studiobondurri Chapter 7: A thing that shambles
Chapter 7: A thing that shambles
Chapter 7: A thing that shambles
~ [Shaushka] ~
Elf, Female, Classless Location: The Scorched Forest LEVEL: 04
Shaushka sits in the rain, staring at the rock.
The rock stares back at her.
Its been a while since she stopped here to look at the rock. A full day, it feels like. But the storm nonetheless continues to fall over the world, as if the rains were simply intent on never ending even if all of the fires have long since been drowned and extinguished, and even if the ashy, ruined soil was becoming soaked and bog-like.
She misses the smell of the bakery.
But this is nice too.
The rain and the forest come together to create the smell of deep moisture, stemming from the natural world, that is very refreshing in a way. Its not wholesome and heavy, like the smell of baked bread. Rather, its softer and dewier; its a gentle coolness, compared to the savoriness of bread.
The elf squats there, her hands wrapped around her knees, as the two of them stare at each other.
Rocks do not do much except stare.
It is simply their nature.
*SCRAW* screeches something in the distance through the rain.
Shaushka slowly blinks, her soaked hair sticking to her eyelids, as she meanderingly turns her head.
*SCRAW* protests a very angry crow up in a tree that it has landed on.
The elf tilts her head, watching the crow screech and scraw.
Slowly, Shaushka looks back at the rock.
AH! says the elf in surprise, leaning over forward, her hands in the mud as she examines the area.
The rock is gone.
Confused, she looks around herself, trying to find it.
But it is nowhere to be seen.
How strange.
It didnt even say goodbye.
*SCRAW!* shrieks the crow, clearly having a bad day as far as crow-days are concerned.
Shaushka turns her head to look back at it and then gets up, following its voice.
The bird flies off from its perch, landing several trees further down the way, and she, unblinkingly, with water raining into her open eyes, walks barefoot through the mud of the road as she moves after the bird that clearly has an opinion to share.
Very unusual.
~ [Sir Alencia] ~
Human, Female, Royal Knight Location: The Demon-Kings Castle, Floor Four LEVEL: 86
Alencia tosses and turns in her sleep, the first rest that shes gotten since this nightmare started.
But in her slumber, the nightmare continues.
Even here in her rest, she can feel something nearby. Its an old, primal darkness that she knows not out of the knowledge that shes gained over the course of her life and education. Rather, its an old, deep, inexplicable feeling that is rooted in her biology. It is the innate human sense of something dark creeping in the shadows.
A presence.
Laying in bed, she opens her eyes and cautiously looks past the blobby faces of her compatriots towards the shadow that stands off against the wall, simply staring at it. Its the shadow of a person, a silhouette that has come to life, and its existence and presence nearby feels dreadful.
In a state of reactive fear, she sits upright, throwing her blanket off of herself.
In the very instant where her own arm swipes past her face, casting the thin traveling blanket off of course, in that brief, impossible second as her vision is only obscured for a moment, the thing moves.
By the time that second ends and her arm has swung out once, the blanket having moved past her field of vision, the shadow is standing right in front of her bed right in-front of her.
It feels so cold.
Her body fails to do what she wants, and she simply falls over backward, her head landing back on her pillow, her eyes growing heavy as the shadow hangs over her paralyzed form.
Sir Alencia gasps, sitting upright in her bedding, waking from the nightmare, her heart pounding as she fearfully looks around herself.
The camp is exactly as it should be. Everyone is exactly as they ought to be.
It was just a nightmare.
She exhales, rubbing her face.
But it felt so real.
Applied Status: [Paranoia], [Poor Rest], [Night Terror]
She sighs, rubbing her face in exhaustion as she lays back down.
~ [Ruhr, the River-Sorceress] ~
Human-Half-Elf, Female, Sorceress Rank: SSS Location: The Demon-King's Castle, Floor Four LEVEL: 93
Theyve set up camp on floor four of the Demon-Kings castle after clearing it.
