Urban Fantasy Roleplay Generic.

>Explanation of the sheet:
Explanation of the statistics: They can increase during the course of the game. None can be higher than 20 base (without modifiers/spells/items).

Item: A physical possession that grants special effects, either allowing you to use a spell regardless of your mental statistic, temporarily or permanently increasing your physical statistic, giving you a second die roll, or some purely narrative effect.

>Explanation of the system: A 1d6 will be used for everything. The result of the die will be added to the statistic used for the action. All rolls will have a difficulty that must be equalled or surpassed for success. The maximum difficulty of rolls will be 100.

If during a moment of action (such as a fight, although not limited to conventional fights) a roll fails three times, the moment of action concludes and there will be negative consequences for the character, which will depend on the context in which the moment of action took place. In contrast, if three difficulty rolls are surpassed or equalled, the character succeeds and has the right to decide what happens after overcoming the danger, depending on the context.

>Wear and Tear: The points of your statistic with the most points can be spent during any turn to add the spent points to the roll you just made or are about to make. You cannot spend more points than you currently have in that statistic. If you have two statistics with the same number of points, one will be used, which will not change during the entire game, regardless of whether you gain more points in a different statistic. The spent points are recovered one by one at the beginning of each turn.

Example: If you have 6 points of Physical and gain 7 in a Mental roll with difficulty 10, you can spend 3 points of Physical to raise the result to 10, surpassing the difficulty and lowering your Physical to 3 during that turn. Physical will rise to 4 the next turn, to 5 the following, and back to 6 after that.

I'm available if you want to ask questions.

>>2464
If I get shifts before Christmas I'll respond then if not after Christmas. In species you can be any monster or cryptid you want as long as it's not something too big like a dragon. The alignments are just those three, Order, Chaos and Neutral, if you want to be part of something more specific like a monster hunter, a religious organization or a werewolf pack it depends on you to specify it.

>>2465
If possible it can happen with enough time. Bubbles by nature tend to pop in a short time, according to my childhood memories.

>>2468
I had written this before but wasn't going to use it in the OP:
Condemned to walk only under the veil of night. They are not entirely incapable of existing in the light of day, but it is extremely difficult for them to try. To defy the laws imposed by the ancient gods requires a lot of effort, simply maintaining consciousness is too much for beings of the night, which is why it is common to see them fainting in the middle of the street, where any hunter can find them vulnerable.

There are other more serious cases. Beings such as demons, ghosts and others more problematic and prone to destroy the veil have their appearance impossible outside of their allowed hours.

>What would happen if I choose something that doesn't have a human form OP in the mythology? Would I be playing on hard mode?
You would be like a vampire, or you would never be able to go out during the day or it would weaken you too much if you tried and any authority figure would find you and do whatever they want to you, if your appearance is enough for them to have to deal with you.

>>2462
>>2463
Statistics: 10 points to add as you like.
Item( Optional ):
Rosary

>>2470
Everything is correct. From the questions about species, I was starting to believe no one would be interested in being human. I'll take this opportunity to clarify again that being of another species doesn't mean everyone will immediately hunt you or see you as a threat; you can be a monster and be on good terms with hunters or even support them depending on the context and the character.

You can give the rosary some special effect (like rolling a 10-sided die instead of a 6-sided one or rerolling every few turns) whenever you want, or leave it as a normal item. I'll write the turn later.

>>2470
https://youtu.be/j4xsfkhcw-A?si=OLPvKoPgk2mzRH7B▾
Riverveil is a city that, like its residents, sleeps during the day and wakes at night. After 12 AM, you don’t need to walk far to see all manner of creatures rising from their beds—or their graves. Since many of these beings lack the intelligence to understand the rules of the Veil, guided only by their own bodiless voice called instinct, the Agents of Order rise at the same hour, ready to send offenders back to rest—and, if by chance, save the life of some unfortunate innocent who stayed awake without knowing the danger they exposed themselves to.

Winter nights are long, cold, and more active than any other. If you didn’t know it from birth, you began to understand the moment you first heard the whispers in the dark, and with them, the murmuring of the things moving out there. When one of your senses awakens to the world hidden behind the Veil, you never see things the same way again. Now that you’re no longer an unfortunate innocent but an unfortunate believer, you must defend yourself from the things you see lurking at night, since many of them don’t like being watched.

But who watches the watchers? Across the waking city, numerous organizations have eyes in every corner of every street, stepping on each other’s toes, each with their own observation network. While you don’t seek to be seen—and it’s wise not to act—once you do, even just to protect yourself, several curious eyes will turn toward you.

Right now, as you’re just another passerby on the desolate streets of the city, you only have the indifferent gazes of dozens of poltergeists upon you. These ghosts, in this case disguised as radiators from the heating system of a nearby apartment complex, are nearly omnipresent throughout the city. To a sleeping eye, they’re practically invisible; to yours, impossible to miss and very hard to pretend you don’t see. Though merely revealing that you can see certain things isn’t enough for one of the many organizations to descend upon you—either to your benefit or detriment—it’s always better to be cautious at this hour.
You can't be sure who's informing these poltergeists about the things they observe, but you can bet it's not the church right across the street, lit only by the glow of freshly lit candles—a sign that the old faith is replacing the modern in its practices, taking control of the building and swapping out popular idols for ones only the select few recognize. Not all religious organizations operate this way; some use the state-imposed religious freedom to openly conduct their worship even in broad daylight, accessible to ordinary people. Establishments like these tend to be either the most dangerous or the safest, depending on who you are. They also hold all kinds of treasures.

It's not just churches that change from day to night. Libraries fill with hidden knowledge, clubs fill with strange clientele, and alleyways fill with darker things still. Right now you can clearly hear the cry of a baby coming from one of those alleys—one of the farthest ones, the kind even a homeless person wouldn't dare approach to spend the night or scavenge for food in the dumpsters. Alongside the desperate crying, you also notice a stench of rotting meat even stronger than that of any garbage truck, likely amplified by something supernatural.

The night operates by different rules. Transactions that should be illegal at all hours take place with as much secrecy as any other clandestine activity. An alley distant enough can become a marketplace for any man or woman of the night who, ironically, isn't familiar with the rest of the creatures scraping by during the darkness.

https://youtu.be/j3glwtXrj0c?si=Yify5dXurwaeWYOz▾
The cries grow sharper the longer you stay on this same street, so much so that they drown out the voice of god. The infant, unlike you, screams for attention, demanding to be seen. The noise is unbearable; you can feel it reverberating inside you, pushing you to step into the alley and give the child what it wants.

Mental Roll: Roll 1d6+2 to resist the call, or just let yourself be drawn in if you want to see what's in the alley. If your roll is greater than 5, choose where you want to go or what you plan to do/search.
The number you must exceed/equal in rolls will be in spoiler in case you want to make rolls without knowing their difficulty—you can open spoilers whenever you want.
Since your highest Stat is Spiritual, you may spend points from it to increase the result of any roll, up to 6 points or however many points you currently have in it.

>>2462
Stats: 10 points to add as you wish.
Item
Pipe

>>2473
You added 9 points to Statistics instead of 10, add the missing point before you need to make a roll. Just like Lev, you can write a special effect for your Pipa after you get familiar with the role or leave it as a normal object. Mental Statistics would be the one you use to increase the final result of the rolls. Probably I won't write your turn until very late or until tomorrow.

>>2474
I didn't realize, my apologies OP, +1 on mental then, making very balanced characters is sometimes counterproductive, I guess this one will be a magic caster or something kek

>>2473
https://youtu.be/Yx1in2c_UTc?si=3B7PgabDbyaHRzNM▾
Not too big and not too small. Not too active and not too quiet. Riverveil is just one of many cities that uphold the Veil's rule. Not all cities operate exactly the same, so even for a being who lived and grew up knowing the secrets of the night, moving to a new territory can feel like learning everything from scratch. The first thing you learn upon disembarking from the plane is how efficient the local security is.

<Woman: Welcome to Riverveil.

More than the words of the woman in charge of checking your ID, and even more than the large burn scar on her face, you clearly remember the smile she gave you. As a creature that gets under people's skin, you are familiar with what lies deeper than the dermis, and beneath that welcoming smile, you recall seeing a flash of something else, a suppressed chuckle provoked by some inside joke between the woman and you.

It's more complicated for someone who knew the world hidden behind the Veil to differentiate the hidden from what is always in plain sight, but once you see the truth, it's impossible to forget. You can't become blind to something you've already seen, and your own senses ensure you don't. It's not necessarily the eyes that awaken first; it could be the ears, nose, palate, or skin itself, but once one of these senses acquires a taste for the paranormal, the others become capable of perceiving it in all things, with some degree of ambiguity.

You remember the woman, but nothing out of the ordinary about her. All your senses tell you she was a normal human, or as normal as the girl who drowned in that river, who also had acquired a certain special air after so much interaction with you. Still, that woman at the airport can't know more about you than you know about her, otherwise, she would have already confronted you in some way. The most she can know is that you know the same secrets as she does, and that millions of other creatures inside and outside of this very city do. You have proof of it right in front of you.

<Laika: Can't sleep?

For only a few weeks now, that woman who greeted you at the airport, Laika, has been your neighbor. You rarely see her, and always smoking a cigar on the railing just outside your door or on the apartment rooftop. She has some knack for appearing in the same places whenever you return at night from buying something, forget to take out the trash until that hour, or feel like trying out that pipe you have.

<Laika: Or are you staying up this late studying? It must be hard being alone in an unfamiliar city. Do you have any friends around here? I can introduce you to some of mine if you want, I know places to show you.

Aside from her name, you know little about her since you first saw her. Her attempts at conversation tend to be less insistent than tonight's; usually, she lets you go with any excuse or even without one and greets you again the next time she catches you as if nothing happened.

<Laika: Hey... what kind of monster are you?

She gives you a casual look with her blue eyes, smiling just as she did that first time. The winter wind becomes colder against your skin once the words leave her lips, colored as naturally as the smoke she exhales.

<Laika: Don't lie to me. I have a good sum of money riding on this, if you help me, maybe I'll even buy you a drink.

Social Roll: Roll 1d6+2 if you want to lie. If you lie and don't roll the dice, it will count as a failure. Your final roll must be equal to or greater than 5 to lie successfully.
In most situations, you can make a different roll than the one requested and with a different Stat depending on what you decide to do, but the difficulty will also change.

>>2472
>Lev
"je.... How did I end up here?"

Again, I'd gotten lost in the vast darkness of this city's night. Since when had I been doing this? It was a strange routine, like someone taking their dog out to shit at 3 a.m. and going for a walk, but I didn't have a dog, and walking around at this hour was more dangerous than getting mugged—by... those things.

https://youtu.be/aMHTj5SV-pc▾
You normalize them, but you never really get used to them. You just try to keep going as if they weren't there, because it's better to play dumb. But yeah, it's impossible not to see the things lurking in the dark once you've grown accustomed to them. Poltergeists, fleeting shadows, presences, or just whispers in the air—I could see what others couldn't, or didn't want to see.

But still, nothing could stop me from my nightly walk, searching for nothing.

My footsteps echoed on the cold asphalt as I stammered and whispered to myself—about what? Things too trivial: how the day went, what I thought of today's lunch, past events and future predictions. The strange part was that I wasn't talking to myself like someone making mental notes, but leaving empty spaces to listen and respond.

The thing is, if a third party looked, they'd notice I was alone—talking to nothing.

"But that's what's really bothering me, truthfully. It's hard to process. Sometimes I don't feel it, and then suddenly..."

"It's like I become aware of those things, even if just for brief instants."

The city slept at its own rhythm, under the weight of night... But then the crying.

The crying broke the silence.

"!?"

It was a human cry, urgent, filled with something that wasn't just sadness. Longing for attention? Like someone screaming in the dark just to be heard by anyone, ignoring that that someone isn't always good.

I couldn't ignore it. I couldn't stop hearing it. My feet didn't move at first, but the sound... the sound crept into my chest, wounded something inside me. Something I didn't understand, but that I recognized.

I wanted to ignore it and keep listening to my thoughts, but I couldn't. I was too focused on it. What was that crying? Why was it hitting me so hard?

