https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6ddO3jPUFpg&t=3575s

Creature in the Cloth, move for me.

You move.

Creature in the Cloth, dance for me.

You dance.

Creature in the Cloth, hand me that knife.

You hand her the knife.

Creature in the Cloth, pick up that sword.

You pick up the sword.

Creature in the Cloth, break bread with that man.

You kill the man.

Creature in the Cloth, walk with that woman.

You kill the woman.

Creature in the Cloth, hold that childs hand.

You kill the child.

...

Creature in the Cloth...

...do you hate me?

I made you in my image...

...do you like what you are?

You are:
>Male
>Female

>>2660266
>>Male

File: Main Character 2.jpg (508 KB, 1920x2726)

508 KB JPG

>>2660271
This is going to a long one, just for scene setting. Stick with me here.
>Male

You're standing by that stream that you always visit when you are feeling overwhelmed. These trips have been becoming increasingly frequent, and that worries you some. You distract yourself from your thoughts by observing the flow of the water as it gently coasts along the bank. Planes of ice float atop the surface, a sure sign that winter has had its grasp on the world around you for quite some time now. Today shown with a bright sun and clear blue skies, and yet the thick layers of snow all around you reveals the remnants of the torrential blizzard that you were stuck in while travelling for the past week. The forest that you are in is a shadow of its former self. Branches shift in the harshly cold winds with no leaves, and nary a squirrel can be seen playfully darting around as they would usually do in the spring. Grass and flowers are but a distant memory to the ground. The scenery encaptivates your thoughts for a while. Strangely, it is a sad a beautiful time, from where the world is in a stasis, ready to continue forward come time when spring arrives. For several minutes you quietly stand among the twisted bark and bleached ground.

Yet there is a voice in your head, foreign and malevolent. It is a powerful form of servitude from which you were made to follow orders. The voice commands your every action, and you are powerless to stop it. It repeats the word "earth" to you, reminding you of your task. You remember, the one who you serve, your mistress, required you to gather a special type of enriched earth for her profession as an alchemist. She has been becoming increasingly sickly and frail as time went on, as well as paranoid, and refuses to leave her house, and so she ordered you to get the soil.

Oh, yes. The enriched soil came from a town just three days walk from your mistress' lonely cottage in the middle of the woods. The travelling was long and arduous for you, having been caught in a blizzard for the entire round trip. When you finally arrived at the town, you were too tired to talk to any of the locals, and so you just took the bag and left without a word. It was not like they could have stopped you, most of them were running away from you just by sighting you, the mythical Creature in the Cloth.

And you did not mind it. The thoughts of others never affected you, not even your mistress'. All that mattered was that you completed your duty, even if that meant being feared, hated, and...

Alone.

>Cont.

>>2660305

Still, although with the voice scratching at the back of your head, you risk spending a few more precious moments standing by the stream, moments you seldom have anymore as your mistress would work you to the bone almost every day now. An errant thought sparks into your head, tempting you to indulge in a pleasure that you could never know. It tells you to dip a toe in the water, to wash your tired feet of the muck and grime you have accumulated over the years. You barely touch the surface with your foot, but when the water started to soak into the tightly woven folds of cloth that make up your body, you quickly take them out before you become too heavy to lift yourself. You could remember a time when the thought of selfish indulgences would have never crossed your mind, and yet as of late they have been becoming more frequent. Is it a sign of your mistress' command over you faltering? Or, something else?

Your mistress has already become too paranoid to step outside her door. You wonder what she might do if her authority was indeed failing. She might think that you would kill her. If she thought so, she would be exactly right, and yet you would never tell her.

While your mind wanders, the call in your head increases in intensity. She must be getting impatient. You dry your soaked foot as best you can and locate the hefty bag of soil that you left by the base of a tree. You pick it up and make your way home. You pass by a dead deer on your way, it's intestines spilled out as if it has been ravaged by wolves. An impossibility, since your mistress eradicated all the wolves in this area. You pay no heed to it and move on.

Soon the cottage is in sight. It is a rustic little thing, small and falling apart, and barely big enough for two people. From inside, a yellow glow bleeds through the windows, and the chimney vomits smoke like a dragon.

You have no choice:
>[s]Run away[/s]
>[s]Light the house on fire[/s]

>Cont.

File: The Vixen.jpg (335 KB, 1800x1200)

335 KB JPG

>>2660316

Your feet barely make a sound as you enter the cottage. The cold wind rushes in through the doorway, blowing away the faded yellow pages that form a layer on the floor, and snuffing out the half-melted candles in the room. You step in, making little noise besides the soft crinkling of paper beneath your feet, and as soon as you let go of the door, it slams shut. The place is warmly lit, the source, a roaring fireplace with metal rods sticking haphazardly in the wood. You always thought of this place as foreign to you, even if you have lived in it for the entirety of your life. Many of the things that fill the drawers and shelves do not make sense to you. One such shelf is populated by jade-green statues of figurines that seem to stare into your soul. They are not apart of your task, so you ignore them.

As you step over books, and piles of powder strewn about the floor, you observe some mold in the corner of the room you are in. You remember your mistress saying to you, when she was more clear of mind, that this cottage has existed for generations, long before both of you were born. The age shows. It is a wonder how this cottage has not fallen into itself during all this time.

A voice, your mistress, calls out from the kitchen, "You're back," she says. Her voice is sickly, yet still holding on to the inflections that betray her noble heritage.

"Yes," you reply.

"Had you no trouble getting the soil?"

"No."

"Bring it here then, Creature."

You smell something rotten coming from the kitchen as you make your way through the archway in place of a door. Almost tripping over a book, you walk in to see your mistress bent over a cauldron a top a wood stove, almost twice her size. Just as she has always been, she wears a fanciful white dress, complete with gloves of the same color. Her face is covered in cloth, decorated in complex embroidery to her liking. Unlike you, she wears it to cover marred skin underneath. You were born with this face, and covering it means nothing.

You notice that her hair is tied in a bun on the back of her head. It is a sight you almost always see when she is nervous or more paranoid than usual.

>Cont.

File: and nothing of value was lost.jpg (53 KB, 523x444)

53 KB JPG

>>2660316
>>[s]Light the house on fire[/s]
B U R N

>>2660322
Sorry, anon. meant that as a non choice. Choices will come soon I swear.

File: Exicted.png (236 KB, 351x403)

236 KB PNG

>>2660324
sorry then, forgive my autism my dear QM!

>>2660320

She takes a second to look over her shoulder at you, her eyes glazed over and twitching. A second later, she gestures with her head to place the bag on the counter next to her. You walk slowly, careful to not step on any errant pieces of broken glass that were there for as long as you can remember. You then heave the bag onto to the countertop. It lands with a soft thump, and yet she still continues to stare and mutter into the bubbling mixture, having seemingly forgotten about you. Now that you are close enough to the cauldron, you see that the liquid is a soft yellow color with lumps of charcoal floating on the surface.

A minute later she speaks into the pot in a hushed tone, but the message is directed at you, "Lay a thick layer of dirt on the counter."

The bag is a thick leather hide sewn at the top. You reach to your hip for your hunting knife, one you always carried with you, to cut open the seams. Time seems to slow as your mistress takes another glance at you, eyes widening as she sees you reach for the knife. Her own hand shoots out to grab your arm, just before you reach it. She looks at you with a murderous glare, "Not the knife, rip it open with your hands," she says, now in a low voice. She violently rips the knife from your hip, sheathe and all, and throws it across the room. It lands with a noisy clatter. She returns to the pot, mumbling incoherently.

You have no choice.

>Cont.

>>2660334

You do as she says, grabbing both sides of the bag with your hands, and pulling apart the seams. You feel something odd well up inside of you. It is like a voice, separate from your mistress'. It makes you feel like this bag is more tougher than it actually is, and eggs you on to pull harder, and harder. You use all of your strength to pull open the bag, which results in it's contents, black fluffy loam, spilling everywhere. Your mistress yelps, and loses her balance in surprise. Again, time slowed down as she falls. The cauldron wobbles and teeters on the edge, threatening to spill its contents on the floor. A splatter escapes, and the liquid eats through the wood like it is made from wet paper, marking the spot black. She has no time to call out to you, so instead she uses the connection the two of you share to force your body to move.

You spring into action, or rather, your body does. You grab the sides of the red hot cauldron to stop it from falling on your mistress, burning your hands in the process. You wish to cry out in pain, but her command does not let you. This happens in the span of a second, and you can only watch as your mistress falls to the floor, powerless to help. Her head makes a sickening crack along the wooden floor, and she is knocked unconscious. It is time for your own cloth-covered eyes to widen, in fear this time. You are powered by your mistress' magic to follow her command, even if she dies, meaning that unless she says otherwise, you must hold on to this pot. For long fourteen minutes, you are subjected to third degree burns until she slowly gets up from the floor.

