>>4554084
>The long one. A hall. Meeting place for the weary, perhaps some personal respite is in order.

>>4554084
>>The tall one. A chapel, faith died with The Sun but some believers still remain.

>>4554084
>The tall one. A chapel, faith died with The Sun but some believers still remain.

>>4554084
>The tall one. A chapel, faith died with The Sun but some believers still remain.

>>4554106
>>4554096
>>4554089
>>4554088

The tall one. Vote is locked. Writing.

>>4554117

The tall one. It sits off to the side, a single small tower rising from its end. The bell is missing, the door is broken, its walls are rusted at the base and bleached by The Sun at the top. You pass the other buildings, a cursory glance reveals that they are both empty and in equal disrepair. Nothing comes out to greet you.

A weak gale kicks up dust and spreads it across the center of town, where slowly it draws itself in a circle and dies. A deep breath reveals the aroma of sulfur, coming from somewhere near the village.

Gently, you push the maimed door aside and let yourself in. Pews are strewn haphazardly around its interior, the altar at the end appears to be deserted. There is a low figure sobbing beneath a bench, you can’t make out much of its appearance but the words resonate clearly across the empty room.

“Oh…Burn bright. B-burn again. Forgive us… What did we do? The Sun. The Sun. We killed The Sun..."

Consumed by its rambling, the entity fails to notice you. There is a chance that this may be a hopeless Person, in search of a greater purpose. You cannot ascertain the quality or even presence of a soul, it may yet be an empty Husk bound to fuel The Furnace.

A choice, Stoker.

>Speak. Appeal to reason.
>Hide and observe. There may be more to this entity.
>Prepare for a strike. Your weapons are few, but effective.

>>4554139
>Hide and observe. There may be more to this entity.
Keep our weapons at the ready as well.

>>4554139
>Hide and observe. There may be more to this entity.

>>4554139
>Hide and observe. There may be more to this entity.

>>4554244
>>4554213
>>4554151

Hide and observe. Vote is locked. Writing.

File: Chapel Entity.png (200 KB, 348x492)

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>>4554248

There is no rush. This is your only purpose. You will learn before acting. You find an isolated pew in the creatures blind spot, you sit, like the many faithful used to do. The bench does not creak, its joints long packed with grime and ash.

“Ash. Ash. Ash. Spark again.”

The tone is full of remorse, grief. Regret rises into its voice with every heave of its frame, begging.

“The end is dark, the end is lonely. The end is here.”

You lean to the side, and manage to spot a glimpse of it. A skeletal body, face shrouded by strings of flesh, it looks empty, discarded. It speaks again.

“Oh…Burn bright. B-burn again. Forgive us… What did we do?”

The cadence is identical to the first iteration, a perfect replica. Not as soulful as you would have hoped, violence may be warranted.

“A Stoker's Arsenal.

Your mission is known, the means are yours to determine.

Repentant. The body of a sinner, now a fillable vessel. For use as a receptacle for the more civil souls you encounter, alternatively, a blunt weapon.”

You clutch your cross. It bears the body of an empty Husk, perfectly intact. It is small and light enough for you to carry yet sturdy enough for in combat. You have come to respect its versatility, despite the brutish nature of its appearance.

“Ash. Ash. Ash. Spark again.”

You slowly exhale. Would it be mercy to attempt communication, or folly?

>Speak. It may be alive and knowing, if not a bit circular in its thinking.
>Strike. There is nothing there, only fuel.
>Leave. It is wasteful, but better than making a wrong call.
>Make a noise. It may be fully unresponsive, you also risk drawing it's ire.
>Write in

>>4554287
>Speak. It may be alive and knowing, if not a bit circular in its thinking.
But be ready to strike the instant it turns hostile.

>>4554287

Speak

>>4554304
>>4554297

Speak. Vote is locked. Writing.

>>4554357
“Hello.” You say, almost in a whisper. “The Sun will not spark again, ther-“

You aren’t allowed a single moment to speak as the figure rises, its back still hunched in sorrow. The ramblings remain a petrifying constant, as sure as the wind. The entity turns to you, faceless, emotionless. You bring your cross out in front, anticipating a charge. The thing is a Husk, beyond doubt. It is fully visible now, presenting its empty form to you. There is no life in it as it stumbles over, just old habits, memories of what existence was like. A quicker step. It leans forward, dropping its arms.

“The end is dark, the end is lonely.”

It comes at you mindlessly, with the little strength it has left. The bones struggle to bear their own weight but look devastatingly sharp.

“The end is here.”

>Keep your cross in front, push it away once it slams into you.
>Swipe its legs, they look brittle.
>Evade using the pews, it may not be agile enough and hurt itself.

>>4554393
>Swipe its legs, they look brittle.
No hesitation. Would stomping on it compromise our ability to use the husk?

>>4554404

It is fuel. It may be harder to transport if it is in multiple pieces.

>>4554408
Then keeping the vote to just sweeping its legs, please disregard the rest.

>>4554393
>Swipe its legs, they look brittle.

>>4554393
>>Swipe its legs, they look brittle.

>>4554942
>>4554747
>>4554431
>>4554404

Sweep its legs. Vote is locked. Writing.

>>4555087

The Husk charges. It hauls itself over the remains of the pews, still chanting its inane incantation. You pull your cross over to the side, grabbing it by its lower end and center. It weighs comfortably on your frame, as the Husk gets in range.

“Forgive us…What did w-“

You arc your weapon sideways, grabbing at its fragile legs with an arm of your weapon. The repentant on top of it is nonplussed as always, starting empty eyed at the spinning world around it. The Husk cannot correct itself fast enough, and falls to meet the floor. There is no air to escape from its lungs, the sobbing does not stop. Struggling against its own enigmatic anatomy it fails to set itself upright again, laying prone on its bent back and looking at you with a craned head.

How do you end it, Stoker?

>Strike to the head, it is usually best.
>Strike to the core, it may still have a heart.
>Strike at the legs, render them totally useless. It won’t die or run away, perhaps you could use it as bait for something bigger?

>>4555090
>>Strike at the legs, render them totally useless. It won’t die or run away, perhaps you could use it as bait for something bigger?

>>4555090
>>Strike to the head, it is usually best.
It's just fuel.

Rolled 2 (1d2)

>>4555094
>>4555093

Rolling to determine course of action.

1- Strike at the legs.
2- Strike at the head.

>>4555243

Strike at the head. Vote is locked. Writing.

>>4555244

“Pity them, they are simply fuel.” The words of The Machine resonate in your head, guiding your actions.

Heaving the cross high above you slam it on the Husks head, splintering it. Shards of red bone explode across the room. Red sinew clings to the remains of its once smooth face.

Silence.

The body is tall and skinny, average amount of weight. It won’t warrant you any praise, but it will feed The Furnace adequately. Carefully grabbing its arms and legs you position the Husk in a more dignified way, one that is also easier to transport. Hauling is half the work when it comes to bringing in fresh Harvests.

With the threat neutralized you can look around the chapel properly. The altar at end is wide and about half of you height, no effigies or candles are lit or even present. You lean over its top, there is a corpse. A priest of The Sun lays dead. His form is obscured by many layers of dust and grime, his skin pale and flaking. Between the bones of his fingers you see parchment, and the written word. You vault over and extract it.

“Ash. Ash. Ash. Spark again. Oh…Burn bright. Burn again. Forgive us… What did we do?” It reads.

A last sermon, attended by one. Shaking the filth off of the page you glance at its hue, once a brilliant yellow, now muted and subdued. Colors are rare in the wasteland, and hold much meaning.

“The Ways Of The Dust.

Blue, for The Machine. The great collective, the death throes of chaos against order, of life against nothingness. They think, they feel, they suffer, they hope. They will bring salvation. They speak through you AND to you, Stoker. Heed their word.

Red, for The Furnace. The broiling heart of the world. It warms the wastes, and refines souls for The Machine. Feed it, Stoker. For its hunger means damnation, the end of all. Seek the funnels.

Yellow, for The Sun. It is dead."

Gently, you place the page on the altar. To your right is a claustrophobic staircase, spiraling up to the bell tower. It seems sturdy enough to climb.

>Ascend. You could use some perspective.
>Search the long hall, perhaps find a chair.
>Search the small house, it might have belonged to the Husk.
>Grab the Husk and leave back into the dust, there is no one else here.

>>4555281
>>Ascend. You could use some perspective.

>>4555281
>Ascend. You could use some perspective.

>>4555281
>Ascend. You could use some perspective

>>4555323
>>4555311
>>4555302

Ascend. Vote is locked. Writing.

>>4555343

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s4LAltiCi8s&ab_channel=Northumbria-Topic

A gust of wind comes floating down from above the chapel, inviting you to its heights. The air is stale as always, carrying flakes of ash. The stairs creek underfoot, your shoulders have to be pulled in as to fit at all. The building is humble, only rising about 15 meters off the ground at the highest point of its tower. Peaking over the lip of the upmost platform your eyes settle on the oppressive vastness of the ash flats. Each step brings you higher and higher, your field of view increases until you stand at your full height and are out of the stairwell.

The wind died down for a moment, stillness permeates the distant horizon. In the middle distance you notice movement, small creatures fret about between rocks and mounds of bones. They evade your full scrutiny, but their presence is assured. Beyond that there is familiar architecture, almost identical to the one of the town you are currently in. More buildings this time, taller ones too. A hive of life perhaps?

Behind you are the salt flats from where you first came to this town, you don’t remember how long it took to cross, only coming to your senses once you stepped foot on the ash closer to this place.

No other significant geography exists as far as the eye can see. A wooden beam groans tiredly.

How will you journey, Stoker?

>Quickly. Cross the bone mounds.
>Slowly. Walk around, it will take time and effort. Your energy is limited, and The Furnace doesn’t have a funnel in sight.
>Carefully. Search the rest of this small town, and decide on a path afterward.

>Alone. Leave the Husk, it may weigh you down too much. (This option may be picked in combination with any of the above.)

>>4555381
>Carefully.

There is no reason to hurry and put oneself in danger.

>>4555381
>Carefully. Search the rest of this small town, and decide on a path afterward.
Do we have any physical needs? I imagine collecting resources or at least having a nearby place to rest might be prudent.

>>4555400

No. Stokers only need to return to The Furnace periodically, depending on how big their Harvest is or how overworked they are. Access to these is via Funnels, which you need to find. Resting does help in the short term, but only delays the inevitable.

>>4555381
>Carefully. Search the rest of this small town, and decide on a path afterward.