1d6+2 = 4 If I succeed on the roll, the following happens

But it wasn't my business.

I walked past the alley without turning to look, and continued on my way... One meter forward... Two... Three... Five, then... I stop.

"..........."

I hear the crying, and I freeze... I wanted to ignore it, but something... told me not to.

"(No no, I have to keep going, this is clearly...)"

Sobs, a child's weeping, accompanied by that putrid stench... My mind told me not to... But my heart clenched with tenderness and sorrow. My feet hesitated, my hands trembled.

I shouldn't. It's not my responsibility. I can't take responsibility for everything. They owe me nothing, and I owe nothing to anyone. Whatever's happening in that alley, whatever it is, it has nothing to do with me. If I stop, I'm getting involved where I don't belong, and I know that's not my place. What if it's a trap? What if they're waiting for me, playing with my kindness, like they always do? That's the most logical thing, right? Keep going, look ahead, keep walking, because none of this is personal. No one will blame me for not stopping. The evil isn't in ignoring—it's in doing what shouldn't be done, in putting myself at unnecessary risk.
But how could I ignore it without my conscience burning? No. It's not my problem. It's not my responsibility. Life was too short to go around taking unnecessary risks, to carry something that didn't belong to me.

Besides, I have no obligation to help. Life is what it is, and people have to learn to solve their own problems. If I start intervening every time someone screams for help, if I let myself be carried away by other people's desperation, I'll lose myself. No one will remember a person who simply ignored a cry. No. No one will think badly of me. I have the right to keep going.

But.... what if the baby really is alone? What if it needs help? What if all of this is real? No.... it can't be. I'm overthinking. It's just a noise, nothing more. But something inside me says no, that I shouldn't ignore it. Something is pushing me, somehow. Why do I care so much? Why does it affect me? I don't have to get involved in every stranger's problem. I'm not a savior, and nobody expects me to be.

And yet... there I stood. My body won't move. Why won't my legs move forward? My hands keep trembling, my feet still won't budge. Is this stupid? Is it foolish to keep thinking about this? The world won't end if I choose to ignore it. And it won't change my life. No, it won't.

Maybe it's selfishness that makes me hesitate. It's so easy to walk past, to forget everything, but... do I really want to live with that indifference? Do I want to get home and think that I could've done something, that I just turned away because it seemed easier? What kind of person will I be if I do nothing?

Damn it, I'm overthinking again. I'm not responsible for other people's problems. I'm not. I'm not... right?

"(This is stupid...)"

The crying, relentless. My heart, slow but steady, responded with an uncomfortable pressure in my chest. It's just a sound. A sound with no owner. It's not yours. But the heart doesn't listen. The heart doesn't reason.

"You're not responsible. You're not. It's just a baby... but... what if it isn't? What if it's a trap, obviously, but... what if it's real? I don't want to be responsible for not helping. But if I help, maybe I'm the one who gets lost. I don't want to. I can't... what if I'm the one making the mistake again?"

The thought of looking away burned, as if closing myself off from that minimal humanity was a betrayal. It's logical to move on, nobody will hold you accountable for not helping. But my heart kept pressing against my chest, an emotional distance that felt like a lie to myself. Why do I care? I don't know, but I do.

The idea that I could leave, continue on my way, go on with my life doing nothing, was so easy... too easy. But that ease felt strange, as if it were a path leading me straight toward dehumanization. One more step, and I wouldn't be the same person.

I knew it, and yet, still, I turned around and walked toward the alley. I was walking into the lion's mouth, voluntarily—stupidity, ignorance, recklessness? Maybe. But also something more...

"Where are you, little one?"

I say with a warm voice, searching for the source of that crying, scanning my surroundings. It's just... a child, a cry. A cry in the middle of the night. And what if it isn't? But if I don't, if I keep walking without looking... then what will I be?

"The first contact is always scary"

Viktor Snežan.

Species
Human.

Origin
Love.

An unlimited, unconditional, comforting love. One that belonged to everyone in the world equally—be it the people he killed, his own Mother, the adults who gave him orders, or his fellow soldiers.

It was this love that returned light to his eyes as he plummeted into the ocean's abyss, reaching out to take his hand, healing his wounds, allowing him to feel peace for the first time since he could remember.

A holy power pulses within his soul, guiding his Sword, easing pain, repairing what is broken, shielding him from dark forces, and showing him the path toward truth.

Should I specify his abilities here? I was thinking something similar to a Dragon Age templar but without the magical fentanyl addiction or Black Clover's Asta—immune to magic and curses, capable of exorcising the possessed, dealing heavy damage to unholy beings like vampires, werewolves, or passing demons. I also considered giving him healing abilities. His power is of holy origin.

History
A war asset. He vaguely remembers his mother before being torn from her arms by the enemy nation and indoctrinated from an early age to fight against his own brothers. There is no purpose behind the blood he spills—he simply wants to keep living in this world.

He likes snow. Far from old feelings of melancholy, he sometimes plays with his comrades when out of his superiors' sight. Winter never truly left the country where he lived. He liked a blonde girl who didn't survive a bombing by his homeland's army—it had been his first kiss, and after reliving it, he wept over another mound of earth where only her flowers would bloom.

Only a blank expression remained on his face when he pulled the trigger. He wasn't the best, nor the most loyal or experienced—just consistent. He did what had to be done, without hesitation. There was nothing left to devote himself to except the basest violence, that of man in a world without purpose.

...

It wasn't the first time he'd piloted a combat aircraft, but it was his first aerial battle. He did what he could, shooting down several enemies before one of his wings was damaged. Desperately clawing at the ejection lever, blood gushing from his torso, he managed to abandon the plane—but his seat crashed into the sea, sinking as he lost consciousness mid-air.

He drifted slowly into the void, like a feather carried by the wind. Darkness consumed him as blood left a floating trail behind... But then, a presence took his hand, returning life to his eyes and breath to his lungs, pulling him back toward the light.

Cradled in his Father's arms, he felt the world fade around him. When he opened his eyes, a vision unfolded before him: a rift in the veil of night, divine order illuminating the starry sky and shielding the earth. He saw it clearly—the opening, the crack—through which primordial forces descended, like darkness swallowing the light of a room whose only candle had been extinguished. A roaring silence, formless, a void indifferent to humanity, spreading madness and despair among mankind.
When he opened his eyes a second time, he found himself once more in the land of the living. His gaze swept across the empty shore, far from war and from the men he had to kill or rely upon to avoid death—there was no one but Viktor and his own beating heart. His Father had made a request of him, had given him a purpose:

"Child of dust and blood, set your gaze upon the wound in man's world. The boundary has been broken. The fabric that holds your fellow man anchored in being has been torn, and that which does not know me now wanders upon the earth seeking the ruin of souls. You will know them by their fruits.

You were chosen not for purity, but because you were found amidst your breaking. The light now anchoring your soul is the same that must suture this rift. You are the ambulatory key that shall rend the innocent, the virtuous, and the sinner alike from torment.

March toward Riverveil. Along the way, the Cross you must bear shall fall into your hands. There, at the epicenter of the rupture, agents of chaos seek to create a permanent wound in the Veil. You must advance toward its heart and endure the radiance of the true song until the Veil can heal.

Fear not, I am at your side. Your burden shall be duty; you will not be cleansed of what you do, nor spared from suffering. Go, and remain, until the end of the storm."

And then, the silence deepened, leaving him weeping as he had so often done on battlefields, thinking it was blasphemous, that he was too young, that his soul was beyond redemption...

He rose from the sand, clutching his chest, and moved forward without any clear direction, simply following what his heart dictated—what had always moved him before his mind. Along his path, he came upon several villages where he paused to rest and reflect. There, he met a man from another continent, very old, seeking to discard what no longer served him in exchange for something useful. All Viktor had was a watch, an inheritance from his mother. With sorrow in his heart, he parted with it, receiving in return a rusted Ōdachi. When he drew it again, the rust vanished, until the blade could reflect back his own emerald eyes.

Having found his Cross, he set forth once more toward Riverveil, refusing to let his great doubts halt his steps.

Alignment
None. He bears his Cross in solitude, seeking to mend the Veil and stand firm where others will not.

>Statistics

<Social: 1+(1) = 2
<Físico: 1+(3) = 4
<Mental: 1+(1) = 2
<Spiritual: 1+(5) = 6

Object
Sword

>>2478
You turn to walk away, deaf to the call, and at first you succeed. Meter by meter, the noise becomes less distinct, until you stop to question yourself.

All it takes is for your heart to falter for an instant for it to be given the push it needs to fall into that abyss and sink to the bottom of your stomach. Once a minimal wound opens, the pain makes its way like a finger in a sore, digging deep into your being until it spreads throughout. A moment of weakness is more than enough to push people to make hasty decisions.

While your head is still debating, your body is already making the decision for you, undoing all the meters you put between the screams and you at a pace faster than your heart, perhaps lessening the weight on your conscience of your final decision to enter the alley and look for the infant.

Your steps stop at the same time as the screams, when you are already deep in the alley, where the street light does not reach. Luckily for you, you don't have to search too long before finding the origin of the crying, the putrid smell guides you to the figure of the baby that called you there.

https://youtu.be/gQe15F2Nmhc?si=qN1cj363XhukrmtO▾
And it is, in fact, a baby that called you to the alley. A baby with flesh as red as the raw blood that stains the mattress upon which its voluminous round body lies, more like that of someone with morbid obesity than a child but just as sedentary as the two together.

The eyes that see the truth beyond the Veil also see the truth behind other things, with them you can be sure that the baby in front of you is what it pretends to be, a rotten infant who was denied the right to a nap, whether because it was denied the same right to life or because it was snatched away before baptism.

The beasts of the night do not distinguish between young and old, they quench their thirst with everything within reach of their maws. This also includes the bloody mass with a newborn's face that called you to the alley and is now calling you again, drawing you with screams towards its mouth with the purpose of satisfying its own primitive needs.

Suddenly, the creature's wide torso splits in half, revealing row after row of teeth longer than those of a great white shark. While the upper mouth cries for you to feed it, it is the middle one that prepares to receive the food. You feel your legs move on their own towards the mouths.

Turn 1
Mental Roll: Roll 1d6+2 to resist the call.
Physical Roll: Roll 1d6+5 to counterattack.
Spiritual Roll: Roll 1d6+6 to use your Faith in any way that might be useful in this situation.

Target to beat: 1d6+4 = 8
Sometimes when you face another character directly, you have to meet or beat their roll to succeed.

Successes: 0
Failures: 0
The action phase will end when you have 3 Successes or 3 Failures or half of the involved decide to surrender.

>>2477
I think it would be better to use it as another way to customize the character or an extension of their personality. If you can give it an effect that reflects their personality, solving problems or taking action would be good; if you give up, you could just say it adds +1 to Spiritual or helps recover spent points from rolls faster.

>>2479
All good. You don't need to specify abilities unless they affect dice, stats, or mechanics—just having a basic idea of what it can do is enough. You can give your sword an effect like those, or a narrative one, whenever you want. If I don't write your turn today very late, I'll do it tomorrow.

>>2480
My eyes search through the alleyway, among the rats and the filth. My hand counts the decades of the rosary (the beads), trying to calm my body's anxiety, without realizing I'm stepping deeper into the darkness of that corner. Then I look ahead, feel its presence, and I see it.

"....."

I don't step back... No. Only a single tear falls from my eye, slowly sliding down my cheek. Not from fear, not from disgust, but from sorrow. From being present, once again, to the cruelty of this land, which condemns him every day, like a spectator to the inevitable.

"oh, my being..."

I didn't fall into a trap, I just witnessed another wound of this world, and this breaks me even more. I don't scream, don't retreat, don't pray out loud—only tighten the rosary in my cold hand, and swallow hard. I cling to my rosary, not as a "magical instant catalyst", but like someone grasping onto something so they don't fall apart.

"Oh little one..... I know... I know..."

"It's all so.... unjust"

I look at him with... such sorrow, ignoring that this is a monstrous being, one that could tear me in half.

