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Long Way Down (Nightmare Realm 2:2A)

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Have you ever met someone that only lives in the moment? They never think about the past or the future, only doing what makes them feel good at the moment. As a result, this lack of thinking blocks them from understanding life lessons, many of which involving responsibility, compassion, and empathy. They do not chastise themselves for their actions because they’ve forgotten them the moment they commit to them and don’t care to think about what it will do to the world afterwards. This lack of guilt and self-examination results in a psychotic personality, from which true evil and horror stem. Cause all it takes for someone to do something truly horrible that may last for eternity is just a moment of time where they aren’t thinking. When their mind is blank. Good people sometimes make such decisions, and they often grow to regret them far too late.


But people that only live in the moment? Well, their mind is constantly blank. This creates a very basic being, one that is nothing more than a selfish, uncaring, animal that everyone typically wishes was dead. One that is incapable of dealing with themselves, so they just keep living in the moment, looking for that next fix to help them forget the notion of thought itself. This traps them in a loop of moral decay and people like this are easy to hate, but even they have reasons for being the way they are. A thought, or lack there-of always originates form somewhere.


In this case, that place is not very nice.


The fog surrounding the camp becomes thicker by the second, enveloping the group and making difficult for them to see a few feet in front of them, let alone each other. The deathly silent veil emanated a feeling of true dread. Yh’mi already accomplished this with its general atmosphere and local inhabitants, but the fog intensified it to unreasonable levels, making the defenders feel somehow exposed and completely vulnerable. As if their every fear and weakness was bearing down on them in a final test of integrity and strength. They were left wondering if they were ready or if it were even possible to be ready in the first place. Perhaps their judgement was an inevitability. Perhaps there was no point in fighting at all.


The bustle of noise around them was gone now. Yh’mi didn’t produce much sound other than the skittering and thumps of the horrors within, but now even the wind seemed to fade from existence as if it were never even there. The air also began to have a scent to it, like that of something burning. Wood, stone…flesh? It was hard to tell, but it was definitely there. And it was getting stronger. Eventually, it became grating. Like if you breathed in too much of it, the inside of your lungs would be coated with a layer of soot that would never go away no matter how much you coughed. A layer so thick that it’d weigh you down and completely ground you.



Ashes began to appear, silently falling from somewhere in the murky, hopeless sky like black snow. Every petal of ash that struck the ground would begin to change it, killing off blades of grass and turning the floor blacker than the places between the stars. The ashes seemed to glow with darkness, like a hungry void that erased anything it touched. The malignant darkness crept closer to the group, encircling them and closing in. It was a slow approach, but there was nowhere to run. The decay’s arrival was inevitable, making any efforts to run pointless. But people are desperate right? They get a kick out of confrontation, even when defeat is the only option. They want to show that they at least put up an effort so that others may be inspired to fight and someday prevail.


But here in Yh’mi, obscured by the fog, insanity, and decay, their sacrifice would mean nothing. They would die and no one would know what happened to them. They merely entered and did not leave. Instead of inspiration, their sacrifice and martyrdom would only serve as a warning.


A warning to not even try.     


The ground began to tremble as the scorched earth neared its victims. It sounded as if the earth below was cracking and giving in under their weight, unable to support the resistance they attempted to pose. It became difficult to stay standing as the quake intensified. Although their vision may have been limited and shaky, those who were attentive would have noticed figures approaching them far out into the fog. Their approach was slow and their steps light and soundless, almost as if they were just apparitions. Their black silhouettes were as dark as the ground they stepped upon, creating a contrast with the fog that eventually made them easy to see. While their forms were dark, they appeared to be people. Their features were shrouded in ashes that fell to the ground and joined with the rest, unsupported by nothing but cruel gravity. While lacking in any detail, just their shapes were recognizable to the group. Each person would be able to pick out someone that had a familiar shape, the bundle of decaying forms approaching them seeming to take the shape ones they knew. Friends, family, enemies. It could have been any of them. Or maybe they were just seeing things in the ashes?


There was only one form that could be recognized, and only one person that was able to see it. Standing just a few yards out of their dwindling circle of safety, a small, young girl stood atop the ashes, staring at Gormaric. Her skin was a deathly pale, so white that it remained completely unaffected by the decay she stood atop. Her white skin seemed to radiate light that felt cold just to gaze upon. Her eyes were grey and lacked any sort of emotion. Her clothes were raggedy and covered in scorch marks, as if she’d been involved in a fire. Her hair was a pale brown that hung down passed her shoulders in an un-groomed heap. Her feet were bare, but one of them looked noticeably frailer. She was supporting herself with an old, wooden crutch to keep pressure off of the appendage. The crutch looked like it was made by someone who had no idea what they were doing, each piece looking rickety and poorly carved. While it was better than nothing, one could be sure that she could’ve found a better one lying in a dumpster. Still she held onto it tightly, the only coloration on her skin being on her knuckles where she gripped it.


Something in her pocket began to flutter in a weak wind that blew from behind her. The object eventually caught and flew from her pocket billowing over into the circle and landing at Gormaric's feet. It was an old, wrinkled sheet of paper, something drawn on it in crude, childish crayon. If one were to examine it closer, they’d see a picture of a group of people drawn as stick figures. There were three of them. A girl was drawn in the middle, smiling and holding a crutch. Another, much taller girl was drawn to her right, wearing what appeared to be a beanie. She too was smiling, and she was holding what looked like some gold medal in her left hand. The left side of her face was shaded in black crayon. To the left of the little girl was drawn someone else, but Gormaric would not be able to make out who, for the head was missing. In its place was a charred hole in the paper. The only thing that stood out about this stick figure was a drawing of what looked like a plume of fire on one of its hands.


Then, as if on cue, the earth cracked and gave out beneath them. 



Immediately the air was filled with screams of agony so shrill that it made their eyes feel like they were about to bleed. Any who used magic or any other means to climb back up or fly were at a loss, for they descended no matter what they did. The hole they fell from was just getting smaller and smaller, as if receding away or closing up to spite their efforts. The longer they fell, the louder the screams got. Anytime they looked down, they’d see faint flickers of fire in the darkness, coming up to greet them. It looked as though they were falling into hell itself, their own cries of agony soon to be joining with the rest.


They fell faster and faster, as if some force below were pulling them down with a ferocious fervor. Soon the darkness gave way to a sinister, orange, light concealed by another mass of fog below. It seemed to be where the screams were originating, but there were other sounds now. They found out what they were once they fell into the fog.





They suddenly landed upon something wet and mushy, beginning a slide down a mountain of cold, decaying, body parts that made them  slick with blood. The air was scalding hot now, almost hot enough to sear their skin as they continued their descent. Fiery bumps of bodies were everywhere as they were sent cascading to their doom, the fog just thick enough to conceal what awaited them at the bottom and what was immediately coming up. They’re reflexes would be tested, as numerous traps jutted forth from the mound of bodies on the way down. An orange-hot saw blade would jut up from the mound of bodies and quickly make its way up towards them. A wall covered in searing hot spikes would erupt from the slope to catch them if they avoided it. Burning hands would then reach up to pull them under, the force of their grip strong enough to crush steel and hot enough to melt it.


Any attempts to slow their slide were met with failure, forcing them to keep picking up in speed as the traps became more and more frequent. If they weren’t working together to keep each other safe by this point, they were hanging off one of the spikes far behind as hands reached up to tear them apart and join their lifeless remains to the pile they slid upon.


The orange glow that was providing them sight was fading now, the bottom of the hill approaching. The fog dispersed to reveal a massive line of whirring, orange-hot blades that was easily dicing apart the limbs falling into it as if they were made of air. They’d need to jump pretty high to avoid a grisly but fortunately quick death. How they manage that, is up to you.