Its true that time is of the essence, but morale is poor. Ruhr looks around at the soldiers, noble-blooded creatures of sword and magic, who are all far more akin to their pampered lives in the palace and practice duels of honor than this this real, gritty, horrific gnashing of teeth that is the sum total of the Demon-Kings castle.
Like children, they slowly started getting more and more upset the further they went, arguing and bickering about this and that, as if they had all gotten cranky in the middle of a long walk.
Ruhr sighs in agitation, looking down the pit as she rubs the bridge of her nose. What do we do? she asks.
Zacarias, standing next to her, looks down the hole. We have to keep moving. The longer we wait, the more our chances of killing the beast and escaping here vanish.
I know that, Zac, replies Ruhr, turning her head to look at him. But tell that to them. She points over her shoulder. Theyre not listening to me anymore, says Ruhr, looking over her shoulder. The soldiers have split into their own camps, each electing leaders of their own. It would seem that after these successive failures and this latest springing of the trap that has sealed them all down here, even Ruhrs apparently divine nature did little to convince them of her authority anymore.
We cant go back, says Zacarias. The way back is blocked off. That just leaves going down or staying here to starve as the available options. He shakes his head. Theyll have no choice but to move when their stomachs start growling.
You say that like its a good thing, Z.z. baby, replies Ruhr.
It is. Theyll listen to sense then, replies Zacarias.
Ruhr thinks for a moment and then shakes her head. Or, because were the ones who made them throw their food away, theyll kill and eat us both, explains the river-sorceress. Then when were picked clean, theyll start with each other. Hell, maybe theyll kill a monster or two and try to survive off that, but
But the Demon-King will pick them off, says Zacarias. If they dont do it themselves.
Ruhr groans in exasperation, slapping her face with both hands and rigorously scrunching her face in anger. What a fuck-up this was. I should have just left town when everything went to shit, she swears. This could have been someone elses problem, but noooo~ says Ruhr. I went and made it fucking mine. She hisses through her gritted teeth, hating herself.
She flops down, crossing her legs as she stares at the abyss, steaming air coming to meet them from below. Despite it being hot, the woman adjusts her yellow scarf and wizards hat. The clothes bring her some comfort.
A hand plants itself on her shoulder. Ruhr looks up at Zacarias. Sometimes, we do the right things, but for the wrong reasons, explains the man, letting go. Why the hell do you want to be some cushy-life living celebrity? he asks. Ive seen nobles grow up and become adults; Ive watched some of them for their whole lives, explains the man. Trust me, its not a place you want to exist in forever. He nods his head behind himself. Just look at them.
Ruhr sighs. You dont get it, Zac. Youre a rich boy, says the river-sorceress. Where Im from, money is everything, explains the woman. You cant exist or be anyone without money, says the woman. You cant have bread, you cant have a home, you cant have people you just cant have SHIT, she exclaims. if you dont have money.
Zacarias looks at her in confusion. Youre strong already with a level in the nineties. Less than five percent of the population ever gets that far, and that includes nobles, explains the man. Im sure you already have plenty of money to live your life as is, replies Zacarias, setting his shield down, wedging it in the stones, and leaning against it. You dont need more money. Thats not why youre here.
She looks at him and shakes her head. You just dont get it, Zac, she says looking back down at her own hands as she squeezes her fingers, trying to grab something that isnt there apart from in her minds eye. But you cant. Its not something that you can understand if you didnt grow up in it.
Zacarias looks at her for a moment and then nods, looking back out over the pit. I see, replies the man.
Ruhr looks back up toward the hole above them. I bet I could use my water-magic to get us out of here, says Ruhr. Really sure about it, actually. She stares up towards the entrance to the dungeon, three floors above their heads on the other side of the massive cylindrical shaft. We could bail. You and me, we could just leave, says the river-sorceress. Fuck this place. Fuck these guys and fuck the Demon-King! We could just blast our way out of the door and then ditch the whole carriage and the whole Demon-King thing, explains the sorceress. Wed just I dunno. She shrugs. Wed just run off in the opposite direction. Everyone would think that were dead, and we could just start over somewhere else.
