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Ruin has come to Ashville

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To arrive unharried upon the roads to Ashville is no longer considered a feat. In the days gone by, these roadways are barren, empty, devoid of civilians and villains both. As the darkness made manifest within the once opulent and proud city grew in vigor, so too did the desire to avoid the area. Now, even guardsmen along these roads are a rarity, the few one might encounter posted further and further from the city, almost desperately attempting to escape the daunting, cumbersome dread that hangs low upon those well-kept streets and proud buildings. With the guardsmen gone, all is not left to ruin because in short order any highwaymen or bandits along these roads are gone as well, having fled to routes more profitable and less laden down with uncertainty. In this theme, perhaps reaching the city alone requires a certain lack of self; why else would anyone try to draw close? In the bitter, empty winds that sweep through the trees and low hills of the countryside, the answer is carried, in the form of a contract. 

The contract, in no short terms, calls for help. It promises no grand payment, no grand renown. It doesn't even promise safe passage thereto and back. It's hardly a contract, but rather a plea for help, hammered without pattern to walls and trees, tossed to the wind and the sides of the road. With such lack of ceremony, surely there can be no doubting the sincerity of this grave call to action. The only matter of concern now, is the who. Who will be beckoned, but such impromptu summons? Moreover, when the work begins, who will hold fast?

Who will falter?



For the striking well-off city that it was, with the colors and fine architecture that imbibed the streets and surroundings with life, Ashville was decidedly more grey than the norm. Between bleak lights piercing the ever darkening evening skies and the sheer lack of activity, it looked surreal, having the streets and shops to oneself. At least, that's what Aygis first noticed upon her arrival. The kobold mage hadn't really expected to see any of her kind within the city, but she had expected to see more than the minor handful of passerby she'd encountered wandering about. From her experience, the magus didn't know what to think; cities weren't designed this way. They were dense, urban areas full of life and contact with others. To be so pointedly vacant, to the point of near emptiness, spoke volumes about the situation in Ashville. That was, of course, why she'd arrived in the town to begin with.

Aygis pulled her cerulean cloak about her, though the night was rather mild. It was a reflex, mostly; an attempt to keep her beastkin physique to a minimum, lest she be called out for her differences. Not that it mattered; given the current affair she found herself in, it was doubtful that anyone would be worried about a kobold wandering about on her lonesome. She hoped she wouldn't remain alone for much longer. There were posters everywhere, she found, and given that she had picked one up, it was only to be expected that more characters of some kind would stumble across a few as well. It was only a matter of waiting, then. Aygis propped herself up on a nearby bench and stood watch, waiting to see what would happen.



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Jet walked down the road, the place entirely empty. This... was a serious bit of culture shock. Where he was from, a "city" was a place full of people and noise with a thousand things happening at once.
Apparently, cities on this planet were abandoned shells with absolutely no life in over them. That was going to take some getting used to.
Posters were all over the place. Jet picked one of them up, and read it. Apparently this place used to have people, but a 'shadow' forced them inside. Thats ridiculous. Who gets forced inside by a shadow?
It... takes memories? Oh. That was... different. Not a normal shadow then.
Jet continued walking, and noticed someone on a bench. It appeared to be female, but he wasn't entirely certain what classified as 'female' on other planets.
Jet approached 'her'. "Excuse me. Do you speak this language? And if so, do you know what's going on?"

Edited by HollowCipher

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After finally being able to go back to Terrenus after a long period of waiting for a ride, Archmaic wandered westward, looking for a quest or adventure of the sort. The moment he saw the grand city of Ashville, he knew something was wrong. Ashville was a stop he generally made while trekking through Terrenus, maybe to get a bite to eat at a local tavern or browse through the shops for more spellbooks. He was only down to one in his rugged backpack after all, the rest ruined by all the swamp water he waded through back in Tellus Mater. He reflected how long ago that was... 6 months maybe?

But this Ashville was one different from the one he visited only just before heading off to Tellus Mater. There was almost nobody there, an instant red flag in his mind. It seemed almost gloomy and desolate, like a ghost town in Genesaris. He continued walking, staff at the ready. Unfortunately, not a single being decided to challenge him. Even the rats, it seemed, were gone. His thoughts were interrupted by a loose sheet of paper caught in the wind that caught itself on his mask. He read it, feeling ever more gloomy and yet ever more excited to solve this mystery. He finished reading the letter before tossing it over his shoulder and letting it disappear into the wind. That's when he saw the feminine figure, with someone else attempting to conversate with them. He looked on in curiosity, already forming a connection with their minds, his neon green robes glowing off the nearby wall.