Assuming they didn’t perish there, the mountain of bodies fell off into another dark chasm. They’d fall once more, but this time the bottom was clearly seen. Something very bright was below them, and they could already feel their skin peeling from the excruciating heat, as if thousands of radiant spiders were crawling underneath and chewing at them. Their outer layer was being peeled away to reveal their inner self as they fell into the scalding light. It was impossibly bright, so bright that it felt as if your eyeballs would melt if you didn’t shield them.

They fell..


The way...



Until they felt nothing. 


@EpicRome23 only


Gormaric would awaken to the sound, smell, and sight of fire. He was laying on the ground, staring up into a night sky that was obscured by the flickering flames surrounding him. He could feel everything too. The ground on his back was hot and he could already feel the fires nipping at his body. Every natural impulse would be coaxing him to get up and flee, but his body did not respond. For it was not his. He was merely an inward observer.


Involuntarily, he rose off the ground quickly, letting out shrill yelps of pain that were not his own as he flailed and shook in agony. He could feel bruising and burns all over his body. Now that he was upright and standing, he could see that he was in a burning house. His breaths became more and more frantic as the panic began to set in. Fire was everywhere and he couldn’t see a way out. The wooden floor beneath him creaked from his weight and the heat nipping at them from the floor below. He was in a burning hallway, and he noticed that he was much shorter now, probably not even four feet tall.


A shrill scream came from behind and his head whipped around. He saw that some of the roof had collapsed down on the other end, and there was someone trapped underneath the glowing hot shingles. A woman. She was screaming at the top of her lungs, most of her body already on fire and burned away. Whoever Gormaric was inhabiting wasted no time in sprinting to the screaming woman. Despite increasing heat and ever increasing groans from the floor, Gormaric’s host reached out with burned arms to grab hold of one of the woman’s arms. Her skin was slick and blistered from burns, her screams now guttural and gravelly. Her head shot up to look into his eyes, and Gormaric could see the fear within them. She appeared to be moving her mouth up and down, as if trying to make words through her screaming. But this person he was within paid no heed to it, only pulling harder. Some of the flames on her arm were now creeping up his hand, but he didn’t let go. He pulled with all his might.


Right until her arm came off.


He fell backwards with the burned appendage grasped tightly in his arms, landing on his back. He looked up from the floor to see the woman’s face contorted in horror, her body shaking violently as her screams began to die in her throat. She fell limp, here eyes still wide open and bloodshot. No blood leaked from the stump of her arm, the flames having eaten at it until there was barely anything keeping it on her. Gormaric’s vision became blurry with tears as he gazed upon the now dead woman. Then he started to scream as he felt the flames from the arm he was holding catch unto his clothes and the rest of his body. He shook violently and tried to get back to his feet, but the pain was too great. He collapsed to the floor, his outstretched arms covered in fire. His hands contorted and shook as he saw and felt his arms blister and shrivel. His uncontrolled screams echoed out above the flames as he watched his skin quickly burn away right down to the bone. They were not the screams of a man, but of a very young boy.


The last thing he saw before blacking out was his muscles and tendons glowing brightly as they began to piece themselves back together.




Gormaric awoke alongside the others, still very much alive save for any bruises, cuts, or burns they got from earlier on the mountain. Thankfully, or rather I should say hopefully, no injuries they sustained were debilitating or fatal. They were all still one piece, but another problem would present itself once they got coordinated and woke up. They had no idea where they were. The area was black, and the floor was wet. Had anyone elected to create a light source, they’d see that floor was covered in a thin layer of blood. They’d also realize something else.


There weren’t as many of them as before. They'd been separated.




Leo Manville @Veloci-Rapture

Norkotian SQUAAAAD @Tyler

Sera @Thotification

Khaki @Thotification

  Ed @Akiris

@[AW] Grubs (Mistake! Would not let me delete!)



Gormaric @EpicRome23

Frederick @EpicRome23

Nim'Ruin @SelenaNichole

Lord Kingston @[AW] Grubs (Actual placing!)

Cynthia @vielle



Vlad @P.N.See

Sheryl @Fierach

Hensch Men @bfc

Challara @notmuch_23

Noah @ChaosLord

Middy @Thotification




This is just an introductory narrative! For now. I'll place the actual game mechanics later on, but just to give you an idea, expect a proper dungeon with squares, traps, and monsters! Feel free to post your characters experiences of the above events while I iron this dungeon thing out!

And remember...

You're ALL in good hands!?


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Sheryl Wainwright was not a woman who felt fear, or helplessness. As a Knight of the Order of Force Majeure, she was as a bulwark against both of those, but even so, she was still mortal, and those terrible emotions attempted to grip at her.

First through her inability to dissipate the unnatural fog nomatter how much her winds roared. 

Second was the glimpse of eerie figures in the mist, before the ground beneath her seemed to become fluid and give way.

Third as she fell, through time, through space, with not a single hint of her power being present to aid her.

She closed her eyes. If this was to be her fate, then there was no fighting it. Only acceptance... and darkness.

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Sir Lory Kingson was a humble man, a trait passed down from father to son, to forever hold true to the fact that they were mortal beings hanging on a blades edge of mortality. Since coming here to this accursed dark land known as Yh'mi, Sir Kingson has been tested a great deal, but has always been able to steel his resolve in the face of great calamity. In this instance, however, the mental armor of his psyche had begun to crack, threatening to plunge him into the midst of insanity and chaos. 

He knew as the fog settled in that they were in for something bad, seeing the shadowy figures as potential combatants. What he wasn't expecting was the ground opening up around them, buckling under their weight as if only paper thin, and when it gave way, they fell into endless darkness.

Immediately he transformed, his body twisting and shaping it's way to the wolf inside of him. His fellow knights found the wolf comforting while in these lands, for the mind of an animal was a difficult one to corrupt, more simple and instinct driven than the complex faculties of the human mind. The smell of blood was everywhere, his armor was covered in the stuff, with the heat threatening to roast him alive. While they tumbled down the mountain of gore and viscera, Sir Kingson did his best to keep his bearings and find a more controllable means of descending.

Through the splatter of blood, flesh and tendon he caught sight of the death trap below them, his heart racing as he tried to figure out a way over it. After a quick somersault underneath a passing buzz saw, Sir Kingson launched himself into a heroic leap, using his lupine abilities to leap over this treacherous obstacle. With a splash he landed, safe on the ground, awaiting the others with sword drawn, just in case something was waiting for them here.

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...We may be under attack!

Vlad woke up in cold sweat. It was one of those days again. The inhabitants of Yh'mi always chose an inappropriate time to disturb fort's garrison. The engineer from Patia immediately started his routine to get up and running. In a minute or two he was already outside his shack, fully equipped (chain mail - check, gauntlet - check, spear - check!) and his shotgun at ready. Truly, a man who had never served a day in military could learn something useful from that kind of assignment.

Vlad noticed a strange fog floating across the fort. A sudden memory of Tian Mist sparked in his mind. It was logical, he thought for a moment, if spires originated from Yh'mi then the mist might be a common phenomenon there as well. However, there was no vile intent growing in Vlad's soul, as it was back in Tia... when it still existed. Vlad shook off his head to drive away that painful memory and raised his left hand. It was holding a headset - the turret remote control and the addition to his collection of trinkets. The engineer attached the headset, flipped the switch on the right side and exclaimed the activation routine along with authorization code. The turret responded with beeps in speakers and sounds of moving machinery nearby. Not turning toward the sound source, Vlad loaded a couple of shells into his rifle and pulled the pump.

Shh chk.

Well, who is it gonna be? Another bunch of Chhitten? Maybe a Twistling exposed itslef? Or is it a Saevion on horizon?