"You weren't given the chance to make mistakes, you weren't given the chance to learn, you weren't even given the chance to live, or to leave...."

"But they won't let you be full either."

This was a bad joke. I didn't say it as an attempt to deceive or comfort—just an act of recognition.

The crying doesn't stop. Doesn't soften. Doesn't change. My head understands something before the rest of me: it's not a request, it's a function. A blind need that doesn't know how to stop. The huge body moves slightly, just enough to remind me I'm not a spectator, that I'm already inside the picture. Apparently his screams for attention affect the psyche; my body is drawn by instinct to feed that hunger at his second mouth.

Mental Roll: 1d6+2 = 5 +2 Spiritual because the shitty baby rolled an 8, and I have bad mememagic.

I try to endure his call, not to dominate anything, but so I won't freeze—so the instinct to flee or surrender doesn't win. I force myself to think just enough to avoid being devoured by panic or compassion.

"Humming a lullaby"

I don't take a step back, but I don't move forward either. My mind clings to a simple idea, almost stupid: if I run now, I die. If I stay still and stop thinking, I die too. So I think. I think slowly. I think crookedly. I think like someone who doesn't want to win, just to get out whole.
"My fingers keep passing the beads of the rosary, one after another, without rhythm, without order. I'm not looking for miracles. I'm looking to hold on. I feel my chest burning, not from terror, but from the pressure of not being able to do the right thing without doing something horrible. And then I feel it, that subtle push, not an order, not a voice, just a vague direction, like when you know where the door is even if you can't see it."

"Spiritual Roll: 1d6+4 = 7"

"Not to calm the creature, but to keep myself present, so that faith doesn't break in the face of what I'm seeing, so that the Kid doesn't feel abandoned, to give that familial warmth his mother didn't give him, in short, something stronger than the mind, than the body or charisma, something that can't be explained, Love, the purest Love."

"Presence: a father's love"

"After that, I move my gaze. Not to its mouth. Not to the fangs. I look around. The alley, the filth, the rats, the smell. Something dead. Something that isn't me. I don't think about saving it, I don't think about redeeming it, I think about buying time. That's all. Enough time for this to end somehow."

"I take a lateral step, slow, deliberate. My boots scrape the ground and the sound seems too loud. My heart beats slowly, as if it understands that rushing would be a betrayal. I keep my voice low, not firm, just human."

"I know... I know... it's not enough.... it's never enough....."

"I don't approach the open mouth. I don't make prolonged eye contact. I move like someone who knows that any sudden gesture is an invitation to die. I barely extend a hand, not towards it, but towards the ground, looking for something, anything that doesn't breathe."

"Physical Roll: 1d6+5 = 11"

"Not to fight, but to move without falling, not to slip, so that the body responds while the head and heart are at war. Also in case it gives me a little kiss, to dodge it, and give it a kiss myself kek"

"My fingers search the ground, for something, anything, from a rat, rotten food, or something. I don't look at it much. I don't want to know. Every muscle is tense, not ready to attack, but to react if the world suddenly breaks."

"I still haven't done anything definitive. Not yet. First I have to see if the world leaves me another option. Maybe I'll go around it, maybe I'll try to calm its hunger, because above all, it's alone, it's scared, and it's looking for someone, that's why babies cry. A baby that doesn't cry is because it assumes no one will come to help it... But if there are no options.... then I'll have to deal with whatever comes next."

>>2482
>1d6+2+2 = 6
>1d6+4 = 7
Shit mememagia, for trying to help the mind roll, now I lost 2 rolls like an idiot Kek, I'm going to sleep.

>>2476
https://youtu.be/nVhu1CiwmNA?si=AAofaWBMdxaTwF7W▾
It had been a long time since she embarked on the madness of entering university, she herself didn't quite understand why, but she wanted to fulfill that girl's wish of becoming a veterinarian, she had planned to act this way until her friend's parents died, but she found herself more attached to these skins than she could have imagined.

It didn't take long for her to sigh heavily, Baeida looked towards the stairs and was dazzled by the airport woman, again, she clearly wanted something with her, it wasn't just the strange feeling she got, what were the odds she'd be here? It's more than obvious she was following me.

<-“Can’t sleep? Or do you stay up this late studying? It must be hard to be alone in a strange city. Do you have friends around here? I can introduce you to some of mine if you want, I know places to show you.”

Baeida sighed again, this had been more than she had stopped to talk to her about before, but she couldn't be a bad neighbor, do adult women talk this much with young girls?

“I went out to buy something to eat, I want to prepare something to study, I have an exam one of these days.”

She carefully opens the door to put her things inside, she certainly feels lonely not having anyone she knows nearby, staying holed up in her "cave" which is actually her room.

“It’s a bit scary, as a woman you always have to keep one eye open, I haven’t made any friends yet, but I will soon, I’m good with people after all.”

Viktoriya is, I'm sure of that at least…''

<-“Hey… what kind of monster are you?”

I was about to close the door, but upon hearing that, I stop dead, and turn to look at her for a moment.

“I’ll accompany you to smoke.”

I didn't know who this woman was, obviously she knew something from our interactions, but I didn't think she knew so much.

I stand beside her, lighting the pipe and taking several puffs, in the past I would use stronger things, but now I felt ashamed for Viktoriya to see her smoking things for addicts.

“Monster then… is that why you’ve been following me or is that pure coincidence?”

I take a drag from the pipe.

“I have bad news for you, my community in Alaska belongs to the first Russian settlers before they sold the place to the Americans, there are many customs that haven’t changed, that’s why you can feel the same way I feel when I see you.”

I would try to convince her that I was human, but admitting that I did have knowledge of the paranormal, I didn't want trouble right now, I just wanted a quiet life.

“And you? Are you a monster?”

I knew she wasn't, but I'm just playing along for now.

1d6+2 = 3

>>2479
War doesn't change, it only increases or decreases its scope. The wars men know today are on a much smaller scale than those the gods fought across the globe before, but they bring devastation nonetheless. You could say you're still a soldier, only now your mission is to stop a war that hasn't begun yet, or to prevent wars from thousands of years ago from resuming.

The veil that protects Riverveil's hidden face from those who shouldn't know it comes with factory defects; it's through these tiny openings that insignificant things sometimes leak through, like voices, visions, and beings that even an ordinary person could fight for their survival. The way the Veil itself is sustained is by temporarily letting out lesser evils for the Agents of Order to deal with, thus alleviating the burden and ensuring that more dangerous beings do not manifest, not even in the night hours. The problem is that if the Agents fail their mission and the number of creatures released each night increases, the holes through which they leak also widen, giving other things a chance to exploit the breach.

It's your first night in Riverveil after passing through rather lax border security; you're still carrying your cross, as sharp as the moment you first wielded it. You also have the rest of your belongings with you, as you still need to find a roof over your head.

Despite the words you received and the things you can see for yourself since you first heard them, you don't detect much activity in the city's night streets, neither with your heightened senses nor with conventional ones. Finding a place to stay at this hour can be a mission as difficult as stitching up the tear in the veil.

<Girl: Excuse me... sir...

She approaches from behind you, as undetectable as your shadow. You hear her voice before anything else, as low as her stature and as weak as her appearance. On a less quiet night, a voice like this would be impossible to hear.

<Girl: It's a... hot night... isn't it?

The night is colder than the hand that rests on your arm, tangible even through your clothes. Given her complexion, you might doubt if the girl is suffering from hypothermia, if not anemia from all the pauses she has to make mid-sentence to breathe.

<Girl: On nights like this... blood boils... flows.

The light from a lamppost reflects off her most prominent fang, giving it a gleam almost as bright as her crimson eyes. The contrast of her bright eyes and the dark night makes them captivating; once you notice them, it's extremely difficult to look away. There's something supernatural about those eyes.

<Girl: I can't stand it anymore... Can you help me? Come with me... I need you.

Her tone becomes pleading, her gaze desperate, and her grip much stronger than you'd expect from such a thin girl. But greater than the strength pulling your arm is the force that grips your mind and compels you to follow the stranger's will towards any alley as if it were your own. Not even the sudden sound of two distant gunshots can distract you, so deeply are you caught in those eyes, although the noise partly helps to bring you back to consciousness.

Mental Roll: Roll 1d6+2 to resist. Do not roll dice if you do not plan to resist. If your result is greater than or equal to 5, you can choose what to do next.
At any time, you can spend points from your Spiritual Stat to increase the result of a roll.
If you think of a different Stat than the one requested, you can make a roll for that Stat, but the difficulty may change depending on how you plan to use it to resolve the situation you are in.

I forgot what day it is today. Happy Christmas Eve and Happy Christmas. I probably won't write any shifts today and will write just one tomorrow. Have a good time.

>>2483
I had written the three rolls as an example of how you could use any of them to defend yourself, not necessarily having to use all three, I guess it's my fault for not making it clear. I still like it, though, so that action moments don't get too long. You are free to make just one roll the next times if the dice you have to overcome seem too high, or make two or three in a single turn if you want to speed things up.

>>2482
Although the publicly available religious writings are full of errors and holes, something they get half-right is that both gods and their believers have one or more eternal resting places. What is less documented is the whereabouts of those who do not fall into either of those two descriptions: beings who have no faith whatsoever and are not accepted into a god's realm after death, condemned to wander the earthly world.

Common humans are turned into souls in torment and specters of all kinds after death, some continue to transform as they accumulate sins even after death, but these cease to matter when they cannot earn a place of rest or punishment by their own power.

It is believed that, just as some believers have a connection with a god who speaks to them through the veil, these can use that same connection to send something back to that god, such as souls that need to enter their domains to find rest. Others think that type of act is more sacrifice than mercy. Just like the past, what lies on the other side of the veil is a mystery, impossible for most to decipher.

Like any child, the baby does not understand your words or pay much attention to them, it just keeps crying without giving a moment of silence to hear them. The short distance between its mouth and your ears makes the screams an even worse nuisance, but it doesn't make its attraction stronger, just enough that you can't shake it off.

With little time to act before being eaten and not much light to help you in the task, you look for something around you that can substitute you in the infant's stomach. The first thing your fingers touch is the peel of some yellowish fruit that someone must have dropped without eating it all, you don't waste time trying to identify it, the slimy texture is unpleasant to the touch and only pushes you to throw it even faster to get rid of it.

Like any hungry animal, the baby immediately swallows whatever you put in its mouth, and since it has a large mouth, hitting the target is easy even in your condition. What you miscalculate when making the throw is how quickly the infant's call attracts you, and your fingers end up close enough to the second mouth for the teeth to sink into your palm, you barely have enough time to pull your hand back before receiving a second bite. Due to the darkness, you can't tell how many fingers you have in front of you, and besides the adrenaline, you only feel part of the stinging pain of the bite and the considerable amount of blood spilling from the wound.

https://youtu.be/Q7Trg0xDS2E?si=aSHKJ-_6orM3rcaf▾
Although the two mouths are not connected, the screams of one stop while the other is swallowing, but the calm doesn't last long. The crying returns, but different and interrupted by coughs. The baby is no longer crying to be fed, but to be patted on the back, even though behind it there is only a wall. You don't feel the same supernatural call invade you, you are free to move under your own will.

The coughing baby is not ready to let you go, however. Taking advantage of the short distance now between your head and its arms, which like its body are larger than they should be, it tries to grab you by the hair, inadvertently tilting its whole body until it's about to fall on you with its full weight.

Turn2
Physical Roll: Roll 1d6+5 to not be crushed.
Spiritual Roll: Roll 1d6+5 to use your Faith in the way you decide to help you.
Remember you can make a single roll or both if you wish.

Target Roll/Equal: 1d6+1 = 4

Successes: 1
Failures: 2

>>2484
>I went out to buy something to eat, I want to prepare something to study, I have an exam one of these days.
It's a little scary, as a woman you always have to keep one eye open, I haven't made any friends yet, but I will soon, I'm good with people after all.
Monster then... Is that why you've been following me, or is that just a coincidence?
I have bad news for you, my community in Alaska belongs to the first Russian settlers before they sold the place to the Americans, there are many customs that haven't changed, that's why you can feel the same way I feel when I see you.
And you? Are you a monster?
<Laika: Who knows? It would be great if monsters themselves saw me as one. Don't they say that if you spend too much time hunting monsters, you become one?