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In nearly a century of being an adventurer Rhys had seen his share of ghost towns. Though the circumstances that led to their abandonment often varied; there was often quite a bit that was similar about their desolation. All of them offered a glimpse into the lives of the people who had once lived there; snapshots of what was often the most terrible day in a persons life. Such places were always eerie in the way that a place once so full of life was now still and silent. But most importantly of all; such towns were most often devoid of inhabitants.

This was not the case in Asheville. Though the streets were practically barren by the standards of such a large city there were still people here; shuffling silently down the road, eyes pointed at the ground. But the city wasn't just lacking in people, but something else; something indefinable, but notable in its absence. Indeed, the city now felt less like a place of life than a void that somehow drew in any life that neared it, and pushed away any too strong to completely succumb.

 It appeared that the notice he had picked up had not understated the dire condition of Ashville. Rhys had first seen the flyer as a cloud of them blew in the wind along a road that he was traveling on. Curiosity peaked, he headed in the direction the flyers were coming from, and had slowly found his way to the city. Figuring that he might as well try to help since he was there, he had proceeded into town.

After a few minutes of walking; he saw a group of people larger than any he had seen since he got here, and walked over to inquire about the flyer.

Rhys smiled and held up a flyer, "You guys here for this too?"

Edited by danzilla3

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The lines of fate resonated under Malcom Ahriman's feet like the undulations of a great spiderweb. He had felt the strings tug and bend, vibrating under the weight of something big, a trapped fly, from halfway across Terranus. And so he came. Every step closer he took to the center of the web, the more focused the disturbances became until they were a single, pulsing signal that conveyed their message of dissonance throughout the world. The trapped fly, fat and flailing, sat in Ashville. He was certain of that now. When he stopped to sleep his dreams were filled with visions of a grey city and visions of strange people, so small, standing within it.

Atropos was hungry. He could feel her yearning for the blood of the fate-touched. The spear was already carrying two souls with her. One, a guard fleeing from his post inside the cursed city. The other, a highway man who had the misfortune to meet him on the empty road. The threads connecting them to the great web had been cleanly cut with one swift motions, removing them from any final destination they might have believed in. In a week of travel, she had sat on his back, cold and lifeless, same as she always was. Atropos didn't pull herself towards any destiny. She just sat and waited, cold and hungry. 

At the end of his journey, Ashville awaited him. The miles that surrounded it gradually grew lifeless and abandoned. The only people he saw were those poor souls who were attempting to leave. A dark cloud hung low in the air and depression permeated the atmosphere like a noxious gas. His dreams grew darker and darker until he no longer dreamt at all but gave in to the pulling of gravity and slept in aching emptiness. On the third day of this, his destination welcomed him with foreboding silence. 

He crossed the town line in silence. The only trace of his presence were the footprints in the dirt going down Main Street. The town was deserted, empty of people. Though he had never visited it before, Malcom could only imagine what the great city was one like. After a forever of walking, his footprints crossed the trail of another. After another five minutes, he saw the figures of moving people. Under his feet, the great web urged him forward and so, with Atropos in hand, he went.

An dark man approached the group  like a specter. He carried a long spear with him that was carved with intricate sigils and religious icons. His armor was dark and worn with use. His eyes were black holes that swallowed the light from his face and held it captive in their depths. He held himself tall and proud and his voice was low as he spoke to the assembled adventurers.

"My name is Malcom Ahriman. I have come to fix what has broke here."

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As the newcomers gathered, Aygis more or less felt the weight of the city slowly lifting off her slim, small shoulders, dispersed almost equally among the folks who congregated around her. Though the sensation wasn't altogether unpleasant, the fact that it was palpable, that she could feel the very fate of Ashville on her figure was unsettling all the same. She shivered as the weight was balanced out. Some terribly sympathetic part of her wished that nobody had to experience that, and that included herself. She couldn't pay too much heed to this, however; the party had assembled almost spontaneously, with little time to answer everyone's questions individually. As their last counterpart found his way into the middle of things, she was naturally drawn to his statement, being the last one uttered.

On 11/3/2017 at 4:31 PM, AngryCacti said:

"My name is Malcom Ahriman. I have come to fix what has broke here."