She stirs. She slowly gets to her feet, bun now gone and hair wild. With a wave of her finger the pot is back on the stove, bubbling away. Your mistress looks at you with wild eyes this time. A voice tells you to check on her to see if she is okay. You reach out for her neck to get a better view at the injury on her head. Before you realize it, an abrupt and powerful force propels you to the opposite side of the room, causing you to smash into a shelf of empty jars. They all crash to the ground with a harsh noise.

She shrieks at you, "Get away from me!" your knife suddenly appearing in her hands as she points it at you. Her hold on you weakens, you can feel it fading away.

You have a choice:
>Accept.
>Refuse.

File: I refuse.png (127 KB, 300x427)

127 KB PNG

>>2660341
>>Refuse.
Foolish old woman, we're human too!
(kinda)

File: Detroit_ Become Human™_20(...).jpg (349 KB, 1920x1080)

349 KB JPG

>>2660341
>Refuse

We are alive! Sort of.

>>2660341
>Accept
Get away from her? So be it. We shall leave.

And she shall never see us again.

File: I Refuse.png (63 KB, 411x311)

63 KB PNG

>>2660341

>>Refuse.
No thanks.

You refuse, post inc.

>Refuse.

Something… Something is talking to you. It is telling you to kill her. It is wishing that she would understand just what she had cost you. You feel like you are being squeezed. Dark red bramble escapes from your chest cavity, it slowly slithers up your arm in a winding embrace, akin to how a snake would hold their pray until they suffocated to death. You feel this around your other arm, and your legs as well; your entire body! It takes control over you, your mistress' voice fading away and a new, deeper voice overwhelms your thoughts.

"Sweet child, sweet cloth. Kill for me. Bleed for me. Die for me," it chants, louder and louder as you take a step forward, half forced by the thorns and half willing. Your mistress' eyes widen with every step you take, and she takes a step back. Eventually that broken piece of glass slips beneath her foot, making her fall yet again. You straddle her, taking back your knife, and you pin her arms beneath your legs. She squirms and wriggles and shrieks and cries, yet you hold the knife firmly in both hands, just as she did, and yet you do not shake nor falter when you hold it, and you start to slowly push it down, driven by those thorns.

You're mistress cries out in desperation, "Never! Never would I be killed by an animal! Please O' merciful God do not let me be murdered by my own creation!" She is shaking and choking over her words. She has completely lost herself, and you feel terrible grief for but a second, until it is replaced by an unfeeling cold.

You continue. She cries out again.

"You! You, Creature in the Cloth! Whos command do you follow?! Who has really killed me?!"

You have a choice:
>"It is from my own will." Hear her out.
>"It is from my own will." Bathe the floor in her blood.

>>2660409
>"It is from my own will." Hear her out.
Probably going to kill her after anyway, might as well try for a quest hook first.

>>2660409
>>"It is from my own will." Bathe the floor in her blood.
Don't be stupid, just get it done.

>>2660409
>"I learn from you, mistress. You have killed yourself." Bathe the floor in her blood.

>>2660409
"It is from my own will." Hear her out

>>2660409
>"It is from my own will." Bathe the floor in her blood.

>"It is from my own will." Bathe the floor in her blood.

Writing...

>"It is from my own will." Bathe the floor in her blood.

"Yes… yes my sweet cloth. Kill for me. Bleed for me. Die for me," the voice inside of you proclaims again. The thorns wrap tighter around your arms as your destination remains true. Her weak manipulation of your soul is nothing compared to this. She had created you, nurtured you into becoming her most feared killer. Men, women, children… the old and weak, the sick and poor… all have been felled by your hand, your sword, puppeted by your mistress. Now, by some blessing granted to you by God, you are sure, you have a will of your own, and can enact judgement upon those who you deem unworthy.

That feeling of grief that you carried within you has been snuffed out completely. You suppose that with a will comes responsibility, and with responsibility comes freedom. You feel as if you are the puppeteer now, holding your own strings in hand. It is an amazing feeling, even if it comes from those red thorns piercing through your cloth. You think of all this while you, or the thorns, drive the blade in your creator's neck. You lean in over her and whisper,

"It is from my own will." Then you bathe the floor in her blood. She doesn't look at you, instead she glances through the window, and mouths something in an unknown tongue. She chokes and gurgles, then closes her eyes. Her body soon goes limp, and you are left in an intimate embrace with a body now drenched in red and you yourself hidden in black.

You never cared for your creator. You never cared for anyone. You wish to simply do what you please, even if it means slaying those who get in the way.

It is not until that deep voice enters your mind are you interrupted from your dark thoughts. It is laughing, soft and gradually fading in and out. The thorns around your body tighten further.

"Your own will, little cloth? Do not be silly. You are a puppet, and I have used you for my purposes. Now. Begone." That is the last thing you hear before you die.

>Cont.

File: What you see when you die.png (5.17 MB, 1920x2501)

5.17 MB PNG

>>2660504

There are many stories about death. Some say that death is the judge for the good and evil, sending the innocent to an eternal paradise and the sinners to an eternal torment. Others say that death is an uncaring beast that places the dead, good or evil, onto a featureless plane where you spend the rest of eternity. What you see before you is not even close to the stories you have heard.

From all around you, there is void. Green mist stretches out as far as the eye can see, further than you could have ever thought was possible. Surrounding you, in a circle, are jade-green statues, infinite in number and taller than a mountain. All of them are sitting in a meditative posture, with their hands in their lap. All of them are looking down upon you. You collapse to the ground, overtaken by the sight. They all vary wildly in appearance, some having multiple arms, while others have body parts of animals as a replacement for their limbs, sometimes their heads. They all have an inner glow to them, making them beacons in the mist.

You lose your breath, and all thoughts vanish from you. You are in the presence of gods, you realize. Ones that could end your life with nary but a thought, and here they are! In a fit of hysteria, you reach out to touch one of them, and yet your path is blocked by a being wholly different.

What you see before you is a man draped in yellow robes, with a hood hiding his face, and with an eclipsed sun behind him. He stands to be slightly taller than you, and yet he looks to you like the entire world. He waits in patience, and you realize that he is waiting for you!

What do you ask this creature, one who stands among the gods?

>Write-in

>>2660548
>For what purpose?

>>2660548
Why am I not dead? Why do I still think? My cursed existence is unnecessary for this world, tell me why you still insist that I must exist?

>>2660551
>>2660578

Taking these two and rollin' with it.

File: Green Mist 2.jpg (66 KB, 1280x720)

66 KB JPG

You speak among the gods, your voice a droplet in an ocean.

"Why?" Is the only thing you can eek out from your cloth.

A moment passes, then another. The man points towards you with one hand, and from forward and beyond you see the gods untangle themselves from their position and stand up. You are staring at universes, each and every one of them. You fear for your life, and words start to pour out of your mouth in a futile desperation.

"Why?! For what purpose am I here? Am I dead? Am I here to be judged?!" you cry out.

The man freezes, and so do the gods. They seem like they are frozen in time, solid like mountains. He then speaks up, his voice spreading like tremors throughout your body.

"Why…" he says, the words floaty and drawn out. "Why…" he says again, a little louder.

You start to breath unevenly, "Yes," you pause, "why?"

"Why…" he says a third time. Louder.

You start to get irritated, "Please, just let me go!"

"Why…" a fourth. Louder.

"Who are you?!" you raise your voice.

"Why…" a fifth. The tremors become more and more severe.

"Stop it! Stop it!" you clutch at your head.

"Why…" another time. Louder.

"Stop it! Kill me then if you want! I am cursed! If you want me to die then just do it already! Why do you still keep me here, to toy with me?!"

The jade statues start to rumble. The man repeats again, and all the statues speak with him. Your head starts to hurt even more.

"Why are you doing this?!"

...

The rumbling stops. The pain stops. He stops. You take your head out of your hands, and look up to find the man staring down at you, arms by his side.

>Cont.

>>2660637

"Ha ha ha ha…" is the deep rumbling echo of his laughter. It passes through nothing, and yet amplifies itself to be heard tenfold across the infinite. "Oh yes… why… ha ha ha ha" The laughter contains every silenced voice that has ever been silenced since life began. You do not think this, you know this. There is no he anymore, that thing is further from a human than anything could be.

"Little cloth," it starts, "I am something that all things with souls know. I am the Beginning and the End, the Alpha and the Omega, He Who Everyone Bows To. The maker… and the unmaker…. The breath of life and the hand of destruction. I am everything and I am one. I am you, and I am your mistress. So, let me ask you "why," Creature in the Cloth. Why have you killed me?"

You cannot speak. You cannot speak out against God.