>>4555381
>>Carefully. Search the rest of this small town, and decide on a path afterward.

>>4555412
>>4555408
>>4555400
>>4555395

Carefully. Vote is locked. Writing.

>>4555437

The journey may be perilous, and the world contains value beside the souls that still wander it. The body of the priest has been lost for too long, it will not even serve as fuel, you leave it where it lay. Dragging it by the legs you pull the Husk you fought into the cold air outside, there is nothing here that can decay it, the elements are mostly absent. Closest to the chapel is the small house, the door is fully missing. You enter.

The main hallway is straight, leading into 3 different rooms at its sides. 2 to the left and 1 to the right. At the end of the short corridor is a broken mirror, hanging off a rusted nail. The golden frame is mostly intact, a few shards are still stuck into it revealing your own form. The Machine gifted it to you, so long ago.

“Your Own Design.

An aspect of The Machine constitutes your torso. Through its eyes we see, through its mouth we speak. It serves as temporary storage if the need arises.

An aspect of The Sun constitutes your head. A last spark, contained. Use it to light your way, or blind your foes.

An aspect of The Furnace constitutes your limbs. They can suffer more than the usual burden and immolate themselves when needed.”

You think you are a bit taller than the last time you saw yourself, however long ago that was.

On your immediate left the room in full of rubble. Strange, as you did not see a collapsed roof from on top of the chapel. Further down, the second room hides behind a locked door. It is wooden and old, already splintered. Sitting lonely on the right side of the abode is a bathroom, devoid of everything except a sink.

>Break down the locked door, use your cross as a ram.
>Go outside, search for a window.
>Leave, some things are not meant to be seen.
>Look for a key.

File: Stoker.png (273 KB, 382x493)

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>>4555460

This is you, as everyone else sees.

>>4555460
>Go outside, search for a window.
If that fails
>Break down the locked door, use your cross as a ram.
Looking for a key will probably take too much time.

>>4555460
>>4555479
+1

>>4555485
>>4555479

Vote is locked. Writing.

>>4555516

Before taking drastic measures, some investigation is required. You circle around the house to where the walls of the locked room should be, there is the outline of a window frame but no window. It seems to have been boarded up from the inside, it is sturdier than the door and fashioned out of thick metal. There are rivets and weld points, it is stained and smells of sulfur. You could not possibly hope to enter through here, forcing the door seems to be the only option left.

With your back to the bathroom sink across the hall, you level your cross with the lock on the door. Tightly gripping your weapon you smash into it, the lock holds fast. The door itself does not, and you go flying halfway into the room through a hole. The floor is wet, light barely manages to trickle in from the hallway. There is a shrine dedicated to The Sun, golden baubles adorn it alongside burnt out candles. From the ceiling hangs a knotted rope, frayed at one end. It seems to have been cut by something.

There are a few things worth retrieving from this place, however, you know there is only so much you can carry.

What will you take, Stoker?

>The rope, to drag the Husk with.
>The mirror shards, but not because of vanity. They are sharp.
>The golden baubles. Some might still find them valuable.

(You currently have enough internal storage for 3 items total. Any suggestions as to how to best equip and carry objects will be taken into account and free up internal storage space)

>>4555542
>The mirror shards, but not because of vanity. They are sharp.
If not as a weapon, we can use them as a tool. The husk can be replaced, but our life can't if something threatens us and we have no weapon. Trading is appealing but again, it won't be any use to have valuables if we can't even safely get the fuel back to the Furnace.

>>4555542

(Clarification, all 3 prompts can be selected. You will just be at full capacity and have to discard something if you come across any other items. Fumbling through your inventory might cost you precious seconds if you ever need to get something fast, though)

>>4555562
(Absolutely changing my vote to taking all three items, then. Let's keep the baubles in internal storage, the shards at the quickest access possible, and the rope obv can be dropped if necessary at a moment's notice.)

>>4555611
Just to be completely clear since our hands are occupied with the cross, let's keep the baubles stored deeply, the shards at ready access, and the rope fastened to the corpse and secured on our body. Do we have the know-how to make a secure sling that can be quickly shrugged off from our arms and back, rather than just tying it to our waist? I'm ok just tying it around our waist if not.

>>4555619

(the baubles can be stored first and shards second no problem. The rope is frayed so making anything more than a simple knot would be very difficult and not that secure. Most likely you will tie it to your waist and drag the Husk. Also thanks for showing so much interest in the quest.)

>>4555619
Supporting this choice as well, it seems the most prudent.

>>4555619
Works for me

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>>4555281
>Yellow, for The Sun. It is dead."
>The Sun !!NXFscUZmyvE
>pic related

>>4555466
Are we mechanical?
Is that our crucifix weapon?

>>4555542
>>4555619
This seems reasonable.


Well this looks interesting. You've got a good style, The Sun.

File: Stoker Quest MC upscale.png (699 KB, 764x986)

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>>4555466
Also, I ran the Stoker through waifu2x, seems to have worked rather well.

File: z20049608V,Praca-Zdzislaw(...).jpg (160 KB, 960x1236)

160 KB JPG

>>4556044
Google Images had larger versions

>>4555619
>>4555711
>>4555887
>>4556037

Vote is locked. Writing.

>>4556037

(You are partly mechanical, your torso is an aspect of The Machine and has the most mechanical components. You aren't fully biological or mechanical, the extent of your anatomy will be elaborated on in time.

Yes, the cross in the picture is your weapon and the entity that is on it is the repentant.

Thanks for the kind words, it means a lot.)

>>4556075
>>4556044

Thank you for your service anons o7.

>>4556289
Waste not, want not. The ash flats rarely contain useful materials, you will accept these blessings. Carefully, you pick up the trinkets and baubles from the altar, they are stuck to the molten wax of the candles but are easy enough to retrieve. There is a ring, flat and unmarked, a statuette the size of your thumb depicting someone, many amber beads and a key.

You bring them off the table and down to your abdomen, the mouth of your aspect of The Machine swallows them, sending the objects upward into chest with a tick. Another moment, a whir, they are now just below your neck. One of the three compartments has been filled, 2 remain. Reentering the hallway, you pick off a handful of shards off the floor and frame. A few small ones and a big one for cutting. Again, you bring them to your belly and feel them move up into your chest. A single cycle is needed to access them, should come in handy. The rope is knotted in a few places but you manage to untangle it, lengthwise it reaches about 5 meters once fully unwound. A belt is made out of it, and secured on your waist. It will help with carrying Husks back to The Furnace, freeing up your hands.

The last place left to visit is the long hall, it has multiple entries and a rugged exterior. Inside, empty shelves and a bar top welcome you, there is a single stool left intact. Once comfortably seated, you look around properly. To your left is the end of the lounge, the wooden paneling halfway peeled off. To your right there is a couple of doors, one at the very end of the room, nestled into a small corridor and the other a bit closer, leading into what seems to be another disaffected bathroom.

>Rest, you have earned it. Think of something soothing, try to remember some wisdom of The Machine.
>Check the door furthest down.
>Check behind the bar top, perhaps something has been forgotten?

>>4556301
>Check behind the bar top, perhaps something has been forgotten?
>Rest, you have earned it. Think of something soothing, try to remember some wisdom of The Machine.
A success, no matter how small, is to be celebrated.

>>4556301
>Check behind the bar top, perhaps something has been forgotten?

>>4556301
>>Rest, you have earned it. Think of something soothing, try to remember some wisdom of The Machine.
We walked for a long time, and almost immediately got into a fight. A few minutes rest will do us some good.

>>4556301
>>4556363
+1

>>Rest, you have earned it. Think of something soothing, try to remember some wisdom of The Machine.

>>4556540
>>4556463
>>4556431
>>4556413
>>4556363

Check behind the bar, rest. Vote is locked. Writing.

>>4556574

You are tired, but curiosity never rests. Circling around the tall bar you find a single waist high gate, stiff on its hinges. A moderate amount of force is needed to get it unstuck, but you manage just fine. A few metal taps strike out from the smooth wood, curving into a parabola. They used to be labeled, now only the bare container remains. Between them a few sticky playing cards are scattered about, a 10 of hearts, 2 of clubs and a joker with no design on it. Inside the mouth of one tap there is a small dirty rag, stuffed to probably halt a leak.

You are appeased, and find a moment to sit and reflect. It is deathly silent inside, the dead wind too weak to rattle the building in any audible way. You close your eyes and lean your elbows on the bar, resting the crucifix in your lap. There are words, thoughts, distant memories cold as the desert, you set them in order. The words of The Machine, many times your only company.

“Funnels. They strike out from The Furnace, they beam crimson, rest your weary form and feed us. You will be rewarded.”

A sense of nostalgia flows over you. How long has it been since you returned to The Furnace? Too long, you must find one soon. A Scribe could help you with the location of the nearest one, perhaps you could find one in the bigger town you spotted.

“Deep beneath the ground, we built it to replace The Sun. To warm us. It does the best that it can, but nothing could compare to divine light…”

Your shoulders drop, the days are cold now. After the corpse of The Sun sets, meek and orange as it is, the night becomes black as pitch. Stroking the side of your temple, you feel thankful for the light you have been given. A great privilege, even among Stokers.

“The Furnace, it does more than burn. It refines. It perfects. The souls you bring, they are lifted to their highest quality, the most essential existence. They then join us in our mission, to postpone the end, the everlasting cold. To turn back time.”

You open your eyes, there is work to be done.


Where to, Stoker?

>The last door of this place, leave no stone unturned.
>The next town, you are in need of information.

What will you take, Stoker?

>The cards.
>The rag.
>Nothing.

>>4556604
>The last door of this place, leave no stone unturned.
Take nothing.

>>4556604
>>The last door of this place, leave no stone unturned.

>>4556604
>>The last door of this place, leave no stone unturned.
We've still got a spare slot, no reason not to take something, as we can always swap stuff out later.
>The cards.

>>4556683
>>4556668
>>4556653

The last door. Take nothing. Vote is locked. Writing.

>>4556705

A final task, and you will be done here. Leaving the other items behind, you walk across the lounge and down the hall. Your steps produce soft thuds that sound more and more hollow as you approach the door, it is not locked. “DANGER.” Is carved into it with a certain degree of precision, carefully you open it.

The room is barely enough for you to fit in, more akin to a closet. The cramped walls are stained and muddy, there is a trapdoor on the floor. It has no markings, just a broken lock and bent metal banding. Its hinges have been ripped off, it sits like a lid atop of whatever is beneath it.