We could, replies Zacarias. But that would be disappointing, says the man, hoisting his shield back up and out of the stones. Ruhr looks back up at him as he walks away. Id be let down since I was told to expect big things from Ruhr, the river-sorceress. He looks back at her for a moment, and then walks off. People are counting on you.
Ruhr watches him go and then returns her vision to her hands as she thinks about what he said.
The woman tsks.
What an annoying asshole.
She cant even brood in peace with him around. That dick. She wasnt looking for a pep talk, she wanted him to say sad and mean things so that she could keep feeling this way and then justify actually leaving.
Fuck.
The river-sorceress rises to her feet, clenching her empty fists as she glares down at the void below and then turns around, shooting that same look towards the camps of soldiers.
If they wont listen to her in the confines of their bubble of noble society, then shes just going to have to show them how social hierarchies work in her neighborhood.
Ruhr cracks her neck, knuckles and rolls her shoulders as she walks toward them, the soldiers already starting to look her way.
~ [Byblos] ~
Dark-Elf, Female, Cook Location: The Mooncall Tavern LEVEL: 08
GET THE HELL OUT OF MY KITCHEN! screams Byblos, throwing the cleaver in her hand towards the door, which quickly slams shut as the waitress, who had passed on a customers complaint about his order, retreats.
Glaring at the shut door with wide eyes, daring it to open again, the woman stands there, her chest heaving as she breathes angrily.
The door stays closed.
Fuming, she stomps over towards it and yanks the cleaver out of the creaking wood. Her eyes turn back toward the plate that had been sent back.
'Undercooked'?
She walks over to it. Its perfect. Its
Her heart beats as she looks at the food, the creation of her hands and of her soul. This isnt some slop, even if one would expect it in this run-down, piece of shit tavern that she has to work in.
This is
The woman hacks the cleaver down into the counter, letting out her anger onto the wood as she lowers herself into a half kneeling position, closely examining the plate with cautious eyes.
Its perfect! Its
She presses her finger against the top of the plated cut of meat, topped with a beautiful sprig of green garnish and plated together with baked, crusted tubers.
Theres a slight crust, and the inside of the cut of the minotaur flank is beautifully pink. Theyre very densely muscled creatures with a very low fat content, so one has to cook the meat very delicately. Meat with more fat has more leeway, but these lean cuts need to be tenderly heated so that it doesnt turn rock hard and chewy like bark.
Its art.
Her eye twitches as she picks up the steak that she had lovingly made perfectly made and closes her eyes, looking away as she drops it back into the hot pan, sure that she is about to cry, feeling as if she were casting her own child into the fire.
Its wrong.
This is all wrong.
The dark-elf bites down on her finger as the sizzling fills her ears and heart with anguish as wet wells in her eyes and a savory, warm smell fills the kitchen.
These people are animals.
They dont want food. They just want slop from a trough.
Its bad enough that they all had to stay here because the old man was making a fortune on the evacuation and threatened to fire them and not pay their due wages if they left. But this
Its too much.
She grits her teeth, holding back her tears.
~ [Cartouche] ~
Gallu, Female, Dancer Location: Far West of the Demon-Carnival LEVEL: 69
Cartouche stands on the crest of a far off hill, staring out into the distance. Shes on the edge of the dungeons territory, having used the new ability she was granted by the Demon-King to move out here.
A full day has passed since the start of all of this, and what a day it was.
It feels like it was just a breath ago, just a short, tiny moment ago, that she was still crawling around on a stage, gathering loose change in exchange for her self-respect, in order to move towards her goal in life, which, in reality, was perhaps really unobtainable.
She had told herself that it would only take a few years of that work to get enough savings to escape it, but the truth is that she knows that after those few years, she would say the same exact thing. The situation would have changed, property would be more expensive, she would have had an unexpected expense or loss or something of the kind and then shed sell her soul for a few more Obols, bit by bit by bit, until there was nothing left of her but ash.
The gallu holds a hand over her heart as she watches the horizon, dotted with small villages and towns.
