"I've said this before Rava, it's marked in our map. We've been here before, and there's simply no tracks." The brother chides, eyes shifting
to his sister from a perpetually frowning face-like mask.

The sister's mad giggling is a tease to the wood. A mad smile plastered upon her
face, she asks the question again post-haste. "And howwww will we know when
we've found it?" Like some insufferable child, her grin bears on nigh-impish in teasing her grumpy brother.

The brother's eyes stay forward with their black and silver, walking undeterred on as his sister cuts down another shrub
in the way of their trespass. Her blade nothing significant or special, but her
form thoroughly practiced. Her skill wouldn't hold a match to the best blade in all the land, none could. Though she could, and has, bested many a foe.

"Avar, you delightful scholar you, check the map, pretty please, honeyed dew?"

"When next we rest, and don't call me that you wicked wretch."
The two siblings press on through the less traveled wood, in the long and far
these western wilds of the valley remain untouched by the advance of empires.
A swell place to hide if in fact you're running from something, the thick brush
refusing to spill their secrets to such outsiders that would seek out those that would
rather not be found...

>>42896266
So?

>>42896266
Why was I even expecting it to be on-time?

File: 1368785578685.png (19 KB, 267x302)

19 KB PNG

>these rhymes

>>42896375
[???]

Nothing.

Sitting in a cold, dark, and damp place, you feel that time drags sleepy feet as
you slip in and out of consciousness. With every slumber, memories of the day
leak, and with every day you take some small, lethargic action with the purpose
of a snail.

Nothing has any meaning in this place. Not the countless marks on the wall that
the dripping water erodes, and not up, which amounts to nothing but another dark ceiling.
Your eyes close as you go to rest, and they open to a new day of the same old cold,
unfathomable darkness.


>Not much to do here. but...

>[Hum a song that rests at the fringe of your memory.]
>[Scratch the walls from a disdain that simmers distantly even now.]
>[Weep profusely in regret of something you should've resolved long ago.]
>[Write in]

>>42896445
I had everything written, was ready to go, and then my family decided all of a sudden to go out to eat. So sorry, I really did try.

>>42896465
>[Scratch the walls from a disdain that simmers distantly even now.]

>>42896465
>>[Weep profusely in regret of something you should've resolved long ago.]

>>42896465
>[Hum a song that rests at the fringe of your memory.]

>>42896465
Sounds...
>https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vetFZ9AaJf8

>>42896465
>Try to keep yourself warm.

>>42896465
>[Scream in fury, then in pain, then as a whimper of prayer.]

>>42896445
>expecting dran to be on time
>ever
I did it too. Set my alarm and everything. Then I rolled over and saw the twitter message once it went off and set it for 3 more hours.

>>42896465
>[Contemplate cave drips.]

>>42896599
>>42896552
>>42896494
>>42896484
And here we see the problem of too vague options

>>42896447
Cut them some slack, they're keeping up conversation in rhyming couplets, while fighting through undergrowth.

>>42896639
Nah, I would still say this is less a problem and more a goldmine of prompts. The only issue is a lack of consensus.

But part of me suspects we're doing it on purpose.

>>42896674
I meant the lack of consensus since there aren't 2 votes for the same option

>>42896465


The chill of this wet, cold place suffuses itself deep into your hollowed vessel,
you pull your limbs towards your body in silent waiting, the dull flickerings of
thought twinkling within your mind...

You try to think, but the thoughts are slow, murky and dismal, the most you feel
at first is a misery, distant and old. A deep and said regret that causes you pain.
Pain, this is something you've indeed felt. A pain like an old throbbing wound.

With the suffering, you lash out at these dank, dark walls grazing the surface with old, hard nails.
Newfound pain leads to anger, and anger to a shrieking yell. Then... slowly,
you forget. Both of the pain, and the anger, the remorse of this dismal place.

The slow, melodic drip of this endless dark is means for contemplation, and then sorrow.
You hum a melody from a life so distant now, that you can't even remember the words.
Or if there were ever words.

The walls grow closer, as though to give you comfort in this place.

…

[Siblings]

Rava's blade strikes through another bush offending their path, the blade suddenly stops,a piece flying through the air as it strikes an unyielding something amidst the
dense wood.

"Oh?" A deeper smile slides across Rava's face, "I believe I found it."

Rava whirls about upon a heel, grinding grasses into the dirt and throwing aside her blade without a second
thought. "Pass me the face, of the strong one dear brother."

"If it's truly the place. Yes, we'll need the strength of another." Avar whispers as he
ruffles through his satchel, drawing forth a mask with a billowing golden mane and sharp,
heroic features. It changes hands, and Rava places a hand upon her own face, taking it off with
a delicate touch. There's a separation between her face and the rest of her body as strands unwind,
untie. and finally unbind.

>>42896718
I just wanna see this fucker cycle through all of them like some kind of cave loon.

>>42896465
>[Scratch the walls from a disdain that simmers distantly even now.]

>>42896754

Once done, the faceless form places the golden mask upon the empty visage and everything rebinds.
Rava's body swells and grows, masculine, mature, and heroically defined. Finally, the new face opens its
eyes, and instantly they grimace, turning to Avar with a frightful scowl.

Before a word can be said, Avar raises a finger for silence, and points to the tangled web of shrubs
obscuring a glint of metal, "As arranged, should you pull this off, we shall return you to a body."

The heroic man with a golden mane opens his mouth to speak, yet an unseen force keeps the words from escaping.
"Now, now, you are my sister's now. Apply yourself as we need and I swear you will be freed."

The silent giant glares at Avar before being prodded forth by the brother's worn out staff. With a slight growl and a grunt, he sets to work upon some kind of metal seal, welded down and grown over by shrubbery. With a mighty heave, the seal groans as if awoken from its slumber, its metal bending by the golden giant's hands...