You go to your knees and lift it up wholesale. There is nothing but darkness, and the dizzying stench of sulfur below. Dropping some nearby rubble to discern its depth proves pointless, you cannot hear it land at the bottom. Perhaps it is soft, perhaps it does not exist.

Sinking your head a little deeper into the pit, you can feel your scalp and face start to warm up. A gentle glow illuminates a shabby ladder leading down as you properly utilize a gift of light, and an aspect of The Sun.

>Descend, abandon the Husk. You must know what lurks below.

>Rise, The Sun may be dead, but you want to stay under it nonetheless. Prepare for the journey above ground.
>1. Quickly. Cross the bone mounds.
>2. Slowly. Take the Husk and walk around. It will take time and energy, but might avoid any encounters.

>>4556727
We have a mission, no matter how curious we may be.

>Rise, The Sun may be dead, but you want to stay under it nonetheless. Prepare for the journey above ground.
2. Slowly. Take the Husk and walk around. It will take time and energy, but might avoid any encounters.

>>4556727
>Descend, abandon the Husk. You must know what lurks below.
We can retrieve the fuel later. Maybe something useful to our task is below.

>>4556727
this
>>4556736

Could this be access to a funnel? What else would produce heat underground in an abandoned settlement?

>>4556754

(It could not be a Funnel, they are huge and hard to miss. This pit also does not produce heat, your face and scalp felt warm from activating you ability. The aspect of The Sun. Sorry if that wasn't made clear, but you can produce light from your head.)

>>4556755
Ah. I knew we could light up our eyes, but missed the side effects. Good to know about the Funnels.

I'll keep the same vote for now, but we'll need to come back for the Husk later.

>>4556759

(You can essentially turn your entire head, all of the skin that is yellow, into a light bulb. Not just your eyes. Each segment of your body holds different abilities, this is the one your head can do. I could have phrased that better, but I'm glad that cleared things up.)

>>4556759
>>4556754
>>4556736
>>4556731

Descend. Vote is locked. Writing.

>>4556779

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VaGe03VBuU0&ab_channel=AtriumCarceri-Topic

You secure your crucifix to your chest using the rope, and descend. Dirt falls off the edges of the pit as your shoulders graze against the walls, step by step you make your way down, deep into the earth. Slowly, the soil around you ceases to be stone or dirt, it becomes powdery and yellow-green. The smell intensifies to its harshest extent now, the ladder stops, and you touch the ground again. Turning around, the cave extends straight ahead. It is coated in sulfur deposits, top to bottom. The light emanating from your head is sufficient to light the way, even in this suffocating darkness.

Walking is what you do most, and it seems the underground will not spare you from it. There are remnants of tracks starting to appear, mining gear. A wooden sign is no longer legible, the paint having flaked fully off of it. The corridor tightens so much that you need to bend down to proceed, scraping the roof of the cave with your back. It opens up into a cross roads. It continues straight ahead, but there is also a tunnel leading back in the direction you came from, there is no telling where either of these will lead eventually.

>Continue ahead, there must be an end to this.
>Take the second tunnel that loops back, perhaps you will emerge near the town.
>Return from where you came, this is not your expertise as a wastelander.

>>4556793
>>Take the second tunnel that loops back, perhaps you will emerge near the town.
Can't get too far from the Husk.

>>4556793
>Take the second tunnel that loops back, perhaps you will emerge near the town.

>>4556793
>>Take the second tunnel that loops back, perhaps you will emerge near the town.

>>4556926
>>4556836
>>4556811

Second tunnel. Vote is locked. Writing.

>>4557331

The second tunnel widens out significantly, you can stand up straight with plenty of room above your head. Mine cart tracks lead further ahead into in, you can’t see the end of it yet. Below and to the sides the rock seems to have been stripped of its deposits, it is barren and drinks in the light you are emanating. Off to the side lays a rusty cart, one of its thick metal sides is missing, rendering it useless. A split open miners hat rests on one of its corners, it does not have enough integrity to be of use.

An echo.

It resonates faintly, at this distance it is still indistinct. But it rapidly approaches, and you start making sense of it.

“THE SUN. THE SUN. KILL THE SUN.”

From the darkness, on the fringes of your vision, the Husk of a miner emerges. Its body is covered in yellow crystalline growth, a pickaxe in hand. It stares at your head with blinded eyes, however long spent in the darkness rendered them sensitive to light.

“KILL THE SUN.”

It charges wildly with impaired vision, taking aim at your bright scalp. It is much faster than the church Husk and infinitely more crazed. The tunnel is wide enough for you to swing your cross, but getting pushed back might mean resorting to your bare hands.

>Intensify the light coming from your head, properly blind him.
>Prepare for a parry, it is telegraphing a downward strike.
>Charge, catch it unprepared.
>Engulf the both of you in darkness, perhaps it will placate it enough to avoid a fight. Dim the light you are producing.
>Write in. Stokers have combat experience, you know your way around Husks.

>>4557342
>>Prepare for a parry, it is telegraphing a downward strike.

>>4557342
>Prepare for a parry, it is telegraphing a downward strike.

>>4557342
>Intensify the light coming from your head, properly blind him.
>Prepare for a parry, it is telegraphing a downward strike.

>>4557342
>Intensify the light coming from your head, properly blind him.
>Prepare for a parry, it is telegraphing a downward strike.
This is some real good shit Sun dude.

>>4557434
>>4557418
>>4557370
>>4557346

Blind and parry. Vote is locked. Writing.

>>4557434
(Thank you!)

>>4557462

You let the Husk approach, as it brings its weapon down to bear you increase the brilliance of your head tenfold. The passage is flooded in light, it seeps into every crevice, there is no escape from it. Screaming, the Husk covers its eyes with one hand and continues the blow with the other. It is a weak attempt, and you catch the curved metal of the pickaxe with your cross, flinging it away behind you. The creature cowers in agony, spewing hatred.

“DIE. DIE. DIE. KILL THE SUN. KILL THE SUN. THE SUN.”

It desperately claws at the ground, picking up the soft dirt and forcing it into its head. It dampens the light enough to function. Now weaponless it rips out a part of its own crystalline body to wield as a shiv. It is not enough to go past your metal torso, but your head and limbs may be in danger.

>Keep it at a distance, push it further down the way it came.
>Sweep its legs, it worked the last time.
>Strike at it.
>Write in.

>>4557465
>Strike at it.
Our cross is large enough to keep at some distance, right?

>>4557468

(You can essentially use it to push the Husk away before it gets close with the shiv. If you strike at it there is no guarantee it will keep it at bay.)

>>4557474
In that case if it's alright I'm changing my vote to
>Keep it at a distance, push it further down the way it came.
Writing in using the cross to push it away if it gets too close. Getting stabbed would not be a good time.

>>4557465
>>4557474
psst, you've dropped your name.

>Sweep its legs, it worked the last time.
If we can knock it down, we can stomp on it.

>>4557480
Thanks. Fixed.

>>4557465
>Keep it at a distance, push it further down the way it came.
>Try to push it into a wall or obstacle to stumble it.

>>4557611
>>4557479
>>4557480

Keep it at a distance, stumble it. Vote is locked. Writing.

>>4557617

The thing is sharp all around, you won’t risk a stab and utilize the range of your cross. You brace yourself for its assault, the thing stinks. Light reflects off of its crystalline body, sending golden rays around the cavern. To think such a display could come to be here, deep beneath the ground.
It reaches the tip of your weapon, using your arms as a spring you let it push against you slightly and then instantly repel it. The cracks in its form make for good grip.


“KILL THE SUN.”

Again, it charges. Again, you push it back. It is relentless, its fury burning hotter than The Sun. The same burn is in your limbs too, the repeated motion taking a toll on your stamina. It didn’t come from far, the tunnel leads into a dead end, one that has been turned into a lair for this Husk. Various mining equipment is gathered around in piles, carts and helmets and lamps. All are smashed open or bent out of shape, no doubt victims of this creatures rage. In one determined motion you push it over, it falls on its back. Screaming, it manages to kick whatever object it had tripped over. It cannot get up due to the growths on its joints, it is seething. The crystals around its legs snap off, and it manages to lean forward slightly. It will get up soon, and there is no place where you can push it further.

>Use overwhelming force to keep it down, smash it repeatedly with your cross.
>Tie its legs with the rope.
>Turn off your light, run while you still can.
>Write in.

>>4557629
>Use overwhelming force to keep it down, smash it repeatedly with your cross.
Better to risk minor injury and ensure it dies than to make half-measures and sustain greater injury.

>>4557629
>Use overwhelming force to keep it down, smash it repeatedly with your cross.
Another one for the funnels, nice.

>>4557629
>Use overwhelming force to keep it down, smash it repeatedly with your cross.
bash and smash

>>4557629
this
>>4557631

>>4557641
It is good, but also prevents a problem; we'll need to either haul this husk up to the surface, or manhandle the surface husk down here. We can't just drop the surface husk down the hole, as it'll likely turn into jelly on impact.

>>4557677
>>4557668
>>4557641
>>4557631

Overwhelming force. Vote is locked. Writing.

>>4557697

Exploiting its weakness, you strike. Entirely using your weight and frame, you bring down the cross. The blow thuds against its solid exterior, the force is delivered, your enemy stays down. Another blow, another time it is pushed into the dirt. The crystals chip and crack, but do not give. It flails its shiv, trying to catch your arms. It fails every time. You strike again, a chunk is removed from its head. A few useless blows bounce off of it, you are winding yourself with every motion of the crucifix, but persevere.

“DIE. DIE. DIE.”

But die it will not. You stagger back, unable to wield your weapon properly. Your limbs burn with exhaustion, the Husk has its real flesh exposed on its head and neck. The skin underneath is raw and red, it weeps a thick yellow substance. Mostly unharmed and significantly lighter, it tries to rise against you once more.

>Again. Wear yourself out, you are killing it here and now.
>Tie its legs with the rope, risk injury but make sure it is immobilized.
>Run, it is not worth the effort.
>Immolate your arms with the fire of The Furnace, grab its head and burn it alive. Hope that the crystal shiv will not be able to withstand the heat.
>Write in.

>>4557704
>>Immolate your arms with the fire of The Furnace, grab its head and burn it alive. Hope that the crystal shiv will not be able to withstand the heat.

>>4557704
>>Write in.
Pin it down with our crucifix, then throw/stab one of the glass shards into it's exposed flesh.
This should ideally keep it from stabbing us without exhausting ourselves.