She shrugs.

<Laika: What I do know is that if you spend too much time around them, the smell sticks to you. Is that what you're saying? I thought the smoke hid it, I need to smoke more then.

Even when she makes what could be interpreted as a joking remark, humor doesn't return to her voice; she seems more focused on whatever she sees in the farthest corners of the city than on the conversation they are having.

Physical Roll: You can roll 1d6+2 to try to see the same thing as Laika. Don't roll dice if you don't want to find out. You need a result of 5 or greater to see something and a die roll of 10 or greater to see exactly the same thing.

<Laika: I'm not a doormat or a cradle robber, so don't say weird things like "you feel something when you see me." I don't want any misunderstandings.

The clarification, so abrupt, pulls you out of your observations. As sudden as the comment is the arm she extends without looking at you. It takes you a second to notice the piece of paper she has between her fingers.

<Laika: If you ever want to meet my friends, just call me, and better do it at night. I'm sure one of them will be happy to line their pockets knowing you're human.

Indeed, the rectangular piece of paper has some numbers written on it in blue ink, under the name Laika.

Whether you accept her number or not, the woman doesn't keep you any longer or ask you more questions if you don't either. You are once again free to do with the rest of the night as you wish without interruption.

>>2488
I wasn't sure if deceiving him was the right thing to do, it seemed like his humor had faded.

<-“I’ve met a few like that. Even if their ancestors lived here longer, we still treat them like foreigners. The sword King Arthur gave them a thousand years ago along with the title of Duke of Sherwood doesn't serve as property papers today, it doesn't make them owners of the land according to us.”

She doesn't react much to the Sword of Arthur thing, she tries to search her memories for something about it, and finds something, though it was a story told to someone she now didn't know.

“What is a foreigner to you then? Not adapting to the idiosyncrasies of American society?”

She was trying to calm the atmosphere by making conversation or at least livening it up a bit, obviously she wasn't an expert in intrahuman communication, but she wanted to appear completely normal to this human.

…

<-Who knows? It would be great if the monsters themselves saw me as one. Don't they say that if you spend too much time hunting monsters, you become one?

She takes a deep drag that makes the candle glow brightly in the night.

“If you think you are, you probably are in some way, if everyone thinks so, then you are.”

In the end, a lie can become truth, and a truth can become a lie.

<-What I know is that if you spend too much time around them, the smell sticks to you. Is that what you're saying? I thought the smoke hid it, I need to smoke more then.

“Do you smoke for that? I thought I had found a companion who genuinely liked it.”

She strikes a dramatic pose, mimicking the original body's owner, who was very expressive.

<-If you ever want to meet my friends, just call me, and better do it at night. I'm sure some of them will be happy to line their pockets knowing you're human.

She grabs the number and looks at it, feeling a lump in her throat. Had she lied to a good woman? She had always moved through rural areas, where eternal war reigned, now she felt like a cat that growled at the one giving it food.

''T-Thank you, I… Maybe I’ll get in touch.”

I stand beside her in silence, smoking my pipe, I wanted to finish this for now, to go in and leave in a natural way.

I glance at her occasionally, noticing she's looking at something, which makes me curious.

1d6+2 = 8

…

After all that, I go into my house, lock it, and can't help but think I did something wrong.

“You really are very sensitive Viktoriya… Only someone as innocent as you would trust that.”

Was her friend innocent? Perhaps foolish? She didn't know how to label her, but she accepted her even though she was a monster, she was the first human who, knowing she wasn't, accepted her.

“I knew this would happen… I would end up getting involved with dangerous humans… Agh, why did you do it, why did you do it.”

For a second, a multitude of thoughts flashed through her mind: “You should have left her at the lake” “You did well” “She entrusted her dream to you” “Thank you” among other thoughts swirled in her head like marbles, all of them were her, none of them were her.

“You need to trust more… You need to trust others more…”

She remembered the words of a little Asian boy when she gave him food when she was a dog.

“Ah… Ah…”

I save the girl's number and send her a message saying "It's me, your neighbor, I hope we can keep each other company while we smoke!" and I send a mug sticker.

After sending the message, I throw myself on the bed and, like a teenage girl, start kicking myself for the stupidity I did.

>>2489
>What does it mean to be foreign to you then? Not adapting to the idiosyncrasies of American society?

Do you smoke because of that? I thought I had found a companion who genuinely liked me.

G-Thank you, I... Maybe I'll get in touch.

Laika just raises a hand as a way of goodbye, still without turning around, and lets you go. Once inside your apartment, you are free from all kinds of observation. If you try to look outside through the peephole of the door, you won't see the woman who was smoking there anymore. One's home tends to be a safe place in most cases.

>It's me, your neighbor! I hope I can continue being company while we smoke!

Your messages send without any problem and after half a minute you receive a single reaction with an up arrow, confirming that you understood the handwritten numbers. It isn't until several minutes later that Laika writes to you, however.

<Laika: You'll get cancer if you try to keep up with me, but that'll be your problem.

Still questioning internally and externally whether what you did was right, you let the minutes pass until the screen of your phone goes off and you see in the black reflection a face that doesn't belong to you nor to anything alive. Or the pale blue face finds it too amusing how you react after sending a simple message or died with that smile always etched on three-quarters of his oval face, you don't see him for a long time to confirm it since he does the same thing as most ghosts and disappears, although only from sight, you can be sure he's still there.

Private property is a concept foreign to many creatures and organizations. Just as a mosquito can invade your house at night and suck your blood while you sleep at risk of you crushing it with a clap, so can some equally intelligent but less regulated creature than a vampire. And if the government spies on you during the day, occult organizations spy on you at night, using that excuse or similar ones like protecting you and the integrity of the veil.

Poltergeists tend to do little more than watch people in silence, laugh in their faces and report any suspicious activity to the organization that employs them or to the rest of their ghost colleagues, assuming they are one of the few who don't work as spies for the deep state. Independent poltergeists can be worse, since depending on their intentions they can ruin any device they infect, fill it with trash, viruses, mine data and bitcoins or take all your university work and important files as hostages in exchange for what they or their partners ask for.

There are several ways to exorcise these technological spirits and ensure they never invade your home again, but without the appropriate tools and knowledge you risk ruining your own devices and making them unusable for both them and you. There are technicians specialized in the removal of poltergeists, but contacting them from a distance will be difficult now that your main means of communication is infected with the virus you need to eliminate and this will take care of frustrating any search or download you try to make. Your only remedy is to take the risk of being without a phone or to look for one of the electronics stores that only open at this hour.

>>2491
The second mouth does not return the food, but it also does not fully process it, leaving it stuck.

Now that his need is different, the baby no longer cries for you to come near and you no longer need to make a mental effort to move freely, only a physical effort so insignificant to dodge his fall that it cannot be called that.

The small giant, so coordinated and so agile as the baby he appears to be, has less mobility lying on his stomach than when he was sitting on the blanket. Since he doesn't even know how to crawl, the only thing he can do is keep crying, asking whoever listens to help him with his basic needs. Although he doesn't know how to communicate with words, you understand with his crying what he wants, you don't need any more instructions than his whining to know what you have to do.

The baby's flesh is not as tender as one would expect from a newborn nor as hard as others would imagine from a monster. What's most important is that they are responsive and do not flee from your touch.

With no other option but to accept the slaps and with less and less desire to escape from them, the baby cries until he stops coughing, flails until you stop singing for a moment, and stops, until you tickle him.

https://youtube.com/shorts/ZVB5iP5Liu8?si=ZG9CKWKgi8MSzcML▾
He laughs, and little by little he curls up, adopting a very appropriate fetal position for the cold of the alley, calming down at the same time that your lullaby becomes softer and your voice quieter. After having received the three c: food, care, and affection, the innocent little soul is ready to rest, all his needs and desires fulfilled.

https://youtu.be/C5kLMyeZjA8?t=155▾
You pray like any parent for your son while you watch the baby's body shrink in sleep, curling up and losing mass slowly with each breath until it becomes smaller than a normal baby, after which it seems to regress in its developmental stage, becoming an embryo and then disappearing completely from your sight touched by the veil. What does not escape your senses, however, is the unmistakable sound of heavy boots entering the alley.

You don't have to make much effort to find the man clad in heavy armor who enters through the only exit of the alley, but you do have to distinguish where the light that accompanies him comes from. The will-o'-the-wisp, as bright as a torch and of comparable size, floats a few steps ahead of the stranger, reflecting its light on the false silver face that hides the true one and highlighting the blood that stains it.

Crouched as you are over the blanket where the baby you were trying to calm once lay, the stranger stands out even more and the broadsword he carries even more threatening.

Silent is the night and many of those who walk under its scarce light. Although what sleeps on the other side of the veil has granted you senses capable of seeing beyond what a normal person can perceive, you cannot hear words where there are none nor extract more meaning from the gestures of a mute being any different from any other in your precarious position.

<Unknown: ...

Without a word, the stranger sheathes his sword several steps away from you and slows his pace, extending a gloved hand in leather to you. As he leans down to do that, you can see over his broad shoulder how another smaller figure stops at the entrance of the alley, following him, with a sword equally lighter in hand.

Happy Christmas. When the Star of Bethlehem crosses the sky to align with the others in the firmament, the old gods will awaken. In the meantime, it's good to use these days to rest ourselves. **https://youtu.be/aB39OqlJsm4?si=Xkbel-qfsw2gLwBo.****▾

>>2462
Profile

Name:
Haddām al-Nizām

Species:
Divine Vessel
A sculpture crafted from earthly materials and infused with the essence of the divine, serving as an avatar where a deity can descend, communicate with their followers, and perceive the mortal world with severely limited capabilities to avoid destroying the vessel with the magnitude of their incomprehensible essence

They lack human needs due to the essence infused within their being, and this same essence allows them to recover from any physical, mental, or spiritual injury, keeping them vigorous with energy, though this regeneration has its limits; the veil restricts its effect, making it very unlikely you'll see them during the day

Their divine essence causes their form to transmute over time, allowing them to receive more essence within their being, so that a simple stone figure could evolve into an articulated sculpture over the centuries. However, time is not the only way vessels can transmute; it can also occur through the prosperity of faith, influence over minds, and the perception of the masses. Other means include rituals or the absorption of other elements of a divine nature or the essence of supernatural beings

In any case, the form the vessel will assume depends mostly on the nature of its God and the ideas it holds about the vessel, and to a lesser extent, on the collective perception and collective memory

Some believe it is theoretically possible for a god to manifest all their mysteries in a vessel, if they can make their essence exist in the material world without destroying reality, whether through the accumulation of time, absorption, worship, or all three combined

Unfortunately, a convergent effect in the development of all vessels is that they develop their own personality and ideas; these always originate as minimal derivations barely perceived by the god or their closest priests

This poses a new challenge: while a vessel is loyal to its God at its origin, its experiences, relationship with its deity, ideas, and revelations can make it more of an ally than an avatar, and it can even become an independent entity that only shares the origin of its power with its deity, or an enemy

In such cases, the deity can sever the link with its vessel. If the vessel has consumed enough essence, it can survive without the sustenance of its deity; otherwise, it will perish. For cases like these and for security reasons, it is common for vessels to have a guardian who watches over the vessel and is responsible for activating its self-destruction mechanism if it has become rebellious

If the vessel has managed to survive all those security measures, the most usual outcome is that it seeks other deities to enter communion with for safety, or remains independent and seeks to transmute again and again in the hope of achieving apotheosis

This particular one is a vessel measuring three meters in a humanoid aspect, with a ruined constitution, wearing a tunic of tattered golden cloth, and its head is a resolute sun that emits only radiance, not heat; staring at it for too long causes a headache

Origin:
Knowledge
Ideas, concepts, information, knowledge, details, all of it flows through his mind like a river, going and coming, sometimes slow, sometimes fast, sometimes lost among other ideas but always related to the situation and context of the moment, even if it is information he doesn't know or cannot infer due to lacking direct or minimal relation, even if the ideas are harmful at first glance, all the knowledge in his mind is there to help him achieve his God's goals in one way or another

Origin:
Knowledge

History:
There is not much to say about this humble servant; my earliest memories go back to rituals. I was the medium through which men could communicate with my lord and vice versa. My lord asked and gave knowledge to his people, and through him, there was prosperity, but they were never numerous; that was their downfall.