Alas, there was no sight or smell of Saevion or any living being approaching the fort - the fog was THAT dense. Even worse, Vlad noticed that the gray substance was becoming thicker and thicker, obscuring the vision and absorbing the sound from far away. In a matter of seconds Vlad heard a static noise from his headset.

"UNIT OH-THREE, REPORT STATUS!" - Vlad spoke into the headset's mic. No response. Vlad instantly ran toward the place where the turret was standing... but it wasn't there. Perhaps he left it nearby the eastern wall. It wasn't too hard to miss it, even at days like this...

"UNIT OH-THREE, RESPOND!" - Vlad shouted. Still the same static. He moved toward what he believed was the eastern wall... but it was nothing there. A barren land ahead of him. Meanwhile, voices of the garrison behind him (or ahead of him?) were becoming fainter and fainter.

Vlad gulped. Something out of his comprehension scope was happening. He lost his sense of direction AND position, there were less buildings and people and more... nothing around him. In a short moment of clarity Vlad suddenly spoke something that never came before into his mind.


A short beep resounded in Vlad's ears, then vanished forever, leaving only a never-ending noise behind. He lost contact with the turret.

Vlad stood on the barren ground, nervously scratching the lifeless soil under his feet. The fog had reached the peak of its density. Nothing could be seen or heard, except for Vlad's own body and Vlad's own heartbeat and breath.

"Soryn? Lady Selena? Murray?"





Suddenly - a distant rumble, loud, deep cracks. Earth began to tremble. Vlad was knocked down by a quake, yet there was no sight of tectonic shift. As he had got up, he saw a figure... no, a series of figures appearing from the fog. Unable to recognize those figures, Vlad started to approach them, slowly and carefully. Soon their forms became recognizable: from the fog's vastness they were revealed as the ashen statues with no sign of life and movement. Vlad attempted not to look at their petrified faces, yet his subconsciousness had already caught the glimpse on their terrifying visage.

Each statue bore the image of a past Vlad struggled to forgot. There was a World Fair attendant with blood-soaked eyes. There were two Tian citizens, their faces imprinted with rage. One had no head, another one bore a huge hole in his chest. There was a man with a raccoon-like creature with glassy stare.

And then, there was him. His right eye petrified in process of reforming. His hand holding a sharp piece of onyx. He was smiling.

"Cain..." - Vlad hissed. Gripping tight the shotgun, he walked toward the furthest figure, ignoring those ashen wraiths nearby. - "Was about to say I've had enough of your mind games!"

The engineer readjusted his gun near his hip and, once he got close enough - BOOOOM! shhk-chk - unloaded the first portion of lead into the figures. But the pellets flew through him as through thin air, leaving no harm. Then Vlad came closer and - BOOOOM! shhk-chk - pulled the trigger - BOOOOM! shhk-chk - a couple of times. And yet his assault had not disturbed Cain's visage. His atrocious smile - that damned smile! - was still there. Vlad almost saw his lips whispering the word "Phil" with twisted delight. Enraged, Vlad sped up, approaching the point-blank range. Another set of seismic waves scattered across the earth - this time it was relatively close to Vlad - yet he was too preoccupied with an idea to smash out his sorry mug...

- BOOOOM! shhk-chk - "I'm not your mind puppet, you hear me?!"
- BOOOOM! shhk-chk - "Just die already!!!"




Driven by unknown force, a tip of the Spiral Spear sprouted from Vlad's chest. Blood rained down from the opened cavity. Vlad coughed up, twisting himself in excruciating pain. Someone from behind loosen a grip, leaving the spear literally sticking inside Vlad. He took all his remained life energy to turn around and noticed only a sole ashen figure. The ghost of the past were gone, replaced by one, the apotheosis of his nightmares. It was dressed in a uniform Vlad struggled to recognize. Vlad moved his gaze onto its face and saw an image of a man somewhere in his 40s. His deathly pale face covered in wrinkles and cracks bore a sorrowful look. And his mustaches... 

Oh, yes. They were always his pride and joy.

Vlad tried to speak up, call out his name, but all he could produce was a forced wheeze. The burning feeling in chest had been overcome by an unnatural coldness and stiffness, spreading without and within his body, tearing his innards. Onyx crystals grew around the spearhead like mushrooms under autumn rain...

Another quake, and a chasm had opened behind Vlad. Unable to keep on his feet anymore, Vlad leaned back and fell down, down, down... until the dark, gruesome end. Vlad brainlessly looked up at the figure watching down at him until the chasm had shut its jaws.

No. - the last thing Vlad thought. - It wasn't a chasm.

It was a thick layer of stone that closed his eyes...


Vlad was slowly regaining his senses after another cryptic nightmare that Yh'mi managed to conjure specifically for him. The first sensation entered his mind was the smell of putrid flesh - not what he would expect from his household. When the engineer opened his eyes, just so slightly, he gasped and twitched in horror.

"What the...?!"

The faint rays of light casting down from the crash far above were revealing a mountain of rotten corpses and bones Vlad was lying on. The same piles were around him, some of them undisturbed, some of them broken. The surreality and savagery of this scene made Vlad's stomach turn in disgust. He tried to stand up while recalling some details of his previous nightmare-not-nightmare: there was a sound of alarm, he got prepared, he spoke some commands to turret, then there was the fog and... and...

Suddenly the meat pile under his feet started to slide down. First slowly, then picking the pace, rolling faster and faster. Vlad tried to climb up, but some unknown force was dragging him down. Unable to counter the pull, Vlad stretched out his body like if he was on a sledge and let himself descent into dark.

And thus, Vlad was thrown into the hellish roller-coaster full of crude machinery, which served one purpose: butchery. Carried by a corpse landslide. Vlad barely dodged spikes, saws, flamethrowers and struggled to calculate his landing on each ramp. Some traps clenched its jaws onto Vlad way too close, yet the chain mail managed to protect his flesh. Then the slide had hit the bottom... then slips down into another chasm. And it repeated again: the descent, the mutilated corpses, the screech of metal, the rock bottom, rinse and repeat.

And finally, the light. The bright, purifying light at the end of a tunnel. Vlad slid into the light and...



*cough* *cough* 

Vlad was lying in a puddle of thick liquid face up. It was extremely dark, so it was impossible to determine neither where he was nor what kind of liquid he got himself into. Yet a few seconds after rude awakening was enough to define that wasn't his shack. The nightmare went on.

Vlad stood up slowly, gritting his teeth in pain. There was a feeling he spent the entire time lying on a metal bar between his blade-bones. He leaned down to look closely and found his own spear lying in a puddle. He carefully picked it up and lifted it. The same strange liquid dripped from its tip and left some dark stains on the gauntlet's skin. While gathering his thoughts, Vlad nearly tripped over the shotgun floating in the same liquid. 

Most of Vlad's equipment had survived the slide of death. Unfortunately, the chain mail had been torn apart by countless butchering contraptions. It was nothing but a burden now. Vlad dropped the remains of chain mail on the ground. The steel resounded with a splat. The engineer inspected his surroundings, but he was unable to see anything distinguishable in the dark.

"Hey! Is anybody there?!" - Vlad shouted. His voice echoed across the dark chamber and returned back with myriad of other voices. Vlad sighed with relief. There were the voices of people Vlad was poorly familiar with but they belonged (or seemed to belong) to those mercs who participated in Furthest Point expedition. Perhaps they had any feasible explanation of what was going on. Vlad picked up his gun and rushed toward the voices' source... 

@Fierach @bfc @notmuch_23 @ChaosLord @Thotification 




=== Vlad Nassar === (click on name to get char. sheet for NR)

??? | Group C | Alive / Worried

HP: █ █ █ █ █ | 5/5
SP: █ █ █ █  | 4/5
AP:  █      | 3/3



Edited by P.N.See
Added Super Mario 64 slide sequence. Just kidding.