The same kinds of villages and towns that the old carnival had driven through so many times. The same kinds of villages and towns that are full of drunken idiots or, worse, monsters who have no control of sense or self. There are people out there everywhere who exist as nothing more than base, growling, disgusting creatures who live only to follow their biological drives of eating and lusting and reveling.
Theres nothing else there.
Theres nothing behind their eyes except animal concepts. Theres no love of life and of it they cant even comprehend it what it really is, beauty. In their animal desire, they cant look past a persons body to see its delicate, intricate, and perfected movements. They cant look past a pair of bright eyes to see the dying soul behind it that their glances are extinguishing.
Cartouche rubs her hand over her heart.
Ugliness.
Theres just so much ugliness, isnt there? Its not even a sea of simple neutrality that surrounds the rare blossom of beauty. Its just filth.
The woman turns around, making her way back to the carnival, to guide the undead toward this new direction so that the Demon-King, so that she so that they can get a little closer to finding the true resting place of the thing that her heart wants most.
~ [Seaman Minani-ni] ~
Vildt (Feline), Male, Master Sailor Location: High-seas of the great eastern ocean, The Abigalia LEVEL: 76
The wind howls, waves crashing against the bough of the ship as they rise up to meet it briny water flying over the deck and washing half a dozen men off of their feet as it rushes over them. Minani-ni holds onto the ropes, staring out ahead of himself as the ship moves across the ocean, heading towards the western continent, pushing through the storm that never seems to stop.
The wind howls across the world; everywhere from the land to the sea is lost under the crushing presence of the Demon-King.
His wet, short hair sticks matted to his head, salt-water dripping out of his protruding feline ears as he holds himself steady, the ship crashing down the body of the massive wave from before.
Hundreds of men soldiers are aboard this ship.
Their kind, their species that stems from a time of the old gods, might not be welcome on the western continent by the laws that the humans have set.
But theyll just have to accept it now, whether they like it or not.
They wont let the fate of the world rest in their hands alone.
The storm surges on as the Abigail sails through it, one of hundreds of ships that navigate the screaming darkness, heading towards the Demon-King.
~ [Abydos] ~
Gallu, Male, Painter Location: The Demon-Carnival LEVEL: 69
Abydos sits at the front of the carriage, next to the undead zombie that holds onto the reins of the rotting anqas pulling it along. Mud splashes up everywhere along the sides of the road as the carnival and its dozens of carriages move in convoy through the winds and the rain.
A body suddenly appears just ahead of him, landing gracefully on the back of an anqa. Cartouche sits backwards on the undead bird that leads the parade.
I found a place, says Cartouche, pointing up ahead. Turn right at the crossroads.
The undead coachman groans, whipping the reins.
Ill go find the next place then, says Abydos. Cartouche nods. The painter teleports away and she zaps forward, to take his spot on the front of the carriage, rain pelting down on her face as she stares up towards the beautiful storm in the sky.
~ [Grand Crusader Vilheim] ~
Human, Female, Crusader Location: The Distant North LEVEL: 100
Vilheim sits knelt on one leg, her hands locked in prayer on the top of her knee and her head resting down on her woven fingers, fervent whispers escaping her mouth. The world rattles, rumbling as they move, as the what is essentially a box that she is inside of is carried towards the maw of horrors that has emerged within the world.Updated from
She whispers, praying.
Duration Remaining: 23:59:59
Zac grew up in this kind of place; he doesnt get it. He doesnt understand why its so special to have this. For her, this is the opposite of where she came from. Its the ultimate achievement for her to have come this far.
Shell explain it to him when he gets back from
Uh
Ruhr opens her eyes. Hey, where did I send Zac again?
The town, replies the woman who is tenderly rubbing her ankle.
Ruhr nods. Ah, yeah, sorry. I forgot. I feel a little foggy today.
The priestess shakes her head. Thats okay. Please relax, says the woman. You deserve it after everything.
Ruhr has an easy time accepting that and rolls her shoulders in comfort, feeling the hands working the knots out of them, loosening her up.
This is the best.
She wants Zac to come back, though. It feels a little lonely here. Sure, having attendants like this is nice and exactly her thing, but its not the same.
