oily Metal Ingots, 3 Units Black Leathercloth, 3 Units "Wood"
-Coil of rope, small roll of silk, jagged black axe, chest of clay coins
-Chest of singing crystals
Third Room, "Barracks": A comfortable room with a few stone sarcophagi doubling as tables.
-Cards, meaning unknown
-Chips of strange materials
-Large tooth or claw
-Assorted rags
Fourth Room, "Forge": A comfortable room with a few stone sarcophagi doubling as tables.
-Coal pit with attached bellows, only slightly animate
-Anvil and/or random piece of carapace
-Assorted hard to categorize things
Main Chamber, "Home": A large room decorated with looming weapon racks and trophy cases. Stone sarcophagi add to the density.
-Assorted trophies
-Assorted elite (by Wretch standards) weaponry
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Turn 1
- Location
- The Internet
You start to remember.
Your name is (was?) ...is Arisa Beck. Your colors are White and Red, and while you can only assume your eyes are still the vibrant crimson they were before, a quick glance confirms your bouncy shoulder-length white hair is still... somewhat intact, and your uniform- white with red highlights- is only slightly marred by rips and bloodstains.
In battle, you were your team's Sniper (Mage: +1 Magic, Skirmisher: +1 Mobility), keeping yourself out of trouble and zeroing in on trouble for your allies. You spent the day of the attack with friends (+1 Mobility), felt joy at the rain (+1 Support), promptly felt a sense of duty on hearing the alarms (+1 Melee), and proceeded to disrupt the assault (+1 Stealth) as best you could.
When that wasn't enough, you cried (???) as your friends were killed one by one right in front of you, and cursed (???) the monsters that did it when they turned to you.
...
It... helps. You still feel terrible, but it's the exhausting despair of everything going as wrong as it possibly could have, rather than the previous hell of existence being inherently unpleasant. The vision-warping not-quite-Nightmare aura even calms down somewhat, which you'd call a good sign if it didn't imply your mental state could start dragging you into unreality.
"So now what?"
"I do not know."
You give the ghost a mildly incredulous stare. You had sort of figured she knew what was going on.
Trying to puff yourself back up to your old cheerful, bubbly self, you decide to introduce yourself. "Well, my name is Arisa Beck. What's yours?" It actually seems to help somewhat. Feels a bit brittle, but it's better than the alternative.
"If I have a name, I do not remember it."
You keep staring. After a moment you clear your throat.
"You said I was 'banished from death?'"
She nods serenely. "You have been damned to walk the earth as a specter, forever bound to me."
Your brow furrows. "You remember that but not your own name?"
Her brow furrows as well, though since she's got that hyper-elegant princess thing going on it comes off as very dainty and graceful.
"I am an empty vessel, but a vessel still contains itself."
You take a few minutes to process that, and more importantly center yourself again, since she's not looking like the font of answers you had originally assumed.
So first off, you remind yourself who and what you are. Arisa Beck, Sniper for... you can't quite remember your squad's name. That's not good. You can't remember the name of the fortress you were stationed at either. Definitely not good. You can remember your friends' names, though doing so proves painful for obvious reasons. Otherwise... at best guess, it's like you can remember a small bubble around your very personal life, but nothing else. Depressing but informative, you suppose.
"Did Nightmare do this?" you finally venture, more to see what your new friend will say than because the answer could possibly be no. You were there. Although...
"I do not know."
Okay, that's... definitely weird. Especially because, tentacles and ears and all, you'd assumed she was so tainted with Nightmare in life that her very body was irrevocably warped. Definite point for hardcore amnesia on her end.
"...would you like to come with me?"
"I have no choice. We are one."
...well, that settles that. You set out to...
...
...
...
Aargoch.
The ash is terrible, whipped up into a massive storm. Choking on it and rubbing your eyes out gives you a bizarre sense of happiness, like it proves you're still alive and not a shambling corpse.
Aargoch. You don't know why you know that name; it wasn't what this place was called when you were defending it. The ghost, surprisingly, is helpful in this instance, manifesting- and bringing that hint of Nightmare warp with her- to inform you that you are bound to this place in addition to her. That also apparently explains how you ended up here instead of wherever you intended to go. Which, honestly, was just "away"- you hadn't settled on a course of action yet, but trying very hard not to look down was getting tiresome.