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Challara had geared up for first watch, with her armor, helmet, shell pouches, Jericho 941 (despite how much Thurgood tried to sell her a Rock Island 1911), mag pouches for her pistol, Mossberg 590, a pouch for extra belts, amd most importantly, her M60.

Then the fog came...

...and plunged her into some twisted horror platforming segment. Challara rolled away from the orange sawblades, the reaching jands, and ducked under the spikes in her heavy gear, but that heat though.

There is a phenomenon with firearms that happens if the ammunition gets too hot: the propellant self-ignites, causing the weapon to fire without a trigger pull. Challara doesn't know how succeptable the petroleum-based propellant in her rounds are to "cooking off" as it's known, but in this environment, they will. In fact, as she reaches the line of blades and gets ready to jump, they finally cook off a round , giving her just the extra thrust to clear the fiery hot saw teeth. Fortunately, the plastic explosives in her grenades are more stable, or she wouldn't be alive for her to finish experiencing the plunhe and landing.

"Hooooo dis shit's fuuuucked UP! Challara thinks, "Ah think ah need a bit..." 

Then she just sits down cross-legged, closes her eyes, and begins to breathe, collecting her thoughts and trying to figure out just what fresh hell she just experienced.

3 hours ago, P.N.See said:

"Hey! Is anybody there?!"

"Gah'DAMNIT!" Challara shouts as Vlad's voice snaps her out of concentration


Challara Arabett

HP: 5/5

Sanity: 4/5 

Normal Skills: Atack, Meditate, Taunt

Special Skills: Area Attack 3/3, Limited Heal 1/1, Sustained Fire 4/4

Action Attempted: Meditate; failed


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The call to arms had drawn "Scoot" Deckel and Jessie Briggs out of the food tent in a hurry, the former expecting a swarm of chhittens to already be swarming over the walls, the latter not knowing what to expect, but eagerly awaiting whatever it was in morbid curiosity. Instead they found various figures moving to-and-fro through a growing mist, which was rapidly enveloping the camp.

"Duh hell?" Scoot rapidly glanced about.

"Does this happen frequently?" Briggs asked, knowing her companion was more experienced in the region than her.

"Not dat I've ever seen..." Scoot replied, "We need to find Jack!"

The two moved through the mist, trying to find their squad leader, but found their ability to navigate getting more and more impaired as they went. Soon, the mist was even threatening to separate the two of them, despite how close they were to one-another.

"Maybe, uh... we should hold hands? So we don't lose each-other in the mist?" Deckel suggested.

Briggs responded by promptly grabbing Scoot's hand, which was followed by a bit of a crunching sound thanks to her surprisingly strong grip.

"AAACK! I regret the suggestion!" Deckel yelped.

"No, it's smart. We don't know what is out here, so it's better that we don't get separated." she replied in a serious tone, her auto pistol drawn and sweeping the mists around her.

Ash began to fall from above, coating the ground, which began to turn black and formless. A quake nearly threw the two from their feet, as the horrible occurrence moved from just an unnatural mist, to something far worse. Out of the fog began to appear figures, shrouded in darkness, yet recognizable despite this. For Deckel, the sight of old friends he'd known on the streets of Stahlberg growing up, when he was but a homeless street urchin trying his best to survive. To see them here, in such strange conditions, was unnerving at the least. But whatever Scoot may have been experiencing, it was nothing compared to that of his companion. You see, horrible as it may be to see illusions of friends or loved ones in such a morbid context, the most haunting thing a man or woman could see are the figures or faces of those they'd killed. And through the mist and ashen snow, Jessica Briggs perceived glimpses of many men and women whose lives she had cut short during her ruthless career. They were here, standing, seemingly alive... and coming for her.

"You're... supposed to... supposed to be dead!" she snapped at the figures in the mist.

Scoot nearly jumped out of his skin as Briggs opened fire on the figures, the sound of gunshots amidst the deathly silence being quite unexpected. But the bullets were useless against the apparitions, causing Jessie to take a step back in uncharacteristic fear. What were these things if bullets could not hurt them? Then again, if bullets could not harm them, then could they actually even cause harm themselves? It was a question that would be left unanswered as the ground began to give way under them. Well, it gave way under Jessie Briggs first, but the problem was that she still had an iron grip on Scott's hand.

"Aw cra-- WAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!" the Deckel wailed as he was drug over the side by the lady hitman. 

Into the abyss they tumbled, the fall seeming to be unending, though they wished that it actually had been. Upon hiding the pile of corpses, and finding the mess of traps coming at them from every direction, Briggs finally released Deckel so she could be free to dodge the obstacles unimpeded. He soon lost sight of her, but he quickly realized they weren't the only two here. Other people, the ones who had been previously lost and unseen in the mist, were also sliding down the morbid mountain alongside them. Deckel spotted one of the engineers nearby, on his front rather than his back and with his feet leading the way. Because of this, his head was in the worst position to see the obstacles as they came.

"Look out!" Deckel shouted.


The engineer's cry of horror turned into a horrible garble of blood and gore as he was sawed in two, the two parts splitting off and finding their own way separate ways down the hill. Some of the blood and fluids spewed onto Deckel's face, some of it getting in his eyes and blinding him. 

"Aughck!" he grunted, rubbing it out of his eyes, "Dat's better...  eh? AAAAAHH!!!"

He had to practically swim through the body parts to his right in order to avoid a spike trap. But more kept coming, so that by the time the line of saws at the end of the mound came into view, he was already exhausted. He had no more energy to groan or shout though, as he put every last bit he had into launching himself over the saws. Deckel was an athletic fellow though, and his ability to jump was as impressive as his ability to run, thus he propelled himself over the saws with surprising ease. However, he knew that he was a bit of an exception, and that many of his comrades might not be so lucky.

As he began to tumble into yet another abyss, he managed to twist his body to look up at the fading visage above him. He saw Briggs, who had managed to climb atop the limbless torso of a large man, and was actually riding it down the hill like a skateboard. Despite the object being grotesque and malformed for the purpose, she seemed to be able to handle it with remarkable precision, leading Deckel to conclude that the woman must have been a skateboarder in her youth. Subsequently, when she reached the row of saws, she managed to jump over them and perform a flip midair, clearing the edges of the blades putting herself safely over the edge. A ways away, he spotted Grunt, also somehow standing, with Wilhelm clinging to his back and the puny "doctor" Knox held under his arm.

"Are you sure this is a good idea!?" Wilhelm cried over the sound of screaming, sloshing and cutting.

"AAHHHHFIRMATIVE!" Grunt barked, his free-hand holding his rocket launcher.

He pointed his rocket launcher at his feet, causing Wilhelm and Knox's eyes to go wide. Then their worst fears were realized as Grunt fired the rocket, which exploded within the mass of parts, the shockwave propelling them and a host of shredded flesh into the air.

"SCREAMING EAGLES!!!" Grunt bellowed, his gruff voice carrying over the wild cries of Wilhelm and Knox, as the three of them plummeted down the final leg of the fall.

Deckel was momentarily distracted by Grunt's antics that he didn't notice until just now how hot he was getting. 

"Ah! OW!! HOT HOT! FIAUH FIAUH!!!" he gasped in sudden pain as he felt his skin practically melting off.

Then, all at once.

*SPLAT* *Crunch*


He hit the ground with a splat, a spray of liquid sloshing up from his impact. The landing truthfully should have shattered his body, yet, despite some unpleasant noises, he soon realized he was still okay enough to stand. Briggs landed a moment later, hitting the ground in a roll that minimized her risk of injury from the fall. She stood up after a moment, her face red with blood, her hair wet and dripping, and her clothing covered in various colors that even your narrator would rather not describe.

"Hmm... you survived, I see." she remarked in Deckel's direction.