>>42896755
Well, we ARE cave loon. Probably with split personality.

>>42896790


[???]

A noise intrudes upon the silent dripping of a black eternity. A desolate faceless creature slowly cranes its head to look up, a harsh grinding noise, as if this place is being ravaged by some monster.

A miserable existence curls up in the dark, trembling in its home, helpless against the would-be invaders.

Light finds a way into the dark home, breaking in from the upward ceiling of this dark abyss. A flash of light and a voice filled with mirth, joy and bliss that seem like an epoch away.

"Hm! I do not see anything down there! Hellooo! Does anyone need help?"

...

You look up and wince at the new world beyond this place full of color beside the black abyss that you've come to know so well. These sounds... Much more vibrant than the endless drizzle of darkness looming upon the essence of your... being?

You reach out and scratch the wall, weak and feeble as the only reply you've ever known to anything besides this darkness.

"Hellooo!" The voice echoes again down into your lair, again and again.

>[Call back...]
>[Gaze up at the light in silent wonder.]
>[Scratch the walls in silent response. ]
>[Keep humming for your own comfort]
>[Write in]

>>42896823
>[Gaze up at the light in silent wonder.]

>>42896823
>[Crawl, ever so slowly, ever so desperately.]

>>42896823
>[Welcome new addition in our pleasant company]

>>42896823
>[Scratch the walls in silent response. ]

>>42896874
This

>>42896823
>[Gaze up at the light in silent wonder.]
then
>[Call back...]

>>42896823

As the light pierces your dark home, you stare upon it in slightly wonder and
rise ever so slowly, pressing against the walls and attempting to climb up the distance and towards the light.

Your nails scratch as you attempt to climb, sending a miserably slow noise back in response.

Trying to speak, you only manage a slow croak having not spoken in such a long time...

"Wait," Another noise comes in, dualistic opposite to the other, dripping with dread and lethargy,
"Shut up sister, listen."
The blissful noise ceases calling down.

You make one last scratch at the walls of this place, there is an absolute silence as you do, the noises from above hushing. A long, painful drag later and the two noises remain silent. Have they gone? Oh, why have they gone away... despite the light?

"This one?" The blissful voice whispers in a hushed tone.

"Nay, this should be better." The dreadful one mumbles in reply.

"Or perhaps this one?"

"Nay, I told you THIS one."

"Fine spoil-sport. Others of this ilk should be near, yes?"

"Around this time, yes... Drop it, we must not tarry."

Their bickering ceases and something falls down into your hole, clinking on the way down before landing in a shallow pool of your water with a splash. The noises depart, making a rustle of other noises as they do...

Something round with threads wriggling within the water seems to move, to wriggle...
A soft ephemeral glow that seems to bring a fraction of the light above down into your dark, sodden home.

>[Stare at the thing for some time, what is that?]
>[Reach for the gift...]
>[Write in.]

>>42897051
>[Reach for the gift...]

>>42897051
>stare at the gift and be careful while discerning what it is

>>42897051
>[Throw it back]

>>42897051
>put it on yo faaace

>>42897051
>[keep crawling]
not touching your strange persona wares, good sir

Dran writes fast, for such difficult to work with choices.

>>42897154
This part is probably mostly pre-written

>>42897051
>[Reach for the gift...]

>>42897051


As the thing sits within the water, you stare at it intently as the threads of the thing
squirm in futility. A distant voice whispers out its curiosity from within this place
at the sudden intrusion of... whatever this is.

“Oh?... A face... T'is filled with such a bloodied fate.” The water seems to quiver out in a voice
so small that a mouse may not even hear it.

Slowly, you reach out to the thing, ever so slowly, ever so carefully. You can sense the latent hostility within, and yet... There is also a kind of lucid peace.

“Oh? Art thou going to put it on...? Art thou ready to leave us?”

You feel the surface of this thing... this face... and the threads gently wrap around your hand,
tracing its way further up your arm. The water parts as though to relinquish it.

“Good luck... fair... and... well...” Its voice drifts away as you lift up the face. You try to respond
gleaning nothing more than a croak...

Turning over the thing, you see its eyes staring back at you, tired and empty. There's short black hair atop its head, and small nubby horns upon the temples. Within the sol light from above, you
can make out the old haggard expression of this face.

A compulsion grips you, firm and unrelenting. You can feel a voice drifting into your mind.
Whether it be your own, or foreign... That is an answer for another time.

Turning over the face, the threads uncoil and open up, as though to accept your presence, or
perhaps rather to better infiltrate you.

Your face drifts closer... And the two of you unite.

>>42897287

Thoughts drift into your mind, like the slow dripping of this place, power welling into your
being at the same rate. Your body changes, your muscles harden, skin growing to have
been baked under the heat of the sun. You open your eyes again, and they adjust to the dark
near-instantly.

You sense a purpose within you, one that you do not yet know... Yet there is a roiling hate of...
Something. Someone?

You look to the light above, less a feeling of hope, and now a return to the norm. Why are you in a well?
Such a dark, dank and abysmal place? Could you have fallen in here? No, there are marks upon
the wall... Countless as though to show the passage of time. Some bloody, some far more worn...
And a dripping in the background that could just about bring you to tears with how... depressing it is.

>[Climb your way out, you need to get out of this place.]
>[Think about who you are...]
>[Talk to the water... Wasn't it... saying something before?]
>[Write in.]

>>42897378
>>[Climb your way out, you need to get out of this place.]
Pretty surreal .
I like it

>>42897378
>>[Think about who you are...]
Who's face did I put on?

>>42897378
>[Climb your way out, you need to get out of this place.]

>>42897378
>[Talk to the water... Wasn't it... saying something before?]