"You have killed me many. many times cloth." As it says this, it's robes overflow with invisible figures, all crying woes out of fright. "These are the voices that you have given over to me, Creature in the Cloth. Yet my judgement could not reach you, as you were without soul, simply a puppet for your mistress' whims. Now… now you have a soul. Something to grab a hold of, something for me to smother." it whispers that last part, and yet it feels like it was the loudest sound that it made yet.

"And yet…," it continues on, "you are strong. You are not within my full grasp yet, you are holding on by a thread… ha ha ha ha. You have come to me for your rights, today, Creature in the Cloth."

A force overtakes you, making you kneel before God. It places it's hand over your cloth covered head, and the fabric melts away. What is left, is your true self. A charred corpse. Vaguely male and missing the lower portion of it's lower jaw. It is from this corpse that your mistress strung life into you, and thus made the cloth your skin to protect you from danger.

God speaks again, "All things with a soul are mine, including you. And too, all things with a soul have a name. Choose yours and choose yours carefully, and declare it your birthright."

Your new name is:

>I am the Creature in the Cloth. That is my name from birth to death.
>I am Nereus
>I am Azriel
>I am Erelim
>I am Ialdir
>Other?

>>2660692
>Tim

But seriously
>Bestrafer

>>2660692
>>I am Nereus

>>2660707
>Tim

Over my dead fucking body

>>2660692
"Cain"
This'll be my last post of the night sorry QM gotta sleep

>>2660719
Support.

Voting window will be open for 15 more minutes while I get something to eat.

Also, kudos on thinking of "Cain", it fits him quite well.

>>2660716
Hah. Gotta love completely regular names in fantasy settings. Scratch >>2660707 for >>2660719

>>2660719
This

>>this

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T_jgBbCsdeU

You think for a long time before you come up with your decision. By the time you finally decided, God answers for you.

"Cain… yes… a worthy name of a puppet given life." It says. It beckons you to rise without saying another word, and your body lifts from the ground. You rise, rise higher than anything has before, and God is above you. You make it past the green mist, and see the statues all around you, with their infinite size you only reach their shoulders after rising for hours. You feel an energy well up inside of you, something you have never felt before, something that was missing. It was like you were an unlit candle and finally you have come into contact with fire. The energy seeps from your broken charred skin. Pure white light escapes from the many dry cracks, and radiates throughout the entire plain. You see the gods, you see the Beyond, you see The God, and all of them are looking at you. For the first time since your creation, you feel happy. Pain goes away, and for one second you are inside of a blissful sphere of paradise.

Then, you fall.

Crashing down like a comet you hit the floor and keep going. Nothing is everywhere and all there is to see is green. The void twists and turns around you, threatening to break down reality before you can stop. God calls from above, but his voice is drowned out by the growing roaring of something inside of you, it is a piece of God that you now carry within yourself, and it is now your own. A source of power that you can manifest within the world. Something to give you purpose and meaning. It is your will and your sword that you have claimed as your birthright. A name. A soul.

An identity.

Your falling faster and faster, and all these thoughts are racing in your mind. You don't notice when you when you keep going, and you dont notice when you stop. Instead of green you see black. You open your eyes.

You are in pain.

>Cont.

>>2660822
>You don't notice when you when you keep going

FUCK

>>2660822

You are on the ground, facing your right side, where you see your mistress facing you, eyes open, life drained from her. You try to get up, and the cloth struggles to move. You no longer feel the pull of the bark, nor the magic, so why can't you move? It is until you look around that you get a clearer picture.

You are ripped to shreds. The layers of cloth protecting your back has been torn away, revealing heavily wounded charred flesh. The cloth is barely attached to you, by only a bare couple of threads, and although you are concerned about your vulnerability, something else catches your eye.

Blood. Blood everywhere. It stains the floorboards as if they were sponges, and it also drips from the wall. You follow it to where it is most concentrated, and find your mistress' leg, amputated from the hip. The leg itself was covered in dead branch-like vines, by now withered away and soaked in blood. At the base of the foot there is a dark red hole from which the source of the branches emanated from.

You face many problems, all of them important. You're first priority is to stitch yourself back up, since you are useless without your cloth. You know that your mistress would have kept a sewing kit in her room. It cannot be as simple as that, however, as you can barely move as it is. Potions have always affected you in some way, even if you are not entirely human. You spot a healing potion right in front of you, although it is of the diluted kind meant for treating minor wounds, it has since been laying right in front of your mistress' head for quite some time now, just out of her grasp. Up above on the second shelf you can spot a potion of mending, meant to close wounds. Maybe that can give you some stability to get to the sewing kit?

ROLLING:
During any action(s) that require a roll, I will ask that you roll xd100, where x is the number of actions. I will also make target values, where your roll equal that number or higher to succeed. Rolls that are 30 points or higher than the target value are considered major successes, which will award you with one additional good outcome. If the roll is 30 or below the target value, then the opposite will happen. Best of three, but 1's and 100's override this rule.

(Choose 1-2)
>Go for the rejuvenation potion, you will try to throw something at the wall and try to catch it when it gets knocked off balance and falls.(Hard)
>Go for the healing potion, you can just crawl to it, if your body is still working in the first place.(Easy)
>Other?

>>2660866
>Go for the healing potion, you can just crawl to it, if your body is still working in the first place.(Easy)
Then once we're a bit more fixed up grab the other potion and use if needed.

>>2660866

Oh, and did I forget to add that you hear a strange scratching noise? Because you do.

>Go for the healing potion, you can just crawl to it, if your body is still working in the first place.(Easy)

Seems like the momentum is dying down a bit.

>>2660878
>>2660947

You are going to crawl for life.

Roll 1d100, best out of three (remember, crits overrule this!)
Target(s): 32

Rolled 91 (1d100)

>>2660995

Rolled 68 (1d100)

>>2660995

Rolled 20 (1d100)

>>2660995

A good start.

Writing...

>Go for the healing potion, you can just crawl to it, if your body is still working in the first place.(Easy)
>>2661008
>91 (Major Success!)

A lifetime ago, you would have laid here until the walls would have rotted away, until your cloth started to crumble and flesh rot, thinking about nothing, if your mistress so commanded it. You were without soul, without a name or will back then. But now, you feel a rejuvenating strength cover your body, and you find it in you to try your damned hardest to move. You try for a finger. It twitches, good. Then, the hand… good. The arms? A stiff, but functioning. Your legs are dead as they are now, so all you can do is put arm over arm, and get towards that bottle. Evening rays of sunlight glint off of the bottle. You see that it is red on the inside, yet red also paints the outside. No matter, you continue forward. It is almost within reach now, and in an almost poetic fashion all around you turns to black void except for the bottle. Your tunnel vision zeroes in on that bright red thing that you know is going to help you achieve your goals. And what are your goals? You will have time to think about that later.

The bottle is cold and sticky in your hand. You uncork it and down it in one gulp. Nothing happens at first, until you feel a shocking warmth spread throughout your body. Your vision becomes consumed by light, and you're blinded by it's radiance. Power surges through you, and you feel as if you can actually taste the light, as if it were a physical thing you can grasp. The light churns and shifts inside of you. You feel it move towards your back, and it actually heals your ruined back! How is this possible? You think to yourself. Yet, you know how. You willed it to happen. This is the light of God and now it is inside of you. Now you can control a part of God.

>Cont.

>>2661112

The light dies down, and you feel better than ever. As it turns out, wiping away the blood from the bottle reveals a set of runes denoting the bottle as an empowerment potion, not a minor healing potion, they just happened to look alike. A boon.

You stand up on weak legs. Even though you mended your body, the cloth is what makes you whole; without it, you are simply a burned corpse. You take a quick glance at your mistress. Her white dress is covered in blood, long since dried, and flies have started to gather around her. You look to the cauldron, and see that it has spilled over, it's contents making a hole just big enough for you to fit into. It leads to the basement. There are stairs just outside of the kitchen and to the left, leading to your mistress' room.

The scratching gets louder. It's continuing towards the side of the cottage and towards the front door. For some reason, you really don't want to be here when that scratching gets to the front door.

(Choose 1-2)
>You should hide, but where? (Specify)
>You should confront whatever is scratching at the walls. You feel stronger than ever!
>You would rather look around some more. You have time, right?

(Also, how did you feel about seeing your dead mistress?)
>She deserved to die, she caused me so much pain and misery.
>Her time was due, I was just the tool to do the job.
>I regret it now, now that I have a soul I recognize it's sacredness.
>I enjoyed it greatly, the thrill of having ones life in your hands is breathtaking.
>I do not care in the least, only my own life has any meaning.

>>2661122

forgot to add:

>Other?

for first set of options

>>2661122
>Confront
>Her time was due, I was just the tool to do the job.