The believers of the one called Allah attacked our believers, killed the men, drove us from our land, took the women and girls, and destroyed our temple.

I seemed to be consumed by flames, but my lord acted to save the only thing left of his people, and that wounded him mortally, reducing him to a tide of chaotic ideas and broken illuminations.

I was covered by the sands while time continued to advance until I dissolved for my being.

My mind was lost in ideas that would never be, but loneliness, importance, and above all, hatred tethered me to reality.

When I gained the strength to escape my prison of sand, I dug and dug, once and a thousand times, until the moon illuminated my eyes.

I walked among the sands without finding a destination. I thought there was no way out of this sea of dust, but when I was about to give up, someone found me—a creature, undoubtedly. It lacked any comprehensible form and spoke in hidden riddles. It offered me a deal: to give my strength to its service to rebuild my lord and propagate my faith.

Without thinking, I accepted, and my final and initial mission was given: destroy the order that rises above the heavens. With that idea, I proclaimed my name and was carried by arcane spells to this shadowed city.

My lord spoke to me coherently for the first time after so long and proclaimed that I must share his knowledge with all beings under the night, and that during the day I must remain hidden.

Accompanied by the glow of the stars in the stone, I walk while I follow the trail of men; they are the creature closest to me and the one I am most familiar with.

Alignment:
Chaotic Agent and in communion with the Tribe of the Forgotten Gods, a union of cults, mages, monsters, sentient artifacts, and representatives of Gods from ancient eras with the sole objective of destroying the veil and bringing the era of gods and demons so that they may have the freedom to pursue their ambitions as in antiquity. Their members, though currently few, are slowly gathering strength to launch their masterstroke while making moves in the darkness of the night

Statistics:
<Social: 1+(0)=1
<Physical: 1+(2)=3
<Mental: 1+(4)=5
<Spiritual: 1+(4)=5

Item:
Giant Sword of Repentant Illumination

An extension of the vessel, born through the concentration of the meaningless whispers and ramblings of its deity. When observed, heard, or wounded by this weapon, it infuses the mind of the person or being with knowledge. Such unrefined divine knowledge can drive one mad, make them a believer of the deity, or turn them to ash.

>>2493
Do well. I can take the effect of the sword as a completely narrative effect so that you don't have to decide to add any mechanical effect that affects the dice or the system. Since you are not human, your strength decreases to that of a normal person during the day or you can't appear in the city during those hours, I can leave that up to you if you want, the first turns will be at night anyway.

I'll be less busy from today on so I'll try to send your turn tomorrow around this time.

>>2493
https://youtu.be/0RnbafEnqN4?si=Dd3OAipqlp4DEgd7▾
The veil covering the city has two main functions: to keep on the other side beings that would endanger the inhabitants of Riverveil, and to hide from their sight what lies on that other side. One of the fastest ways to shatter the fragile equilibrium that sustains current society is to discover the truth so that as many people as possible know it, rendering the secret pointless; thus, someone like you is highly valuable to The Tribe of Forgotten Gods, with whom you are now involved since your return to the conscious world.

But just as the veil's weakness is obvious to those who seek to destroy it, it is also obvious to those who seek to protect it, and therefore there are multiple measures to ensure such a thing doesn't happen easily. The angels guarding the veil have thousands of eyes everywhere and millions of arms as long as they are strong. Groups larger than yours have perished trying to oppose the agents of order.

<Tobiel: That's why we're in this cemetery.

Your companion for the task of increasing the Tribe's numbers is a young man with skin almost as white as his hair, carrying a greatsword almost as large as he is—which isn't all that impressive since it barely reaches your mid-body.

<Tobiel: God declared we should opt for caution over impact. They won't be the most impressive followers, but they'll be faithful; that will suffice for us.

With his eyes always closed, the believer masterfully manipulates threads between his fingers, creating multiple translucent blue figures that slowly turn red each time he joins and separates his hands.

<Tobiel: From my blood to your blades...

With a final movement, the threads stretch across the entire cemetery and sink into the earth, soon emerging with several bodies hanging from them like puppets on their strings—initially as transparent as the cord binding them, but soon becoming as solid as rotting flesh struggling to cling to their yellowed bones.

Reanimated corpses tend not to be the strongest, smartest, or even the most loyal subjects; they're more like easy-to-get cannon fodder to throw against any enemy. Just making them follow orders can prove difficult on its own due to the number of bodies that must be controlled simultaneously to make them an effective and less brainless force. A horde of zombies without a direct controller is like a donkey without a rope—both can be dangerous but little useful. The comparison is quite apt in this case given the number of legs of the undead Tobiel raised.

Instead of an army of dead people, what they have in front of them are various species of animals, mostly breeds as harmless as poodles, pugs, chihuahuas, and pomeranians, with a few rottweilers or bulldogs mixed in; the latter are as numerous as the cats, birds, turtles, and snakes whose owners deigned to give them holy burial in the pet cemetery.

<Tobiel: You can start now.

Tobiel doesn't flinch since he shared the details of this plan with you, and even less so now that he sees it in action; he simply gives you the signal to test your sword on the reanimated animals and see if they can be made more useful as soldiers, thus relieving him of the burden of controlling them at every moment. The most he does is give you more justifications like...

<Tobiel: They're easier to maintain than people.

Or...

<Tobiel: It's mostly a test.

And even...

<Tobiel: We don't want to draw the attention of larger organizations.
And if that doesn't convince you, finish them off with...

<Tobiel: It is the word of God; I have no place to question it.

He crosses his arms, turning his head toward the bookstore they left a block away from where they arrived.

<Tobiel: Power and knowledge... Both equally useful. I would have liked to gather that kind of strength, but I'll have to do it in my spare time; this takes priority.

With ethereal bonds like straps around the animals' necks, Tobiel keeps them still while waiting for you to do your part. The night is dark and lonely, so your glowing head and the large number of gathered animals stand out too much for someone not to notice them after a while; they can't stay exposed forever.

Spiritual Roll: Roll 1d6+4 if you plan to do your part of the plan as agreed. If your roll is 5 or higher, you succeed, and the number of obedient animals equals your result.
Since your Spiritual and Mental stats are equally high, you can spend points from either one the first time you want to increase your roll result, but whichever you use first will be the one you continue using for the rest of the role.

https://youtu.be/gDQdD_JtvwA?si=sTYNhOGQ5Ni2jOP5▾
<Tobiel: Do you feel something...?

It's like a tremor. You first see the effect on the animals furthest back in the line, how their fragile bones sway even more than they were under the freezing winter wind. The animals that are free to act on their own, instead of waiting obediently to be baptized with your sword like the rest, run in circles, hide behind Tobiel, or bare their fangs toward the source of the tremors, which grow closer with each step of the hulking giant who soon emerges from the light of your head, even though his shadow looms over yours, since he stands more than one head taller than you.

<Giant: Grrr...

The man, with muscles so defined that it's impossible to find even a minimum percentage of fat in his ebony-black flesh, growls back at the gathered beasts, overpowering even the small pack between you and him in volume. To complete his savage appearance, the man, who wears nothing above the waist despite the weather, carries a crudely forged axe or sword that makes both yours and Tobiel's look pitiful in comparison regarding height.

<Tobiel: All of this is part of the plan...

He swallows hard.

<Tobiel: God's plan...

The giant doesn't waste another moment on warnings before raising the roughly crafted weapon against the animals. You have only a few seconds to act before he finishes them off and comes for you. Tobiel, for his part, orders as many bodies as he can to attack to buy them more time.

Turn 1
Physical Roll: Roll 1d6+1 if you plan to attack or flee using only your body.
Mental Roll: Roll 1d6+4 if you have an idea that could help you in this situation or any mental spell or technique.
Spiritual Roll: Roll 1d6+4 if you have any spiritual technique or unique ability you can use.

Roll to beat: 1d6+20 = 26
Support roll: 1d6+6 = 11 +5 spent points

In situations where you are accompanied by another character, they can add their dice result to yours to improve the probability of success.
You can make a single roll this turn or three, depending on whether you want to risk beating the current roll three times or wait to see if the enemy has a lower roll next turn. Any roll you make will receive the support roll from your companion.

"Successes: 0'
Failures: 0

>>2495
I made mistakes here. Spiritual rolls should be 1d6+5, physical rolls 1d6+3, and mental rolls 1d6+5. Go through sending turn just before leaving.

>>2495

In silence the sculpture analyzes the situation it finds itself in, it has its own reservations about this operation as well as its assigned partner by its partners. 

All because of the whispers of its master who warns of the danger it faces, more it keeps its words reserved out of basic courtesy and the fact that it was being tested to measure its capabilities 

If your master asked for caution, it has measured the risks of our operation but lacks the means or resources to overcome adversity without losing everything ¿Or am I wrong, Tobiel?

>In any case every god needs faithfuls, no matter how small or large they are, especially in this era lacking the faith of the masses

Witnessing the resurrection of the "Exercise" of dead beasts, it raises its hand to its luminous face as if wanting to touch its non-existent chin 

>How interesting to give the essence of life through threads, a monumental effort for such a small investment... certainly a waste but what can be done, something has to start 

>And man, please, don't make so many excuses just by saying, so your master asks, I'll help with your enterprise, we are both on the same boat until we have to part ways

>And regarding power and knowledge, don't worry, as long as you live, maintain the will to achieve it and can take advantage of the fortune of the heavens, eventually you will get what you seek

>Any man or beast can become a monster, if it lives long enough to reach the natural geniuses 

The vessel raised its greatsword with both hands, brought its hilt close to its small body and began to emit a sound foreign to any language of man 

.. .-.. ..- -- .. -. .- / ... ..- ... / -- . -. - . ... --..-- / --- .... / -- .. / ... . --- .-. .-.-.

The sound invaded the minds of those present, resonating like whispers and as time passed it began to take strength, in parallel the giant sword began to shine and vibrate as if speaking

Spiritual Roll: 1d6+5 = 7

The intensity of the glow of the vessel's head increases and decreases as it feels the movements of the earth

>This must be the danger that my master warned about and the real work for which we were sent to these lands, I would have preferred a natural disaster than a giant 
Fear, concern and tension were felt in the air more so the vessel was more irritated by fighting and losing part of its harvest for this night 

>I will need you to hold our friend the colossus of rodas for a few seconds, I have a spell that will turn the tide in our favor

The skeletal figure drove its sword into the ground with force and began to recite a set over and over again, and with each repetition a orange energy began to manifest over its being until it covered it completely 

-.-. -- --- / .- / .-.. .- / ...- .. -.. .- / . ... / -- ..- . .-. - . --..-- / -.-. --- -- --- / .-.. .- / - .. . .-. .-. .- / .- .-.. / -.-. .. . .-.. --- .-.-.

When reaching the zenith of its chant, it let out a scream and all the accumulated energy refined into bright letters that flew like arrows in direction of the giant to embed themselves in its skin

¡INVIERTE!

>If I cannot break my curse with its own magic, its vitality should be inverted, turning into a poison for its body 

Mental Roll: 1d6+5 = 11 +5 points spent

>>2497
<Tobiel: Be careful when you speak about what a god cannot do in front of his followers. You can understand the situation we are in, you, me, and the others.

He warns with a frown, though it doesn't last long, returning to the calmer expression he usually has.

<Tobiel: I'm saying this mostly for the others. It would be bad if we lost members because of a poorly chosen word.

The Tribe of the Forgotten Gods is made up of numerous groups of few faithful, each with different beliefs and temperaments, united by common interests. You can't be sure how easily your other companions might be offended, and it's not worth the loss to test their limits, according to Tobiel.

Instead of directly answering your question or justifying the capabilities and resources of his god, Tobiel simply nods to your assumption that every god needs believers.