Concern over zoning out and wandering into the ash wastes aside, you consider your options: There aren't any. Your nameless friend claims your only hope of escaping this place is to undo the curse put upon you, which she can only guess involves killing the ones that did this to you. Which, all things considered, is really just fantastically convenient, because if there's one thing you'd like to do with your newfound cursed half-life, slowly murdering the abominations that killed your friends would definitely be it.
Speaking of which...
Another Faceless hurls itself from the storm, cackling in a high-pitched, almost musical whine. You noticed it before it noticed you, though, so this was just your way of letting it get into range. The first few you handled the way you're "supposed" to- by blasting them apart with magic before they got close. That proved too quick for your liking, though, so the last few you've been beating to death as slowly as possible. Which isn't very slow; Faceless just aren't very tough.
You'd never really known hate until now. Contempt, sure, or a righteous desire to exterminate filth. When somebody got hurt or killed or worse, you'd even partake in the usual upwelling of determined indignation. But hate, you're now learning, is something different. It's not motivation to go out and destroy as many Nightmare as possible to make up for something, or joy at watching evil leave the world. It's seeing a lone, useless enemy, unworthy of effort, not dangerous in the slightest, and becoming genuinely, uncontrollably angry at it, wanting to cause it pain and harm even though you knew neither was really possible.
Faceless. Purest and thus ironically weakest of the forces of Nightmare, Faceless are usually human-sized or smaller, and more or less made of manifested Nightmare. They usually seem to be made of clay, dust, or some other inorganic material, and slowly evaporate away to nothing upon being slain. They take their name in part from their tendency to not have visible noses or mouths, but more meaningfully because of their tendency to attack as a mindless swarm. They have only the barest sense of self preservation or strategy, avoiding blatantly obvious traps and hazards only when an equally obvious alternative exists. Otherwise, Faceless will happily hurl themselves off cliffs to get marginally closer to their victims unless a more powerful Nightmare is there to direct them.
Militarily, Faceless aren't even considered proper enemies; they're thought of as battlefield conditions. Of course, freezing cold, hunger, and plague are all battlefield conditions also; that doesn't mean they should be taken lightly. Faceless make up for their utter uselessness by being literally numberless; each source of sufficiently powerful Nightmare can support a given number of Faceless, and will slowly replenish them as they are slain. Faceless thus operate best by applying pressure, crashing wave after wave into enemies to wear them down or covering the land such that their masters can track enemy progress by noting when and where their pawns are slain. Against hardened positions and veteran forces, Faceless tend to accomplish little; against vulnerable positions and weaker forces, they can do immense harm over time.
Which also means, strictly speaking, that you should probably have been avoiding rather than killing them. You find it impossible to truly feel any remorse about that, but you do feel a bit of concern about not feeling any remorse over potentially giving away your position in order to cause pain to creatures you don't think are capable of suffering.
...
Not long after, you come across a disturbing sight. In the distance, hard to make out due to the ash, is a pillar of some sort. It looks almost like a ruin, of which there's a few in here, but you didn't think you'd been walking that long. As you're pondering the implications of that and trying to get a closer look, you spot something else disturbing.
You actually surprise yourself a little by jumping behind a rock so quickly. Maybe "killing" those Faceless calmed you down, maybe you're willing to do what you ought to against actual threats, maybe something else. But you find yourself genuinely cautious and genuinely less angry as you watch the procession slowly trudge its way past your hiding spot.
Wretched. Unlike Faceless, Wretched are nominally living things, possessing blood and such. Their appearance varies wildly, though they tend to be humanoid in size and shape. It's said that they're the descendants of treacherous humans, though with the warping powers of Nightmare they could be the spawn of snakes or chunks of butchered horse for all you know. What you do know is they're utterly beyond redemption, fused and warped with Nightmare beyond any hope of salvation. While weaker than actual humans, they form the backbone of Nightmare's forces, and can do a great many humanlike things, such as wield weapons and armor, learn from experience, and speak. All poorer than a human would, admittedly, but like Faceless on a much, much larger scale. Wretched come from Wretched in some manner, though you've never seen a designated spawning site and stories vary from "normal" reproduction to chopping them up and hurling them into a cauldron, where the parts each warp and grow into a new one.