Ruhr slowly opens her eyes, staring at her empty paradise.
Its beautiful.
The walls are made of artistically hewn stone and painted with the grace of angels. The daylight that shines in through the high windows is warm and soft. The hands massaging her body are supple and gentle and fill her with ideas that a professional of her status, honestly, shouldnt be getting. But shes alone here and well
Ruhr stares out at the empty hall, trying to understand whats missing.
When are Zacarias and the others going to get back? How long can it take to go to
Ruhr narrows her eyes in suspicion.
Town?
Wait a damn minute.
The river-sorceress sits upright.
A town?!
Whats the matter? asks the priestess. Please, relax.
Ruhr jumps to her feet at this great injustice of the universe. A TOWN?!
She grabs the priestess by her collar with her hands on her shoulders and pulls her forward towards herself.
Why do I have a town?! barks Ruhr into the womans face.
Y- your grace? asks the priestess nervously.
Ruhr points at herself with her thumb as she makes clear what the universe needs to understand. RUHR! THE RIVER-SORCERESS DOESNT SETTLE FOR TOWNS! she screams at the priestess. I WANT A CITY!
The illusion shatters.
The walls of the throne-room decay, crumbling and falling apart as the paint and stone break off like flaking ash. The sunlight fades, leaving only resolute darkness. Ruhr stares at the things latched to her body.
Attached to her leg is a long, leech-like entity, sucking the blood from her limb. Attached to both of her shoulders are two more, worming around in joy as they deprive her of blood, and held in her hand, the thing that had been a priestess only a moment ago, is now a fat, wiggling parasite a round, black, oily tube. The inside of it is ringed with multiple spirals of sharp teeth, dripping with her blood.
Ruhr yells in abject, animal disgust as she frees herself from the parasites, tearing them off and throwing them down as she crawls back and away over the stones, looking.
The throne she had sat on was nothing but a heap of blood-thirsty, squishy worms.
She looks all around herself.
The entire room is lined with such sights. Hundreds of men and women sit, latched on to by drinking, suckling leeches that take their life-force and return to them an illusion of grandeur and false paradise.
ZAC! yells Ruhr, scrambling across the room past dozens of people as she tears the worms off of Zacarias, stomping them into mush.
Only after hes freed and starts to stir, safely sitting in the middle of the room, does she start running towards the others to free them.
~ [The Demon-King] ~
Level Up! ~ [The Demon-King] ~
You are now level {71}! You are now level {72}! Level: 72 Experience: 03/185750 Attribute: DARK Soul-Points: 144/144 Presence: 14.1 km Obols: 000
You have {26} free Ability Points to spend!
~ [Graveyard {Level 03}] ~ Corpses Collected: 500 Summoned Monsters
[Imps]: 62
[Shadow People]: 41
[Corpse Collector]: 01
~ [Achievement Unlocked] ~ 'I Dont Know Where Theyre All Coming From {02}' Unlocked By: Collecting {500} corpses Reward: All IMPS under your control will gain a new ability, allowing them to project illusionary voices in order to lure or distract prey
~ [Achievement Unlocked] ~ 'No Matter Where You Go, Ill Be There' Unlocked By: Killing someone with the [Demon-Sickness] who had already been afflicted with [Demon-Sickness] once and managed to survive. Reward: Stacking status [Hallucinations {01}] will now be applied to anyone suffering from the [Demon-Sickness]
Swain sits there, watching the intruders break free from the spell.
Again, it's her. The woman with the blue hair seems like the most potent of them in many ways. Shes once again broken the illusion.
His long claws tap against the armrest of his throne as he watches her tend to a man, fully ignoring the suffering of everyone else, before she then moves on to help them as a second priority. His other hand clutches his poem.
Still, its too late for them.
Souls fly around the throne room, screaming as they hurtle down the shaft towards him, being drawn in from the surrounding landscape that is being devastated by his corrupting presence.
They fly into the many open, salivating maws on his body, and one of them brings with it a familiar anger.