<Tobiel: The threads are just appearance. It costs more than it seems.

Following the threads that bind the dead back to life to their origin, you find Tobiel's hands, suddenly bare of gloves and bleeding slightly wherever the threads touch them.

<Tobiel: The cost is still low, but it has limits.

Even though his bleeding continues, he doesn't use it as a reason to rush you, waiting with the same calm he uses to speak to you as you begin the work and releasing the hounds one by one until reaching the tenth, at which point you feel the footsteps of something approaching.

<Tobiel: What...? I think I understand what you mean, but it will be harder to convert him than twenty zombies.

Tobiel responds slowly to the situation. The arrival of the enemy surprises him so much that he takes time to grasp your words and act accordingly, launching the largest animals he has under direct control and the few that are faithful due to the sword's effect, hoping others will follow the example of the pack's most valiant members and join the fight.

<Giant: Groar!

The colossal weapon strikes the earth with more force than the heavy steps of its bearer upon arrival, knocking several animals off balance that aren't crushed directly. Some bones fly far from the epicenter of the blow as if propelled by an explosion, while others end up so flattened on the ground it's hard to believe they were once solid objects instead of bloody smears on the pavement.

But although strength is on the side of his opponent, numbers are on your side. Not losing morale as quickly as they lose members of the pack, the various animals encircle the largest prey, jumping more than one at a time against it from different directions, helping each other to shake the wild man's arms and legs from side to side as best they can, preventing his advance toward you and frustrating his next attacks for a few scant centimeters that are, however, enough to save more than one of them from being sent back to the grave.

<Giant: Grrr...

Roaring more out of frustration than anger or pain, the enemy stops his attacks against the corpses like someone giving up on killing a mosquito that keeps dodging his swats and simply lets himself be bitten by all at once while fixing his eyes on you, finally realizing that the army he commands is there only to distract him and not to actually harm him, as he is proven after feeling the countless teeth that bury themselves in his tough skin and how little they can do to stop him once he runs in your direction at full speed... only to run headfirst into the words you throw at him.
<Giant: Gh-!

The scream gets stuck in his throat. Unlike the fangs, the shining words seem to pierce his body more effectively, slicing through the muscle like a newly forged sword and leaving their marks burned into his skin like red-hot metal.

The technique makes him stop for a second, but not a second more. When that second ends, he is already back on the run, raising the axe above his head like a guillotine.

<Tobiel: Bonds that unite us, bonds that bind us...

With another sleight of hand, Tobiel unties the threads of the remaining animals and turns them into chains to capture the giant, from whose jaws they hang. The massive chains, just like the threads before, are attached to the wrists of both hands like handcuffs, restricting his movements to the point of almost breaking them under their weight.

<Tobiel: bonds that suffocate us.

Despite the weight threatening to break more than just his hands, Tobiel raises them around his own neck and tightens, thereby tightening the chains that surround the giant's arms, legs, and neck, pinning him to the ground for as long as the cultist can hold his breath or the prisoner takes to free himself with his own strength. With how much both of them are thrashing, you don't think that's going to last much longer.

<Giant: Gr...

You hear, and feel, the enemy in front of you breathing low, murmuring like an old engine struggling to start or a chainsaw seconds away from fully engaging. The eyes of his deformed face, though one white and seemingly blind and the other with a yellow iris surrounded by an unnaturally black sclera, are dangerously piercing, free of any fear of looking directly into your face at point-blank range or anything else in the world, probably also free of any rational thought or deeper feeling than the desire to crush whatever is in front of him.

The enemy's intentions are clear with a single silent look, and his eagerness to fulfill them in the way he drags his feet, still shackled by fetters, toward you.

Turn 2
Physical Roll: Roll 1d6+3 if you plan to attack or flee using only your body.
Mental Roll: Roll 1d6+1 if you have an idea that could help you in this situation or some mental spell or technique.
Spiritual Roll: Roll 1d6+5 if you have some spiritual technique or unique ability you can use.

Roll to beat: 1d6+10 = 16
Support roll: 1d6+6 = 11

Since you didn't say which statistic you would spend points on and if you used Mental you would have had to roll 1d6+0+5 for the points spent that same turn, I will take Spiritual as the statistic you spend to add points to other rolls.
For every 5 total points in the Mental statistic you can learn a technique or spell that affects rolls, statistics, or conditions for a moment of action, but you can only use one per moment of action for every 5 points you have. So with 10 points you could learn 2 techniques and use each of the two once.
For this turn I decided to give the mental roll you made the effect of halving the enemy's next physical roll, guided by what you wrote.

"Successes: 1'''
Failures: 0
Spiritual: 1/5

>>2498
Another error in the rolls. Mental should be the 1d6+5 and Spiritual the 1d6+1. Although regardless of which one you use, you pass the roll with the results that Tobías and Goliat had.

>>2492
Short turn

And with that, the child... fades into calm. I finish my speech and wipe a tear with the sleeve of my shirt. Oh sir, why? Why is the world so cruel to the helpless? Sometimes I repeat these annoyances to myself every night as I walk through this city of sin.

"¿...?"

Then I notice some footsteps, someone was coming here. A man with armor and a mask of the same iron. He was armed, but, he wasn't a threat. I look at his metal face, and take his hand to lift myself off the ground, and with that I look confused behind him, noticing another smaller figure. A teenager? He also has a machete, so I hope they won't steal my Nokia MilCien.

"....."

I raise my eyebrow confused, although my face was still in mourning. Between Batman and Robin these two who don't speak, and me who is autistic and wants to be mysterious, we say nothing. But aside from the joke, I don't know if they wanted something or what, so I support my hand on the armored man's shoulder as a friendly goodbye and continue my way out of the alley, I had to sit for a while on the hammocks of the park nearby.

>>2498

Even if the giant showed his intention just centimeters from his face, the vessel only returned his gaze with apathy as if this colossus were a piece of meat for the

<Prepare your sword, Tobiel

<You won't last long enough for me to do a clean job on our intruder but a leg should be a prosperous start to come back to this giant in a meat and organ generator

Without any patience, the vessel's sword rose high in her hand and her recitation resonated like a whisper in the wind

--- .... / ... . --- .-. --..-- / .- ..-. .. .-.. .- / -- .. / .... --- .--- .- / -.-- / .-.. .- / -.-. .- .-. -. . / -.. . / -- .. ... / . -. . -- .. --. --- ... / ... . .-. / ... ..- -.-- .- .-.-.

Magic energy flowed through the blade until it swallowed her, bathing her in a purple glow that moved like fire and significantly increased its size

In a swift movement, the Vessel lifted into the air and like a guillotine, her sword descended upon the giant's iron skin to sever his right leg with a single cut

Mental Roll: 1d6+5 = 10

Sorry for the delay OP, there were work matters IRL and I haven't had time or headspace for anything

I'm confused about the rolls and the points, by experience I understand that I won't be able to use them again until the next combat or they recharge by turns and regarding the spells, do they have cooldowns or are they just single-use in combat

>>2500
In contrast to the earlier noise, the silence now in the alley is so deafening it feels unnatural, even though one tends to associate night with silence.

The first stranger helps you up by the hand that isn't injured before the second one catches up. Judging by the movement of that other's helm, you can guess he glances at you sometimes and other times at the one you assume is his partner; you can't be sure since both have their faces covered.

Neither blocks your path when you decide to leave the alley, nor do they follow you immediately, letting you settle on the first bench you find and feel the adrenaline drain from your body like the blood still flowing from your open wound, now more noticeable.

Direct contact with the night wind makes the liquid feel terribly cold on your skin; the air itself reactivates the pain every time it blows on your hand. The increase in sensitivity comes with a decrease in mobility. For all you try, you can't close your fingers properly to make a fist, but you're not sure how much of that is your body refusing to do so to avoid causing more pain. Maybe it's a good idea to see a doctor; some hospital must be open at this hour. At the very least, you can do something to stop the bleeding before the rest of your body turns as pale as your palm, assuming you don't want to palm it.

<Stranger: ...?

The same stranger from before also notices your problem and offers you a round glass vial with a bubbling red liquid inside. You don't recognize any medicine that looks like that, and the vial has no label or mark you recognize; you only guess you have to apply it to the wound like an ointment, as the stranger points with his index finger.

<Strangeress: Put that away.

You notice the other person you saw in the alley leave before she's right in front of you; you also notice from her voice and her face, now visible with her visor raised, that she's a woman.

<Strangeress: How many times have I told you not to waste flasks like that? Especially with a stranger and so close to the church.

Though her face is made of flesh instead of steel, this woman is even less friendly than the man accompanying her. In no time you discover that her frown isn't just from scolding her colleague, but that it's her natural expression even when she offers more kind words.
<Unknown: I introduce myself. My name is Emmanuela. I am a sister of the Mediating Order. You may have seen me.

She makes a gesture with her hand over her chest to introduce herself, and another with the same hand toward the front to present the church behind you, across the park, on the other side of the street. When you look at her again, she is offering you bandages from her belt.

<Emmanuela: Unfortunately, I lack medical skills, so this is the best I can offer. I recommend you stop by our convent; our sisters are more discreet and skilled than conventional doctors...

She lowers her gaze directly to the coin-sized hole piercing the top of your palm almost through to the back.

<Emmanuela: If you don't, you might lose the use of that hand, or it could take months to fully recover.

Roll 1d6+6 if you want to try praying until you heal.

<Unknown: ...

The other character present says not a word throughout the conversation. The only sound you hear from him is the flask being put back into his belt, and the only thing you see him do is look left and right down the street as if searching for something to distract himself with, until he finds it and raises his hand to wave goodbye before heading off in that direction. Whether you return the greeting or not, Emma notices his departure and gives him a quick glance before returning her attention to you.

<Emmanuela: My sister stripped herself of her name as part of a penance, so now we call her "You"...

She quickly turns toward the one leaving and shouts with her hands cupped around her mouth.

<Emmanuela: Hey, You! It's rude to leave in the middle of a conversation! At least don't go too far...

She mutters the last part through gritted teeth with a sigh, turning back to you with the same constipated expression.

<Emmanuela: As you may have noticed, I'm quite busy right now, so I can't even take you to my sisters myself, but please do go.

She covers her face again with the visor and draws her sword, preparing in advance for whatever might be pursuing her sister outside the park.

<Emmanuela: Is there anything else I can offer you before I leave?

>>2501
It's hard to gather a variety of different people and expect them to get along, even more so if they differ on such a delicate topic as religious beliefs. Making sure these differences or the ignorance one has about others' customs doesn't break the tribe's balance can be as complicated as waking the old gods, even with help.

Prepare your sword, Tobiel.
<Tobiel: ...
<Giant: ...

With both combatants silent for the moment, the only response you get is your companion tilting his head in your direction and your enemy exhaling another heavy sigh like fog over your head. Both seem to grasp what you're plotting, however, judging by their reactions.

The sequence of events happens in fractions of a second. First, the chains reposition, applying their full weight onto the enemy's left leg, pinning it to the ground with stakes like a tent. Second, you take Tobiel's sword, previously embedded vertically in the ground to free him from its weight while he did his hand tricks. Third, you execute a cut from two opposite directions in sync with your companion: your sword descends onto the giant's ready and tensed member while Tobiel's chained sword rises to meet it halfway, with a few centimeters of separation to avoid steel-on-steel clash but guaranteeing a double chop on the limb like a pair of kitchen shears cutting meat ready to be consumed.

But you're not the only ones taking advantage of the opportunity to act, because the prey you thought cornered lowers its own sword and unexpectedly stops resisting the moment you prepare your attack, adopting a low stance with the only leg temporarily free of chains planted firmly on the ground and shoulders forward like a quarterback about to tackle.

You have no time to celebrate the successfully amputated member, because as soon as the enemy is freed from it—and consequently from the chains—its entire body shoots forward with greater speed than a bullet and greater impact than an air missile, propelled both by the strength of its leg on the ground and the sudden release of the other.
There is little you can do as defense against such an immediate counterattack; you barely manage to position your sword in front of you again in an attempt to block, but this little you manage to do is enough to save you from the direct impact of the giant's flesh against yours, though not enough to stop the giant cannonball that carries you from the park to the next street and then through a shop window, both of which your bodies shatter before landing in separate parts of the establishment.