Flashy. Aygis offhandedly wondered if she'd get better business if she tried to be more dark and brooding, but cast the thought aside. She tilted her Nubstik in his direction, the gnarled wooden staff with its single, gleaming dragon's eye at the tip glowering in all directions at once, but mostly at him. 

"Well met, Ahriman. I am Aygis...just Aygis." She wiggled a bit in her seat before standing up on it, about at eye-level with the newcomer now. 

"You mentioned that you're here to fix...what's broken? Have you dealt with something like this before?"

The ever present gloom seemed to be alive, in some respects. With the gathering of corporeal bodies like this, it almost seemed as if the sagging grey of Ashville was slowly beginning to stir, trying to coalesce over their heads. The kobold caught this quickly and frowned up at the malingering skies.

"Is...that's not normal, I don't think..." She jabbed her staff up at the sky, as if doing anything else might provoke it. Seconds hung in the air before the kobold snapped out of her reverie. Something about the sky...just wasn't okay with her.

"I don't remember seeing an address or anything on that poster, but maybe it'd be best if we checked with the locals first. Maybe somebody will help us get started."

From where Aygis stood, she could easily spot a light close by; a well-lit post office, or perhaps a stationary store. A book store, even. She poked her stick in that direction and declared. 

"Let's head that way, then."

However, dark forces have a tendency to make themselves known at the oddest of times. As the cold, damp aura of the city clung to its newest victims, the ever increasing sense of disturbia grew and grew, until it became horrifyingly, unavoidably obvious that they were no longer alone. Looming almost out of the skies itself, the twisted, darkened shapes of the clouds and fog bent and conjoined together into an almost bestial form; a massive head that billowed out of the clouds, followed by an unending tapering form that snaked in and out of the overcast skies. It was joined by ever more of the same shapes, an army of snaking, slinking dog-serpents that weaved through the skies, yanking in futility against their forms in an attempt to cast off from the skies and chase down the hapless adventurers. 


I suppose that it is fitting in this sense to sort of offer an idea as to what the group is facing, and how they might react.

The above listing is an illusion, conjured by the dark, decrepit forces that be. This ever-encroaching spectre threatens the sanity and livelihood of the people with nightmares quite like this, and in doing so actively drains your emotions. 

How should your character act?

Honestly, that depends on you. I would argue that if your character is a ballsy and experienced character, they're probably fine. If they're a little bitch like Aygis, they might be shaken quite a bit. Up to you.


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Jet was a little annoyed that he was being ignored, but was over it quickly. He preferred people not paying too much attention to him, anyway.
The female he spoke to seemed to be distressed about this planet's sky. Sure it looked strange, but to Jet it looked strange everywhere. Evidently, it wasn't normal.
The female known as Aygis mentioned some building with a light, and wanted to start investigating what was going on from there. Jet wondered if she only wanted to start there because it had a light on and made her feel more secure.

Jet began feeling.... odd. The sense an assassin gets when there's another assassin in the room but neither knew the other was there. He looked up at the sky again, and saw dark puffy looking monsters forming. He opened his left hand and had his right ready to take his weapon, but it didn't seem like the monsters knew they were there, or didn't care enough to come down.
Jet followed Aygis, making sure not to let his guard down. If there were sky monsters, they needed to be ready for a fight.

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Archmaic listened to what the others had to say, and looked up when Aygis pointed her staff up. He was a bit wary of them, but it wasn't anything they couldn't deal with. Just then, he felt a "prick" at the back of his mind, almost like getting stabbed by a rose thorn. Surely the others had noticed it too, but not in as great detail as he had. He was the only mage who practiced in powers of the mind, after all, and could easily defend himself against any attempts to invade his head.

He felt it again. This time it was more painful, and seemed to have that "darkness" feel to it, like when facing a warlock or necromancer. Slightly distracted, he realized the rest of the group was following Aygis toward some place, and he hurried to catch up with them. "Do you guys feel that?" he said, while looking up at the ever swirling evil above.

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"Well met, Aygis." He said and inclined his head towards her in greeting. He seemed unphased by her staff nor did he seem to be taken aback by the weapons or appearances of the other members. He had met people from all walks of life in his travels. These ones hardly surprised him.

On 11/5/2017 at 12:02 AM, Jotnotes said:

You mentioned that you're here to fix...what's broken? Have you dealt with something like this before?"