In this particular case, the patrol or convoy is composed of four of them. You're far enough away that it's hard to get a good look, but you'd guess they appear typical for the Wretched in this region. Vaguely fishlike, tending towards disgustingly pale skin, little to no nose, and mouths full of pointy teeth, and equipped with whatever scraps of manifested Nightmare and warped reality they could come up with. Of course, Wretched aren't big on conformity, so even here that's a general tone rather than a uniform description.
Four Wretched would, under normal circumstances, not be an issue. But under normal circumstances, you'd have four friends with you. You're also not sure if dying or half-dying or whatever has affected your combat ability. You'll need to decide how to handle them.
[] Ambush. If you pick off the last one from stealth, the front three won't notice. Then you can pick off the new last without the front two noticing. Then...
[] Artillery. If you fire from a distance, by the time they realize what's happening and reach you they'll all be dead. Unless some of them have ranged weapons or you miss.
[] Rush. You don't need to get fancy. You can just charge them, screaming and chopping, and then they'll chop at you but not very well, and then all of them will be satisfyingly dead.
[] Tail. Where are they going? You should find out. You could also listen in; sometimes Wretched will converse with each other.
[] Avoid. You don't need to murder four random Wretched out in the middle of nowhere. You need to figure out where you are, what's going on, and why there's patrols out here in the first place.
Your name is (was?) ...is Arisa Beck. Your colors are White and Red, and while you can only assume your eyes are still the vibrant crimson they were before, a quick glance confirms your bouncy shoulder-length white hair is still... somewhat intact, and your uniform- white with red highlights- is only slightly marred by rips and bloodstains.
In battle, you were your team's Sniper (Mage: +1 Magic, Skirmisher: +1 Mobility), keeping yourself out of trouble and zeroing in on trouble for your allies. You spent the day of the attack with friends (+1 Mobility), felt joy at the rain (+1 Support), promptly felt a sense of duty on hearing the alarms (+1 Melee), and proceeded to disrupt the assault (+1 Stealth) as best you could.
When that wasn't enough, you cried (???) as your friends were killed one by one right in front of you, and cursed (???) the monsters that did it when they turned to you.
...
It... helps. You still feel terrible, but it's the exhausting despair of everything going as wrong as it possibly could have, rather than the previous hell of existence being inherently unpleasant. The vision-warping not-quite-Nightmare aura even calms down somewhat, which you'd call a good sign if it didn't imply your mental state could start dragging you into unreality.
"So now what?"
"I do not know."
You give the ghost a mildly incredulous stare. You had sort of figured she knew what was going on.
Trying to puff yourself back up to your old cheerful, bubbly self, you decide to introduce yourself. "Well, my name is Arisa Beck. What's yours?" It actually seems to help somewhat. Feels a bit brittle, but it's better than the alternative.
"If I have a name, I do not remember it."
You keep staring. After a moment you clear your throat.
"You said I was 'banished from death?'"
She nods serenely. "You have been damned to walk the earth as a specter, forever bound to me."
Your brow furrows. "You remember that but not your own name?"
Her brow furrows as well, though since she's got that hyper-elegant princess thing going on it comes off as very dainty and graceful.
"I am an empty vessel, but a vessel still contains itself."
You take a few minutes to process that, and more importantly center yourself again, since she's not looking like the font of answers you had originally assumed.
So first off, you remind yourself who and what you are. Arisa Beck, Sniper for... you can't quite remember your squad's name. That's not good. You can't remember the name of the fortress you were stationed at either. Definitely not good. You can remember your friends' names, though doing so proves painful for obvious reasons. Otherwise... at best guess, it's like you can remember a small bubble around your very personal life, but nothing else. Depressing but informative, you suppose.
"Did Nightmare do this?" you finally venture, more to see what your new friend will say than because the answer could possibly be no. You were there. Although...