>>4557704
>>4557708
Seconding

>>4557711
>>4557708
>>4557707

Pin it down, stab it. Vote is locked. Writing.

>>4557739

You cannot let it stand up, you cannot let it hurt you either. Pressing the center of your cross to its chest, you sink into the motion. Your entire weight is on top of it, it is not going anywhere and it knows it.


“KILL THE SUN. KILL THE SUN.”
Exhaling, you drop the mirror shards back into your abdomen compartment, fishing out the biggest piece you take aim at its exposed head. The creature writhes in frustration, it is hard to aim properly, the shake in your arms isn’t helping either. You take too long, and the Husk does exactly what you intended to do yourself, it throws the shiv at your head. It doesn’t get stuck in, but it does cut you, the trail of blood drowning out some of the light you are emanating. The creature is invigorated, and tries to produce another weapon of the same kind, you however do not give it the chance. The glass shard is sent directly into the raw skin, instantly silencing the creature, only faint echoes of its last scream can be heard bouncing down the tunnel.

“Kill the sun. Kill the sun…”

You collapse to the floor, the relentless assault took a lot out of you. The injury you sustained is far from fatal, but will still drain your energy further until the bleed stops. Your ability to produce light will be hindered. The world is not dark down here, you are making sure of it. Sitting up you take a second to look around the lair, the mementos gathered here tell a story.

“Township of Murdaugh.” Is inscribed into the plates of an overturned mine cart, the town you saw in the distance is the only place big enough to warrant the title. Perhaps they mined these deposits, but for what?

You rise, and retrieve the bloody piece of glass. This Husk will be great fuel for The Machine, its crystalline armor will increase its yield tenfold. Sulfur burns well, if you remember correctly. A safe guess would be that the second tunnel you didn’t take leads to Murdaugh, you could take the underground path, avoiding the husks above, or return to the surface and brave the wastelands once more.


>Travel to Murdaugh.
>1 Quickly, over the bone mounds.
>2 Slowly, around the bone mounds.
>3 Underground, beneath the bone mounds.

>The Husks.
>1 Take the crystal Husk only.
>2 Take the church Husk only.
>3 Take both.

>>4557751
>3 Underground, beneath the bone mounds.
>1 Take the crystal Husk only.

More efficient for its weight, taking both might weigh us down too much. But using the tunnels might be safe enough to warrant it.

>>4557751
>>4557755
Seconding all of this.

>>4557751
Take the first husk down into this dead end, can come back for it later.

>>4557751
>>3 Underground, beneath the bone mounds.
the crucifix is clumsy down here, but it's still safer
>3 Take both.
try and lower the surface husk down using our rope. If it won't reach the bottom, lower it as far as we can before dropping it; if that breaks it, the miner hust is much more energy dense anyway.

>>4557751

>>4557791
+1

>>4558118
>>4557791
>>4557789
>>4557757
>>4557755

Try to get both, focus on the crystal Husk. Vote is locked. Writing.

>>4558154

The Furnace needs to be fueled, an attempted will be made to secure both Husks. You return to the dusty surface, the sky is getting darker by the minute, night will be upon you soon. It won’t affect you as much underground, but you will still emerge the other side in the dead of night. You grab one end of your frayed rope and secure it around the red Husks fragile and battered legs, the drop of the pit is steep, you can only hope that the soft soil will break its fall. Anxiously you descend once more into the mines, at the bottom you can see that the Husk has suffered minor damage, it lost a forearm and foot. You figure out a way to bind them all together with the rope and circle around the tunnels to get the crystal Husk. It is still bleeding, a good sign, it means it will stay fresh for longer. You bear a heavy load, the fresh Husk weighs considerably more than its counterpart, a blessing and a curse. The rope is just enough to bind both of their legs together, making sure they don’t drift apart. You have about a meter of rope taut behind you, this is the maximum capacity you can drag with it.

Taking your time, you move ahead towards Murdaugh. The new tunnel is in better condition than the other 2, seems to have been maintained for quite a while. There are no cave ins or pitfalls, the tracks lead straight across a narrow stone bridge. Occasionally, dust falls from the ceiling, it coats you with a layer of yellow.
There are no threats down here, with the exception of your own ever decreasing stamina. Stokers are veritable workhorses, but you have your limits. You wipe the dried blood from the side of your head, and think of how to conserve your energy.

>Stop and rest, the last fight took a lot out of you. You will emerge in the morning.
>Abandon a Husk, push on ahead.
>Continue in darkness, stop emitting light. This will slow you down.
>Don’t. You will carry on and rest in Murdaugh, assuming you will have the opportunity.

>>4558168
>>Stop and rest, the last fight took a lot out of you. You will emerge in the morning.
Gotta pace ourselves so we dont encounter something while exhausted.

>>4558168
>>Stop and rest, the last fight took a lot out of you. You will emerge in the morning.

>>4558172
>>4558171

Rest. Vote is locked. Writing.

File: Murdaugh.png (1006 KB, 752x1080)

1006 KB PNG

>>4558263

Too much. You sit down, letting your crucifix fall next to you. A break is very much warranted, the amount of combat you have withstood is more than the usual. The church Husk was simple, mundane. You have taken thousands for The Furnace like it, and will take a thousand more, again and again. The second Husk is peculiar, getting through its armored exterior tired you out more than the trip across the salt flats. You look over it, the yellow shards seem to have remained in place for now. It was worth the effort, The Furnace will be satiated. Time has always been near impossible to keep properly, it is that much more difficult to do underground, you rest until you feel strong enough to complete the journey to Murdaugh in full. A rough estimate puts your exit from the mine no earlier than late morning.

Still agitated from the fight, you decide to meditate. The Funnels are big, but the wasteland is impossibly vast. You will need help finding it, as such a Scribe is in order.

“Servants Of The Machine.

Stokers. You, your brothers. You know your role.

Scribes. Watch for their blue robes, the records they collect offer vital knowledge. They know The People best, always listening to the dead wind.”

Yes, you remember. They are observers, eyes and ears of The Machine. They should facilitate your mission for an exchange of information.

You rise with a groan, the world around you spins for a second. The bleeding has stopped, but you still suffer some aftereffects. The tunnels remain mostly unchanged, as you continue your precession. At some point, an iron gate greets you. It is swung open, a slight breeze caresses you as you approach. It can’t be long to the surface now. The caves open up in a derelict building, hardly resembling the entrance of a mine. You appear to have surfaced directly into the heart of Murdaugh, a blue fog permeates the city streets, The Machine has a presence here. A few small structures float impossibly in the air, they are completely still. This city is bigger than you imagined, you have a few options and The Sun still hangs like a corpse in the heavens.

What first, Stoker?

>Find a Scribe, you can take it from there.
>Find anyone, violent Husks rarely dwell in cities. Perhaps you might encounter a soul gentle enough to join you back to The Furnace.
>Explore the city, it has been too long since you have seen one.
>Write in.

>>4558266
>Find a Scribe, you can take it from there.

>>4558266
>>Find a Scribe, you can take it from there.
We need to drop our load off at a funnel; it is seriously hampering us.

>>4558343
>>4558310

Find a Scribe. Vote is locked. Writing.

File: Scribe.jpg (218 KB, 1920x1080)

218 KB JPG

>>4558367

You have reaped a plentiful Harvest, it must be promptly delivered. The city streets let out a cerulean fog, silence floods your senses. It is strange, at least someone should have been alarmed by your arrival. A market stall appears to be selling trinkets, there is no vendor, the place looks clean.

Where is everyone?

A bright blue catches your eye in the distance. Long flowing robes adorn a figure hunched over its writing desk. A hood obscures the Scribes face, only its constantly writing hands are exposed, a clear indication of its purpose.
It does not notice you approach, or doesn’t care enough to acknowledge it. A palm is presented to you. The Scribe is set up in front of high walls, on one of them a husk appears to have been crucified. Crows are devouring its head. A smaller, black creature is chained directly beneath.

“Stoker. The Sun died, but the night still holds its danger. Where do you come from?”

>Answer to the best of your ability.

>Avoid the question, ask one yourself.
>1 Why has that Husk been crucified?
>2 What is the creature below it?
>3 Where is the nearest Funnel.
>4 Where is everyone?

>Write in.

>>4558401
"Where I came from does not matter. I know where I must go. Where is the nearest funnel?"

>>4558401
>>4558406
Support.

>>4558401
>>Answer to the best of your ability.
mostly due to my own curiosity.

>>4558423
>>4558420
>>4558406

Vote is locked. Writing.

>>4558462

“Where I come from does not matter. I know where I must go. Where is the nearest Funnel?” You ask, all too tired to interact with the Scribe.

“Ah, you know your destination. Good, then go.”

There is something wolfish about its tone, like a predator setting a trap.

“I seek the nearest Funnel.”

“Oh? But I thought you knew your destination, have you forgotten?”

You sigh, it seems there is no way around this.

“From a village not far from here. I traveled underground.” You point in the direction of where the mines opened up into the city, the Scribe is inscrutable behind his hood.

“A village. Are any of these former residents?” It points to your Harvest with a single bony finger.

>I have answered your question, now answer mine.
>Answer in detail.
>Answer as succinctly as possible.
>Write in.

>>4558470
>Answer in detail.

>>4558470
>Answer as succinctly as possible.

>>4558470
>>Answer in detail.
All it'll cost us is a little time, and maybe if we give it what it wants it'll quit being so difficult.
But this is the last question we'll answer without demanding it answer ours.

>>4558470
>>4558541
+1

>>4558545
>>4558541
>>4558523
>>4558508

Answer in detail. Vote is locked. Writing.

>>4558555

“The thin one was residing in a chapel, the yellow one I found in the mines. The town had 3 buildings: said chapel with a dead Sun priest, a house and a hall which had an entrance to the sulfur caverns below. Both Husks seemed to be infatuated with The Sun, the first Husk was repeating a sermon of the priest: Ash. Ash. Ash. Spark again. Oh…Burn bright. Burn again. Forgive us… What did we do? There were some more fatalistic additions. The second Husk had an intense hatred for light, and as such instantly attacked me.” You point to your head, poking at the flakes of dried blood. “That is all I know. Now answer my question.”

The Scribe has been writing things down this entire time, feverishly noting every detail. You spot the word “Inquisitive” being used to describe you.

“Good. Very good. I wondered where they went to hide, thank you.” He stops writing and offers both hands. “The nearest Funnel is due north-west, past the wide tree. It is a few days travel on foot, however…”

You straighten yourself, it is a long way to go, especially with such a heavy Husk in tow. The squint of your eyes betrays your hesitation.