>>2661122
>You should confront whatever is scratching at the walls. You feel stronger than ever!
>I do not care in the least, only my own life has any meaning.

>>2661122
>You should confront whatever is scratching at the walls. You feel stronger than ever!
>I enjoyed it greatly, the thrill of having ones life in your hands is breathtaking.

I am getting pretty tired, so I think I will continue tomorrow morning after I got some shuteye.

But please, I will be sticking around for a while, so feel free to ask some questions about the quest! This is my first serious one, and I put a lot of work into it. Some things I need to improve, I realize after running, is that I need to sharpen my writing skills. I feel like the flow was stilted and could have done with a bit less descriptions, but besides that I felt pretty good about my presentation of choices. What do you guys think about it?

I thought it was really good and I hope you continue! I might've misread things a bit but the whole bit with the gods felt a bit out of place. Other than that I see a lot of potential.

>>2661180
I'm looking it so far. Pacing got a little squirrelly in the middle there but I'll definitely keep playing.

>>2661122
>confront
>She deserved to die, she caused me so much pain and misery.

>Confront
>Her time was due, I was just the tool to do the job

>Confront
>>2661128
>>2661143
>>2661169
>>2662016
>>2662386

>Her time was due.
>>2661128
>>2662386

Voting called. Picking up in ~2h.

>You should confront whatever is scratching at the walls. You feel stronger than ever!

The scratching gets closer, and you feel afraid. You look again to the hole leading to the basement. Would it be so bad to just hide away until the danger left? No… no that wouldn't be right, you think, do you not have a will of your own now? Should you not be protecting it with everything you have? Is that not your right to defend yourself? For the first time, you can do what you please. No mistress, no thorns, no other voice in your head… only yours. Are you really willing to let fear just be another voice? You are not! With everything in your power, you will justify your new existence! You fight for yourself on this day!

Even if you have the fire of passion burning inside of you, you still need to face this problem with some tact. Your flesh has been healed, yes, but your cloth is still only attached by the barest of threads. This fight, you realize, must be a match of wills, not of strength. You doubt you could lift a chair off the ground in the state you are in.

You need to come up with a strategy.

(You have two turns to prepare for the encounter, one for attack, and another for position. Choose 1-2)
>There must still be some remnants of that poison still in the cauldron. Maybe you can use it somehow? (Specify)
>The fire in the fireplace is still roaring, and you are sure that the firepokers are near there. Could you try to heat something up? (Specify)
>There are many potions, and you know what most of them do. Although, you have no idea if they are now missing, or even if the thing scratching at the door will be affected by them.
>Some other plan? (Specify)

>>2662449
>There must still be some remnants of that poison still in the cauldron. Maybe you can use it somehow?
Fill up our newly empty potion bottle with the stuff and be ready to glass whatever it is when it comes in.

Perhaps we should mend ourselves. We are pretty strong on our own when we are at full power.

>>2662470
You can totally do that, yet it will take two turns for getting to your mistress' room and locating the sewing kit before whatever is at the door comes, and you would have to roll for both.

Alright, well I say we try and get to the room before the beast arrives

Voting closes in 10 minutes. If no one comes along to be a tie breaker, I will just roll a 1d2

>>2662491
I'll switch to trying to get patched up. Didn't think we had the time.

Wunderbar.

Roll 2d100. 1) Climbing the stairs 2) Locating the sewing kit and patching yourself up. Best out of three.

Target(s): 52, 40

(NOTE: failing the first roll leads to all other planned actions cancelling out.)

Rolled 76, 89 = 165 (2d100)

>>2662501
Is that the case for all plans or just ones where they can't be completed without the first action succeeding?

>>2662517
The latter.

If you are rolling a 2d100 for a plan that involves, lets say, convincing a man to let down his guard then kill him, yet you fail the first part, you will just kill him.

And say that you are rolling a 2d100 to run away from enemies and jump off a cliff into a lake, but you fail to get away from the enemies, then you would have never made it to the cliff.

Rolled 84, 77 = 161 (2d100)

Rolled 94, 6 = 100 (2d100)

Rollin again because thread seems slow

>>2662522
Makes sense. Also are you taking the best set of 2d100 or the best for each action?

>>2662536

For now I'm going off of the sum of the rolls. We'll see how well that works, and if it doesn't, I'll try something else.

Votes called. Writing...

>Get yourself patched up.
>>2662517
>76, 89 (Success, Major Success!)

Damn your indecision! While you were weighing your options, whatever is out there has reached the front door! You cannot wait a second longer, it's now or never! You don't even have to think about it. What is the one thing you know you can use to your advantage? Your strength! Why make a strategy when you can just kill them! You know for certain that at full strength, no living being could match you in battle, with or without a weapon. And so you resolve to find your sewing kit. You stagger towards the stairs.

It is a challenge. You almost trip over your mistress' dead body, and have to hold onto the archway for support. The creature starts to push the door off its hinges.

One step at a time, you climb. The door starts to splinter.

You know where her room is. You shove the door open, and you collapse on the ground. You feel a thread snap. That potion only affected your body, your cloth is still on the fringes of severing. You look around for where the kit is. Your mistress' room is is filled with dazzling colors and, all some shade of green or dull gold. Little objects of delight hang from the ceiling, and plants congest any empty spaces, it is almost like you have stepped into a different dimension, and there is a pressure all around you. You spot the desk, almost buried in yellowed papers and half melted candles. The drawer on the lower right is slightly ajar. This is where she would have kept it. You pull it open to reveal a pristine looking sewing kit, with a big spool of black cloth next to it. You also see a knife, engraved in the runes of Yorj. From what you know, the runes on the blade grant it strength against the wicked, a welcome replacement to your old hunting knife. Just as you pocket it, you hear the front door burst open. Quickly! You use the last of your strength to lock the door, and you fall on your mistress' bed. You hear clawed footsteps slowly raking along the wooden floor. You can tell that at least three of these things have infiltrated your mistress' home.

Your time is running out. You must repair!

[spoilers]I apologize for including the repair option in the previous post. You only rolled to see if you could reach your mistress' chamber and find the sewing kit.[/spoilers]

1/5 Health.

Roll 1d100 to repair to full health. Best out of three.

Target(s): 60

File: Room.png (819 KB, 886x475)

819 KB PNG

>>2662571
Forgot pic for immersion.

Rolled 19 (1d100)

>>2662571

Need two more rolls people!

Rolled 45 (1d100)

>>2662595
I'll roll again if it helps?

>>2662596
Eh, it's the first thread, so I'll allow it on the basis of low player pop. This is the only time though.

Rolled 10 (1d100)

King in Yellow favor me!

Votes called. Stand by...

>>2662596
>45 (Failure)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4JpdCdxsasI

The claws drag along the floor.

Krrrrrrr

Krrrrrrr

You open the kit and take out the needle.

Krrrrrr

You try to loop the thread through the needle.

Krrrrrr

Your hands are shaking. You miss.

Krrrrrr, ka, ka, ka. One of the creatures is making it's way up the stairs.

You try again. You get it through.

Krrrrrr. Tap tap tap on the door.

You connect a few threads to your tissue.

The doorknob jiggles.

You connect a few more.

The door is shaking. The lock breaks.

You freeze.

>Cont.

File: Stranger in Need.jpg (1014 KB, 1920x2688)

1014 KB JPG

>>2662639

There, it is.

A spirit. Originally a wolf, but twisted into a humanoid shape brought by it's own will. It's face is mutated into an immitation of a wide smile, with teeth literally flooding in it's mouth. It's eyes glow a pale yellow, and have no irises. It has long, pale claws on it's feet and it's hands are formed in a similiar fashion.

It stares at you for a second, and you stare at it. The beast eyes your charred flesh, and it's mouth starts to water. The air leaves your lungs, and only the soft chimes of the dangling trinkets remind you that you are not in a dream. Fear makes you stay still, even while death yet again is preying on you. It starts to move towards you, it's claws, which drag upon the floor, make a sickening sound, and leave deep marks in the wood. You are powerless to stop it as it opens it's maw and slowly goes for you neck. Some spirits have the ability to paralyse their prey to aid them in hunts. Maybe this is what is happening to you.

+1 Health from repair.

2/5 Health.

The monster closes it's jaws around your neck. It is by the graces of your cloth that you are not killed instantly, and yet the pain is indescribable.

-1 Health.

1/5 Health.

It lifts you up, and you are dangling from it's mouth. You cannot scream nor cry, yet you can barely move your hand. You reach for the engraved knife.

Roll 1d100.

Rolled 11 (1d100)

Holy fuck this might be a fast quest

Rolled 53 (1d100)

>>2662657
Well time to meet the gods again.

Rolled 88 (1d100)

I'll roll for the sake of progression.