"I do not know."
Okay, that's... definitely weird. Especially because, tentacles and ears and all, you'd assumed she was so tainted with Nightmare in life that her very body was irrevocably warped. Definite point for hardcore amnesia on her end.
"...would you like to come with me?"
"I have no choice. We are one."
...well, that settles that. You set out to...
...
...
...
Aargoch.
The ash is terrible, whipped up into a massive storm. Choking on it and rubbing your eyes out gives you a bizarre sense of happiness, like it proves you're still alive and not a shambling corpse.
Aargoch. You don't know why you know that name; it wasn't what this place was called when you were defending it. The ghost, surprisingly, is helpful in this instance, manifesting- and bringing that hint of Nightmare warp with her- to inform you that you are bound to this place in addition to her. That also apparently explains how you ended up here instead of wherever you intended to go. Which, honestly, was just "away"- you hadn't settled on a course of action yet, but trying very hard not to look down was getting tiresome.
Concern over zoning out and wandering into the ash wastes aside, you consider your options: There aren't any. Your nameless friend claims your only hope of escaping this place is to undo the curse put upon you, which she can only guess involves killing the ones that did this to you. Which, all things considered, is really just fantastically convenient, because if there's one thing you'd like to do with your newfound cursed half-life, slowly murdering the abominations that killed your friends would definitely be it.
Speaking of which...
Another Faceless hurls itself from the storm, cackling in a high-pitched, almost musical whine. You noticed it before it noticed you, though, so this was just your way of letting it get into range. The first few you handled the way you're "supposed" to- by blasting them apart with magic before they got close. That proved too quick for your liking, though, so the last few you've been beating to death as slowly as possible. Which isn't very slow; Faceless just aren't very tough.
You'd never really known hate until now. Contempt, sure, or a righteous desire to exterminate filth. When somebody got hurt or killed or worse, you'd even partake in the usual upwelling of determined indignation. But hate, you're now learning, is something different. It's not motivation to go out and destroy as many Nightmare as possible to make up for something, or joy at watching evil leave the world. It's seeing a lone, useless enemy, unworthy of effort, not dangerous in the slightest, and becoming genuinely, uncontrollably angry at it, wanting to cause it pain and harm even though you knew neither was really possible.
Faceless. Purest and thus ironically weakest of the forces of Nightmare, Faceless are usually human-sized or smaller, and more or less made of manifested Nightmare. They usually seem to be made of clay, dust, or some other inorganic material, and slowly evaporate away to nothing upon being slain. They take their name in part from their tendency to not have visible noses or mouths, but more meaningfully because of their tendency to attack as a mindless swarm. They have only the barest sense of self preservation or strategy, avoiding blatantly obvious traps and hazards only when an equally obvious alternative exists. Otherwise, Faceless will happily hurl themselves off cliffs to get marginally closer to their victims unless a more powerful Nightmare is there to direct them.
Militarily, Faceless aren't even considered proper enemies; they're thought of as battlefield conditions. Of course, freezing cold, hunger, and plague are all battlefield conditions also; that doesn't mean they should be taken lightly. Faceless make up for their utter uselessness by being literally numberless; each source of sufficiently powerful Nightmare can support a given number of Faceless, and will slowly replenish them as they are slain. Faceless thus operate best by applying pressure, crashing wave after wave into enemies to wear them down or covering the land such that their masters can track enemy progress by noting when and where their pawns are slain. Against hardened positions and veteran forces, Faceless tend to accomplish little; against vulnerable positions and weaker forces, they can do immense harm over time.
Which also means, strictly speaking, that you should probably have been avoiding rather than killing them. You find it impossible to truly feel any remorse about that, but you do feel a bit of concern about not feeling any remorse over potentially giving away your position in order to cause pain to creatures you don't think are capable of suffering.
...
Not long after, you come across a disturbing sight. In the distance, hard to make out due to the ash, is a pillar of some sort. It looks almost like a ruin, of which there's a few in here, but you didn't think you'd been walking that long. As you're pondering the implications of that and trying to get a closer look, you spot something else disturbing.