Malcom nodded and gestured around them in a sweeping motion with his free arm. "Fate has been tampered with here. I have had some experience with matters such as these in the past. Though, this is on a scale of unprecedented size."

He allowed the Kobold to step down and fell to the back of line as they headed for the light of a building. The others seemed to be feeling the effect of the town already, the waves of uneasiness, the feeling you were being watched. Above the party, the sky broiled and monstrous faces snarled in the low-hanging clouds. Malcom could feel the influences pushing around him, trying to penetrate his defenses. Atropos and years of experience were protecting him for the moment, but he knew that too long in this cursed place would take its toll on all their psyches.

The dust on the road swirled under their feet. Malcolm's dark armor and robes faded against the shadows of the town. He brushed past the one in green and nodded in response to the question and briefly placed his hand on the other's arm as he passed. He didn't feel like talking more than what was necessary. However, as they neared the buildings, Malcom spoke up, saying to the general group, "Who knows what effect the city had had on its inhabitants. I would advise that we be ready for anything." 

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The streets of Ashville were noticeably darker now, as if the color hadn't just drained from the kobold's face upon encountering the frightening spectacle above them. The devil in the air; the horrific manifestation they'd witnessed didn't seem content with just taking its emotional toll on the small party, and so deigned to try and draw the very life of the city, to wear and wail upon its animus as though the buildings themselves had wronged the spectre. Aygis gripped the Nubstik tightly, and did her best to try and calm down. They'd only just arrived, and more than likely the folks around her were depending on her guidance to bring them through this endeavor safely. Fear and anxiety were manifest within her, but she could work through them. Bravery was the acknowledgement of fear and the ability to move forward despite it, after all. Behind her, Ahriman spoke her mind aloud, to her own relief.

On 11/24/2017 at 2:16 PM, AngryCacti said:

"Who knows what effect the city had had on its inhabitants. I would advise that we be ready for anything." 

Whatever was bothering her, bothering them, would certainly have had more time to take its toll on the folks who lived here. Were the folks driven to paranoia, perhaps? If so, the lights being off would make more sense. Hopefully that were the case, then. Aygis had a feeling that their work would be more complicated if the residents were afflicted with a more sinister ailment than mistrust of outsiders. 

The building ahead turned out to be a post office after all which, while not terribly useful in the grand scheme of things, lent itself in their favor this time. Aygis felt relief tide over her as the warm light inside washed over her from the windows, and with no hesitation she rapped at the door, her hand just barely level with the doorknob. There was silence indoors, but after a pregnant pause, the door swung open, and inside a very nonchalant individual opened the door.

The man inside was somewhat older, with much of his hair gone save for the white tufts that circled his crown. He wore a simple pair of slacks, a clean brown vest and a pressed white shirt. Upon closer inspection, there seemed to be some kind of red splotch hidden underneath the vest. It wasn't clear if it were dye or blood or wax, but the man's demeanor didn't lend any clues to it, either.

"You must be newcomers." He noted passively. The man's voice was level and slow, as if he were enjoying a nice evening alone and not waiting out the destruction of his city. "Won't you come inside? You'll have a chance to rest for a bit, away from the thing outside."

The way he mentioned the monster gave Aygis a twisted feeling in her guts, as if she'd rather not remember that it was out there. The man's voice was perfectly level, absolutely calm as he invited them indoors; in fact, he almost seemed monotone. She accepted his offer regardless, sighing loudly as the warm lighting bathed her in its glow, which helped offset the unease she'd been feeling for the last several minutes. The feeling was strong, apparently, as Aygis took far too long to notice the state of disarray in the post office, and the corpse slumped down against the counter. Once she registered this, however, she shrieked in terror, and for those who've never heard a kobold scream, it's not a very pleasant experience, like hearing a dog yelp in pain, but more reptilian, if that phrase makes any sense. The mage grabbed her Nubstik close and pointed it towards the corpse, trembling in shock.

Their host, however, seemed unperturbed. 

"It has been quite a night here in Ashville, I'm afraid." The old man mentioned, stepping around a toppled bookshelf. "In the wake of the spirit's passing, I fear that many residents have been effected." He didn't even mention the dead body, nor did his voice change in response to Aygis screeching. Instead, he moved about the chaos within the post office to reach for a cup of tea; from the doorway it was easy to see that no steam rose off the cup. The man was drinking ice-cold tea in a ruined post office, meters away from a dead body.