"Huh? Oh, oh yeah! Of course!" Deckel promptly puffed out his chest, "It takes more 'den a little blood and a few oversized shop tools tuh scare me!"

Just then, Grunt landed directly behind him, on his feet, with a splash, a shower of body pulverized body parts raining down atop of him as he rose proudly out of the crouch he'd landed in.


"Dah!" Scoot recoiled in surprise at Grunt's arrival.

"Well, we all get lucky sometimes, I guess." Briggs muttered, "Are we all that made it?"

As if on cue, there were three more splashes behind them, as Blondie, the Engineer Chief, and one of the engineer privates, all landed nearby. There were also four others that weren't part of the Norkotian unit, some of whom had already landed, some of whom were just landing. 

"Woooweeee!" Chief exclaimed as he stood up, "Tha' one's one's gonna leave a mark. Ya'll okay over there?"

"Yeah, yeah! Just fine!" Scoot nodded.

"Looks like Sergeant Murray and that child officer didn't make it." Briggs observed, not knowing they were in a different nightmare altogether.

"Guess that makes puts you in charge, engie." Wilhelm noted.

"Golly, not what I was expectin'." Chief rubbed his chin, "Look boys, I'm an just an engineer, front line squad commandin' ain't me cup of coffee."

"I'll do it then." Briggs stated.

"Wuh-whoa, wait a minute! I'm the corporal 'ere!" Scoot protested, "I'm da next in line to takeover!"

The answer to that assertion was Briggs grabbing Scoot by the collar and dragging him toward herself so her face was inches away from his. The sight of dripping blood rolling down her face between her intense eyes was enough to cause most men to wither, and Deckel was no exception. He wanted no part of her bad side.

"You might be next-in-line upstairs, punk." she told him, her voice steely cold, no traces of that earlier fear she'd shown on the surface remaining, "But down here, it's survival of the fittest. Your rank doesn't mean shit to me. Are we clear?"

"Yes... yes ma'am." Scoot gulped.


"Ahck!" Scoot was promptly dropped back into the pool of blood.

"Now, get everyone else up! We need to see who survived before we can figure out how to get the hell out of here."

And with that, the Norkotians spread out to assist or revive the others who had landed with them.

@Akiris @Thotification @Veloci-Rapture

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The fog thickened deeply around the camp, and among the Aligorian group, to the point where Ilene, her Shadow Guards, and Surus the war elephant could no longer be seen by Gormaric and Frederick, along with the heavy infantry behind them. The two warriors nonetheless stood ready, on guard against creatures striking out from the fog.

That attack never came.

Instead, ashes began to fall and the earth began to tremble. Figures appeared in the fog, causing an intense glare from Frederick and worried mutters among the heavy infantry accompanying him. Gormaric, however, could only stare in fascination at the girl that he saw. Did he know her? Assuredly not, he had no memory of ever meeting such a girl. Then why was he seeing her? And could anyone else see her? Judging by what he could hear from the others, it didn't seem that anyone else did. So what was the meaning of this, then? His thoughts were only further confused by the drawing that the wind brought to him. He looked down it and scanned it thoroughly. The girl with the crutch, was that the same girl as he saw in front of him? The girl with the beanie... did the black indicate half of her face being burnt off? And the third... a head obscured by a charred hole, but drawn with a plume of fire in hand. A pyromancer of some sort? Maybe even responsible for the apparent burn upon Beanie Girl's face. He looked back up toward the girl, but before he could even begin to ask his questions, the earth gave way beneath him, and he began to fall.

Eri caught him upon her back, and valiantly made an attempt to fly back up through the hole. An attempt to go back to the camp perhaps, if the camp was even still there. However, the very air itself seemed to mock her attempt, and the hole grew further and further away no matter how hard the wyvern tried, no matter how much power she put behind the flaps of her wings. Soon enough, she stopped wasting her energy and tried to keep her fall graceful, while Gormaric closed his eyes and tuned out the screams in the air.

The duo soon landed, and began to slide down the mountain of bodies. This seemed to be a slide of death, judging by the traps that were popping up and the intense heat. On top of that, there seemed to be a force defying the laws of physics and denying any attempt to slow down one's momentum. Gormaric shook his head... and perhaps defying common sense, he unsheathed Shadowfang, willing power into the blade as it began to propel him forward at increased speed. Ahead of him, Eri was struggling, barely dodging the saw blade that appeared and then only avoiding the spike wall by virtue of bouncing off someone else who slammed directly into it. Gormaric sped forward and jumped onto her back, releasing the blade's stored power of the Inanis in order to propel her off of the mountainside and into the air. The force that defied physics forced them back down onto the mountain of corpses, pushing them toward the traps, so that they could only take to the air for short bursts. But one of those short bursts was more than enough to get them over the wall of saw blades, before the force pushed the duo into the void below... as they fell, the heat intensified greatly. Gormaric could only wonder if this was what Neque had felt like after his defeat, before his senses faded.
Meanwhile, Frederick and five of the Aligorian heavy infantry landed upon the corpse mountain and began to slide themselves. Frederick immediately barked out an order to the men and women behind him.


The infantry were quick to follow his orders, two of them swerving after Frederick, to the left around the saw blade popping up, and the other three doing the same to the right. The spike wall didn't catch a single one of the prepared and disciplined soldiers of Aligoria, and was avoided with deft ease. When the burning hands reached from the ground and reached at their ankles... they found their fires redirected at themselves, and were subsequently burnt to a crisp. Their grips may have been strong enough to crush steel, but Uru was on a different level entirely. And though nobody had said anything about it, the heavy infantry of Aligoria's Subversor division, those sent to fight against the powers of Yh'mi, had been equipped with armor made of this rare, coveted, and powerful metal.

When it came time for them to face the wall of saw blades, Frederick simply grinned and called out to his soldiers once again.


The six of them raised their shields and formed a triangle with Frederick at the head and taking point. The power of the Inanis, woven into the armor during its process of forging, manifested now, forming a dark field around the armor of the soldiers. They made contact with the wall of blades... and instead of being grinded to pieces, the saw blades were forced to an all too sudden halt, and with the momentum of the armored wedge flying at them... they ones the wedge burst through were snapped off and sent tumbling into the void below, to accompany the limbs they had been grinding. Then so too did the six Subversors charge into the void, meeting what could very well be their end...

A vision without control. Gormaric was helpless to do anything but watch the events before him unfold. Was this how Neque had felt, in his time in Gormaric's head? No, for even then he still had power, still had control. The short time spent scouring Remissio's mind, then? No, for even then he had been able to gain enough control to keep Remissio alive a little longer, to throw the explosive in the corrupted paladin's hand away. It was an entirely foreign feeling then, and one that somehow made the ebon knight miss the times where his mind was shared with his master. Seeing the burnt woman reminded him of how Diligence had looked after that thrown explosive had gone off. He had brought Neque to Yh'mi. Neque had thrown the explosive, killing Diligence in order to gain more time to search through Remissio's memories. Thus, it may as well has been his hand that felled Diligence. She could never be replaced, he knew that. But whatever he could do to help the Order, against Yh'mi, he would strive to do.

Meanwhile, he stored away everything he heard, felt, and saw in the corner of his mind. It might be something that could of come use later, in wherever the hell this was.

He awoke upon a wet floor. Raising himself up from the ground slowly, he could make out Eri next to him, and the forms of Frederick and his five Subversors rising up just a bit further away. He drew forth Shadowfang, and black flames burst to life along the length the blade. Perhaps oddly, these flames cast a purple glow around the area, revealing the blood along the floor and letting the rest of group more clearly see each other. On top of that, the flames would help him to fight off whatever creatures would quite possibly be coming for them now. He also gathered together the power of the Inanis, readying it for future use.