You actually surprise yourself a little by jumping behind a rock so quickly. Maybe "killing" those Faceless calmed you down, maybe you're willing to do what you ought to against actual threats, maybe something else. But you find yourself genuinely cautious and genuinely less angry as you watch the procession slowly trudge its way past your hiding spot.
Wretched. Unlike Faceless, Wretched are nominally living things, possessing blood and such. Their appearance varies wildly, though they tend to be humanoid in size and shape. It's said that they're the descendants of treacherous humans, though with the warping powers of Nightmare they could be the spawn of snakes or chunks of butchered horse for all you know. What you do know is they're utterly beyond redemption, fused and warped with Nightmare beyond any hope of salvation. While weaker than actual humans, they form the backbone of Nightmare's forces, and can do a great many humanlike things, such as wield weapons and armor, learn from experience, and speak. All poorer than a human would, admittedly, but like Faceless on a much, much larger scale. Wretched come from Wretched in some manner, though you've never seen a designated spawning site and stories vary from "normal" reproduction to chopping them up and hurling them into a cauldron, where the parts each warp and grow into a new one.
In this particular case, the patrol or convoy is composed of four of them. You're far enough away that it's hard to get a good look, but you'd guess they appear typical for the Wretched in this region. Vaguely fishlike, tending towards disgustingly pale skin, little to no nose, and mouths full of pointy teeth, and equipped with whatever scraps of manifested Nightmare and warped reality they could come up with. Of course, Wretched aren't big on conformity, so even here that's a general tone rather than a uniform description.
Four Wretched would, under normal circumstances, not be an issue. But under normal circumstances, you'd have four friends with you. You're also not sure if dying or half-dying or whatever has affected your combat ability. You'll need to decide how to handle them.
[] Ambush. If you pick off the last one from stealth, the front three won't notice. Then you can pick off the new last without the front two noticing. Then...
[] Artillery. If you fire from a distance, by the time they realize what's happening and reach you they'll all be dead. Unless some of them have ranged weapons or you miss.
[] Rush. You don't need to get fancy. You can just charge them, screaming and chopping, and then they'll chop at you but not very well, and then all of them will be satisfyingly dead.
[] Tail. Where are they going? You should find out. You could also listen in; sometimes Wretched will converse with each other.
[] Avoid. You don't need to murder four random Wretched out in the middle of nowhere. You need to figure out where you are, what's going on, and why there's patrols out here in the first place.
Arisa Beck
5/5 HP
Melee 2
Stealth 2
Magic 2
Defense 1
Mobility 3
Support 2
Wretched Grunt A, B, C, D
1/1 HP
1 Melee
1 Defense
1 Mobility
5/5 HP
Melee 2
Stealth 2
Magic 2
Defense 1
Mobility 3
Support 2
Wretched Grunt A, B, C, D
1/1 HP
1 Melee
1 Defense
1 Mobility
Dermonster
The Shittiest Wizard
[X] Tail. Where are they going? You should find out. You could also listen in; sometimes Wretched will converse with each other.
Info is good.
Info is good.
ChildishChimera
A umbran summon
- Location
- New York
[X] Tail. Where are they going? You should find out. You could also listen in; sometimes Wretched will converse with each other.
Turn 2
- Location
- The Internet
You decide to tail them, rather than stabbing them to death in one form or another. Information is something of a priority at the moment.
You'd like to say your superior mobility makes it easy to follow the cretins, but truth be told shadowing isolated Wretches is seldom hard. It's when they start milling about in criss-crossing groups that stealth becomes complicated. Well, that or when you try to get close enough to stab one to death.
So it's a quiet few minutes as they trudge through the storm, seeming to know where they're going without any landmarks you can figure. You find yourself hopping effortlessly over minor obstacles out of habit; your friends liked to call you a rabbit when you did that...
Finally, one of them opens its foul mouth.
"Why we gotta get stationed out here anyway? Nothin to kill but dorn n glem!"
"Cause the Captain says so! You wanna tell her no?"
"Why's she captain anyway. I'd make a much better captain!"
"Well you tell her that next time you see her, I'm sure she'll oblige."
