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Quoted By: >>5460377 >>5460398 >>5460403 >>5460554 >>5460561 >>5460566 >>5460597 >>5460618 >>5460622 >>5460625 >>5460628 >>5460632 >>5460684 >>5460799
"Please, save me."
The cry of a young girl, choked and full of despair–
With those words, you are resurrected, a lingering spirit reborn amidst a scene of carnage and destruction.
Your master - a raven-haired girl barely out of her preteen years - stares up at you in shock from her position on the ground. A quick glance informs you of several notable injuries; her left arm is broken, and deep gashes along her calves ensure that she won't be running anytime soon. That's ignoring the canvas of bruises and scrapes that can be seen through the folds of her shredded robes; you'll have to act quickly to stave off infection.
A series of deafening <span class="mu-i">booms</span> sound out barely a dozen meters away from you, kicking up a cloud of dust and stone shrapnel, drawing a shriek from your master and a frown from you. Damnit–you were just about to start analyzing the environment, too. At the very least, your hearing fills in some of the blanks; distant screams, a wash of heat, the crackle of electricity, the sound of something shattering and an accompanying blast of freezing air…
Magic and active warzones. You’ve got your work cut out for you.
“Come on! I know you’re there! Stay still and die!”
With your vision obscured, you can’t identify the speaker beyond “young and male,” but the savage threat pings something in your mind. It isn’t quite rage - as an undead, your emotions are too deadened for that - but…
It’s a threat to your master, and that cannot be allowed to exist.
You lift the girl into your arms, marveling at how light she feels. She squeaks at your touch, squirming slightly, but soon settles down once you adjust your grip.
Your master clings to you, breathing heavily. As you lock gazes, you note a faint sorrow buried beneath the desperate panic in her eyes. If you were presumptuous enough to assume things of your master, you’d almost say she was searching for something.
“Brother…”
Ah. Of course.
Unfortunately, you’ll have to disappoint her.
“He is no longer here.”
Your voice is raspy and thin, with your tongue feeling thick and leaden in your mouth. It takes you a moment to remember to breathe; speaking with empty lungs is difficult, to say the least. In a louder voice, you speak once more.
“Forgive me, master. I am not your brother.”
Necromancy is not resurrection.
Rather than respond, she buries her face in your cold, bloodless shoulder, shuddering slightly. A moment later, she replies, voice muffled by the fabric of your clothes.
“Just… Protect me.”
<span class="mu-i">That,</span> you can do.
>"Your wish is my command." (Oathsworn Protector)
>"Got it. Not a problem." (Hidden Death)
>"Let it be done." (Sage's Spirit)
---
Do you want mechanics in your Quest?
>Throw me at the mercy of RNJesus, baby.
(Basic Best of 3 d20 system.)
>All QMs should admit to being wannabe gamedevs.
(RPG-like system with stats, equipment, training, etc.)
>I'm just here for the story, man.
(Narrative only.)
The cry of a young girl, choked and full of despair–
With those words, you are resurrected, a lingering spirit reborn amidst a scene of carnage and destruction.
Your master - a raven-haired girl barely out of her preteen years - stares up at you in shock from her position on the ground. A quick glance informs you of several notable injuries; her left arm is broken, and deep gashes along her calves ensure that she won't be running anytime soon. That's ignoring the canvas of bruises and scrapes that can be seen through the folds of her shredded robes; you'll have to act quickly to stave off infection.
A series of deafening <span class="mu-i">booms</span> sound out barely a dozen meters away from you, kicking up a cloud of dust and stone shrapnel, drawing a shriek from your master and a frown from you. Damnit–you were just about to start analyzing the environment, too. At the very least, your hearing fills in some of the blanks; distant screams, a wash of heat, the crackle of electricity, the sound of something shattering and an accompanying blast of freezing air…
Magic and active warzones. You’ve got your work cut out for you.
“Come on! I know you’re there! Stay still and die!”
With your vision obscured, you can’t identify the speaker beyond “young and male,” but the savage threat pings something in your mind. It isn’t quite rage - as an undead, your emotions are too deadened for that - but…
It’s a threat to your master, and that cannot be allowed to exist.
You lift the girl into your arms, marveling at how light she feels. She squeaks at your touch, squirming slightly, but soon settles down once you adjust your grip.
Your master clings to you, breathing heavily. As you lock gazes, you note a faint sorrow buried beneath the desperate panic in her eyes. If you were presumptuous enough to assume things of your master, you’d almost say she was searching for something.
“Brother…”
Ah. Of course.
Unfortunately, you’ll have to disappoint her.
“He is no longer here.”
Your voice is raspy and thin, with your tongue feeling thick and leaden in your mouth. It takes you a moment to remember to breathe; speaking with empty lungs is difficult, to say the least. In a louder voice, you speak once more.
“Forgive me, master. I am not your brother.”
Necromancy is not resurrection.
Rather than respond, she buries her face in your cold, bloodless shoulder, shuddering slightly. A moment later, she replies, voice muffled by the fabric of your clothes.
“Just… Protect me.”
<span class="mu-i">That,</span> you can do.
>"Your wish is my command." (Oathsworn Protector)
>"Got it. Not a problem." (Hidden Death)
>"Let it be done." (Sage's Spirit)
---
Do you want mechanics in your Quest?
>Throw me at the mercy of RNJesus, baby.
(Basic Best of 3 d20 system.)
>All QMs should admit to being wannabe gamedevs.
(RPG-like system with stats, equipment, training, etc.)
>I'm just here for the story, man.
(Narrative only.)