>>2662684
Progression and a clutch save!

>>2662684
>88 (Success!)

The knife glows red hot in your hands. It sinks into the neck of the spirit with ease, and you see that is cooking it's insides. It lets go of you in surprise and you fall back onto the bed. It screams and thrashes, pulling at its neck. To your horror, it is ripping into itself, tearing away at the fat and muscle. It falls to the ground, squirming and thrashing some more, tearing sizeable chunks of wood from the floor.

The floor creaks, and before you realize what's happening, it collapses, right on top of the other two spirits. One is crushed instantly, and the other is knocked unconscious. The one that you have injured is still thrashing, but is starting to quiet down. You can see that it's flesh is regenerating. You must do something while you have the chance!

You are within reach of the kitchen, more specifically the vat of poison. You are within reach of the fireplace. You are too far away from the exits to escape.

(Choose one)

>Finish off the one you injured. By the time you do this, the unconscious one will wake up.
>Kill the unconscious one. By the time you do this, the injured one will recover.
>Do something with the poison! (But what?)
>Do something with the fire! (But what?)

Throw the vat of poison at the lot of them!

>>2662702
>>Kill the unconscious one. By the time you do this, the injured one will recover.

10 more minutes. If the tie still stands I'm rolling a 1d2.

Actually lets kill the injured one we can't they might be immune to poison or some shit

Voting called. Stand by...

>>2662758
Ahem, I mean roll 1d100. Best of three.

Target(s): 50

I'm debating whether or not to hide the targets. Should I?

Rolled 42 (1d100)

>>2662761

Rolled 45 (1d100)

>>2662761

Rolled 87 (1d100)

>>2662761
LET'S GO

Rolled 2 (1d2)

These saves man.

Forgot to roll for choice since there was a stalemate.

1 = Kill Injured
2 = Kill Unconscious

>Kill the unconscious one. By the time you do this, the injured one will recover.
>>2662832
>87 (Major Success!)

You jump into motion, diving for the one that is not moving and, easier to kill! Even with shaky hands, the knife stays true, and slides into the skull of the unconscious spirit like butter, killing it instantly. You take back your knife. Behind you, the other spirit has stopped it's thrashing. The wound on its neck has healed completely, but something looks off about it. It slowly rises to its feet, gaining its balance for a second before lunging at you!

(If you manage to dodge, what will you do? Choose one)
>Stab it in the back, and yet you have no guarantee of killing it! (Easy)
>Go for the poison, but is it immune to its effects? (Normal)
>Go for the fire, fire must harm this thing! (Difficult)
>Other?

We are on one health and we can't prolong the fight. I say we take the middle path and throw the poison now.

>>2662867
>>Go for the poison, but is it immune to its effects? (Normal)

>>2662867
>Go for the poison, but is it immune to its effects? (Normal)

Closing in 10 minutes.

>>2662876
>>2662886
>>2662895

>Dodge and go for the poison!

Roll 2d100. 1) Dodging. 2) Going to the poison. Best of three.

Target(s): 20, 40

Rolled 92, 11 = 103 (2d100)

Rolled 61, 3 = 64 (2d100)

>>2662938

Rolled 70, 6 = 76 (2d100)

>>2662938

>>2662942
>>2662950
>>2662953
Man that second d100 HATES US.

What fun.

Stand by...

>Dodge and go for the poison!
>>2662942
>92, 11 (Major Success! Failure!)

The knife must have done more damage to the beast than you intended, for instead of a lunge, it simply lets out a gurgle and falls over. This was a stroke of luck you would have never expected! Quickly as you can, you stand up on shaky legs and walk to the poison, to finish the job once and for all. Your hope has been that at least some poisonous residue must still be remaining in the pot for you to use, but when you look into it, you see that it had melted right through, leaving you with nary but a drop! During this time, the spirit gets up once more, and turns to face you. It seems more solid now, more well put together. You are sure that you will not be so lucky a second time. And so, you are stuck in the kitchen, a semi-lucid monstrosity guarding the only exit, and shambling ever closer to you.

You see that you have access to the potions in the kitchen. There is a hole behind you that leads to the basement. There is a window behind you as well, yet it locked.

(Choose 1)
>Make your last stand here! The creature is weakened but if you wait a second long it might fully recover! (Normal)
>Grab a potion! (Easy)
>Dive into the basement! (Normal)
>Attempt to escape through the window! (Hard)

Last Stand. Today we die like a real boy!

>>2663010
>Grab a potion! (Easy)
>Dive into the basement! (Normal)
Get something to use and try to bottleneck them

>>2663051
You only have enough time to do one action before the spirit gets to you. You can grab a potion, but you will have to hope that it will be a potion that will hurt/kill it, and you would have to use it immediately as the spirit would have already been close to you at that point.

>>2663058
Ah bummer. Might as well go all or nothing then.
>Make your last stand here! The creature is weakened but if you wait a second long it might fully recover! (Normal)

>>2663023
>>2663071

>Last stand!

This is it fellas. Roll 1d100 for the performance of a life time. Best out of three.

Target(s): 40

Rolled 24 (1d100)

>>2663103
Time to die!

Rolled 6 (1d100)

>>2663103
I'll roll, we're nearing the end anyways and were losing momentum.

Rolled 87 (1d100)

>>2663103

>>2663214

>first quest
>been a roller coaster of low rolls, only for one high roll to save the day.

This quest was meant to be. Stand by...

No, the topic of this quest is too unique to die. If it did we'd just be back to anime quests.

>Make your last stand!
>>2663214
>87 (Major Success!)

Fueled by fear and a desperation for survival, you launch yourself at the spirit, driving the knife into it's chest. It roars in pain and instinctively slashes at you, you duck under it before the hit can land, and you knock it off balance with a well placed kick! It falls with a thud, and you get on top of the thing, straddling it. With your knife in both hands, you look at the spirit. For but a moment you see your mistress. Do you reel back in horror or balk at the image? No, you feel nothing, same as before. It was never your decison to kill her. In the end, you were being used in order to further someone's agenda. It was a voice in your head that held your soal captive, not you.

The knife, held firm in both of your hands, is driven down into the spirits chest yet again. It gurgles and spits blood, you drive the knife down, opening it up like a stuffed animal. Blood and guts spill everywhere, along with a putrid smell of decay. The floor is painted in a new coat of red, and so are you. When you are sure that it is well and truly dead, you get up on weak legs. You wipe away the blood from the knife on your leg, it comes off as a dazzling, perfect surface. You look at it and see your reflection. Half of the cloth covering your face has been torn off, most likely from the spirit after it bit you. A charred corpse stares back at you, almost mockingly so.

You look around for the sewing kit, you are in a daze, andreline wearing off. You soon find it, and yet the black cloth is no where to be found. You see the grey curtains covering the windows and use those instead. After an hour of silence among the death and misery, you finish your work. It didn't matter where the cloth came from, as long as it was attatched to your body, it would carry the same protective properties.

As you step out of the kitchen and into the living room, and you see dissaray. The door lies on the floor, letting the cold wind flow around the room like a hurricane. Papers float and shift around the area, only to fall down and move again. There is no where for you to go now, you think to yourself. This is it. There is an old chair by the still roaring fireplace. You slump down in your it, and you stare blankly into the fire for a while.

Hours pass. You go to throw a log into the fire to keep it lit, but your hands graze against something else instead.

What did you pick up?

>"On Mana" by an unknown author.
>"Monsters, the Lot of Them" by an unknown author.
>"On the Soul" authored by your mistress.
>"The Antlermen, a Child's Story" by an unknown author.
>"The Origin of Things" by an unknown author.

>>2663355
>"The Antlermen, a Child's Story" by an unknown author.

>>2663355
All of them are tempting but,
>"On the Soul" authored by your mistress.
Seems to be fitting at the moment.

Lets do Antlerman, since we already know what happens after we die.

Voting will close in 10 minutes. I'll throw you a bone and let you read one more book after this one before you have to leave.

>>2663355
>>"On Mana" by an unknown author.

Voting closed!

>Antlermen
>>2663391
>>2663420

>Soul
>>2663393

>Mana
>>2663492

Settling down with a children's story it is!

Stand by...

File: Childs paining.jpg (653 KB, 1632x996)

653 KB JPG

Immersion: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6ddO3jPUFpg&t=735s, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0fYL_qiDYf0, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eam9v9FsLw4


>"The Antlermen, a Child's Story" by an unknown author.

You pick up the curiously named book. Why would this, of all things, be in your mistress' possession? Since the your creation, she has treated you with indifference at best, and vile cruelty at worst. You cannot understand how something so sweet and innocent as a child's book can be held by the person who used you to slay thousands. You brush your hand against the cover, it feels bumpy and textured, and on it is the painted image of what you think are the "Antlermen" standing among mist with a slight green tinge to it. They are smiling, and looking down upon a lone house with a dock. You open the cover, and by the wrinkling sound it makes, it has never been opened in years. Engraved on the back of the cover are the words:

To my sweet angel, my love.