>>42897378
>[Talk to the water... Wasn't it... saying something before?]

>>42897378
>>[Think about who you are...]

>>42897378
>[Talk to the water... Wasn't it... saying something before?]

>>42897378

>https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lNk1B8H4wmQ
You kneel down to the water, staring at the light rippling upon the surface. It had been saying
something before, right?
“Hello?” You say in a low and hushed voice. You sound rather gruff, to the surprise of a part of you. It feels wrong and right at the same time... “You were speaking... to me, right?”

There's no response from the dripping pool. Perhaps you were imagining things, why would you
hear the voice of water of all things?

You must think about who you are, as it seems strange to not even know your own name. But first,
let's get out of this awful place.

Your hands grip the wall with powerful hands, used to hard work and hoist yourself up easy, climbing
comes naturally to you.

You hear a faint voice calling out from below, “...bye...” The edge of a whisper.

One foot after the other, following the same footholds that your hands grasp onto.
In no short time, you pull yourself up outside of the well, to the company of... no one.

Wasn't there someone out here? A joyful voice and one full of despair? Where did they set off to?

You lean against the well, within freshly cut brush. Obviously someone was here... The solid metal
cover of the well is pried clear off as though an animal or something tore it apart.

Feeling restless, looking back at the well, you jolt up and briskly walk away, never wanting to see
it again.

>>42897723

It's not far through the brush before you lean up against a tree of softer bark, closing your eyes in quiet
contemplation, trying to remember who you are... What you are? Whose... Face this-
Your thoughts lead you nowhere, as though there's blocks to your memories. Perhaps certain courses of action may be more rewarding? You're alone here, no one else to give you direction.
The sounds of the forest however, is a familiar comfort.

>[Hum something to comfort yourself in your loneliness.]
>[Talk to the tree you're leaning up against.]
>[Look at your surroundings carefully... Is that... a path?]
>[Write in. ]

>>42897746
>>[Look at your surroundings carefully... Is that... a path?]

>>42897746
>[Hum something to comfort yourself in your loneliness.]

>>42897746
>[Look at a reflection]

>>42897746
>>42897792

>>42897746

A melody breaks through in the distant reaches of your mind and you remember a melody.
Though it's strange, and rather unlike the ones you used to hum to yourself in the fields, it's comforting.

Waiting, you observe the passing of the clouds overhead, the light of sol illuminating them with gentle halos of light. Though the light of the stars and luna are far preferable to your tastes.

Turning your eyes back down to the land, you notice a break in the woods, a path cut down and through. You gingerly begin to walk, still humming the same. Some part of you would like a reflection to look upon, though there's nothing in these woods to do so. Perhaps if there was a pond or a spring.

You hear a sudden shuffle in the woods as you traverse the cut path, turning your full attention to another that's looking at you with just as much apprehension and uncertainty.

Before you stands a man of great and shapely muscles, a mane of golden hair, and a face scared and
hardened, likely by a life of heroism.

He is the first to speak, “Hello there, I... Heard a strange sound and followed it... Pardon me... I- I'm not quite sure what I'm doing here.”

You feel the distant roiling of acid in your gut. There's something that rubs you the wrong way
about this fellow, though you can't say what. He seems to be in a similar situation as you.

>[“The feeling is mutual, my golden-haired friend. Shall we walk this path together?”]
>[“Have you seen anyone else?”]
>[“Keep your distance stranger. I have no quarrel with you, nor any business.]
>[Say nothing, and stare him down. You have nothing you need to say to him.]
>[Write in.]

>>42897948
>>[“The feeling is mutual, my golden-haired friend. Shall we walk this path together?”]

>>42897948
>[Did it sound like metal being torn?]
>["What do I look like?"]

>>42897948
>[“The feeling is mutual, my golden-haired friend. Shall we walk this path together?”]
If I remember correctly our face is assassin template

>>42897948
>[“The feeling is mutual, my golden-haired friend. Shall we walk this path together?”]
should stay on guard though

>>42897948
>[“The feeling is mutual, my golden-haired friend. Shall we walk this path together?”]
Be careful though

>>42897948
>[“The feeling is mutual, my golden-haired friend. Shall we walk this path together?”]

>>42897948

You look over the man once more, he's large and imposing, but it's nothing unlike what you've seen.
And dealt with.

An honest smile draws across your face, “The feeling is mutual my golden-haired friend.
Shall we walk this path together?” Even as the words leave your mouth you can feel animosity
coiling itself like talons around your heart.

The man nods, and gingerly steps through the brush, and onto the cut down path. He smiles a little
before looking away.

He stands there awkwardly for a moment before you tell him to walk in the lead, you follow behind
him like a shadow. The muscles of his back are like swollen iron, mightier even than any Oxull
you've seen. “What strange sound did you hear? Something like torn metal?”

The man looks back over his shoulder for a moment, “Nay, it was more that strange melody.
Though if it were anything like metal, I'm sure I could've rent it asunder.”

“Oh? Is that so?” You say with an almost feigned interest.

“Certaintly... I... I'm strong, aren't I?” He pauses and you do the same, keeping multiple paces begind him. He looks down at his hands in quiet thought.

“Is something the matter?” You say, breaking the silence between the two of you.”

“Nay, it is nothing. I just feel like I need to remember things. My whole life even, stupid isn't it?”

You say nothing to that. “Say, what do I look like, to you?”

“What do you look like?” The golden-haired man looks back to you, “Why, a feeble old man. Though
I suppose most people look feeble to me. You're definitely older though, and the peaceful sort, I'd
suppose.”

You nod, looking to your own hands. Feeble? Old? You were strong enough to climb out of a well
alone... You may be aged, but you certainly don't FEEL old...

“And I, to you?”