They trail off into grumbling, and you find yourself a little worried. You don't know what a 'dorn' or 'glem' is, but there shouldn't be anything in this hell to kill except other Nightmare. Maybe they're rival clans or something? The fact that they're apparently being stationed in the middle of nowhere on the orders of a captain is also concerning, but hardly surprising in hindsight. They were well-organized enough to accomplish all of... that, after all.
"You ever notice the Captain don't like nothin but Grunts? No Huntresses, no Archers..."
"Bah, who needs them? Get in close and stick 'em, that's all I need!"
"All you need is every other Wretch in the army to do the work for you."
"You hear about Flakmeat?"
"No, what happened to her?"
"They say she got run through over an extra helping of fish!"
"Ha, serves her right!"
"Well I heard she got gutted cause one of those Defenders was hoping to prove herself captainworthy!"
"Ha, serves her right!"
"I heard Gorecalf just up an' stuck her head on a pike cause she figured the place could use sprucing up."
"Ha, serves her right!"
"You ever wonder what those lights are for? In the tower?"
"Best not ask, that's Warlock business."
"Bah, ain't even Bale Light. What're they up to in there?"
"Who knows. Never trust anything that didn't get its job by killing."
Finally, you start to make out the silhouette of a tower. A large, well-fortified tower with a walled courtyard around it. You are understandably dismayed.
"So that's Blackbarrel Point?"
"What, you never been?"
"When would I find time to prance about and find myself in the middle of nowhere?"
"As if the likes of you's got anything better to do."
As you get closer, you start noticing shapes that look like Wretch patrols. You're somewhat relieved to not notice any Faceless around; it implies the tower lacks anything powerful enough to generate them.
You also start making out details of the outpost, and it doesn't look good. The walls are that curving, organic style that implies the structure was grown out of tainted reality rather than constructed, and the whole compound looks big enough to serve as an appreciable fortification against attack. More disturbing still, you're beginning to notice a tower coming out of the ash on each side; this may be one of many such structures forming a fortified line against... something.
You're starting to lose confidence in your ability to follow these goons with impunity; the wall sentinels and other wandering patrols will be a complication, at the very least. It's time to make a decision.
[] Keep following. It wouldn't be easy, but with the storm active and Wretches being imbeciles, you might be able to sneak right through the front gate on the heels of some transferred soldiers. From inside you'd have some options, like intercepting intelligence and murdering everything inside.
[] Scout around. Patrols are intended to discourage just this sort of thing, but you should still be able to get some information on the outpost and its surroundings.
[] Break off. There's nothing more you can do hugging an enemy stronghold.
You'd like to say your superior mobility makes it easy to follow the cretins, but truth be told shadowing isolated Wretches is seldom hard. It's when they start milling about in criss-crossing groups that stealth becomes complicated. Well, that or when you try to get close enough to stab one to death.
So it's a quiet few minutes as they trudge through the storm, seeming to know where they're going without any landmarks you can figure. You find yourself hopping effortlessly over minor obstacles out of habit; your friends liked to call you a rabbit when you did that...
Finally, one of them opens its foul mouth.
"Why we gotta get stationed out here anyway? Nothin to kill but dorn n glem!"
"Cause the Captain says so! You wanna tell her no?"
"Why's she captain anyway. I'd make a much better captain!"
"Well you tell her that next time you see her, I'm sure she'll oblige."
They trail off into grumbling, and you find yourself a little worried. You don't know what a 'dorn' or 'glem' is, but there shouldn't be anything in this hell to kill except other Nightmare. Maybe they're rival clans or something? The fact that they're apparently being stationed in the middle of nowhere on the orders of a captain is also concerning, but hardly surprising in hindsight. They were well-organized enough to accomplish all of... that, after all.
"You ever notice the Captain don't like nothin but Grunts? No Huntresses, no Archers..."
"Bah, who needs them? Get in close and stick 'em, that's all I need!"
"All you need is every other Wretch in the army to do the work for you."
"You hear about Flakmeat?"
"No, what happened to her?"
"They say she got run through over an extra helping of fish!"
"Ha, serves her right!"
"Well I heard she got gutted cause one of those Defenders was hoping to prove herself captainworthy!"