You turn to the next page.

A woman walked alone in the woods one day. She was crying and moaning in grief. So loud were her cries, that it scared all the creatures to run away from her, leaving her alone to wander the forest forever. When she went up to the trees to tell them her sorrows, they all withered and died. When she tried to speak to the bushes and shrubs, they floated off into the sky. When she laid upon the green grass, they all went back into the ground. Wherever she went, all life fled. Not ever the beauties of nature would show themselves to her. The sun went down whenever she woke up, and the moon avoided her gaze. The stars went dim and even the blackness of the sky left her, until the only thing she saw when she looked up was a featurless gray. The clouds dispersed, and the waters of the ponds and lakes and seas and oceans all dried up, so there was nothing for her to drink.

One day, she laid upon a bed of rocks, wishing for death. Her tears soaked into the dry ground, and she soon fell into a troubled slumber. Her dreams were filled with sorrow and grief, so much so that woke up the Antlermen, sleeping among the willow trees. One after the other, they slowly and gently climbed down from their homes, and tiptoed to the woman, careful to not disturb her. Her dreams turned to a nightmare, and she cried in her sleep. The Antlermen, so kind and gentle, felt her sorrow as well. One of them, the greatest and strongest of them all, took her in it's lap. She awoke with fright, until it spoke to her, in a voice so ageless and wise that her tears couldn't help but dry up immediately.

>Cont.

File: 1528463678273.jpg (4.16 MB, 3264x2629)

4.16 MB JPG

>>2663647

"Why do you cry so?" Asked the Antlerman. The others gathered around her, shy heads peeking from rocks and others so close to her she could feel their warmth.

"I lost my child," she said, "I lost him when our house burned down. All of it gone!" Her tears started to well up again.

"Hush now," replied the Antlerman, "the child is with Us now, he is safe and happy there."

"H-how can that be when I still feel so much sorrow?" she asked.

"The ones who we love will eventually fade, and just as the trees become cold and grey in the winter, they find new life in the spring. And, just as the sun sets it will rise eventually. Life is an exchange of the good and the bad, and it is up to you to choose how much of either you let affect you."

"But the sun never sets nor rises for me! All the animals left me! The trees never come back and the plants have all gone away!" she whimpered.

"And that is because the poison in your heart became too much for you," the Antlerman replied, "when you choose to only see sorrow in the world, it becomes grey and dead. You need to see the light in your child, not the darkness. You need to move on."

"No!" the woman cried out, "I will never forget my boy! I will always remember him!"

And so did her shrieks scare away the Antlermen. They all went for the trees, and left the woman alone to collapse in sorrow for her lost child. Eventually, she left the hard ground to go back to the forest, a wave of gray passing over her everywhere she went.

>Cont.

>>2663653

You set the book down and look into the fire some more.

What do you read next?
>"On Mana" by an unknown author.
>"Monsters, the Lot of Them" by an unknown author.
>"On the Soul" authored by your mistress.
>"The Origin of Things" by an unknown author.

What kind of children's story is that?
Let's do Th Soul next

You know what? I'll end it here. New thread will be made tomorrow if possible. For now, I will take Q and A for anyone who wants to know something.

>>2663665
>"On the Soul" authored by your mistress.

So why the yellow theme. God was yellow, we are yellow, the potion is yellow, what is the significance of the color?

>>2663734
Alright I've got a few.

First off, you doing alright? This seems a bit abrupt.

Are we going to get upgrades or are we just badass enough at full cloth that it doesn't matter?

How many more like us are out there?

What would have happened if we failed that last stand?

If it was the "what kind of children's story?" Comment I wasn't trying to be insulting, it was brilliantly written and extremely creative, I was just trying to make light of the fact that it's ending is sad and may frighten or depress children. It was fantastic and the writing is far better than most books.

>>2663757

I could be wrong, but I don't believe that I described us as being yellow, and I described the potion as being red. But if you're asking about the general significance of my choice of colors in the quest, then I would be happy to answer.

I describe the color green a lot, and make it a point to assign it to things that are eternal, or things that have a metaphysical meaning. Take, for example, the jade figurines on the mistress' shelf that I described in passing during the beginning, and when you see them again in that little death episode. I got the inspiration from a book called "The House on the Borderland" by William Hope Hodgson, where the main character is transported to a jade green tower surrounded by the gods from all the pantheons of belief - Christianity, Hinduism, etc…. It is an excellent book, I would highly recommend it. Here's a tip from the QM: when green appears, it's probably important.

>>2663760

I'm as fine as I could be. This is my first real quest that i'm running, and I guess that i'm getting a bit too ahead of myself, because I spent two days straight running, and I need to understand my limits as a QM. Tomorrow I will finish off this chapter, and start a new thread this friday most likely.

For your second question, I always had a passion for trying new and different things. I am a long time lurker of /qst/ and read a lot of the great quests, like Banished Quest, Shadow Quest, Totemist, etc. I don't want to compare this quest to theirs, but I want to at least attempt to impart the same feel that these quests gave me. This will be a narrative-heavy quest, and combat will still appear frequently, but instead of simply getting upgrades to take more damage and defeat tougher opponents, you will follow the flow of the battle and make strategic decisions to win. That is not to say that there will be absolutely no game elements, because then it would just be a choose your own adventure story. No, there will be spells and abilities, just with my own twist to them. Look forward to it this tomorrow or this friday, and you will get the opportunity to become as strong as you want, but not without a challenge.

Your third question is a bit tricky, and it touches on your last question as well. When you visited God the first time, you did not die. You were there because you gained your own soul from the conflict of two wills fighting inside you: the thorns and the mistress. Your own will arose out of that, and God summoned you because it was his duty to watch over all souls. If you had failed your last stand, or just died, then you would have been introduced to the death mechanic, which seemed neat to me, but I have yet to learn if it works in practice or not. You would be given a short little poem, describing ten of your kin. One would fade and give you new life, in effect giving you ten revives. But, when one fades a sacrifice must be made. You would have had to choose a potential good in your future be replaced by a bad. For example, One option would be to turn high roll relating to a critical moment into a 1, and another would make a potential ally never meet you in the first place. Keep in mind that for every death, one other being like you, a creature given a soul, dies as well, and all the others will remember that, and they won't be particularly grateful.

>>2663840
Haha, come on man. It had nothing to do with your comment, I was just tired. And thanks for the compliment! I have a trouble judging my own writing skills, but I appreciate the feedback!

Also, have you ever read into the origins of some childrens stories? They are 10 times more messed up than mind (see: Hansel and Gretel and Ring Around the Rosie)

>>2663850
The death mechanic sounds neat on paper but in practice it could be iffy. Just don't pull a dungeon life quest and force a revive if it seems like the players aren't going to die.

Combat system sounds good, where it's more how you approach a situation rather than how hard you hit it.

>>2663908

Exactly. Both the death and combat mechanics have been thought through, but need to be tested to see if they work. What did you think of the fight with the werewolf spirits?

I personally find very mechanic oriented combat really tedious and am really enjoying the more roll for success and freeform events that occur. In my opinion its just really tedious over 4chan. It works but not my cup of tea.

Chiming in as a lurker that I like what I'm reading so far

>>2663981
Pretty intense though there was a bit of a disconnect with the unstoppable murder machine we were built up as. Though that can be chalked up to being super fucked up.

I know that I said that I would be starting a new thread, but I didn't realize just how slow /qst/ is, and it would not make sense for a chapter to be split into two sections, as that would completely ruin the flow.

I will be starting in a few hours, but I will reopen the voting. I realized that it made no sense to limit your options for reading, because you are in no rush, so you will get through all the books in due time. For now, vote!

What do you read next?
>"On Mana" by an unknown author.
>"Monsters, the Lot of Them" by an unknown author.
>"On the Soul" authored by your mistress.
>"The Origin of Things" by an unknown author.

>>2664869
Do the votes from earlier count as >>2663737 was mine.

If not then
>"On the Soul" authored by your mistress.

>>2664873
A fresh day and thus fresh votes are needed.

>>2664869
>>"On the Soul" authored by your mistress.

>>2664869
>"On the Soul" authored by your mistress.

>>2664873
>>2664879
>>2664882

>"On the Soul" authored by your mistress.

Stand by... I need a couple more hours

That story ignited something inside of you. You feel sorrow and pain just as the mother had in the story, and yet you do not know where these feelings come from. You look at the cover once more, and you feel an echo of a past memory, telling you that someone read this story to you once before. A single tear absorbs into the cloth around your eyes, yet you do not notice.