Eri growled loudly and rose up, before taking her place at Gormaric's side. Frederick and the Subversor infantry approached him after a minute, and he nodded at them before speaking.

"I honestly have no idea what to make of this situation. But we're going to have to make the best, even as undermanned as we are. I can see others around here. If they're alive we need them up and active immediately. By the way... what did you see in the fog, before all the falling?"

Frederick chuckled a little.

"I saw my ex-wife there, clad in a black cloak and atop a black horse. Behind her, a band of orcs played the "Theme for Loud, Unsubtle Bitches" with their Orcish arse flutes."

Gormaric and the Subversors started at him in silence for a few moments, before the ebon knight spoke again.

"Frederick, you should either drink less, or need to have your mental health evaluated after we're done here. Regardless, none of you saw the girl with the crutch?"

Frederick and the Subversors all shook their heads, and Gormaric sighed a little.

"Alright then, never mind. Go and check on the others, get them ready to move. As for me, I need to take a moment and get my thoughts in order."

The six men and woman nodded and went off to check on the others, while Gormaric closed his eyes and concentrated, breathing deeply. He put his turbulent thoughts in order, so that he could more effectively do what he needed to do without being distracted. After a bit, he re-opened his eyes, feeling refreshed and ready to take on whatever this hellhole might have to throw at him.


... Meanwhile, Frederick stopped mid-step and looked at the men and woman behind him.

"Wait, didn't I have more of you?"

The Subversors shrugged in response, none of them knowing they had mirrored a similar exchange between Ilene and the Shadow Guards.


Gormaric Warmoon (& Eri)

HP: 5/5

Sanity: 4/5 (+1) = 5/5

Normal Skills: Attack, Meditate, Buff

Special Skills: Area Attack (3 uses), Counter-Attack (3 uses), Passive Defense (3 uses)


  1. Buff (+1 to future roll), Suceeded!
  2. Meditate (+1 to sanity), Suceeded!
  3. Action banked (+1 action in next round)


@SelenaNichole @Grubbistch @vielle

Edited by EpicRome23

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Paint for myselfhyacinth vasilika


It happens fast without a moment of pause: from breath to breath, a restless drumbeat in the bloodstream.

The fog thickens, engulfs, chokes in darkened despair, and the world is suddenly plunged into an impenetrable silence. Hyacinth turns her gaze to the sky, fingers reaching for the ashes as they flutter down from the heavens. The ground trembles beneath her feet, and just as she begins to see the figures in the shroud, looking all too much like her Mother, her Sisters, her—


The land gives way under her foothold, screams ringing in her ears as they tumble down into the darkness. She sees hellfire at the end of the endless pit, a light in the darkness that is most definitely not benign. Hyacinth snaps back to herself: do something! Magic flickers forth from her fingers, but to no avail; the charred hands of Yh’mi are dragging them down to its blackened heart.

Suddenly, the fall is broken by a mountain of flesh and limbs, and she moves almost mindlessly to dodge the traps, flinging herself across the chasm filled with blades on nothing but instinct and the will not to die.

Fire licks up her spine, her clothes, her too-pale skin, and she feels them burn away, even as she still sees them on her own body.

— do not fight it, love —

Her screams join the chorus echoing out into the dark, and in that breathless moment, something in Hyacinth’s chest dies a second death.

— you will be —

The world shakes at the seams, unraveling into nothingness.

— Radiant.


Hyacinth startles awake, cheek pressed against the cold, damp floor. She closes her eyes for a moment, internally taking stock of the ache in her limbs and the phantom sensation of burning alive, before she finally comes to sit up and stand.

She absentmindedly adjusts her robes, smoothens the fabric down as she studies her surroundings. With the purple light emanating from the armored man’s shadowed sword, she can see the crimson coating the floor, and the ragged appearances of everyone around. The knights in black armor mill about the small expanse they’ve landed in, and at the sight of them, Hyacinth comes to the realization that they are greatly shorthanded on manpower. Where had everyone else gone to? Shaking her head, she begins to walk towards the assembled men.

She does not know these people, not really, but she will do her best to help the group survive; without them, she does not think she can survive herself.

“Sir,” Hyacinth calls out to the man wielding the sword of dark flames in a lilting, soft voice, quite at odds with her severe appearance, “where are the others?”



Name: Hyacinth “Cynthia” Vasilika

Starting HP: 5 HP

Starting Sanity: 5 Sanity

Normal Skills: 

Attack, Heal, Buff

Special Skills:

Mass Rally (3 uses), Passive Defense (3 uses)



@EpicRome23 @Grubbistch @SelenaNichole

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Leo was no stranger to blood, but this was a lot of blood.

The ashes, the shadow figures, the crumbling ground; those were all things he sort of expected, coming to Yh'mi. Others who had been there warned him of the strange, dark landscape that was ever-changing and full of twisted monstrosities. 

But the mountain of blood? That was new. It was almost enough to shake Leo out of his natural fearlessness, almost enough to make him scared.


The halfling was fortunate enough to have fallen behind the well-trained squadron of Aligorians, and he stayed tight on their tail; he used his warhammer as a makeshift rudder to steer him around the traps as he slid, and when the heavy infantry busted through the wall of blades at the bottom, Leo followed in their wake, glad he hadn't had to think of his own way through. He probably would have tried to punch it.


Leo shook his head and groaned; the impact at the bottom must have knocked him out for a second or two. Body aching, he pulled himself off the wet, hard ground and rubbed his head. A short focus of will caused a bright white light to envelop his warhammer, allowing him to see both the blood beneath his boots and the Norkotian squad forming up -- at least, as much as they could 'form up' -- but few of the people he'd been with seemed to have made it to the bottom.

Leo's medical bag hadn't made the tumble down the hole with him; that didn't bother him so much since most of it was for ambiance anyway. People get their bones knitted and their gashes closed with nothing more than the wave of a hand, and they started to think the healing craft was easy. Worthless, even. They started to take it for granted. Now, grinding up a bunch of herbs and a few animal bones, having to drink awful concoctions and smear on offensive salves, that made things look harder, made people more appreciative. Down here, though, showmanship seemed superfluous. It was just him, his hammer, his faith, and, of course, his rippling abs.

He flexed, and his muscles seemed to expand to titanic proportions. He struck a couple of poses, as if to reassure himself that he was still the baddest of the bad. Now he felt ready for anything. [buff x3]

Finally sure of his own physical well-being, he cleared his throat and called out to the others. "Over here, fellas! Anyone injured? Anyone need assistance?"




Buff (x3): +3 to next die roll



Leo Manville

HP: 5

Sanity: 5

Normal Skills: Attack, Buff, Heal

Special Skills: Mass Healing, Passive Defense

@Thotification @Akiris @Tyler

Edited by Veloci-Rapture

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Yeah, Ed was a bit salty over this turn of events. The leading from the rear with the wagons, the walls that did all of nothing.... OK, two things. But. Two rather serious things involving everyone getting sent through the wringer when it could likely have been avoided..... Now how this particular case could have been preempted escaped him at the moment but if he had to wager a guess then it seemed everything minus the critters had formed a homeowners association in order to try to evict the coalition. Meh, wait for it, who wants to bet they'll show up eventually too? Allowable pets is always an article as well.

Oh, focus. That's a buzzsaw!

"Well, that just happened.." What else could truly be said? Ed was now at the bottom of a blade and flesh motif drop with a broken squad of Norto-somethings squabbling about the strongest leading them and an extremely buff halfling that Ed would give good odds being able to take on the entire lot single-handedly. Breathe. Don't consider if it matters right now. "Alright, lets make whatever's responsible for this regret it. Briefly. I get the feeling there's about to be a long list to check off."