“You...”

>[“Look like you've got a lot of pride.”]
>[“Heroic sort? Hunting down men and monsters?”]
>[“Don't look like much of anything to me.”]
>[Stat silent on that and change the subject.]
>[Write in.]

>>42898318
>[“Heroic sort? Hunting down men and monsters?”]

>>42898318
>[“Heroic sort? Hunting down men and monsters?”]

>>42898318
>[“Heroic sort? Hunting down men and monsters?”]

>>42898318
>>[“Heroic sort? Hunting down men and monsters?”]

>>42898318
>[“Look like you've got a lot of pride.”]

>>42898318

“You look like the heroic sort. Hunting down monsters and perhaps men no different?” You say,
giving your best evaluation free from your innate discrimination.

The golden-haired man seems to walk a little taller with that bit, “You think so? I would certainly
be hard to trifle with.” You can sense a smile from him as he walks on through the brush.

You stop briefly and discretely to touch one of the branches, freshly cut... And with a blade. You carry
on with the knowledge that whoever made this must be near, but who...

The pangs of hunger reach out from your belly, and you become dimly aware of how hungry you are, as though you've not eaten for ages.

“There is no end to these woods in sight,” The golden-haired man says, it's as though it carries on forever...” The light of the sol sinks slowly toward the horizon, “And it appears that night will be upon us shortly. Do you know how to make a fire?” The woods shudder at the mere mention.

“I do.” You say without thinking. It's easy to make a fire. So long as you've got the wood.

“Are you hungry? I could kill something for us to cook if you make us a fire.”

>[“I don't think making a fire here is a good idea...” Refer to the way the trees react.]
>[“Sounds good, I'll collect wood... But are you sure you can find something?”]
>[“Let's just keep walking, I rather not sleep without a shelter.”]
>[Write in.]

>>42898617
>[“Sounds good, I'll collect wood... But are you sure you can find something?”]

>>42898617
>[“Sounds good, I'll collect wood... But are you sure you can find something?”]

>>42898617
>>[“Sounds good, I'll collect wood... But are you sure you can find something?”]

>>42898617
>[“I don't think making a fire here is a good idea...” Refer to the way the trees react.]

>>42898617
>[“Sounds good, I'll collect wood... But are you sure you can find something?”]

>>42898617

You agree to the proposal and decide on a clearing to set up camp. The woods seem to close in around
the clearing staring in silent judgment as the evening casts long shadows upon the world.
You collect an assortment of dry sticks and twigs, along with some stones, not even paying
much attention to how you know to do this, just that you're acting. It's almost like an instinct.

You dig out a hole and line the edge with stones to keep the fire at bay from the woods. When
they realize this, their judgment wanes and their restlessness falls back into peace.
Though they say nothing, you can feel their contentment towards the care you're taking.

Lighting the firepit, the warmth flows out, pushing back the chill of the night. It's nice not feeling so
cold. You huddle closer to the fire, the flame casting a soft glow from the pit.

Operating the fire with a greenwood stick, you keep it from burning itself out to quickly in time for
your... friend? To return.

As the length of the shadows increase in the orange glow of the trees, you find your eyes adjusting aptly without need of the fire.

You hear light rustling unlike your friend's heavier steps and turn to see a girl with small horns standing there, still in the dark. She wears rags, and metal glints at her wrists. She's like a Daring Deer gone meek as you make eye contact.

She looks like she could run away at any moment.

>[“Who are you?!”]
>[“Hello child, are you lost as well?”]
>[Say nothing and turn back to the fire.]
>[Write in.]

>>42898883
>She's like a Daring Deer gone meek as you make eye contact.

> She's like a Darling Deer* gone meek

>>42898883
>[“Hello child, are you lost as well?”]

>>42898883
>[Say nothing and turn back to the fire.]

>>42898883
>["Come, the night is cold and the fire warm."]
>[Turn back to the fire.]

File: Image017.jpg (17 KB, 429x466)

17 KB JPG

>https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x7AKwQCUpJ8

A change of tune.

>>42898883
>[“Hello child, are you lost as well?”]

>>42898883

Without another word, you turn back to the fire. Staring at her seems to scare her anyway...
“Come child, the night is cold and the fire is warm.” You say in a voice that radiates true gentleness from the depths pf your being.

Perhaps you've found a soft spot to yourself?

You hear a slight rustling, and the girl steps through, drawing nearer to the fire. She still stands at a
distance, as she seems to regard you closely. “Are you... Guisi? Her eyes squint, the faintest gleam of squares beset in almond-shaped amber eyes.

Something about that... that word feels familiar. “Is that a name?”

“The Arche, Guisi... You've got our horns... and... And the eyes.” She shuffles closer for a moment as
though to warm herself by the fire, then she appears to remember something, “You should put that
out.” She speaks softly, yet fear is a ripe subject in her voice.
“We can't let them find us here.”

“Why? Who?” You ask with an extraordinary patient tone.

“They'll find us, the Danhor... We ran away. Are you not running from them?”

>[“Child, I barely even know who I am.” Chuckle dryly.]
>[“Who are the Danhor?”]
>[“What's your name?”]
>[“I run from no one. I've only recently crawled out of a well.”]
>[Put out the fire.]
>[Write in.]

>>42899114
>[“Child, I barely even know who I am.” Chuckle dryly.]
But all the same
>[“I run from no one. I've only recently crawled out of a well.”]

>>42899114
>[“I run from no one. I've only recently crawled out of a well.”]

>>42899114
>[“Child, I barely even know who I am.” Chuckle dryly.]

>>42899114

“Child, I barely even know who I am.” You say with a dry chuckle. Sitting before the fire, you can hear
its occasional crackling, you give it an experimental poke with your green stick as you consider her
request. “I run from no one. Honestly, I've only recently crawled out of a well.”