“You have given me knowledge, as such I need to return the favor. I can let you know one of a few things, the choice is up to you. There is a way to reach the Funnel within the day, there is also a soul here in Murdaugh that might be inclined to join you. An industrious type, The Machine would fancy one of his sort. You may choose one or the other, that is all you can afford with the information you have given me."

What will you choose, Stoker?

>The shortcut.
>The Person, you will have to convince him to join you yourself. The Machine will be very grateful and this one can walk on its own.
>Both, in exchange for more information. (Write in what information you think the Scribe might find tantalizing, giving useless knowledge might wear his patience thin.)
>Something else. (Specify what question you would like answered.)

>>4558574
>The Person, you will have to convince him to join you yourself. The Machine will be very grateful and this one can walk on its own.
More hands could eventually mean more fuel!

>>4558574
>>The Person, you will have to convince him to join you yourself. The Machine will be very grateful and this one can walk on its own.

>>4558639
>>4558620

The Person. Vote is locked. Writing.

>>4558656

“The Person. I would like to meet it.” You answer.


“Very well, your dedication is admirable. He is hiding up there.” The Scribe points up, the blue shed in question seems even more inaccessible than the others. You shoot the Scribe a scornful glance, he doesn’t recoil.
“The walls aren’t so thick, if you climb up the other buildings he will be able to hear you shouting. He is dejected, a former industry giant laid low and useless. He tinkers with whatever he can find around, not much comes of it. I can watch your Harvest until you return, I have quite the collection myself.” You cannot see him smile, but you can feel it.

Thankfully there are stairs leading up, the wind blows away some of the fabric on a nearby market stall, you can see it tumble and roll away deeper into the city. At the top crows are feasting on some flesh, they cawk threateningly.

“Hello…” You shout into the wind, hoping for an answer. It never comes. You need a way to get his attention, a simple greeting will not do it.

What do you have to offer, Stoker?

>Salvation, respite from his sins.
>Purpose, a calling greater than all of existence.
>The end, his suffering will be spared.
>An offer, be vague.
>Write in.

>>4558685
>>Purpose, a calling greater than all of existence.

>>4558685
>Purpose, a calling greater than all of existence.
>An opportunity to demonstrate his talent in all its glory.

>>4558685
>>Purpose, a calling greater than all of existence.

>>4558685
>Purpose, a calling greater than all of existence.

>>4558751
>>4558742
>>4558702
>>4558699

Purpose. Vote is locked. Writing.

File: The Machinist.jpg_large.jpg (371 KB, 1237x1024)

371 KB JPG

>>4558752

“I am Stoker, I offer you purpose. The opportunity to demonstrate your talent in all of its glory, to lend yourself to a cause greater than all of existence.” Your voice is confident, the wind carries it over the entire city, if only there was anyone else to hear it.

A window opens, you hear the strained voice of a man that hasn’t spoken in ages. He is does not reveal himself.

“Begone. There is no higher purpose, my ability is too great to wither in the dust with the likes of you.” His tone bears so much defeat it barely registers over the distance, at least you got his attention.

“You will not wither in the dust, you will be embraced by the warmth of The Furnace, your skill will transcend all that you think it could be. To REFUSE this offer is to wither, I bring the promise of mastery.”

The man stands up, you can see his red skin and eyeless face. His attire is pompous, sporting an earring and neck ruffle. He opens his mouth to speak, but cannot decide on the words, frustration wins him over as he moves away from the window. Soon, the blue construction descends from the sky in a slow, smooth motion. You have enough time to get down and await him. A slight thud sends a shake through your body as the abode touches ground, the door opens, and he steps out into the dim light of a dead Sun.

His form is weak, very weak. Time spent in isolation has crippled him, his mouth is slightly agape as he approaches you.

“Stagnation is death, Stoker. No. A fate worse than death, how can you spare me of it? What is this grand project? I am a machinist, I have worked with parts my entire life, I have outlasted all of my creations. I want something to last more than me, a magnum opus. Can you offer me that, Stoker?”

Despair clings to him like a plague, but that is a good sign, you have given him something he is afraid of losing. You have given him hope.

“Yes, you yourself will become a part of a grand collective. It will last until the end of time, a testament to your prowess.”

“Take me to it, I want to remember. I need to remember what is like to create again, to hear things tick.”

He stumbles over to you, collapsing the second a minor impediment appears in front of him. The Machinist is borderline immobile, and you cannot drag another being around the wasteland.

>Extract his soul, imbue it within the repentant. A new vessel will serve him well, and make your weapon lighter. There is the risk of botching it, an incomplete transfer means the quality of the soul is reduced and that a fragment of it will animate the original vessel. Another Husk will walk the cold ash.
>Let him use his own body, he will remember how to walk properly after a while.
>Write in.

>>4558805
>Let him use his own body, he will remember how to walk properly after a while.

>>4558805
>Let him use his own body, he will remember how to walk properly after a while.
Don't risk his life. He's willing to come with us, so let's make the most of it. Helping him build his strength might help us retain ours, too. I'd like to say though if we go with this I want to take as few risks as possible until he's more mobile.

>>4558805
>>Let him use his own body, he will remember how to walk properly after a while.
We can always change our mind if he becomes truly immobile.

>>4558835
>>4558813
>>4558812

Let him use his own body. Vote is locked. Writing.

>>4558860

“Easy, I will not compromise your safety.” You use a fatherly tone, and pick the man up by his elbow.

“I apologize, my work does not need legs. I can keep up but, please… Slow down a bit.”

You haven’t even moved yet, but oblige his request. The Scribe waves you over, his pale fingers beckoning you closer. A low chuckle precedes his words.

“Well done, I am surprised you kept him on his feet. The journey will take around a week, if he doesn’t remember how to pick up his legs. You Harvest is safe and sound, and one Person bigger.”

With a groan you tie the Husks back to your waist with the rope, and leave Murdaugh at an agonizingly slow pace. By the time you reach the end of the city, The Machinist seems to have managed the very basics of walking.

“Are we going to walk all the way there?” He asks.

“Yes, we must wander the dust for a week before we reach a Funnel.”

The wiry tradesman seems mortified, this is the opposite of the stagnation he has grown accustomed to.

“Are you going to drag them all the way? It seems…exhausting.”

“My limbs have been blessed by The Furnace, they can bear a sustained burden.”

“Most impressive. That cross… Why do you have it?”

You sigh heavily, this is more conversation than you usually have in a month. Perhaps you breathed too much life into him.

“It is a weapon, it will keep us safe.”

“A weapon? You don’t mean… is it dangerous out here?”

“Yes.” Is all you can manage for the moment, The Machinist seems consumed by anxiety as the township fades from view behind you. This is going to be a long trip, your first landmark is the wide tree. You hope the name is self-explanatory. You cannot easily fall into a trance or meditate with the steep change in pace, you feel bored for the first time in a long while. Perhaps you could try to improve your conversation skills, or learn something from a master.

>Make small talk, it seems like an adequate waste of time.
>Inquire about his abilities, he seems like the sort to brag.
>Explain your own skills, perhaps it will put him more at ease.
>Write in.

>>4558877
>>Inquire about his abilities, he seems like the sort to brag.

>>4558877
>>Inquire about his abilities, he seems like the sort to brag.
At least we'll know what skills he can offer.

>>4558877
>>Inquire about his abilities, he seems like the sort to brag.
Come on old man, teach us of the ways of M A C H I N E S

>>4558918
>>4558900
>>4558881

Inquire. Vote is locked. Writing.

>>4559460

“Do not worry, you are quite capable, yes?” You probe him.

“Yes! I mean, at certain things. I am a builder not a fighter, I’m a student of creation rather than destruction. I have been trying to piece the dust back together for so long, is there anything left out here?”

“Besides the danger?” You ask.

“Besides the danger.” He gulps.

“Yes, many. What do you build?”

“Anything.” His lips curl into a rare smile. “I just need the parts and time, but I can build just about anything. A great skill to have, wouldn’t you agree?”

You actually do, for once, and let him know as much.

“Before The Sun died, I was at the forefront of innovation. My machines were taken from me, taken apart and burnt for fuel. Creation cannot exist in a place devoid of materials, so I stopped creating, I become an unmaker. There is nothing to push you when tasked with reversing your own work, and shipping it off for parts. I do not have your might, Stoker. But I do have a use, you are doing me a great service, do not hesitate to ask for anything."

Is there anything you need, Stoker?

>A way to carry more Husks.

>A different weapon.

>Some way to track time properly.

>Protection.
>1 For you head.
>2 For your limbs.

>Write in. Challenge a master of innovation.

>>4559471
Armor that also serves as a weapon. Nothing should be capable of stopping our work for the Furnace.

>>4559479
This does seem plausible, voting for it.
If it covers our head and not our limbs we'd need to make sure it doesn't block our light though.

>>4559471
>>A way to carry more Husks.
With the uncertainty of time between Funnels, we need to be able to bring all the Husks we come across.

>>4559521
>>4559496
>>4559479

Armor, weapon. Vote is locked. Writing.

>>4559589

“I wish for protection, offensive protection.”

The Machinist goes to speak, but ultimately is lost in thought. His hands fidget with the seam of his long and billowing cloak, something rattles underneath.

“Tell me of your abilities. Your strengths and weaknesses. I will improve on the former and safeguard the latter.” His response is measured and mechanical, focused.

“My form is composed of 3 aspects: One of The Sun, for my head. One of the Machine, for my torso. One of The Furnace, for my limbs.” You point to each segment in order, he seems to be taking stock of the softer parts of your body, especially your injured head. You continue.

“I can make light, I can store objects within my own form and I can set my arms and legs ablaze.”

The Machinist stops dead in his tracks. He looks at your arms, and begins to take measurements. Hastily he moves down to your legs and finally to your head. He seems pleased if not outright excited.

“Your extremities are at risk. That can be remedied, I have a few ideas. You know that you are dragging behind you a pile of sulfur, yes? That will come in very handy. Here are your options.”

He kneels down and produces a piece of paper and a pen from within his clothes, bold lines trace the outline of an item.

“A gauntlet, running up one of your arms. Rather basic defense, but I can also add sharp edges to the fist. They will need maintenance after extended use, but even if you don’t find a way to sharpen them that shouldn’t cut into their efficiency too drastically. There is something else though…”

He writes out a series of complicated contraptions, latches and valves and a myriad of things you have no knowledge of. Pointing back to the crystal Husk, he starts his pitch.