While the cashier's sturdiest table stops your flight without causing you significant injuries, your adversary knocks down more than three bookshelves before crashing into the back wall of the bookstore and rising among the remains of decomposed animals and discarded books, using his sword-axe as a cane to lean on.

The limping beast doesn't need to scan the abandoned shop for more than two seconds before spotting the light of your head amidst the darkness. It takes even less time to take its next action, effortlessly grabbing half of one of those same bookshelves it broke upon entry and hurling it at you, only to take three more and do the same, each time without even waiting to see if the previous one hit the mark.

You don't see the companion who until now was helping you contain the superior strength of the opponent, nor do you have time to search for him or wait for him; the only indication that he is still alive and aware of your situation are the skeletal remains of his animals, which unexpectedly reform around the giant, each bone joining together like a long spine that wraps around the giant's body in a final effort to hold him back.

Turn 3
Physical Roll: Roll 1d6+3 if you plan to attack or flee using only your body.
Mental Roll: Roll 1d6+5 if you have any idea that could help you in this situation or any spell or mental technique.
Spiritual Roll: Roll 1d6+2 if you have any spiritual technique or unique ability you can use.

Roll to beat: 1d6+20 = 23
Support roll: 1d6+3 = 7 +10 For Spell

'"Successes: 2'''
Failures: 0
Spiritual: 2/5

You can spend Spiritual points to increase the result of a roll each turn if you want, but you recover only one point per turn. Since you spent all your points two turns ago but haven't used them again, Spiritual is currently at 2 instead of 5, which is the total value of your statistic. They are single-use per combat. Combats shouldn't last more than 6 turns at most, so it's simpler to do it this way than having to count the turns since the last time a spell was used.

>>2503

La Vasija wanted to proceed to continue with the illumination of Tobiel as his understanding of it but retracted his voice considering that his words had to be processed in his companion's psyche, if he continued with his discourse, he would only be imposing his ideas on the boy and that would be unsustainable in the long run

The Illumination after all is born from a single one and in an instant, only that the pieces are already distributed

The moments leave no room for thought, only for instinct and by it he let himself be guided by the Vasija to counteract the tackle of the giant

Slowly the Vasija rose in this nine stage scenario, his body ached slightly but he felt as though his entire being was numb from the impact and the force with which he was dragged in this book store

Like a dog on the prowl, the giant's gaze met the mage's in less than an instant and even in his state he was ready to continue with the fight

He started throwing debris and every bulky object he had at hand to try to suffocate you with projectiles of pure physical force

Despite being alone in this situation, the influence of his companion still remains in this battlefield through his magic to restrain the beast but it won't be for long

The impacts that the Vasija would suffer are impossible without excluding the opportunity that Tobiel offered him and for that reason

He entered his mind to channel a large amount of energy into his being while the hits accumulated in his body but he remained firm to his will, even falling on his knees from the wounds that were accumulating

The energy that he had gathered was so palpable that a purple aura covered his body and pulsed in rhythm with a heartbeat

In an instant all that energy disappeared and a purple cross manifested at the height of the "Face" of the Vasija

..-. ..- .-.. --. --- .-. .-.-.

Tríada Mental: 1d6+7 = 12

Expenses my two points

A beam of light broke from inside the cross, lightning everything that was in front of it, there was no sound that warned of what was coming, the thunderous sound of that lighthouse resonated while it disappeared into nothingness but its light illuminated the night for a moment with a purple so pristine that it could be observed from a distance

The Vasija didn't know if his spell melted the giant into mere ashes like everything it destroyed but he doubted it, the most probable considering his feats or it evaded it or carried it several blocks away

>>2505
Although heavy and undoubtedly harmful, the solid wood furniture the giant hurls at you are poor projectiles, and he himself is no better a marksman. The wounds that knock you to your knees ultimately save you from sustaining new ones when a bookshelf flies over your bowed head while another crashes harmlessly against the desk in front of you, causing little more than noise and destruction of private property.

The moment the dogs' bones clamp around the giant's body like a straitjacket is when you seize the chance to counterattack, firing a beam of scorching light that turns the pitiful projectile the enemy tries to hurl at you... and also his sword... and the cement walls of that shop and the one behind it... into ash.

Although the attack is as silent as light itself, the destructive effect it has on everything it sweeps across is not. After the roar of walls and other belongings breaking, you hear the crackling of burning books and furniture, along with a fire alarm that barely lets you hear your own ragged breathing and your companion's comments once he rejoins you.

<Tobiel: Huff... I think...

He needs a moment to catch his breath after the run he made to get to you, and another to confirm you're unharmed.

<Tobiel: You were right. I should have just believed in God and followed His orders without doubting they would lead us down the right path.

With remarkable calm for the situation, he crouches to pick up one of the books that weren't destroyed during the scuffle and tucks it under his robe.

Even though you can't see the unmistakable figure of the individual who just attacked you with such enthusiasm, not even through the holes he punched in the walls of two establishments with his body, Tobiel is certain of his victory.

<Tobiel: One advantage of non-human undead is that some retain their senses.

Near the believer are still a few of the zombies he raised from the pet cemetery, a couple of them tugging on the enemy's dismembered leg like a game of tug-of-war.
<Tobiel: I wouldn't have needed it to track him, but it helps speed things up. And right now we need to be fast.

Above the fire alarm and the noise of automatic sprinklers spraying water all over the establishment, you can already hear another kind of alarm in the distance, which grows closer with each passing second. Whether it's the fire department or the police coming, it's not in their interest to stay there to find out.

<Tobiel: Do you need help?

As a sign of consideration for your wounds, however slight they may be, he offers you his shoulder to lean on if you need it to leave the place.

Using the holes opened during your last attack as escape routes, the two of you make your way through the neighboring stationery store, almost as destroyed as the bookstore, to reach the next block where, at the end of the long trench that burned out your light before going out, lies the motionless body of the giant, his skin even blacker than before due to the heat.

<Tobiel: He's... alive.

Losing some of the confidence with which he approached the enemy's body to confirm that, he takes another step back and lets his animals sniff him cautiously.

The colossus isn't even unconscious. His eyes, which a few moments before you entered the scene were calmly watching the stars, fix on you again, devoid of the anger they had before. Although the rest of his limbs are still attached to his body, the only thing he seems able to move are his eyes, and the last thing he does with them is close them.

<Tobiel: We won't have time to do anything with him; we have to take him before someone else comes.

Carrying such a bulky being won't be an easy task, especially with a time limit. For their luck, they have more than a pack of corpses to help them, as the long door emerging from the center of the street informs them, piercing the earth like a ghost until it rises three meters above it and materializes completely.

<Tobiel: It's for us.

No one comes out of the door, and the door itself doesn't open, but Tobiel is sure it's safe to cross it and sets about lifting the fallen giant along with his animals while leaving you the task of opening the double door.

>>2506

A faint gust of warm air emerged from the "Head" of the Vessel, its size increasing and decreasing in sync with the movement of its chest, revealing clearly the lack of strength in its being.

To avoid falling like a broken branch onto the ground, it drove its sword into the ruined soil in a movement that barely contained force and took it as an anchor.

That being could barely hear what was being said around it, a result of the cacophony resonating in its ears, and due to this state, it did not perceive the arrival of its companion at first, but hearing his tired voice gave it an idea of how he had arrived at the site.

The Vessel does not respond, only looking at the horizon through the holes it has opened, waiting for danger, but by the attitude that its companion left on the surface, it was tacit that he believed the battle had already ended.

Despite its sense of caution warning it to remain alert, it decided to throw a coin into the air, having faith in its companion's judgment.

<That's useful and new, in my time necromancy only produced corpses similar to golems.

Seeing that the undead carried with them the leg severed from the giant, he raised his right thumb in approval of their action.

Upon catching a clearer sound of alarm, he deduced that this was the reason why his sense of caution was so alert.

<No, he could still walk but I'll have to walk somewhat slowly, my muscles are a bit bruised from the hits.

Seeing his companion's offer, the Vessel hesitated for a moment before letting out a sigh and stretching his hand around Tobiel's shoulder.

<However, I accept your help.

Supported by the albino, the Vessel walked along a path of destruction until it came across the corpse of its enemy, or so it thought, until his companion proclaimed the opposite.

<Hmm?

He was not the only one with doubts and for safety, he was already gathering his magic to cast a spell into its mind to neutralize the colossus charred, if it was indeed pretending to be dead to catch them off guard.

When Tobiel's animals probed the terrain and made it clear that it was safe for the moment due to the pitiful state the giant was in, the humanoid considered it viable to carry out his original plan despite the risk approaching from a distance.

His companion's words were a tacit confirmation of his ideas, and he was already planning to use a spell to lighten the load they would have to carry the pack of dogs, but apparently, luck was on their side or he had drawn too much attention with his magic for them to be picked up with a magical door.

Under other circumstances, he would have been more skeptical about his companion's words, but at this point, he was tired and had barely any magic left in his circuits to keep himself upright.

Therefore, he had little to lose and with that mindset, he approached calmly to the door and opened it with both hands.

While making that physical effort, the whispers of his master intensified as if resonating with the magic, their content were certainties that he could not understand due to the lack of a clear context, perhaps it was a prediction of who was the owner of such teleportation magic or what could happen next.

>>2507
>That's useful and new; in my time, necromancy only produced golem-like corpses.
<Tobiel: Technology isn't the only thing that's advanced in those years.

As soon as you accept your companion's support and place your hand on his shoulder, both of you notice something.

<Tobiel: Hm... This is a problem.

The height difference between you and the diminutive Tobiel is too great for you to lean on him without bending over to the point where you'd almost have to crouch for him to carry you completely; his physical capacity also leaves much to be desired when it comes to supporting your weight, so he's not a very good support point.

Seeing the predicament they're in, a large Dane in a severe state of decomposition slips his head between the believer's legs and forces him onto his back, closing the gap between their heights and helping with the load.

<Tobiel: I suppose animals are useful for this too.

With you leaning on Tobiel and Tobiel leaning on his dog-horse, you arrive at the point where the giant sinks into the ground, inert but still conscious.

With the threat of approaching fire and police sirens, a route of escape comes down from the sky, or rather, rises from the underworld. Despite the mysterious nature of this timely door, Tobiel asks you to open it without voicing any suspicions.

Letting go of your ally and him letting go of the dog carrying him so you can open the door while he drags his enemy's body through the portal, they abandon the crime scene.

<Tobiel: This is good. Just like not-

His words are cut off once he crosses the doorframe. Through the open gate, you only see darkness, even after your companion walks through it; the only thing you can do is have faith and do the same as him.

https://youtu.be/hTQFX_g63WU?si=CMh72-P5sraGOUgM▾
The darkness clears once you're on the other side, but not for long. With no stars beyond the high ceiling above your head, the glow of that same ceiling is the only thing illuminating the vast room. Adorning the interior of the room is only an altar on low steps, currently sealed behind some bars, with some candles and torches currently extinguished.

<Dog: Woof!
You hear the quiet, raspy bark coming from the barely functional throat of a dog to your left, and then you see it leave through the doorless archway connecting to a hallway leading to the back of the building.

Following the guide hound a few more steps in the same direction and crossing a small exterior garden, both of you enter a kind of living room that is less spacious but better lit, furnished, and occupied. Tobiel, his dogs, the giant, and five other people are already waiting there; most are people you know only by name and have seen only once, just before setting out on your mission with Tobiel.

You recognize the building you are currently in, but not this room or the last one you visited. You are in the same church where you first woke up after so many centuries, the same one where you have been resting since then, and from which you had not departed until tonight to contribute for the first time to the group that took you in.

The difference between this meeting and the first ones you had in the underground catacombs with these same people is that you are no longer so weakened as to need to rest there or receive constant care from the tribe's healers, despite what your current lack of energy might suggest.

<Hart: So, are we all here?

The man with the red leather mask stands up from his seat as soon as he sees you enter and asks the youngest girl in the place, who detaches herself from the dog she is petting for only a second to nod at him.