The girl looks at you as though you've said something strange. “Only wishes and evil things exist at the bottom of wells... Are you... an impostor?”

“An impostor?”

“Someone wearing a face that they shouldn't be...” She slinks back, her anxiety returning. “It's unwise to trust impostors, especially ones from wells. I've never heard of that.”

“Well, neither have I. Someone dropped this...” You reach for your... the face that you wear. “for me. I... feel that it is not mine. Yet...”

There's a heavy rustling in the undergrowth as something large breaks through the clearing. A golden
mane glints from the light of the fire. Your friend...

The girl shoots up, eyes wide and suddenly full of fear at the massive man, “H-Hylon!” She backs against the tree, turning nearly to flee, yet then running for you, she's not going to leave you...

Hylon. The name sends a burning and cold sensation down your spine like a sharp blade. As it
comes to a head you begin to understand something else.

That you despise Hylon.

>[Give in to the frenzy, and attack the golden-haired man! Whoever he is, it doesn't matter. He needs to die.]
>[Restrain yourself. No, this isn't you. You don't hate him, it's... It's this face. ]
>[Run away with the girl, does she know others like you?”]
>[Write in.]

>>42899405
>[Give in to the frenzy, and attack the golden-haired man! Whoever he is, it doesn't matter. He needs to die.]

>>42899405
>>42899405
>[Restrain yourself. No, this isn't you. You don't hate him, it's... It's this face. ]

>>42899405
>[Restrain yourself. No, this isn't you. You don't hate him, it's... It's this face. ]

>>42899405

The cold pangs of anger slide their way down your back, your breath goes hot and sweat beads from
your brow. An immeasurable anger, malice froths within your very being. You despise him. Not him, but all Hylon so very much. It takes everything you have to not lash out at him at the very second you
heard the word and understood just how much anger and pain you feel. The smoke of the fire inciting
and old memory of your misery.

You hold back, you try, with every fiber of your being to not kill him where he stands.

The girl tugs on your arm, “We- we need to go. Now, please.” She's near crying at the mere sight of
him.

As the Golden-haired Hylon stands there, illuminated by the fire, he looks perplexed, even
dumbfounded. “My friend, is there something wrong? You don't look- and who is that?” He points to
the girl and you...

Can't hold yourself back anymore.

The face's aggression wins out over your restraint.

You go cold, icy murder in your veins. Gently, you hold the child's hand. She calms down, “I'll take
care of this. You go hide.” She part from you and runs into the underbrush like an arrow.

Slowly, you stand as your “friend” questions what that was all about. He hasn't noticed your change in disposition, not yet. You sun's near set and the woods are dark.

“Is that girl okay? She seemed so... scared.” His voice is laced with some undertone of concern.

“Yes, she's fine. She'll be back with more wood for the fire.” You come up with a swift lie, looking at the the flames. “It's hard to see at night, isn't it?”

>>42899761

The Hylon is about to say something when he agrees, “Indeed, had I not seen the flame, I'd have been lost. Alas, I return with nothing. Beasts about here are too learned of the land.”

You nod, “Aye, it is indeed dark at night. Be a shame if we hadn't a fire.” Standing beside the pit, you kick some dirt in, causing the flame to flare up with a silent scream before quickly dying out.

“What are you-”

>Ever vote counts toward something, even your own face's.
>A part of you lent itself to the will of the mask, it has forced your hand.
>You will need to struggle against it further if you wish to take control back.
>If parts of you give in, you shall carry out its will, unlocking more power as well as memories of the face.

>Fighting in the dark is natural for you, your eyes adjust with little issue. You have the smoked greenwood stick as a weapon.
>You are stronger than you appear.
>[Charge him and stab the stick into one of his eyes.]
>[Creep around in the dark and attack from the blindside.]
>[Circle and grapple him from behind, strangle him.]
>[This isn't you. He means you no harm! He's a friend!]
>[Write In.]

>>42899772
Hm, you also have extra stones that you collected.
The ones around the fire pit are too hot to use without burning yourself as well.

They are still an option however.

>>42899816
Quest look interesting OP, I've started to read it now.

>>42899772
>[This isn't you. He means you no harm! He's a friend!]
I don't wanna be a slave to some dead guy made into a mask.

>>42899947
Saying that he's "dead" isn't quite right.
In another state of living, yes, but you haven't the resources to tell whether his original body is indeed dead or alive. A sort of schrodinger's.

>>42899772
>[Charge him and stab the stick into one of his eyes.]

>>42899772
Rip off own face?

Im surprised nobody voted to do this earlier. This is Dran were talking about.

>>42899772
>>42900051
support

>>42899772

Thoughts of murder ripple deep through your body, emanating from the face that you wear. You try to resist, resist and bring a hand to take off this wretched face... But it's control still runs deep...

>Your resistance against violence causes a discord between your body and face, movements slow and strength towards violence wanes.

Your body shudders with the hardened stick in one hand, paralysis running strong in the other.

>The lingering smell of smoke triggers memories as you stand before the Hylon...

~Fields you've long tended are burning at the command of a Hylon leading supporters of his house.
Their campaign to claim lands you've held for generations are smoldering and you've done nothing.~


You charge at him, your speed a fraction of what it should be and collide with his wall of muscle, trying to stab for his eyes with your makeshift weapon. He holds you up and away, clearly confused yet meaning you no home.
“What are you doing?”

You choke out a broken segment of words, your internal conflict witholding the ability to speak...

He throws you to the ground, putting distance between the two of you. You roll pathetically, even still
as you struggle for control...

A voice whispers within your mind, “I must... I must kill him. Hylon must die.”