Meditiate 1D10 rolled 9 = +1 San

Buff +1 to next roll

Held one action



Name: Ed

HP: 5/5

Sanity: 4/5

Normal skills: Attack, Meditate, Buff

Special Skills: Advanced Buff (3/3), Counterattack (3/3), Area Defense (3/3)

@Veloci-Rapture @Thotification@Tyler

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Nim’Ruin watched the events unfold and as he turned to look at Selena and Ehlan he noticed they were gone. The fog was frightful, but there was nothing extravagant to them. Nim’Ruin looked around and he could see shadows, but he could not sense murderous intent so close by. Nim’Ruin nodded softly as if he understood and merely sighed. He bent down and looked around and then merely sat down on the ground and closed his eyes listening to the area around him. He wasn’t sure how much time passed but when he opened his eyes he was sitting upon a cold ground. He could smell the dampness and his red eyes narrowed as he immediately noticed that he was separated from his Matron. He did notice that he was not along, which was a pleasant and comforting ray of knowledge.

“Well that was fun.” Nim’Ruin said as he looked around the room. He did not touch anything or make any move to reinforce himself. He merely watched and waited, keeping his Drow eyes scanning the area for any hint of movement.

“It seems Yh’Mi isn’t done playing with us yet. Be safe my Matron."





HP: 5/5

Sanity 5/5

Normal Abilities: Attack, Mediate, Heal

Special Abilities: Area Attack, Advanced Buff.

Actions: None


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The darkness was eerie, yet somehow pungent with something that made it feel like you had poison soaked rocks sitting in your gut. Looking into it for too long would give someone the feeling that they were staring not just into an absence of light, but into a literal nothingness that stared right back. A hungry nothingness that threatened to engulf them and erase whatever they thought they were. It was a cruel mockery of light and existence in itself, staring down at the defenders from each and every direction, waiting to strike the moment their fear and paranoia got the better of them.

This was not a place where light belonged. Here, way down in the void, light did not exist. Nothing was supposed to be here that hadn’t already been consumed, so the void would need to punish them. Suddenly, the world around them shook with a mighty, screeching, cry that made their teeth rattle and their bones quiver. They could hear from outside and within, as if its source were getting a taste of their mettle through sound alone. The darkness began to fade away to weave itself into the nightmare they’d fallen into.

 They found themselves surrounded by blood-stained, walls of old, rotted ceramic that rose from the bloody floor. Where the darkness receded, fire bloomed above to give them a source of light that defied the feeling of comfort it was supposed to have. This light was sinister, rabid, out of control. The fiery ceiling above made the temperature unbearable. The heat scorched them, burning away at their natural aura’s like a radiant parasite. While not gone, their enchantments and magical defenses would be greatly diminished. The light of the fires seemed to be bearing down on them with all their ferocious loathing the darkness harbored before-hand. It was riled now. It would reach out to take hold of their skin with its teeth and tear it off like a wild animal that had been starved for eons. Then, it would gorge itself on what lay underneath.


In this world, light, and any who thought they wielded it inside them…WERE PREY.


Dungeon Here!!!



Sir Fred’s actions on the way down had wordlessly spoken much of his skill, experience, and determination. It seemed that he’d weathered countless horrors before Yh’mi, not scared in the least by what he’d experienced in the fall. He and his men had not only survived, but had done it valiantly. Their enchanted armor and team-work had served them well. Their success had moved them to not only prevail, but to boast a challenge. Toward the end of the slope, when he and his men had confidently burst through the blur of whirring, impossibly hot, blades, it’d sent the shards of the nightmarish grinder flying weakly into the air. The still burning shards fell alongside him and his group, but their sheer size and weight had caused them to fall a little slower than our defenders.

But once again, cruel gravity would assert its dominance over all that dared invoke it.


A plethora of massive, heated, blades fell upon Frederick and his men shortly after they’d landed, the razor sharp debris slamming against the floor with a series of massive clangs that reverberated throughout the room they stood in. Some broke on impact. Others sliced into the floor and impaled it like the teeth of a predator desperate for an excuse to bite. The ground continued to shake as more of the heavy blades collided with the floor, but there was still much more to come. If the defenders had taken time to look up, they’d see many more blades descending toward all of them, falling at horrifying speeds that would give them barely any time to react. 

Outside of the room, flaming horrors moaned in agony and awaited their arrival, intending to close them in. They looked like skeletons, flimsy and easy to take down. But the flames that burned them were especially hot, almost too bright to look at. The skeletons seemed to shake and fidget with the effort it took them to contain their heat, waiting for an excuse to let go of the pain once and for all. They cried out for the sweet release of death, their voices shrill and echoing through out the hell-scape as if everywhere. Despite the volume and ferocity, the screams seemed to reverberate thousands of words and voices at once. Some of these voices would sound frighteningly familiar.


The voice rang out in an ethereal way, as if the shouting was coming from inside Hyacinth's head. It was a woman's voice, one belonging to the one Hyacinth had mentioned earlier. It kept repeating incessantly, as if beckoning her towards it and daring her to confront its' source.





Norkotia’s band of mercs were a motley and unusual crew. The land they hailed from wasn’t a fan of handholds such as magic and advanced technology. They preferred the bare minimum, and such hard-boiled beliefs had made its people unusually strong-willed, blood-thirsty, and cunning. Surviving harrowing and perilous deaths had become something a hobby for them, their efforts to survive often serving as a defiant, mocking smack to the face of death itself. The man in the cap especially, since he’d literally died and come back to life. He’d had death nipping at his heels since he was but a boy. If most people were from where he’d come from, they’d be dead. Although the band sent here to die were considered worthless and far too dangerous to keep around, they’d proved themselves to be capable soldiers. No. Not soldiers. Soldiers threw themselves at death in an attempt to conquer it, and often only succeeded in giving it exactly what it fought to take from them.

This bunch, were more akin to mercenaries. They threw other people at death to keep it away, feeding its influence without much care as long as they got paid in the end. They were like a stain Norkotia was constantly trying to scrape off its boot, but clung to it nonetheless. They were stubborn, foolish, and unorganized, but this seemed to serve as the reason for why they’d survived the descent. While not part of Norkotia, Ed, the two Blackspears, and Leo had also fared well. Leo was rather hardy and resourceful for a man of his stature,


But the nightmare hadn’t even began yet.


The moment the darkness was replaced with the fiery ceiling to light the room, they found themselves in close proximity to beings that were not of this world. The rotted husks shambled towards them, covered in fire that sizzled their flesh. Their hoarse, guttural, screams filled the room and added to the roar of the flames above, their faces contorted in eternal suffering that they were desperate to share with them. Although reduced to tendons and sinews, their arms bulged with muscles. They needed to be strong, for how else would they hold their victims still as they watched them burn?

Ahead of them, shambling through a corridor, was what appeared to be a flaming skeleton. It shook and fidgeted erratically as it made its way towards them, its eyes wide and hot with pent up hate and agony it longed to give to the world.




Vlad had already been struggling with his own nightmares before falling down. Events in Tia had left his mind in shambles and his body infested with a sinister, powerful magic that looked to be slowly consuming him. Like the others with him, he’d had his own problems before coming to Yh’mi. His own fears and insecurities. Like Noah, he seemed to spend his life running from a nightmare. But unfortunately, all of them had fallen far from the frying pan, and into the fire.

Once the flames lit up their room, the pool of blood they’d been standing in had begun to drain. In less than a few seconds, the blood was gone and replaced with a metal, grated, floor. Through the holes, one could see nothing but darkness. But, behind Noah, something stirred within the blackness.

The grates at the back of the room began to rapidly heat and turn orange as pipes below the grates began to shoot jets of fire through the floor. Above the deafening sound of the jets, agonized, guttural screams could be heard through the corridors leading out of the room. Something was waiting for them outsdie, but they would not be able to stay there. Slightly ahead of the jets, more pipes began sparking and priming themselves under the floor. If they, especially Noah, didn’t move, they’d be reduced to ash.