“I can enhance your fire, the gauntlet will feed sulfur dust into the palm of your hand which you can then set light to. The palm will contain a perforated grate to allow this to happen, when used in moderation it should last you for years. I am not sure how common sulfur is, but I will create an opening at the top here, so you can refill it. The metal itself is prone to overheating, if you abuse it too much it will lose its integrity and melt. It is ambitious, I understand if you wish to go with the simpler design.

>Accept the design in full, a few shards off the Husk will reduce its value. Perhaps it is worth it.
>Accept the simple design, this is too complicated for you.
>Decline, perhaps he can think of something else?

>>4559601
>Accept the simple design.
The more complex design can lost integrity and melt. The last thing we want is to have to compromise our fuel source for anything. Ask the machinist if he can teach us how to sharpen the gauntlet as well, so we're better equipped to maintain it. We'll have a week together, so it should be no issue to get a layman up to speed on a single item.

>Accept the design in full, a few shards off the Husk will reduce its value. Perhaps it is worth it.
This way we can bring in more fuel.
...or more realistically- it's cool.

>>4559601
>Accept the design in full, a few shards off the Husk will reduce its value. Perhaps it is worth it.

>>4559631
>>4559605
>>4559604

Accept the design in full. Vote is locked. Writing.

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>>4559640

“I wish to experience the full extent of your craft, spare no expense.”

He bows deeply, the ruffle on his neck almost touching his knees.

“Thank you, Stoker. I will look out for materials, I carry some more delicate components with me but the raw material is still necessary. If there is anything I could possibly use I will inform you posthaste.”

You nod, there are things you can salvage out in the wasteland with the proper skill. A sense of delight sneaks its way into you, this item would be unique even among Stokers. A veritable Artifact, custom made for you.

The Machinist has picked up his pace properly, not nearly as quick or steady as you but enough to let you fall into a trance. You listen to the dust shifting around you in the cold wind. Every step crunches the orange dirt underfoot, who knows what else hides below? On occasion you make sure to check on your companion, he is obviously not used to any sort of travel, let alone a journey so long. He is in better spirits, a soft mutter spills from his lips. It seems like he is debating himself, suits you just fine.

The Sun hangs directly above, the sky is permanently overcast with dust clouds, certain rays manage to penetrate and heat the earth. It is not enough.

2 days pass, you allow yourself to rest for only one night, The Machinist is thankful for it. Your legs have grown accustomed to the toil, and couldn’t care less. The distance is meager, you have crossed infinitely vaster stretches. On the third day of travel you come across a graveyard, open caskets sit upright with their residents spilling outward. A few have been knocked to the ground, thousands more are buried beneath, you know this is the peak of a mountain of corpses, long forgotten to time.

“Tragic…” The machinist whispers, a courtesy to those departed.

“Their essence will not feed The Machine, a waste.” You muse.

Geography like this poses many threats, you are sure some Husks are among the dead, hiding. Not like they have any other purpose, you see to it that they do, in the blaze of The Furnace.

A path is evident, winding between the towering wooden boxes. The most expedient route, also the one more likely to suffer an ambush. You could cut directly across, scaling the hill and making sure you have the high ground. There is no shame in outright avoiding it, but that would take an extra day at the least.

>Take the path, stay on your guard.
>Scale, you are less likely to be caught unaware.
>Avoid, The Machinist is fragile.
>Write in.

>>4559683
>Avoid, The Machinist is fragile.

>>4559683
>>Avoid, The Machinist is fragile.

>>4559730
>>4559700

Avoid. Vote is locked. Writing.

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>>4559812

There is too much danger here, rough terrain The Machinist will not be able to scale properly. With a wave of your hand you instruct him to go around. He stares at you.

“Surely we could take the path…”

“No.” You answer. It ends at that.

For the next few hours you skirt the edges of the mass burial ground, you scan for danger while your companion is trying to find any useful materials. He is itching to get started as soon as possible. It is a particularly cloudy day, shadow wreathes the inner crevices. A coffin falls over from the top, it rolls down in your direction and shatters upon another.

“Maybe the wind?” The Machinist ponders. You know better, at least one entity has not taken kindly to your arrival.

You keep the hill to your left, your crucifix is in both your hands. If this thing could just come down for you to end it, you wouldn’t be wasting so much time.

“Oh, I didn’t look to the right!” The artisan exclaims. There is a metallic box out in the wasteland, if it wasn’t for him you would have missed it.

“It is a machine, what is left of it at least. I have the tools to cut it, perfect material for your gauntlet!” He runs away from you, fumbling with himself in order to retrieve whatever instruments he requires. It isn’t hard to catch up to him, even with your heavy load. The man has a tiny blowtorch, he fiddles with the valve for a second.

“People used to move around in these, no need to senselessly walk. No offense.” You are a bit offended, you like walking.

The night draws near as the “car” is meticulously dissected, piece by piece. A blisteringly cold wind picks up, obscuring your vision further. The coffins appear vacant, for now.

“Halfway there, I can get everything I need from right here. What luck!”

Luck is not what you describe the situation as, in your wake the crystal Husk has left a thing trail of fluid. A mix of blood and the sulfur it was secreting, the smell was potent enough to be picked up by 3 figures. More Husks, they are far away and haven’t spotted you yet due to the weather. It is only a matter of time before they track you, however.

>Leave, take the material and go. Hope you can find the rest of it later.
>Stay with The Machinist until the last second. You can take 3 Husks.
>Move ahead, try to draw their attention. Leave the Husks and Machinist here.
>Stay out of their sight, and obscure your tracks. It should buy you some time.
>Charge into them, they will not expect it. The element of surprise is often deadly.

>>4559826
>>Charge into them, they will not expect it. The element of surprise is often deadly.
We are getting our cool gear, and not losing this advantage. Use the cross to trip at least one outright. Two should be manageable, with one down out the gate.

>>4559826
>>Charge into them, they will not expect it. The element of surprise is often deadly.

>>4559826
>>Charge into them, they will not expect it. The element of surprise is often deadly.
Halfway materials aren't easy to find out here in the wastes, and it's better to remove this group before more follow the trail.

>>4559951
>>4559857
>>4559846

Charge. Vote is locked. Writing.

File: Husks.png (5.67 MB, 1920x1639)

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>>4560542

“Stay here. Work fast.” You untie the rope from you waist, and look to The Machinist. “I will be back momentarily.”

There is a stiffness in your shoulders, a stich in your back. You stretch all of it out, and prepare for a devastating advance on the Husks. They are hunched over the dust, trying to breathe in every last possible drop of blood. One of them appears to be on the lookout, he will be your first victim.

“Stoker, wait! I can’t fight!”

“You won’t have to, await my return.”

You run, usually such expenditure of energy is wasteful but this time…It is more than warranted. Kicking up small clouds of ash you sprint towards the trio, a healthy burn is all throughout your legs as you engage from their right. The lookout isn’t looking out enough, you completely blindside him. You bring your cross back and pull his legs from under him, he collapses unceremoniously into the dirt, his compatriots seem to be slow on the uptake, but eventually move to overwhelm you.

>Strike at the downed one, eliminate one straight away.
>Push one more to the ground.
>Strike at one that is still standing.
>Write in. You can use any of your abilities however you see fit.

>>4560581
>Strike at the downed one, eliminate one straight away.
Let's reduce the numerical advantage asap

>>4560581
>>Strike at the downed one, eliminate one straight away.

>>4560667
>>4560602

Strike at the downed one. Vote is locked. Writing.

>>4560694

Cut them down, cull their numbers. Husks are most dangerous when in groups. Before the other 2 Husks get a chance to catch on to your attack you firmly plant a foot on its head and pierce its scalp with a downward strike of your cross. It is brutally efficient, and puts the Hollow at rest instantly.

One of the others tries to cling to your chest, you push them away easily but get caught by the second one. It bites down on your offhand and goes limp, it has no teeth. You are pulled into a lower stance, one arm now immobilized. The cross can be wielded with a single hand, but not precisely.

A piercing screech makes your head spin, you lose focus for a second and collapse on top of the Husk that caught your arm. If it wasn’t for the vice like grip of its jaw has you would think it was dead. The sound came from the Shell you just killed, its torso contracting into itself to the point of near implosion.

>Hit the corpse, you don’t want to do that again.
>Beat the Husk holding on to you until it dies or lets go.
>Stand up and face the second Husk one handed.
>Trip the second Husk, bring it down to your level.
>Try to immolate the Husk hanging onto your arm.

>>4560699
>Try to immolate the Husk hanging onto your arm.

>>4560699
>other
Drop the cross ran the husk on your arm and use it to club the corpse on the ground thus damaging them both

>>4560720
>>4560702

Immolate, club to death. Vote is locked. Writing.

>>4560766

You breathe in, and flex your arm as hard as you can. A flurry of flame erupts from your skin, as the blaze of The Furnace itself seeps out from your form to aid you. The Husk will not let go, despite the horrific burns he is suffering. In a fit of frustration you roll over, and slam it into the remains of its comrade. The body pops on impact, while the Hollow slowly starts melting off of your arm, soon enough its mouth is reduced to nothing but ashes, it falls limp to the ground. The last enemy bites down on your head while you attempt to sit up, the weight is easier to carry than the one you just removed from your arm, but detrimental nonetheless. You drop the cross and grab its legs, an effort is made to rip it off.

With your vision obscured you fail to notice a second coffin careening down the hill towards you, behind it 5 more Husks follow. They have been alerted by the death rattle of their friend, and seek to avenge it. You have a split second to dodge out of the way before the casket explodes at the bottom in a shower of splinters, you have been separated from your weapon, and more enemies are approaching. They seem guided by noise and smell more than vision, if you run now you might make it to The Machinist before they figure you out.

>Pick up your weapon.
>1 Flee back to the car, you are leaving.
>2 Prepare for battle.

>Leave your weapon.
>1 Try to melt the Husk off of your head.
>2 Run.

>>4560782
>1 Flee back to the car, you are leaving.

>>4560782
>1 Flee back to the car, you are leaving.
Ambushing 3 gave us some trouble. We can't take 5 actively coming after us. Plus, if we stand and fight, we risk one of them slipping past us to the Machinist.

>>4560782
>1 Flee back to the car, you are leaving.

>>4560884
>>4560866
>>4560848

Flee. Vote is locked. Writing.