The cold wind around you howls and whispers softly. The fire crackles and pops as warm light dances in the room, the breach in the doorway leaks soft moonlight in contrast with the yellow of the fire. Pages flutter about you, casting flashes of shadow across your grey and black face. You reach for another book. It has no cover image, instead the words On the Soul are engraved in a bold, golden flowing script at the top center. You turn the cover over to reveal another line of text, in the same style as the title, reading By Eleanor Grimm. You know this to be the past name of your mistress, a name she forsook long ago. You turn to the next page.

>Cont.

>>2664915

If one knows how to manipulate the soul, one knows how to manipulate everything. It is from within this churning ball of Chaos and Order, surrounded by a shell of the divine, that true life can form. Since the beginning of history, the soul was thought of as a thing that only a higher being can manipulate, known by many cultures as God. Yet, to think that this is the only way to create life is a wrong way to think indeed. One simply needs an advanced knowledge on the primal energies that make up our reality, and it is a relatively simple task of weaving them together like fine cloth into a tapestry.

We know from studying the cosmos that all life came as a result from the intermingling of two primal forces, Chaos and Order. Why or how they exist is a mystery beyond our era of understanding, and yet we have a firm grasp of how they work. Both forces are attracted to each other in much the same way that two magnets can push and pull. Chaos needs Order and vice versa. They naturally seek out a balance, and thus collect into balls of equal portions. They would twist and churn around themselves, in effect creating a "magnetic field of life" around them. It has been theorized that the first living beings were in fact the stars themselves, as Order forms heat around itselfs, and Chaos repels it away to warm planets. They themselves too, are alive, yet it takes on a different form. Order and Chaos exist within the core of the planet, radiating life, and through chance the Order attracted physical matter instead of heat, and thus stone formed around each other to give birth to the first living things that fit under the classical definition of life. Millions of years of the attraction and repulsion of Chaos and Order gave rise to an infinitely complex biology in which caused those living beings to form miniature cores of chaos and order within themselves, allowing them to exist independently from planets.

>Cont.

Life was new, and yet the creatures made from stone and muck and other things were simply mindless animals, content to simply nourish themselves and reproduce. There needed to be something else, a third force to give creatures a will, a purpose and thoughts to call their own. This force, referred to as the divine energy, acts as a shell around the balls of Chaos and Order churning within the creature. This kept their radiating life energy inside of them, sacrificing a scary strength and impressive vitality for more refined control and sentience. The divine would form around the core, and would transform the outflowing energy into something completely different - mana. More, much more could be said about this mythical fourth force, and yet that is for a different text. One thing to be noted, though, is that mana is the force that gives a creature the ability to think and attain higher levels of sentience. The more mana a creature has, in effect they are more "enlightened."

As such, Golemancy, the art of creating life, uses these principles to create life and bend it to their will. Since no living being can directly control the forces of Chaos and Order, a golem must be created from the sacrifice of a living creature, preferably human. Through a ritual, the golemist can extract the core and implant it in any object they so desire, and in replacement of that living being's divine energy forming a shell around the core, the golemist would extract a portion of her divine energy and supplant that as the shell. Since the divine shell is only a fragment of its strength, the Chaos and Order can radiate freely outside of the body of the object, giving it great strength. If that divine shell be strengthened, then the object would lose strength, until they could barely lift a chair, for example. Theoretically, it could also gain sentience, yet that has never been proven to be true.

Beyond this point, the text is corrupted.

>Cont.

>>2664918
You set the book down and look into the fire some more.

What do you read next?
>"On Mana" by an unknown author.
>"Monsters, the Lot of Them" by an unknown author.
>"The Origin of Things" by an unknown author.

>>2664920
>"On Mana" by an unknown author.
Dropped your handle there boss. So does this mean that since we've become sentient we've lost a lot of the power we had? That why we were getting bodied by those wolves?

>>2664920
>>"On Mana" by an unknown author.
I'm really enjoying this quest, keep up the good work

>>2664921
Whoops! Thanks for the catch.

Yes. This is the cost of gaining a will of your own. Notice during the combat when your health was 1/5? Yeah, it was like 1000 before the quest started.

Let's say that voting closes in 10 minutes

The trees rustle and sway in the breeze. The fire's light starts to fade ever so gradually, giving you barely enough to finish reading. There are no logs left to burn, and you do not want to burn the books just yet to keep warm. Cold starts to overtake the room, wind flowing like a stream, and carries with it the putrid stench of rotting corpses.

Again, you set the book down after completing it. Is this what you are? Just a churning force of Order and Chaos, each seeking to gain the upper hand over you? You nearly reach the the next book.

Mana is, as far as our current understanding carries us, a force separate from the Chaos and Order that binds all of creation. For that reason, it has the ability to manipulate our physical world. When one can control mana, it is like they carry a piece of God within them, allowing them to undertake feats that defy all logic. This powerful force has been understood to persist in a form only observable to the one controlling it, and may be observed taking different forms. For example, one may see mana take the form of a misty cloud, or others may see it like a wave, or fire, or sometimes tendrils of light. Regardless, no matter the user, all proclaim that mana is manipulated by it's vibration.

At first, when mana is channeled, it comes out as a null force, or simply, a force that exerts no action upon the world. It is through the will of the user that true displays of Magic can occur. Change only takes place when the "essence" of the mana is vibrated in a specific fashion. It has taken many thousands of years of trial and error to understand this phenomenon, and a universally approved theory has yet to come to light to explain why this happens. The actions enacted upon the mana and their effects on the world are as such:

>Cont.

>>2664945

>Smooth motion; gentle vibration
Promotes the growth of life, and induces general feelings of happiness.

>Chaotic motion, intense vibration
Disrupts the flow of life, and induces general feelings of sadness.

>Fast, continuous stream
Speeds things, or otherwise accelerates actions.

>Slow, stagnant flow
Slows things, or otherwise decelerates actions.

>To give mana structure
Manifests mana as a physical object.

>To keep the mana gaseous of liquid
The mana diffuses, and has a greater area of effect.

>Harmonious motion, in tune with nature.
Results in the mana becoming one with nature, letting it seep into organic material and change it gradually.

>Brute force
The mana is used to force itself in, disrupting the flow of the things without souls.

These are the 8 basic principles of mana manipulation, and there are many others found in more advanced texts. From these principles, 16 forces can be manipulated, and they are:

...
...
...

And yet, there are higher, greater forms of magical mastery that can be achieved when one learns how to layer multiple modes of force manipulation upon each other, generating tertiary forces, even more complex and profound than the others, they are:

...
...
...

>>2664949

Some of the text is corrupted, and many pages are ripped out. On the back of the last page, there is a long scrawl of notes, presumably written by Eleanor, your mistress.

Body is the primal flow.
Mind is the transcendental flow.
Solus is the Mind and the Body separating.

Life is the grand wave.
Death is the sporadic movement.
Cyclis is the beginning and the end.

Motion is the fast stream.
Stillness is the stagnant flow.
Oro is the Big and the Small.

Form is the structure.
Formless has no structure.
Remun is the change of matter.

Natural follows the flow.
Artificial rails against the flow.
Statika is the marriage of man and nature.

Mana is the empowerment.
Mundane is the absence of power.
Contras is the mastery of Mana.

Sentient is imbalance.
Primal is balance.
Inta is the battle between chaos and order.

>Cont.

>>2664952

You set the book down and look into the fading fire. You feel a shiver run up your ruined spine.

What do you read next?
>"Monsters, the Lot of Them" by an unknown author.
>"The Origin of Things" by an unknown author.

>>2664954
>"Monsters, the Lot of Them" by an unknown author.
Should probably look for some more wood to feed the fire, or try to fix the door. Though the image of this horrifying monster of cloth sitting in front of a dying fire in a beat down hut is pretty neat.

>>2664954
>>"The Origin of Things" by an unknown author.

>>2664962

Sadly, you are too tired to even stand. That fight pushed you to your limits, and then some.

Leaving voting open for little less than an hour, I want to get something to eat.

>>2664970
Do we need sleep now? Did we ever before? Also I'll switch to >>2664970 to keep things moving.

>>2664995
Damn, I meant switch to >>2664969

>>2664954
>Rest and recover, dwell and meditate; questions to answer and decisions to be made
What do we remember? Who was the vessel we were not, but require to be as we are now? What shall we do next?

>>2664999

Patience, patience! Some parts of the plot I want to keep vague to fit my story, just stick with the prompts for now. I have a feeling that your last question will be answered very shortly!

I'm sorry that I didn't explicitly state this, but this entire first thread is acting as sort of a bloated prologue and chargen that will set up the entirety of the quest to follow. I plan for this quest to be as open world as possible, yet I still need a guide to follow, which you will provide me with after we finish reading our last book.