Burning Zombie -
Related image
HP: 3
Boon: ??? (It's hinted at in the post)
Burning Skeleton -
Related image
HP: ???
Boon: ??? (Hinted at in the post)






Movement: Each action can move you two spaces! That's two squares per action. You can change direction with a single action too. So if you want to move one square up and then one square left, you can do that. BUT! Note that if you decide to say…only move five spaces because you don’t want to overshoot a crucial square, you can also do that. BUT…you will not be able to use that remaining square movement and it won’t carry over to the next turn. It will disappear foreverrrrr! Seems like a bummer, but this is not a race. Being on the right square can mean salvation for you and your team. Being on the wrong square can mean….well…guess you’ll get to find out if you get careless. Or gutsy.


You can move through players, but you cannot occupy the same spot as another player. You also cannot move passed enemies or occupy the same square as an enemy. This means that you will all have to work together to keep out of each others way and plan your paths accordingly. It’d really suck if there was a monster behind a guy/gal that’s rolled a one, and three players in front of him/her. He/she wouldn’t even be able to move that turn. Take others into consideration so that this doesn’t happen!


Also, obviously, (some) enemies can’t occupy the same square as a player or move passed players. This means that you can protect other players by moving in between them and an enemy.

If one of you asks me whether or not players can move through walls, I'll lose some respect for you.

To depict what direction your character is going in your post, you can write something simple. For example:

2 actions -

Move - 2 Squares up

Move - 1 Square up and 1 Square right

Thats....actually not that simple. But enh...you get the point.


Combat: In order to attack an enemy, you have to be in an adjacent square to it. I know, I know, you’re wondering ,”Why!? My character has a gun and this is perfect for this!” Well, this is my first time doing something like this ever and its already crazy complicated, so I’m keeping it simple the first round. I’m not as experienced with this stuff as Jaistlyn. Might change some stuff up the next round if I can think it all the way through.

WHICH I DID!!! Ranged attacks are now allowed! They're just like normal attacks, but they cover two squares. This means that you can attack any one square diagonal to your character, since doing so would take two squares. 


Some enemies will have boons that affect your character if they get a confirmed hit (Or get hit) or you’re within a certain range of them. Pay attention to this, because you can get melted pretty quick if you’re careless. I’d hate for one of you to die all fast-like. Its no fun if you don’t get a chance to suffer first!


Player boons and abilities such as Area Attack and uhh…what was it…area buff? Area Heal? (I’m offline here) Those are a bit different here. Rather than be automatically applied to whomever you chose, you’ll have to be next to a character to heal or defend them. Area heals/buffs/attacks, will cover a 5x5 square area around your character. They can still be a huge help, but you’ll have to strategize (apparently that’s not a word) and position yourself carefully to make any of them worth it. Think, man, think! Your head’s just like a muscle. Use it or lose it!


I’ll leave clues in my posts to help you figure out what to look out for with certain enemies and some traps. So pay attention! Or you will very likely die! I’m making it easy for ya with my first official post, but that’s it!


Danger Areas: Squares I’ve marked with red circles will damage your character if he/she is in the same square with it during a turn. Probably avoid those as much as possible. Orange circles indicate that damage will occur there in the next round…er…turn. (Have I been saying round this whole time?) So don’t freak out if your character is surrounded by orange dots! Freak out if he/she is still there during the next round (wow I'm still doing it) when they turn red!


Red squares can not be traversed through at all.


Traversing through a red-dotted square will cost your character one HP, so DON’T try to walk through a bunch of red dots at once to get to safety or do something valiant, and try not to get stuck in a trap that forces you to do so.


Not that I’m gonna make that easy for ya! Remember! Your narrative could seriously screw you over if you’re careless and give me a decent enough excuse to bring more danger to the table. After all…


Image result for no one said life is fair brock



Don’t forget though! YOUR ALL IN GOOD HANDS.


Edited by zackrobbman

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Group 3:

Sheryl awoke.

She had not thought she would after that harrowing fall. Providence had intervened for the moment, it seemed as the the aching Knightess pulled herself upright to a sitting position.

There was a dampness to her. She reached for her face in the darkness, and her fingers came away wet and sticky, the coppery tang of blood all around her. Her blood? From the amount of it and the overpowering scent it could not have been. She would not have been able to lose so much blood and survive. Then again, nothing made sense in Yh'mi, and she did certainly feel wounded.

A light breeze shimmered into being around her. The wind told her many things. She was underground. She was standing in some kind of liquid, blood probably. It was pitch black, and the Knightess reached for her pack. Aeromancery was her power, not fire like her colleague, the Master Knight Eredas, and she rummaged around in her pack for a lighter. She would need a larger source of illumination of course, but she took what she could get for now. The Knightess got her bearings as best as she could. There were voices in the depths, it sounded like other members of the expedition were near her, some of them at least. Sheryl began to plan a course of action.

However long ago, she had accepted death whilst in freefall and powerless. Now she was still alive, in full control of herself again. There was no dichotomy of thought to her, no lingering shade of contrast, she simply was, or wasn’t. Right now she was, and right now she would fight to remain so until a time where it wasn’t once again. So laid bare the philosophy of many Knights of the Order of Force Majeure.

The sudden appearance of blooming, eerie flame revealed much. The Knightess saw that she was with allies nearby, luckily enough. It was a scant blessing however, as the burning ceiling scorched at the occupants below, as if the sun itself had fallen into the depths of the earth after them. As flames started to sprout from one side of the room they were in, it seemed as if Hell was coming up to meet the falling sky. They could not stay where they were, that much was certain. Sheryl took one moment to meditate, to steel herself against the horrors that would soon be faced, and then barked a simple, but urgent order to her new companions in the tone of command.



Turn 1. Sanity Roll 1: Success:

Meditate: Restore sanity from 4 to 5

Turn 1. Sanity Roll 2: Success:

Move: Up 2

Turn 1. Sanity Roll 3: Success:

Move: Left 2



Name: Sheryl Wainwright

HP: 5/5

Sanity: 4/5 (Starting with 4)

Normal skills: Taunt, Meditate, Defend

Special Skills: Mass Healing (3 uses), Counter-Attack (3 uses), Area Attack (3 uses)



Edited by Fierach

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Group 3:

Of the three parties unceremoniously dumped into this frightening maze, it just so happened that one of them had come upon an unexpected addition.

The small gang of what appeared to be three-foot-tall animate nutcrackers certainly hadn’t been seen around the encampment prior to the encroaching fog, and quickly shied away from Vlad’s approach, watching Sheryl and Challara with wary wooden eyes. After a moment, one of them (barely an inch taller than the others) cleared his throat.

“All right, who are you people and what is this place?”

Another one, cowering behind the speaker’s back, piped up. “Skipper, look!”

The leader turned, his painted eyebrows shifting into a frown. “What in the devil’s name…”

Then, as the first jets of scalding flame burst from the floor, the whole lot of them reacted with alarm. “Good heavens, run for your lives!” And with an oddly polite-sounding wail of distress, the tiny troop fled towards the nearest exit, pushing past Sheryl in their haste to escape.


ACTION: Move (2 spaces leftwards) - Auto-success (Sanity=5)

ACTION: Move (2 spaces upwards) - Auto-success (Sanity=5)

ACTION: Passive Defence (target=self, use 1 of 3) - Auto-success (Sanity=5)


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There was no time to think, no time to even have a conversation, before the next catastrophe came their way. 

Burning debris came upon them in a massive rain of hellish fire and metal. Without thinking, he made his move, sprinting to the southwestern corner of the room to escape a grizzly death. To think was to die, to hesitate was to die, and so he chose to live instead. 


Action: Move directly to southwestern corner of room


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