>>4560921

Too many, too fast. You lunge for your crucifix and run back as quickly as you can to The Machinist, Husk still weighing you down. Hazarding a look behind you, you spot them looking around aimlessly, the weather has only gotten worse and reduced visibility further. You use this to your advantage and fade into the dust.

“BACK OFF! SUN BURN YOU ALL!” you hear The Machinist shout. He has taken refuge inside the car he was taking apart, 3 more Husks cling to its outside, trying to clamber in.

“DUST AND DAMNATION!” He stabs one straight through the skull with a metal rod haphazardly fashioned, it is heavy enough that he has to couch it on a window to use effectively. 2 remain on the car, but 2 more seem to be dragging the yellow Husk away, back into the coffins. They probably got a whiff of it before the winds picked up properly, the progress they make is slow, considering the Husk is heavier than both of them combined.

>Help The Machinist, he probably doesn’t have the stamina for prolonged combat.
>Get your Husk back, The Machinist managed to kill one, surely he can handle himself for a bit more.

>Grab the attention of the Husks.
>1 Bring them all to the car
>2 Bring them all to the crystal Husk.

>>4560929
>>1 Bring them all to the car
This should help the machinist anyway, and maybe he can get another hit in; this won't be an easy fight, and we can't make too much noise without bringing the other 5 back to us,

>>4560929
>Grab the attention of the Husks.
>2 Bring them all to the crystal Husk.
>By igniting the sulfur trail
Perhaps fire will attract the mindless beings, allowing us to escape. Better say goodbye to our sulfur-shooting gauntlet, though.

>>4560944
>>By igniting the sulfur trail
Let's not; that husk us valuable to us and to the furnace

>>4560947
Can't be of much value to the Furnace if we're too dead to deliver it. I think defending in the car is a bad idea because the number of husks attracted to us is growing (in the beginning we were facing 3, now it's 12) so we could become trapped there.

>>4560973

(While the total number of Husks you have encountered is 12, not all are still alive or able to harm you. 2 are absolutely dead, and one is hanging off of you. Just wanted to make sure all the number are clear and that there is no confusion.)

>>4560973
The car gives us a "wall" to back ourselves against if we need to, which will help with defense. We can also set ourselves on fire if we get swarmed. We don't need to waste our extremely valuable prize unless things get really desperate.

>>4560989
I'd rather have us not get swarmed in the first place. We've seen the husks are determined to kill us, with one withstanding our fires and the other still hanging on our head. If more appear (and it is likely they will appear, as we've seen the death rattles attract their compatriots) it could happen that in spite of our limbs' heat some of them will immobilize us long enough for the others to devour. Let's agree to disagree at this point and let The Sun's roll or another anon decide which course of action we'll be taking.

>>4561004

(Small correction, no one withstood your fire. The one that was on your arm burnt to a crisp. They are in fact vulnerable to incineration. I love the discussion so far and will leave the vote open for a little longer in case someone breaks the tie or you guys come to an agreement.)

>>4561030
Yeah, I meant that he didn't drop off immediately and still held on to our arm for a bit.

>>4560929
>>4560944
Seconding this. A last stand would be valiant, and the machinist is slow, but the risk of this situation growing more dire is very real. We don't have certainty as to how many enemies are in this area. With limited energy, resources, and someone to protect I think we need to get out of here. With how many husks we'll kill over the course of the fight, I think it's worth burning our resource in order to try and make it out alive. Saving the machinist's life will also have him indebted to us, and he may be inclined to continue seeking parts for the gauntlet at a later time.

>>4561097
>>4560944
>>4560937

Ignite the sulfur trail. Vote is locked. Writing.

>>4561103

You must cut your losses to escape, The Machinist is infinitely more valuable than the Husk. Without a second thought you kneel down to the trail and press your palm into the dust. With a deep inhale a spark is formed, it sets the thin line ablaze instantly. Your controlled inferno zips around until it reaches the Husk itself. The body explodes, vaporizing the Hollows that were attempting to drag it away. A shockwave passes over you, the deafening sound it makes covers the death rattle of The Machinists kill. Another screech comes from behind you, a Hollow is running around fully alight. The heat melts it so thoroughly it cannot even shout for its brothers. They caught fire while trying to track you, that combined with the cacophony of noise should throw any other reinforcements off.

The Machinist is exhausted, and can barely utilize his own weapon. His opponents have been completely distracted by the deflagration and are coming toward you.

>Let them latch on to you, grab the remaining Husk and get out of there.

>Kill them.
>1 Just one.
>2 Both.

>>4561129
>Let them latch on to you, grab the remaining Husk and get out of there.
We can fight them off as we escape. Don't waste the distraction we bought or waste any more of the machinist's energy than necessary.

>>4561129
>Let them latch on to you, grab the remaining Husk and get out of there.

>>4561559
>>4561145

Let them latch on. Vote is locked. Writing.

>>4561769

No time for this, you cannot allow yourself to be stalled a second longer. You shoulder charge through the pair, letting them bite down on your armored neck and chest. The weight is significant, but you can push yourself a bit longer. The Machinist is out of breath and hobbling out of the car, into the dust ahead, he calls out to you.

“Come, Stoker!” He has abandoned the long metal pole in lieu of a shorter one that he uses as a walking stick.

With the rope safely secured around your waist, you push ahead after him. A few more coffins crash down in the distance behind you, they must be targeting the corpses of the trail Husks. Suits you just fine, they have next to nothing to track you now.

“You are bringing those things with you? Are you crazy?” He says, trying to leverage them off with his staff.

“Just walk, I will deal with them later.”

You put considerable distance between you and the car, soon enough it is fully out of view and obscured by the rushing sand. A proper dust storm is picking up.

“I didn’t get everything.” He wheezes, exhaustion just now slamming into him properly. “Around 80%, by my estimates. Shame about that sulfur too, you are going to start with an empty tank. If I can just find a bit more…”

>Tell him to change to the simple design, it should cut down on the material needed. He can start the construction the next time you take a rest.
>Continue with the current design, there is still a long way to the Funnel. You might be able to trade for sulfur along the way too.

>>4561773
>Continue with the current design, there is still a long way to the Funnel. You might be able to trade for sulfur along the way too.
NO SURRENDER

>>4561773
>Continue with the current design, there is still a long way to the Funnel. You might be able to trade for sulfur along the way too.
his purpose is to eternally be our equipment upgrade screen and he'll enjoy it

>>4561773
>Continue with the current design, there is still a long way to the Funnel. You might be able to trade for sulfur along the way too.

>>4561875
>>4561869
>>4561800

Current design. Vote is locked. Writing.

>>4561897

“You will complete the design in due time. The wasteland offers many blessings, The Furnace provides.”

He opens up the sides of his clothes, revealing a myriad of metal parts recovered from the car.

“Only a bit to go, I need material to cut out the inner mechanism. It’s delicate work, but I live for it.” He grins. “I hope losing the Husk wasn’t too much trouble for you, perhaps the new ones could replace it?”

There’s an idea. The creatures currently stuck to you are half your size, and have done no considerable damage besides being annoying. There is no need to drag them as they are already attached, you have never delivered live Husks before, maybe the reward will be greater?

“If anything, they are a bit of extra armor! Let someone strike them down from you and they will be deafened by their scream, no one will expect it! Holy Sun knows I didn’t. I wonder how they do that, even after they expire…”

>Keep them attached, the extra weight brings many benefits.

>Take them off.
>1 All of them.
>2 Two of them.
>3 Just one.

>Write in.

>>4561905
>Keep them attached, the extra weight brings many benefits.
We're a husk tree now.

>>4561905
>>Keep them attached, the extra weight brings many benefits.
I'm laffin, good shit OP

>>4561905
>Keep them attached, the extra weight brings many benefits.
Having the husks attach themselves to us and just walking with them biting onto our torso to the funnels is peak aesthetic.

>>4561952
>>4561946
>>4561944

Keep them attached. Vote is locked. Writing.

>>4561984

“I will keep them, they are easier to transport than the other one.”

“Good! I may be more technically inclined but… they have a certain aesthetic about them.”

Tiny particles start to graze the skin on your arms and legs, the power of the gale rattles the coffins to your left, even if you cannot see them. The limbs of your new bodily companions flail around wildly like fabric, The Machinists clothes are almost ripped off of him. He is pushing ahead against all odds, but this is clearly taking a toll on him. Looks like the weather finally turned against you. The typical tranquility of the wasteland is now utterly disturbed, the sky is starting to darken. Night or a storm will soon be upon you.

To fully get around the graveyard would take another half day, there will be no shelter from the elements. You could stop in your tracks and move directly across it, the Husks are probably still looking for you back at the explosion site so you shouldn’t encounter any for at least a while. The Machinist will need to put in some extra work climbing but he has been handling himself well so far, if the graveyard isn’t too wide you should be able to get across before he is unable to move.

A camp could be made at the edge of the coffin pile, it would represent rudimentary shelter but enough to wait out the bad weather and night. You will however lose your head start, depending on how desperate the Husks are their efforts might increase if they can’t find you. Hurting you wasn’t their main concern, if the ones stuck to you are any indication. Perhaps hyper territoriality? If they are protecting something in the middle of the graveyard you would be walking around it with the major deviation you took.

>Push ahead, The Machinist is going to have to manage.
>Cut across the graveyard, move as fast as you can and use the bad weather for cover.
>Camp on the edge, some rest will do everyone good, perhaps the weather will improve.

>>4561997
>>Camp on the edge, some rest will do everyone good, perhaps the weather will improve.

>>4561997
>Camp on the edge, some rest will do everyone good, perhaps the weather will improve.
Be sure to keep a watch out at all times.

>>4561997
>Cut across the graveyard, move as fast as you can and use the bad weather for cover.
A risky path, but a tempting one if there is indeed some artifact to be wrestled from the Husks.

>>4562013
>>4562009
>>4561998

Camp. Vote is locked. Writing.

>>4562048

The Machinist has a much lower limit for exertion than you do, he must rest. Placing a hand to his shoulder, as verbal communication would prove useless against the harrowing gale, you pull him closer to the coffins. One of them still has an intact lid, you gesture for him to get in.

“You will rest, while I stand watch. We will depart again in fairer weather.” You shout into the wooden box. He responds with a nod, and lays down. You place the lid on top, and scan the immediate horizon for threats.