Ah.
~ [Byblos] ~
Dark-Elf, Female, Cook Location: ??? LEVEL: 08
Byblos twitches with her hand, mimicking the motion of cutting something with a knife.
She doesnt have a knife, mind you. But she still feels like she wants to practice the motion, for when she does.
The dark-elf looks around herself at the void shes in, staring at the hundreds of floating lights all around her. Theyre shaped like people.
She looks down at herself, at her body. It looks like her old body in a sense, but its made up out of strange, string-like shapes that come together like shes a woven doll.
The woman supposes that this is her soul.
She looks back forward, sliding her hand ahead of herself, as if she were slicing carrots. Its a simple, mechanical motion, but thats where it all begins. The glaze that forms at the bottom of a pan, the crispness, the savouriness, the sourness every little shift in sense and experience that a person has while eating, every memory that gets triggered by smells and tastes, every idea that is born over a hot soup and every heartfelt smile that comes from a warm meal on a cold day all of these things start from the most rudimentary, basic, simple, mechanical motions.
But theyre so much more than the sum of their parts. Cooking is something that these people around her dont get. They dont understand.
For them, its just a process of making food.
They only see physical nourishment. Theyre hungry. They eat. They go. They shit.
Thats it. Thats the full sum of their living experience from start to end.
But all of that delicate soulfulness that is meant to be captured along the way, all of that dripping essence of life they dont even see it.
Her chopping motion stops.
They dont even see it, repeats the dark-elf to herself. What a world. Why is she like this? Why is she always like this? Why is she so obsessed with this this stupid thing? Why is she haunted by this desire that nobody around her ever seems to acknowledge? Its like shes crazy. Its like shes the weird one and theyre all normal, but she doesnt understand why its like that. Why arent they after what shes after too?
Her eyes dart between the thousands of souls.
Cant they sense it? Cant they taste it, smell it, feel it?
Its so close. The thing shes looking for the apex of the soul. With every slice and every stir and every flip of a spatula, its just its just like shes been turning a key in a door, but the lock never clicks with that satisfying, heavy clack and she just keeps turning and turning and turning and -
The woman suddenly flails, kicking and shaking her arms in pointless, angry frustration as she screams as loud as she can.
Its because its not for them to know, says a voice from all around herself. Byblos turns her head, looking as the darkness rips open in the distance like a tear in a black drape, letting in sunlight from the other side. Its not for their eyes to see, or for their hearts to know, explains the voice. It wasnt made for them. Her eyes open wide. It was made for you.
What? asks Byblos, fairly certain that shes talking to the reaper of souls. What is it? she asks. When can I finally She squirms, pressing herself free from her own stubbornness as she moves towards the light. When can I finally have it? she asks. I dont even care anymore if they see it, explains the woman. I dont care if they never taste it or smell it or even know that it exists. Im so tired of speaking in a language that nobody around me understands. She reaches the light. When can I What what is it?! she asks.
Beauty, replies the heavy voice, causing the frayed ends all over her body to stand up on end, electrified. Pure, ethereal beauty, uncorrupted by the imperfections of those beasts around yourself, those drooling masses of slobbering meat.
Please! begs Byblos, clenching her hands. Before I die, let me see it. Let me just let me know that its real.
It is real, says the voice.
Something grabs her.
- And you wont die, not until weve found it together.
She is torn out of the darkness.
~ [The Demon-King] ~
Swain tears the woman out of his core, the mouth on the side of his body gagging and splitting open wide, as he pulls her full, wet body out from himself slime covering her and his hands as he sets her down.
She immediately falls over, laying on the stones of the throne-room like a newborn infant.
Her dark-skin takes on an ashier, less blue tone. Her eyes shift to an autumn-light yellow. Her white hair remains the same but loses the last tinge of yellowness that it carried with it.
The chef cries, hacking out mouthfuls of afterbirth from her lungs and throat. Swain looks away, allowing her the dignity of this moment of privacy, as he looks over his poem that has already begun to work.