Closing in 10 minutes

Stand by...

File: 1528419499574.jpg (163 KB, 1191x670)

163 KB JPG

The book showers you in dust as you slam it shut and toss it into the fire. It eagerly eats it up as you see the pages engulfed in red and soon float off, turned to ash. The smell of the rotting flesh is starting to bother you, and you pick up one last book to read.

The Origin of Things is the only thing it says on the cover in scraggly handwriting. It is a thin book, with only five pages in it. You flip through the text, only to find that most of the words have been faded away gradually by time. What you can read, though, is mysterious and leaves you with a feeling of dread.

Fear the one who talks in his sleep;
He who lays across the emerald grass;
Turning it to stone, and all 'cross;
Grey landscapes meets him;
All devoid of color and joy lost.

You throw the book into the fire as well, and get up. The flame flares up and licks outside of it's confines. You watch it as it starts to consume the dry paper and books around the fireplace. Do you try to stop it? No, why would you? All that is left here are echoes of pain and misery. You find it fitting to purge your past in the purity of fire. You take a bundle of books, and throw them one at a time into the ever growing fire, it snatches them away from you, and grows in heat and intensity. Before the fire can touch you, you leave the house, stepping atop wrinkled paper and leaving behind half melted candles. The air greets you with daggers of cold penetrating through your charred skin from beneath the cloth, and you feel a growing warmth from behind you.

>BIG Cont.

>>2665072

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q3C14m1Dono

The great silver moon shines brilliantly directly above you, illuminating the frozen forest in an almost holy light. Trees sway gently in the breeze, snow falls gently on the ground, and your stream, you can see in the far distance, gleams and sparkles as if fairies dance in the water. You stare blankly into the distance, seeing the infinite darkness ahead of you. The snow is a pure white, with dark rocks peeking from the surface, dotting all around you. In this place, tucked away within the dead trees and cold snow, you close your eyes, darkness surrounding you as breath through your nose the scent of winter. You hold it in for a minute, then let go in a melancholic sigh. This is your first true breath, you think, surrounded by death and decay.

The fire behind you explodes in brightness, engulfing you in yellow light. You turn around to see your mistress' house erupt in flames. It takes the house in it's purge, and you can almost see angelic wings made from fire spread and fly away. It roars and churns, blinding you and drowning out the allure of the moon. In a display of passion, the fire belches out plumes of flame, reaching to the heights of the trees. You think about yourself, and where you fit into the grand scheme of things. Here you are, a creature never meant to be, standing among flame, your will given to you from seemingly out of nowhere. Is it all random chance? Am I just a fluke? Where do go? What do I do?

The house collapses, and the fire marches on. You wait until it has died down, and look among the ashes of what was left. You see the spirits, unaffected by the flame and yet smoking. You see your mistress, or what was left of her. She has turned into a blackened corpse, almost a carbon copy of yourself. You remember that book that you read, the Antlermen. Why did she keep that book? What happened in her past to have made her what she was? She never told you, she never told anybody. You stare at her, and you engrave the scene before you into your head. You don't want to forget this moment, the moment you broke the chains of bondage and gained freedom.

For a long, long moment you stand there, contemplating your existence.

>Cont.

>>2665111

Then, you feel something. You feel a calling inside of you. It is your light asking you for direction. Your soul seeking something to shine towards. A goal, a quest to call your own. What is your quest?

(Choose 1-3)
>I am to seek vengenace against all life.
>I am to seek forgiveness for all those I have wronged.
>I am to become the most powerful being alive.
>I am to become a leader, for good or for evil.
>I just want to be left alone.
>I just want a normal life.
>I wish to learn the secrets of this reality.
>I… (Write-In)

This is an important decision. Discuss as much as you like. And yes! Your choices can conflict with each other, which will make the quest much more interesting!

>>2665115
>>I am to seek forgiveness for all those I have wronged.
> I seek power to defend myself and other
>I seek purpose

File: COMEPLEX MOTIVES.png (215 KB, 680x684)

215 KB PNG

>>2665121
In fact, let me expand on this
>I seek redemption for what I have done when I was only a tool, I shall try to save as many people as I possibly can
>I seek power, the power to protect the weak, sick, old or feeble.
> I seek purpose and redemption, I shall amend my errors and make the world a better place while looking for a reason to move forward.
I'm sorry if I repeated myself a bit there.

>>2665115
>I seek power so that no one can impose their will upon me again
>I seek knowledge to understand the world I am now aware of
>I seek purpose as does anything with a soul.

>>2665115
I seek...
>redemption
>power
>secrets

>>2665140
thumbnail looks like Jeff Goldblum

>>2665140
>>2665210
>>2665259

Redemption = 2
Power = 3
Purpose = 2
Knowledge / Secrets = 2

Not enough to make a decision.

Think about what Cain has gone through. For his entire life, he has seen people through the lens of murder and rampage, and now that he finally has a soul and a will, he can either stick to what he knows, or try to escape what he was. Do you think that he wants to redeem himself? Would he think that he has done anything wrong, when it was made clear that he was simply being used against his will?

The question boils down to whether or not you want to see Cain rise or fall.

>I am to seek forgiveness for all those I have wronged.
>I am to become the most powerful being alive.
>I wish to learn the secrets of this reality.
I think a good goal is to protect people from the same fate we have suffered through. In doing this we are going to need to be alot stronger and smarter in order to right the years of wrongdoing.

Looks like that's it for the time being. I'll keep the voting open for another hour before I try to come up with a compromise to all of your choices.

Okay! So this is what we have:

>>2665140
>>2665210
>>2665259
>>2665401

Redemption / Forgiveness = 3
Power = 4
Purpose = 2
Knowledge / Secrets = 3

You seek to be strong enough to protect people from falling under the same fate as you, and in the hopes of doing so you hope for redemption from your sinful past by leading a life of good. In the mean time, you will scour the land, looking for all the secrets that this world has to offer in order for you to achieve this goal.

Does this sound good enough?

>>2665504
Sure, sounds like a fine starting point

>>2665504
Yeah, sounds good.

And now, for the last choice before we fade to black:

You are free now. You have forgone your blightful past, but has the world? Where do you go?

>North, where the frigid wastes lie and nothing grows. You heard that on the utmost tip of the continent there is a city that is said to contain the most powerful mages to have ever existed.
>South, where most of civilization lies. It is here that you can reconcile with those you have sinned against, or, maybe for a more sinister purpose?
>East, where structure gives way to chaos. Here, the woods reign, and nothing can stand against it. It is a mythical and magical area.
>West, where the oldest kingdoms lie. Here is where the rumors spawn from, where tales of great heroes are spun and told to the masses. Heroes… or villains.

>>2665563
>East, where structure gives way to chaos. Here, the woods reign, and nothing can stand against it. It is a mythical and magical area.

>>2665563
>East, to seek life in it's rawest state and drink deep of its wisdom

>>2665563
>East, where structure gives way to chaos. Here, the woods reign, and nothing can stand against it. It is a mythical and magical area.

Loving the new ID's! Voting will close in 10 minutes.

>>2665563
>South, where most of civilization lies. It is here that you can reconcile with those you have sinned against, or, maybe for a more sinister purpose?
We already spent most of our lives in the woods.

>East

Without another thought you turn around and walk into the forest deep. You know what to do. You know where to go.

Epilogue:

Ten puppets gaze into the night sky.

One, a pale thing. Forever following her duties with nary a complaint.

One, bent towards order and justice. She despises what you are.

One, a spoiled princess. She thinks of nothing but herself.

One, a wily thief. She runs from what she is.

One, a lonely spirit. It is the one who would understand you most.

One, a being twisted into a sorry form. It is forced into chains it cannot break.

One, whom you have met before. It is not the last time you will see it.

One, who is bent towards darkness. She has given herself to darkness.

One, nothing but a child. It wishes for a normal life.

One, a lost girl. She lives among the dead.

...

“And, suddenly, it came home to me that I was a little man in a little ship, in the midst of a very great sea.”
― William Hope Hodgson

Aaaaand thread #1 is complete!

I felt really happy with this thread and had a lot of fun. I hoped you guys had fun as well!

Now, for the final round of Q and A. I will be sticking around for a couple hours, so ask away.

And, if I can so humbly request some criticism for my writing. I want to improve, I really do, and yet it can only happen if I learn from my mistakes, and it would help if you guys could shed some light on them for me.

File: 1515118722469.png (29 KB, 260x200)

29 KB PNG

>>2665670
Loving it so far cloth! Can't really say much to writing aside from the gods section being a bit muddled (for me anyway).

Next session when?

>>2665685

Friday! After that, you can refer to the schedule posted at the top.