No major signs of movement, no disturbed caskets. The peaks have no one sitting on top of them as a lookout, it is safe for now. Overhead the sky grows evermore dark, soon a turbulent night is upon you. Small white Husks trickle in from the edge of the wasteland, somber and dejected. You duck down to avoid detection and watch their paths. They seem to agitate their fellows as they pass them, rousing them from underneath piles of bones and wood, a new wave goes out to investigate. Restlessness spreads like wildfire throughout the night, it is mostly focus on the wasteland. They think you retreated back to where you came from, it’s a matter of time before they start to pull their net in.

>Wait for light, cross the graveyard while they are busy with the outskirts.
>In the morning move out before they find out your camping spot, slip out between patrols.
>Wake up The Machinist, leave right away.

>>4562060
>Wait for light, cross the graveyard while they are busy with the outskirts.

>>4562060
>Wait for light, cross the graveyard while they are busy with the outskirts.
also we should remember the route between here and the funnel because there is a LOT of fuel lurking around here

>>4562060
>>4562075
Seconding all of this

>>4562098
>>4562075
>>4562061

Cross the graveyard. Vote is locked. Writing.

>>4562148


Going around is no longer feasible, cutting across is the fastest and safest option you have at the moment. With renewed strength The Machinist shouldn’t have a problem keeping up. You stand up, and try to recon the quickest path through. Most of the Husks seem to assemble down at the path, with a few waking up from below the caskets. At this level of alert most of them should be out by now, so keeping to the higher parts of the hills should help you stay out of their sight. As dawn breaks, or so you assume, you rouse The Machinist from his sleep and fill him in on your chosen course.

“I don’t like it, but it makes sense. We should be most weary of hurting them, lest they start that awful screech again.”

He has a point, you would rather they pile on to you than call more of their friends.

“We will try to avoid all confrontation, let us go.”

You pick yourself up and start scaling the mounds of coffins, bones spill out of them like bleached guts. A couple of Husks wander down the path to your left, it is mostly flat and leads deeper into the mass burial ground, rather than out of it.
“Help me Stoker, this metal is weighing me down.” You pull your comrade up multiple ledges, alongside the red Husk. You dread to imagine what this journey would be like with the crystal Husk in tow too.

The topography is very uneven, with many ups and downs, even as you try to stick to the ridges you inevitably find yourself staring down into a valley. At bottom is the path, it winds up from your left. To your right is a large mountain of bones, a narrow crossing has been made into its side. While preparing to move over it, 3 Hollows appear from around the bend carrying what seems like a corpse. Perhaps their frantic search has found someone else?

>Stay put, observe.
>Cross now, while they are busy with their labor.
>Untie the Husk from yourself, and move higher up the mountain for a better vantage point.
>Write in.

>>4562171
>Cross now, while they are busy with their labor.
We're inquisitive, but not reckless. Keep the pace while we can.

>>4562171
>Cross now, while they are busy with their labor.

>>4562179
>>4562199

Cross now. Vote is locked. Writing.

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>>4562267

As much as your curiosity begs you to stay and look, you have other priorities. Signaling to The Machinist to move ahead first you pick up the pace. The Shells below are really struggling, the ones on your shoulder are rather tense. You wonder what it must be like for someone else to carry you, perhaps you should try it someday.

“What in The Suns name is that?” Your partner wonders.

At first you do not give the question much importance, but as you complete the crossing yourself that changes. A huge pillar rises from the ground, blueish grey veins climb up it. The land around has been mostly cleared of coffins, much nicer and more spread out gravestones surround it. Perhaps the thing these Husks are protecting.

“We are going around it, yes? Straight ahead, I can see the desert. We are almost there. Stoker?”

There is no entrance that you can see, perhaps it is an obelisk of some kind? There is no time to look, you manage to skirt around it and reach the end of the graveyard. The relative safety of the dust is welcoming, but you can’t help but look back.

The Husks on your arm start to whimper, their arms and legs wrapping around you fully. They shiver. As you distance yourself more and more from the tower their anxiety seems to decrease, why are they protecting something they are so terrified of?

By the time you come back to your senses, The Machinist is scouring the ground for old nails.

“Oh, sorry. Just thought I might find something, before we left.” He seems disappointed, the car had enough material for more than one project. There is nothing else left here for you, the ash flats call.

The day is still young, and The Machinist seems to be in good spirits.

“Say, Stoker. When you left me back there, I think I handled that spear pretty well! Not that I am mad you went back, I understand. Think I should turn this into something more deadly? Hm?” He says, tapping his walking stick. “I could hold my own in a fight, I think.”

>Don’t allow him to fight. He is too confident, and fragile.
>Allow him to have a more active role in combat, spread the burden.
>Let him make his own weapon, but don’t let him attack. It is only for defense.

>>4562275
>Let him make his own weapon, but don’t let him attack. It is only for defense.
Let's teach him a few things if we can about humility, don't want him dying over something silly

>>4562275
>Let him make his own weapon, but don’t let him attack. It is only for defense.
His arms' movements should be precise, if not strong. It is his specialty to tinker with things and construct machines, after all.

>>4562275
>Let him make his own weapon, but don’t let him attack. It is only for defense.
It'd be good for him to have some additional defense, but I don't want the old man getting himself killed.

>>4562440
>>4562288
>>4562283

Weapon for defense. Vote is locked. Writing.

>>4562810

“You may create a weapon of your own, but it is only for defense. Understood?”

He wears a coy smile and produces a file from the depths of his long robes. “Yes.”

It is impressive with how much dexterity he sharpens the walking stick while also using it, you should take some precautions so that he doesn’t get himself killed.

“You called yourself a student of creation, while you travel with me you will also become one of destruction. I will teach you, so that we may both reach the safety of the Funnel in one piece.”

His brow furrows, but nods along to your words without interrupting.

“First lesson is humility. The wasteland is merciless, no one will ever master it. You nor I. Creation does not bring deadly consequences, destruction always does. Become dust in the wind, Machinist. Flow wherever the dead wind takes you, pride withers just as quickly as everything else.”

“I wouldn’t ever think to call myself prideful but, I will keep that in mind…”

“You are also weak. Strength is not your friend, precision is. Aim thrice, strike once. One blow should be enough to deter anything smart or kill anything dumb, when outnumbered seek my aid. These Husks teach a valuable lesson, there is safety in camaraderie.”

He smiles. ”Indeed there is, thank you. This is plenty to think on.”

You place a hand on his shoulder, and conclude.

“Remember your purpose, every move should be to achieve it. No distractions.”

“No distractions.” He repeats after you.

Never considered yourself a mentor, the ash flats have been a ruthless proving ground for you. Shelter has always temporary, perhaps it is a privilege to be allowed to accumulate all the wisdom the dead world has left. It’s probably why the Scribes are envious of you, they merely write it down.

What knowledge will you impart, Stoker?

>Martial prowess, spar with The Machinist.
>The art of meditation, it should serve him well on the long journey.
>Weaknesses and types of Husks, you have encountered many during your service.
>Write in.

>>4562814
>Martial prowess, spar with The Machinist.
>The art of meditation, it should serve him well on the long journey.
Could we combine these two? Something like teaching him the basics of combat so he doesn't make obvious mistakes but focusing on meditation after that. I think a clear mind will be of more use in his trade.

>>4562831

(You could do half and half, but it would diminish the depth of each training.)

>>4562860
Fine by me, voting for this course of action.

>>4562814
>Weaknesses and types of Husks, you have encountered many during your service.
He'll have to know about their weaknesses first if he's going to aim for them.

>>4562814
>Weaknesses and types of Husks, you have encountered many during your service.
He's never going to be a brawler so it's best to make sure he knows how to best be precise

>>4562814
>Weaknesses and types of Husks, you have encountered many during your service.

>>4562939
>>4562926
>>4562912
>>4562831

Weakness and Husks. Vote is locked. Writing

>>4562975

To strike true, you must know your enemy. Husks are varied, and each pose a unique threat. A generally safe bet is striking the head, your weapon has range and should serve perfectly in this regard, however, as you have seen with these ones here it is not always the most efficient way of dispatching a Hollow. In hindsight, a strike to their chest would have prevented them from calling on the others. If you aren’t sure you can land either of these, trip them. It has served me very well so far, remember to treat every Husk as an individual, you never know how they can surprise you.”

The Machinist is drinking in all of the information you are giving him, a few sparks fly around as he adapts and modifies his weapon. A hook is placed on a side, probably for tripping up adversaries. A great deal of material is shaved off to reduce its weight, by the end it looks more like a really long needle than a spear.

“I cannot crush foes like you, Stoker. But I can poke them, I have steady hands.” He gloats.

You spend the next day or so going over the many beings you have encountered and brought back to The Furnace, your experience is rather vast and hard to fully recall, let alone impart onto someone. The effort is made however, and not for naught. The Machinist will be better equipped to make decisions himself, and not rely on you to command him constantly. His staff becomes a veritable tool of destruction too, focusing on accuracy and ease of use rather than damage potential. He might be clumsy using it properly, but it has all the parts required.

The air grows cold, colder than usual. A fog slowly shifts in from seemingly nowhere, a faint blue tint to it. The Machinist shivers next to you, hugging his weapon.

“What is this, Stoker?”

A beast emerges from within the cerulean mist, its body is pale and almost reflects the blue light. It is peacefully grazing on the remains of the wasteland. Neither Husk nor Person, wildlife is incredibly rare. Perhaps a sign of good fortune?

>Approach, it seems friendly.
>Call out to it, if it is indeed aggressive you will see it coming.
>Try to go around it, risk getting lost in the mist.
>Wait and observe, perhaps it will approach on its own.

>>4562992
>Wait and observe, perhaps it will approach on its own.

>>4562992
>>Wait and observe, perhaps it will approach on its own.

>>4562992
>Wait and observe, perhaps it will approach on its own.

>>4563042
>>4563030
>>4562999

Wait and observe. Vote is locked. Writing.

>>4563077

“I do not know, let us watch it.” You say, grabbing The Machinists weapon and pointing it back up.

The creature acknowledges you, and slowly gets closer. It’s head is fully smooth with the exception of a mouth, it has script carved into its skin.

“BULL OF THE LAST HERD. PROPERTY OF THE MACHINE.”

Taking a step back you over the other side of its body, more text continues.

“IF LOST RETURN TO HERD. REPORT ABSENCE TO NEAREST FUNNEL.”

“Well, the instructions seem clear enough. Where do we even start looking?”

>All over its body, maybe there is more written here?
>Nowhere, you don’t have time for this. Report it to the Funnel when you get there.
>Try to look for tracks in the dust, it must have become separated at some point.