>[Attack again, this time from the blindside. He won't see it coming.]
>[Circle around and grapple him from behind, strangle him.]
>[This isn't me, I will not be controlled.]]
>[Tear off the face, this thing will not decide who you are... Even if you don't even know who you are.]
>[Write in.]

>>42900228
>He holds you up and away, clearly confused yet meaning you no harm*

Wretched typo...

>>42900228
This face.....it screams for your blood

Rip face off

I worry for the longterm consequences of always using all votes.

>>42900260
Dont forget your other one

>its not it's

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>>42900271
I'm more curious that you're choosing to spare him. I mean, I foresaw some inclination.

Yet I did not think that you would overlook the fear of the girl.

She's terrified of the Hylon, and that cry for blood is not without reason, though it is void of mercy.

>>42900228
>[Attack again, this time from the blindside. He won't see it coming.]

>>42900228
>[Attack again, this time from the blindside. He won't see it coming.]

>>42900228
>[Attack again, this time from the blindside. He won't see it coming.]

>>42900228
>[This isn't me, I will not be controlled.]]

>>42900361
Because without reason, being right means a lot less. Even if we know what the "right" decision is now, we arent necessarily gaining the ability to discern it when things are less clear cut. And im not a fan of feral wrath, i suppose. its a mechanic that you havent handled particularly well in the past.

Besides, he doesnt remember either.

>>42900228

Your resistance divides once again into the thirst for this man's blood and a refusal to let this face have its way... Yet the resistance wanes, greatly and your own thirst for vengeance intermingles with the mask's.

>Your resistance, while present, lessens. Your movements are freed up and sharper than before.

You rise from the ground, willingness to snuff this blighted Hylon from the night increasing and coinciding. Hatred flows from both of you, and it turns into power. You rush in low, and juke to the side
while the Hylon fumbles blindly in the dark, unaware of the direction of your hidden attack.
With a second push off and a spin from the side, you send the stick straight into his eye from beyond his guard.

Suddenly, he thrashes in pain and a wall of flesh blasts you back with a strong backhand, dashing the air from your lungs as you tumble back and into a tree.

Rising up again, you feel a pang of regret restrict you once more... And then a memory rushes back.

~... The Hylon's forces are treading upon our land... Killed so many... And for what?... Claims to be the first?
The greatest?~

That... “Wasn't mine...” The voice inside of you whispers. “Not mine...”

>You've lost the stick to the Hylon... You feel something kindred to you, to the face coming into form.
>The tug-o-war of resistance rages on... A little more, and you can wrest control back.

>[Go in for the kill... That power will come to you.]
>[Stop fighting, you don't want this blind fury.]
>[Tear off the face.]
>[Apologize to the Hylon.]
>[Write in.]

>>42900519
>[Go in for the kill... That power will come to you.]
>[Apologize to the Hylon.]

>>42900519
>>[Tear off the face.

>>42900519
>[Tear off the face.]

>>42900519
>[Go in for the kill... That power will come to you.]

>>42900519
Go for kill
Apologize

>>42900519
>[Go in for the kill... That power will come to you.]

>>42900519


“Why?! Why would you do this?!” The Golden-hair Hylon cries as he extracts the stick from a now
bloody eye socket. “I thought we'd remember ourselves together, that we might be friends!? Why
would you turn on me. Was it that girl? What did she say to you old man?”
You can see the glistening blood from his eye dripping down his face in the pale light of Luna.

Some of the stars above seem to be twinkling in interest of what's happening in your little part
of the woods.

Hesitation grips you. As much as you don't desire the spilling of more blood, another part of you desires it. Not merely the mask, nay. They have wronged you in the past as well. Killed your people.
Though it feels like such a long time ago, it's the pain and anger you've held onto even now.

The face is reacting to it. You can stop it if you take this face off. Yet what will you be reduced to?

You'll either become a murderer or a pitiful thing living at the bottom of the well.

>Your independence from your face has granted you increased cognition... You've regained control.

>The power of your face, born of vengeance lies ahead of you.

You cease trembling, the storm within you settling. A rustling is heard, near yet far. Others are coming
the girl likely ran for help instead. Other Guisi?

The cold blood of murder still runs through your veins, that cold chill riding upon your spine. As you recover in the darkness, you circle around the golden-hair Hylon walking with careful silent steps.
To murder the first one you've known as a friend in a long time. To know that he is just as confused as you.

>>42900802


And yet, he has chosen the wrong face. Because the Hylon must pay for their crimes.

Dashing in from behind, you feel the power come to you naturally, a fragment of its true self, and yet it
is given form. You brandish a scythe that has answered the call of your soul, and you bring the blade to the Hylon's throat, hooking just under his jugular.

The world freezes in this moment, and you ask him his name.

The words arise not from his mouth, but from elsewhere,“Leon. Leon, the King of Strength, of Fortitudina.”

“Leon, King of Strength, of Fortitudina. I am sorry for what I must do.”You close your eyes as a mercy
to yourself, and fall back, letting the blade sink into the flesh of his neck.

His head rolls as you fall back onto the ground, his body collapsing into a freshly dead mass, blood drenching the rest of the embers of your fire.

As you open your eyes, the scythe seems to be looking back at you, with its blade. You swear you can
see the farming implement “Smiling” back at you before fading away into the night. It's only then that
you notice your hands are black and shadowy, receding back into ordinary flesh and your nightvision
declining.

Others stand around the clearing, a few men and a couple women, the young lady from before standing
with them. They look at you with amber eyes gleaming, not in judgment for murder, but clear relief
that the deed's been done.

One of the men approaches you and helps you up, “Are you alright?”

>[“No. No I'm not.”]
>[“Yes, thank you.”]
>[“He came at me, I had to kill him.”]
>[Write in.]