Between each beat of your still striking heart,
Shambles the Shambler through these spaces apart,
With every new strike, it moves one inch fore,
And with every new faltering, it moves one inch more,
The Shambler is amongst us, moving onward in stride,
As in the gaps between men and women, it hides,
In every space that is blank and devoid,
The Shambler presides as it moves with such toils,
You see it not, for it resides off far,
Always just next to you,
- But not where you are,
The Shambler shambles
(Swain) has used [Poetic Summoning] to summon: [The Shambler] Cost: 60% SOUL-POINTS
~ The Shambler ~
- Summoned Entity -
A strange, crooked creature that you can never quite see. The Shambler will always reside in spaces where there is no clear line of sight from any creature, human or animal, even if it is right next to them or in the middle of a crowd. It has strange, impossibly long legs with sharp joints and will do awkward, strange stepping dances as it hovers over people, always moving itself out of their vision just in time, before anyone can see it, even in masses of hundreds of people.
From there, it will reach down for its prey. So that it cant be seen, it starts with their eyes and then crawls inside their bodies through them, stuffing its impossibly large, bizarre size inside the confines of their meat.
Given its strange limbs, the Shambler earns its namesake through its movements while on the hunt, before reaching its victims.
After a person has been eaten from the inside, the Shambler will shamble onward, using their form to continue its hunt in disguise.
Class: MONSTERElement: DARK Type: NightmareCategory: TERROR* Rank: SSS Level: 60 *Terror is a classification term used for all monster-types that do not fall into traditional monster categories, such as UNDEAD, GOLEM, GHOST, etc. Terrors tend to have unique make-ups and behavior patterns and lean towards hyper-violent tendencies.
~ [Sir Alencia] ~
Human, Female, Royal Knight Location: The Demon-Kings Castle, Floor Five LEVEL: 86
Alencia shudders, looking at the horrific room that theyre in. She wipes her neck off. Just the thought of those things, those worms touching her
The knight makes a revolted face, cringing together and wiping herself off, even if shes already cleaned.
Disgusting.
She looks around at the people gathered in the middle of the room. A lot of them survived, but a lot of them didnt. Many were already drained too dry to be saved from the worms.
Something moves in the corner of her eye and she looks.
But there is nothing there.
The woman blinks, rubbing her eyes. Shes just tired because she slept badly and because of the nightmare here.
The woman sighs and rubs her tired eyes.
As she opens them again, something presses itself in through her pupil, severing her brain-stem immediately.
Despite sitting in a crowd of a hundred or so people, the creature above, positioned perfectly so that none of them see it, slides in through her eyes, pulling them down with itself into her belly, where it eats them inside of the safety of her meat and then eats the rest of her too.
Hey! barks a voice from behind her a second time. A hand places itself on the elfs shoulder as she stands there, staring vacantly into the distance.
She slowly turns her head around, looking at the man. Come on. Were going, he says, narrowing his eyes. Werent your eyes green?
Sir Alencia blinks. What do you mean? she asks, opening her lids again to reveal a clear, emerald hue. They are.
The knight rubs his face, looking at her again. Oh, sorry. I think Im tired.
You slept bad too? asks Alencia.
Yeah, how could I not? asks the man, sighing as he turns around. Come on. Lets go.
Alencia smiles, watching the man and everyone leave.
She shambles after them.
~ [Shaushka] ~
Elf, Female, Classless Location: The Scorched Forest LEVEL: 04
Shaushka holds her arms out at her side.
The crow is not pleased.
Ah says the elf, lowering her arms again as she stares at the crow and the crow stares at her.
*SCRAW* says the crow, who then flies off, vanishing.
Ah! calls Shaushka, reaching after it.
But the crow does not return.
The elf frowns, slowly looking around herself. Now what?
The rain continues to howl and the storm rages, and she stands out here by herself, nowhere near a baker, a leaf, a friendly droplet, a rude rock, or any other crow.
Hmm says the elf. She sits down exactly where she stands, the rain pouring around her as she watches with her mouth somewhat agape, waiting for a new thing to come, and in the meantime, she keeps her head empty and her eyes full.