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Jet walked inside, and immediately caught a horrible stench. Then the person he spoke to emitted a highly unpleasant noise. When she pointed her thing at something, Jet was a bit confused. It looked like the normal residents of this planet, but it wasn't moving. Like, at all. Annoying buzzing things flew all over it, and red liquid covered the thing. Judging by the noise person's shaking, Jet assumed this was not a good thing. Yet the white haired balding man seemed not to mind. 
Jet was getting some real mixed messages here.

Jet decided to talk to the man about this, as he wasn't making odd noises or shaking. "Affected? Affected how? And a spirit's passing? Care to elaborate?"
Jet did not ask about the sky monster, as it did not seem to be an immediate threat, and the man seemed to know about it, but acted as though it was not a problem.
He kept his left hand ready to summon his weapon. This man seemed harmless, but Jet was still uneasy.

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Archmaic followed Aygis's lead and went inside, and looked at Aygis's reactions as she talked to the man, as if they held clues to unlocking her mind. He then glanced over at the strange person, wondering whether he was insane, or simply trying to make life as comfortable as possible. His thought was interrupted by a shrill, almost beastlike shreik from the kobold, and followed her view to the dead body which simply sat in the corner. Of course, he couldn't blame the man, sometimes it takes a bit of bloodshed to get yourself out of a pickle. But not even disposing of it? Supposedly he was too frightened to attempt to leave the post office. Or maybe not, because then at least he would have tried to clean up the place. It was much too messy for someone like himself to get acquainted to without it being orderly. It was much harder to infiltrate these types that seemed to make no sense.

At any rate, he had no real concerns about the man. Attempting to assault a large group of armed warriors is never a good idea, and he figured that they could scare him out of attempting such a stupid thing. In the meantime, he still looked around half-worriedly, due to remembering the strange things in the sky outside, and half-annoyedly due to the messiness of the place.

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The little kobold woman was through the door first and her scream brought Malcom close in behind. The room felt off from the outside. Whether that was a good or bad thing, Malcom didn't know. The stench of rotting flesh pervaded the room and crept into ones senses, tainting and poisoning the air around the party. The old man showed no open hostility towards them, but as Malcom pulled the door closed behind them, he made sure not to latch it. He crossed to Aygis and, while he didn't make the same show of aggression that she did, he  planted his spear firmly on the ground and stood beside her. He was within spear reach of the door and remained ready for any further action. His dark eyes scanned the room, taking in the appearance of the man, the body, and their surroundings. He did not trust the old man. He would not trust anything in this town that had been here for too long.

He nodded once in response to the questions asked and, in his low, rumbling way, asked the old man, "What transpired here that left things how we see them now?" His tone shifted ever so slightly and hardened, growing cold. "Speak quickly and honestly for we will know if you do not speak truth. If you are incapable of doing so, then stay silent and let us go on with our business."

 Now at the center of the web, any ability that he would have to determine the actions or type of man before them was all but null. The lines of fate were so tangled and frayed under this city that to pick them apart of read them would be nigh impossible. However, Malcom needed no supernatural aid to deal with the events in the room. An old man was an old man, a body would always just be a body, and a spear would always be sharp and persuasive. 

He did not wish to spend too much time in one place. Moving quickly and efficiently would be in the best interest for the group. If they became too tangled in the lives and problems of the inhabitants of this cursed city, then perhaps they too would fall in to the same madness that seemed to blanket everything and the problem at the center of all of this, whatever it may be, would go unheeded.

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"In order to speak the truth, you need to have an inkling of what's going on." The old man slurped his tea. Silence reigned, it seemed as if the world itself was waiting on the man's corpse to stir, but nothing so garish happened. Their storyteller set his cup down and cleared his throat before speaking up. 

"Let me tell you what I can, then. It's only fair, I suppose." He set the tea down and rested his palms against the counter.

"I think it would have been a month ago, now that I have time to think on it. Around that time, not much had changed in Ashville. There was equal parts chaos and order, with your everyday amount of activity. Trade was good, the streets were alive, like the veins of the city themselves. I myself happened to be here on business with the church." He reached over towards the body and wrenched out the instrument wedged in its back, the force of his actions pulling the body backwards with his hand until the object came free. The body tumbled to the ground, staring lifelessly at the ceiling as the old man set a holy symbol atop the desk. The object was likely just a badge of office once upon a time, a simple instrument for practicing during mass. Now, it had been crudely fashioned into a stake, which the old man presumably had driven into the other man's spine.