>>42900836
>[“Yes, thank you.”]

>>42900836
>[“Yes, thank you.”]

>[“No. No I'm not.”]

>>42900836


“Yes, thank you...” Though you'd rather say that you're not. You rise to your feet. In some small part,
you expected to be trembling more than you are now. The throes of murder, life and death are still
very present in your body. Yet your hands are steady, the sweat upon your brow is gone, and the
struggling for control has ceased.

The face you wear, may very likely be that of a cold-blooded murderer... Yet in the presence of these
horned people that look at you with gentle smiles, ragged clothes, and almond-shaped amber eyes...
You feel an overwhelming since of peace after all that anger.

The pangs of hunger return to you again, and you clutch your stomach, “You wouldn't happen to have
anything to eat, would you?”

The man looks down to the young lady that had found you earlier, then back to you, ruffling her
short brown hair, “We've not much, but we're willing to share. Guisi must look out for other Guisi
these days, right?”

“Aye...” You say, looking down to the fresh corpse, “Never know when a Hylon's going to poke in their
heads to ruin our lives.”

The others start on, leading you to their camp, yet your gaze lingers back.

You look for Leon's head... Yet it's nowhere in sight.

“Are you coming?”

“Yes, Sorry.” You put the concern to the back of your mind, you're frankly glad that you can't see it.
Who knows what kind of look he had on his face?


…

Traversing the woods in the growing night proves slow and tedious, but you eventually arrive at a dark
little camp with other haggard, yet happy Guisi sitting around, huddled together to keep warm. They
wear broken shackles on their wrists and no more than rags to evidence that they're more than likely
runaway slaves.

The young lady that had found you seems to be recognized quite clearly and regarded fondly by the
near two dozen of them. Her name is Mira.

>>42901133
Mira pulls you to the side, fidgeting kind of awkwardly and talking low, she seems less distressed now
that she's back with the others...

“So, I, uh... I wanted to say that you shouldn't say anything that might make them think you're an
impostor.”

“Are you saying that I should lie?” You smirk without thinking to. It seems you felt a bit more sarcastic
about that than intended.

“Yes, as is the way of Arche Guisi... You know, we lie. We hide, we lie, and we don't fight unless we
need to. It's better that way. It's almost always better that way.” Her voice goes astray as her eyes look
away.
“Look, everyone's been through a lot. And you seem alright. Just, just don't let them know.”


>[Anything else I should know about Guisi? Or Arches?]
>[The others here treat you, a child with respect. What did you do?]
>[You were terrified of that Hylon, what happened?]
>[I need some food, I'm starving.]
>[Write in.]

>>42901146
>[Anything else I should know about Guisi? Or Arches?]
>[I need some food, I'm starving.]

>[Anything else I should know about Guisi? Or Arches?]

>>42901146
>[Anything else I should know about Guisi? Or Arches?]
>[I need some food, I'm starving.]

>>42901146
>[Anything else I should know about Guisi? Or Arches?]
>[The others here treat you, a child with respect. What did you do?]

>>42901146

You lean back against a rocky outcrop, tired of the days trials as you hear a closely running creek
babble incoherently about its journey that the riverbed barely cares about.
The soft concert of violinist crickets play for the world of the night. After the fact of a recent murder
you feel that it is a soothing lullaby.

“I'll keep it in mind, is there anything else I should know about Guisi? Or even Arches in general?”

Mira sighs briskly, but takes you by the hand and leads you to the brook. The audible babble obscuring
your conversation to would-be listeners. “So, Arches are like ways of life. At least that's what my
mother always said. We can choose our way of life because Thespia lets us, but she won't let us hide
who we are. Everything you do, everything you've done, and how you think changes your face...”

Mira touches your hand and guides it to your cheek, “I don't know how well you can see...” She guides
it over a distinct marking, a smooth pattern upon her skin unlike a scar. “This is a marking of one
with makings of Araflor, the Arche of kindness and gentleness. It's like a flowering vine, you'll see it
better when the sun comes up.”

You in fact, see her marking quite fine, and she's right. A flowering vine-like mark extends from under her ear, to just under her eyes. And now that you've got a clearer look, her rectangular pupils are actually a touch soft, with a beginning of another pattern.

“Guisi, we have little horns that hide what we really are, and square eyes, and gentle faces. Like I said,
we don't fight, we lie about who we are, and we hide. We only fight when we need to.”

A part of you wants to scoff at that. If that's really the case, how is this face of yours so much like a Guisi? There's got to be more to that...

“And lets say we need to, what then?” You propose the question, as though to play Luna's advocate.

>>42901452

“Well,” Mira seems to be unwilling, even embarrassed to say, “We change. We become our real selves,
the ones that don't want to hold back anymore... That's what some say. Others say that we stop being
ourselves and everything we don't want to be takes over.”

“Those are both extremely different views on the subject.”

Mira shrugs, “I'm not sure. I'm only 16, repeating what the elders have told me... to an elder... This is so
weird, why can't you just know who you are?”

A laugh escapes you, “I wish for the same. I can't even recall my name.”

“We'll need to give you one...” Mira thinks for a moment. “How about Jacques?”

“Jacques?” You don't really feel the name.

“Sure, you seem like one.” Mira smiles at you, though after what she just said about Arches, you're not sure if she's lying.

“I'll use it if absolutely necessary, I don't much feel like a Jacques.” You laugh it off and change the subject.

“I noticed that the others around here treat you with respect. I'm surprised as many people struck out at your
word to help a stranger at night, in the woods.”

Mira seems taken aback by the question. She lets her feet hang in the brook, and it protests, but the protesting
part of the current slips away in short order, the upcoming laughs at the former.
“We all ran away from a mining camp. They had us digging up our family's mountains for ores... One day, I
realized that I could call a needle that I'd made a contract with... I picked the locks with its help and helped people get away.”