"Ha, serves her right!"
"I heard Gorecalf just up an' stuck her head on a pike cause she figured the place could use sprucing up."
"Ha, serves her right!"
"You ever wonder what those lights are for? In the tower?"
"Best not ask, that's Warlock business."
"Bah, ain't even Bale Light. What're they up to in there?"
"Who knows. Never trust anything that didn't get its job by killing."
Finally, you start to make out the silhouette of a tower. A large, well-fortified tower with a walled courtyard around it. You are understandably dismayed.
"So that's Blackbarrel Point?"
"What, you never been?"
"When would I find time to prance about and find myself in the middle of nowhere?"
"As if the likes of you's got anything better to do."
As you get closer, you start noticing shapes that look like Wretch patrols. You're somewhat relieved to not notice any Faceless around; it implies the tower lacks anything powerful enough to generate them.
You also start making out details of the outpost, and it doesn't look good. The walls are that curving, organic style that implies the structure was grown out of tainted reality rather than constructed, and the whole compound looks big enough to serve as an appreciable fortification against attack. More disturbing still, you're beginning to notice a tower coming out of the ash on each side; this may be one of many such structures forming a fortified line against... something.
You're starting to lose confidence in your ability to follow these goons with impunity; the wall sentinels and other wandering patrols will be a complication, at the very least. It's time to make a decision.
[] Keep following. It wouldn't be easy, but with the storm active and Wretches being imbeciles, you might be able to sneak right through the front gate on the heels of some transferred soldiers. From inside you'd have some options, like intercepting intelligence and murdering everything inside.
[] Scout around. Patrols are intended to discourage just this sort of thing, but you should still be able to get some information on the outpost and its surroundings.
[] Break off. There's nothing more you can do hugging an enemy stronghold.
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[X] Keep following. It wouldn't be easy, but with the storm active and Wretches being imbeciles, you might be able to sneak right through the front gate on the heels of some transferred soldiers. From inside you'd have some options, like intercepting intelligence and murdering everything inside.
ChildishChimera
A umbran summon
- Location
- New York
[X] Keep following. It wouldn't be easy, but with the storm active and Wretches being imbeciles, you might be able to sneak right through the front gate on the heels of some transferred soldiers. From inside you'd have some options, like intercepting intelligence and murdering everything inside.
- Location
- St. Petersburg
Damn, we are pretty deep in the cuckoo land. Though being able to recognize that means we haven't completely lost it.
I wonder if choosing any of the apathetic options during chargen (not the actual 'Apathy' ones; the ones that said nothing mattered anymore) would have any effect on our mental state.
Anyway, I'd like to hang around the enemy fortress, see what we are dealing with before we grab a one-way stealth ticket inside. What is the force composition, how many are there, what the hell are they doing, that kind of stuff. Looks like there are new grunts arriving with every new minute, so our window for sneaking inside might not close just yet.
Murdering everyone inside likely isn't an option for a character intended mostly, as I gathered, for a long-range support role. I'll chalk it up to Arisa's bloodthirst rather than her actual ability to follow through on that promise.
[X] Scout around. Patrols are intended to discourage just this sort of thing, but you should still be able to get some information on the outpost and its surroundings.
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The real reason for going inside
- Location
- St. Petersburg
Damn shame there aren't more votes, this looks pretty cool.
I'll switch my vote to keep going. We aren't in the most sound state of mind, so recklessness wouldn't look out of place either. What else is there to do but get to the bottom of it?
[X] Keep following. It wouldn't be easy, but with the storm active and Wretches being imbeciles, you might be able to sneak right through the front gate on the heels of some transferred soldiers. From inside you'd have some options, like intercepting intelligence and murdering everything inside.
I'll switch my vote to keep going. We aren't in the most sound state of mind, so recklessness wouldn't look out of place either. What else is there to do but get to the bottom of it?
[X] Keep following. It wouldn't be easy, but with the storm active and Wretches being imbeciles, you might be able to sneak right through the front gate on the heels of some transferred soldiers. From inside you'd have some options, like intercepting intelligence and murdering everything inside.