"Then, in the height of the day, a cloud rolled by. I don't recall seeing it before noon, and I understand that anyone else you ask might have a different interpretation of the tale, but it seems to me that once that cloud appeared, things changed."

He paused for a second, as if forgetting how to breath. He coughed, twice, then continued talking. 

"The cloud was the heaviest-looking thing I've ever seen. It was big, certainly, and blotted the sun out entirely. For a while, Ashville was blanketed in its shadow. Even if you looked elsewhere, beyond the walls of the city, the line shone down everywhere. It was a dense, blotting cloud, specifically targeting the little town. It was enough to make people stop and stare at first. Then, people began to grow uncomfortable being in its shade. Some folks swore they saw things in the cloud; the city slowly became a place of conspiracy and whispers, in one afternoon."

He tapped on the desk, trying to recollect the next memory.

"Some people claim to have seen something in the clouds, too. It varies, certainly. I heard women talk of great, horrible beasts, heard children talk of ravenous dogs. Myself, I saw nothing. It was just a great, tremulous mass in the sky, determined on erasing the city from the world for a spell."

"Then, they started acting up, all of them. People started being mistrustful, distant. It wasn't all at once, mind you; some folks were courteous and caring, even as their neighbors shunned them. But with time, everyone became much like that. Folks started barricading their doors, started spying on their friends and families. Myself, I was turned away by the church at the behest of the other priests there, and so wandered the town, hoping to offer salvation and comfort in these odd times." His voice was still so neutral, it made his words either irredeemably false, or undeniably true. There was no middle ground.

"Eventually, the paranoia that gripped them seemed to fizzle away, as if it'd been worked through by the masses. Then, a most curious instance occurred."

Somewhere outside, in the streets, thunder split the air, forcing the ground to tremble. The old man paid no heed, though, though they all knew for a fact that it hadn't been raining a moment prior.

"In the wake of the paranoia, people began to experience other, more dynamic mood swings. Exuberance, Depression, Exhaustion, Violence." He spoke, choosing to ignore the sounds outside as rain came down hard, quickly becoming a low drone on the roof of the post office. "People started to panic, starting acting out. Not all at once, mind you; they all had their time. People danced in the streets, delighted, as their neighbors gored each other with blades. Women screamed in terror as their neighbors bade them good morrow. I watched a young boy ask the man who was assaulting him questions about the world. If there was ever a definition of madness, I would guess that we saw it in those first days." He tapped the corpse with his shoe, unfazed. 

"He was one of the happy ones, and I, well I...was paranoid at the time." He confessed, wrapping his hands around the holy item. "I was one of the fewer folk still in their paranoid delusions, and when he welcomed me in, I feared his intentions. I knew what became of the others, and wondered if he would do me harm. So before that could happen, I stabbed him in the back." He said it as if it were commonplace around here, which according to his story was very much the case. 

"I do not know why it is happening, but I once, when I was going through my...let's call it 'angry state,' recall seeing some folks were still in the church. I remember threatening to murder them all, women and children included. I don't think I succeeded."


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While hearing the man's testimony, Jet was contemplative.
Come on, think like a Zircon. How would they view this?
....They would probably say there was a lack of any evidence to find contradictions.

Jet started thinking. Again, the cloud monsters were mentioned. But they appeared to be different for most people seeing them.

Then the thunder and rain started, and Jet freaked. He immediately bolted at the door, evidently drawing a black dagger out of his left hand. He threw the door open and looked outside, and was confused. Instead of a bombing run and a bullet rain, as he had suspected from the sound, some... liquid was falling from the sky.
He knew he probably shouldn't, but Jets were a curious breed if nothing else, and so he reached his hand out. Immediately it was saturated, but unharmed. He drew it back in.
He dispelled the dagger and went back to his original position in the room.

While he was generally unconcerned about the man attacking him; he was a human, it would be fairly easy for Jet to overpower him, he worried about the others. This man killed the one lying there. Jet assumed 'killing' someone was the term for ending ones existence. There was nothing preventing this man from going into a frenzy and attacking them.
It certainly sounded like everyone else in the town had lost their minds. Why was this one so rational?

"So, everyone else is inside their houses? Or are they all dead?"

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