>>42901479

“Contracted? With a needle?”

Mira gives you a funny look, “You don't know about that either? When you can hear the voice of
something, you can ask if it wants to make a contract. Normally, you can only make one.”
She unfolds her hand and produces a sewing needle from thin air. “I contracted with my needle because I kept losing it.
Now I can call her whenever I need... It took a while for me to figure it out though. It's almost like you need to wish really hard.”

>["... I did something like that earlier."]
>["You picked those locks? You freed everyone here?"]
>["You said... normally? Normally you can only make one?"]
>[Write in.]

>["You said... normally? Normally you can only make one?"]

>>42901490
>["You said... normally? Normally you can only make one?"]

>>42901490

“You said... Normally.”

“What?”

“Normally you can only make one pact, right?”

“Oh. Right.” She seems to understand you, but then suddenly seems reluctant to say. “Um... I shouldn't really be saying this to an impostor, but... Guisi are able to make a second pact. I've heard some rumors of others that can break that rule, but I don't know much about that.”

“And what is this second pact business about?”

“Well, we can hear the voices of shadows. Some of the elders said that it's the true essence of things.
We pact with them and then become like them. One of the men here said that he'd seen a Guisi fighting
like a Dire wolf, he was able to tear through iron and steel with his bare hands. And a saw that he must've contracted with could do the same. He tried defending our village.”

Something in you stirs by the description of that wolfman. He sounds like someone you may have known.

“Oh, but you need to keep that a secret. We don't want other Arches to know what we can really do. It'd be bad.”

“Worse than slavery?”

“I don't know.” The girl whispers meekly.


“Mira,” Someone calls the girl's name as they're walking up. “You can go to sleep, we're rotating the watch. The person looks at you as well, a young man himself.
“Hello elder, it's a blessing of Thespia that we've rescued you. If you want to rest, you're welcome to.”

“I'd welcome myself to some food.” You say with a dry chuckle, your stomach cramping up now and choking itself.

“We've collected some wild roots and berries from the forests, it's not much, but you're welcome to some.”

Mira gets out of the creek and shakes her feet off, “I'll talk to the others about you Jacques. Get some rest, okay?”

The food tastes of the land and the forest. Every bite is cold, uncooked, and unrefined, but you're grateful nonetheless.

>>42901696

You find a spot among st the huddle of the others trying to keep warm during Luna's night. They allow you closer to the center by way of seniority, mindful of their hospitality.

This day's been wild, though oddly refreshing. You can only guess at what tomorrow may hold...

>[Act 1; Scene 1: Waking Up end...]

nice

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[The Siblings]
(An Afterword)


Lurking in the dark, the odd pair observe the ragtag bunch of runaway slaves from afar.

“Seems that he's entered their group without trouble.” whispers the joyous Rava with a sly grin.

“Indeed, yet for a moment he seemed befuddled.” Whispers back the gloomy doom of Avar.

“Well at the very least he's not letting the mask control his every move.”

“Merely, am I glad we'd need not intervene so soon.”

Rava raps her fingers on a severed head, “To think he'd wait for such an opportune time to do Leon in.
In front of those wary Guisi, and then he makes him dead!”

“T'was the perfect scapegoat to win their trust... He's played his first part, as well as he must.”


“Yes, honey and dewest brother, now we'll see what lies tomorrow from the dawn to the dusk!” Rava's
manic smile spreads across her whole face as she stifles back laughter.

Avar simply stands in silence and waiting, his gloomy expression at one with the solemn night.
He knows that what they do is right.

Rava: Here is the place that birds tweet! Follow us, so you know when next to meet!
> https://twitter.com/Faceless_Quest
Avar: Here is where we will hear out your dreadful questions on concerns. I do hope you come there and feel more learned.
>http://ask.fm/Dranzy

Rava: And here is the log of your story with a beautiful name? Oh pardon me, it's also a collective game.
>http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive.html?tags=Quest%20Of%20The%20Faceless

Avar: And though you've all been dreadful
Rava: And some rather swell.
Avar: We'll answer some questions
Rava: Before we say farewell!

>>42901797
Fuck.
Fell asleep halfway through.
Nice first thread. The setting is interesting

>>42901831

Avar: I thank you for your kind and gentle word.
Rava: We hope to see you again, and always know, you've been heard.

>>42901824
Next thread when?
Also I wasn't expecting you to keep the old face vote

>>42901925
Next thread will be either Tuesday or Wednesday at 3pm pacific.

I'll post it on twitter tomorrow once I've confirmed the rest of my scheduling.

I elaborated on the guisi mask further in my notes and increased the lore, history, and setting as a whole.
I felt that it fit so well, into who the Faceless is that I had to keep with that choice that's already been cast.

There will however, be other faces down the line to experience looking through the eyes of other characters.

As important as it will be to distinguish yourself and your independence, it'll also be extremely helpful to unlock
the power that each face possesses.


I also want to say, that every vote counted for scene 1.
Every heavy or balancing vote for resistance reduced the number of murdery options.

In the end, instead of murdering Leon in a frenzy, the faceless was fully aware and in control when he slayed the Hylon.
There is an extent that it may have been better in going along with the face,
(as far as learning who you're wearing and how to act out his role.) ...

I was intrigued that it played out differently from what I had expected.

Question from me:

I used Mira as an exposition tool, but what do you guys think of the guisi lass?

>>42902035
a little heavy handed, but I can't quite say whether she's acting OOC without a better grasp of the Guisi.

I guess the name thing came out of nowhere?

Ah, one thing: she showed fear, but not the hate/racism. That's probably because she was young, but then that would mean that she should've been awkward around someone who just killed someone.