<Tobiel: We completed our mission.
<Gene: You can tell. Didn't you bring more than what you went to look for?
<Hart: They also brought less.

The second person with a leather mask, who was already standing observing the still-living body you brought, is a member of the same cult as Hart and the second tallest person you have known since you woke up, measuring a few centimeters less than you but possessing much more muscle mass to compensate. While she tends to wear sportswear and speak just as casually, her companion prefers cheap suits and fewer words in general, preferring to let her explain what both of them mean.
<Gene: Yeah, yeah, that's it. The big guy's cool, but didn't they come looking for us like an army or something?
<Tobiel: God tells me the path I must take, not the destination I'll reach.
<Harland: I think it's better. Quality over quantity, as I've always said.

The knight dressed in a suit whiter than his hair and far more elegant than Hart's nods in favor of you, joining Gene to examine the body sprawled on the ground of the giant they captured. Besides having a pair of glasses instead of a mask to adorn his face, the old man also differs from the previous two by his status, being a more important member of the cult he belongs to.

<Harland: Having few soldiers, but strong ones, is better than having a bunch of weaklings.

Saying this, he puts his hands on the body, palpating the muscles with a greedy look.

<Harland: Meat like this could feed a platoon for weeks if rationed properly.

You see him run his tongue over his pristine teeth for just a second, and you'd almost swear the organ is the same size as a cow's, if not even bigger. The others don't share his enthusiasm.

<Harland: It's a bit overcooked, but I know how to fix that.
<Hart: What a waste.
<Gene: Exactly! If we're going to dismember it, let's use the remains to make something better, like weapons or clothes.

Death is, for many religions, an important topic. Although opinions on what to do with the dead vary between burying them, burning them, sacrificing them, or exposing them to scavenging birds atop a mountain, the members of the tribe you now belong to have more pragmatic ideas, preferring to exploit death for the cult's benefit. It is these very beliefs that led them to find you and dig you up from the site where the sands of time buried you.

<Rosalía: It wasn't you who found him. Let them decide.

With a voice as calm as it is bored and without removing her hands from the rotting cadaver she's stroking, the blonde girl interrupts the discussion between the other cultists, giving the floor back to Tobiel.
<Tobiel: Let Adam decide what happens.

He has the bad habit of not being able to pronounce your name properly.

<Hart: He said "they".
<Gene: That's right. You helped bring this thing here too. Don't you have your own opinion?

Tobiel pauses for a second, weighing the question without changing his expression.

<Tobiel: God said to leave the decision to Adam.
<Gene: I don't like how you say "God", as if yours is the only one. What if we ask our own what we should do?
<Harland: Relying on gods for everything seems more disrespectful. We don't need to bother them to decide any little thing.
<Maid: Yes.

The other girl in the room opens her mouth only to agree with the man. "Maid," as everyone calls her in the absence of a proper name, is a bit older than Rosalía and much quieter than anyone else, though this is due to a lack of vocabulary. Her face tends to be less expressive due to the defective technique used to preserve her body after her first death 500 years ago. She shows more interest in conversations involving the gods.

<Rosalía: Decide quickly what you're going to do with him, please. If someone is looking for him, we'll be found soon if we don't hide him.

Rosalía looks much better preserved than her companion; this is because she died fewer years ago and her "father" used a more advanced embalming technique, which remains a secret for those outside her family. The church they use as their base of operations was obtained thanks to a deal the girl's father made with certain Catholic churches several years ago, involving incorrupt corpses that are now considered saints or miraculous by the general public.

<Hart: Okay.
<Gene: We can hide the body where no one will find it; just tell us beforehand if you want us to turn it into something useful. We'll give you the largest parts.

The woman is the only one continuing to negotiate; the rest just wait in silence for you to decide what to do with the giant so they can move on to other matters of tonight's meeting.

>>2508
Yes. I had written a turn, I thought it would be longer and that I would have to sit down another day to finish it, but when I read it again I realized I could leave it where it was and upload it. If you're someone interested, the character sheet is still the same as above, I don't have that many turns to respond to but I'm also not as free as when I opened the roleplay so the responses probably will take longer.

>>2509

The situation that was presented to the Vasija was one that he was familiar with, in a known environment and with slightly known figures, not that he was ungrateful to those who pulled him out of the arena but his intentions were as clear as water and time really pressed for him to take a moment to think or analyze

I want to turn him into a meat factory, organs, and living blood

With the vitality he has shown in combat, golems made from him will be effective in quality, if not count the profitability that we can bring from the sale of his organs, the scientific or magical or medical advances by unraveling the secrets behind his strength

I know they will say and although it doesn't seem like it, our prize still lives

The tall being knelt down to get closer to the charred piece of meat and placed his hand on its chest

He channeled his magical energy into his hand and transferred it to the giant, most of the flow would be lost due to the low efficiency of the transfer but what remained would be enough to give him a spark of energy to demonstrate his point if he dared to bring the conflict

I'm a bit rusty OP but here goes

>>2511
>I want to turn him into a factory of living flesh, organs, and blood
I know they'll say, and although it doesn't seem so, our prize is still alive
<Giant: !...!

Like Frankenstein's monster after being struck by lightning, the no-less-monstrous giant throws his eyes wide open and rises as fast as lightning the moment your energy courses through him, extending his hand toward your neck.

<Gene: Where do you think you're going?

The two masked ones leap onto the giant almost at the same instant he's already collapsing onto the coffee table behind you, breaking it along with the fishbowl that was placed there before the other two fall on him and pin him against the splintered remains on the living room floor.

The enemy, still alive but once again devoid of energy, stays put without needing Gene to put her knee on his back or Hart threatening his head with the ivory hammer.

<Rosalía: Can you get him out of here, please?
<Gene: We're going to need a very big door and a very small place to lock this one up.

With notable weariness on her face and a goldfish in her hands, Rosalía asks them to hurry up again, and Gene is the one who responds. Once again, a door opens in the floor right in front of you, only this time horizontally. Just by opening the gate, the giant's body falls directly into an abyss of darkness and lands without a doubt in a distant place whose location you don't know for now.

<Rosalía: Thanks.
<Tobiel: Does anyone else want a glass of water?

The girl thanks them at the same time the door opens and they give her a new container for the homeless goldfish. Despite the moment of shock that left several messes on the wet floor and splashed more than one person, everyone sits back down to continue the meeting.

<Harland: Business is going well, but it could go better.
Harland is a member of a cult with few followers, but each one of them holds great importance and economic power. His fast-food companies are successful internationally, so much so that they have recently expanded into other types of markets, and as a consequence, he has gained new competitors.

<Harland: If you need anything more from us or from me specifically, tell me immediately. I have some rival companies that it would do us all good to sabotage.
<Rosalía: We still don't have enough strength for a large-scale attack.
<Gene: And for a medium-scale attack? You've been denying the proposal to the gentleman for weeks; we should have grown at least a little by now.
<Rosalía: Not enough.
<Gene: Well, I'm getting tired of always doing small jobs; I want to move faster to finally feel like we're getting somewhere. If Harland wants to attack someone, I support him.
<Hart: Same here.
<Tobiel: I won't be able to join something like that for the moment.

The project Harland describes is a direct attack on the production lines of a pharmaceutical company that has dealings with other organizations within the city. Besides benefiting him as an entrepreneur, this action could reward them with several high-quality products and weaken very powerful enemies of the cult if they succeed. On the other hand, if they fail, they could attract the attention of those enemies before they have amassed enough strength to face them, and the safest outcome is that they would have to disperse and keep a low profile for a while, further hindering their growth.

To align with the tribe's current capabilities and prevent fights they are unlikely to win, Harland proposes a midnight infiltration plan. Enter,
do as much damage as possible, take what they can get, and leave before anyone shows up.

<Rosalía: If you decide to proceed with that plan, remember to inform us beforehand. The support we will give will be minimal, but what you want to do affects all of us.
The matter ends up in a middle ground, with half of those present in favor and half against, not counting your opinion and that of other high-ranking officials from the respective cults who might become interested in the mission later.

<Gene: It was the same as always for us. We caught some, made fur coats out of them; we didn't find others, we extracted information from some... A boring night.
<Rosalía: I assume you left no evidence.
<Hart: No.

Even though they're called cleaners, Hart and Gene always arrive at meetings covered in various mixtures of fresh stains and reeking of death, which is why Rosalía tends to give them a skeptical look.

<Rosalía: If you get bored of the names we give you, we can send you to look for someone above your level, co-

Gene jumps up from his seat.

<Gene: Oh, we don't mind! So-
<Rosalía: On the condition that someone else accompanies them.

Gene sits back down, losing his enthusiasm again.

<Gene: We don't need help.
<Rosalía: We need a guarantee. Not to help them, but to clean you up if they catch you.
<Gene: Yeah, yeah... Who's going to be it?
<Rosalía: Whoever volunteers, or whoever you find yourselves.
<Gene: What about Don-
<Doncella: No.

With the cleaners receiving the same kind of mission as always, Harland maintaining his business and gathering information, and Tobiel attending to internal affairs of his own cult, everyone has something to do until the next report, and they're free to leave the church or stay behind to clean up the remnants of the table. Most choose to go to another room.

<Rosalía: Hey, you forgot... This is heavy.
<Doncella: Yeah.

The girl is, as usual given her shorter legs, the last to leave the room. Because of her height, she's also the first to notice the severed leg lying hidden under the sofa where they had rested before the giant it belonged to. Even though she tries to get the others' attention, the weight of the limb is too much for her to even drag it into the light without Doncella's help. The short effort leaves her panting anyway before you approach her.
<Rosalía: Ha... Haddām... Can you tell me where you're hurt, or come down to my level so I can see you?
<Doncella: Yes.

Aside from being the one with the most knowledge in corpse treatment and in charge of strengthening the animals Tobiel brought, Rosalía is also the one who has been keeping track of your recovery since you woke up. She has enough experience with bodies to perceive your lack of strength and your minor wounds at a glance, although her stature, that of a child under five years old, prevents her from doing many things, in which Doncella helps her, even if she doesn't ask out loud, like now when she lifts her in her arms like a baby without telling her.

<Rosalía: I already told you I don't like being carried!

Doncella finally puts the girl down on the floor, and she gives up, giving you instructions to come see her under the church whenever you want her to examine you, or whenever you want to examine the test subject you captured. Tobiel approaches you after the two girls leave.

<Tobiel: Do you have any way to communicate with the others at a distance? I don't know if this will help you.

He taps the earpiece device he always wears on his head with his finger. You don't remember hearing him speak even once with anyone through the communicator, nor have you caught any sound coming from it.

<Tobiel: I can investigate another way if you don't have one; we're going to need it. I'll stay here tonight; if you need to talk to someone today, I can pass the message along.

Tobiel and his dogs also have the catacombs as their destination, where you've been spending your nights, so wait for some response from you before going down there with them.

You can roll dice for any statistic even if he doesn't ask, if you plan to do something that affects the plot during your turn. If you don't use them, the effect of what you try to do will be minimal.

>>2513
I'm still here, if someone wants to send a file I'll respond.

>>2514
I send you a card

Stats: 10 points to add as you like.
Item (Optional):
A silver hand mirror, I don't know what it could change, kek, I was thinking something for the spiritual stats

Also sending sheet
Stats:
<Social: 1+(2)
<Physical: 1+(4)
<Mental: 1+(3)
<Spiritual: 1+(1)

>>2515
No problem with the sheet. Not all vampires in the role are the same as the traditional ones, but it's okay to be like you are.

Since Physical and Mental are equally high, you can use either one to increase the result of rolls, but the statistic you use will be the same one you use for the rest of the role.

The object can do any narrative or mechanical thing you can think of, such as increasing stats, saving from a failure, subtracting stats from an enemy, recovering spent points faster, letting you roll 10-sided dice instead of 6-sided, among other things.

>>2516
All good. Physical is your highest statistic so those are the points you can spend to increase the result of any roll within the role. Objects are optional so you can end up without one or choose it later. I'll send turns between today and tomorrow if the lights don't go out again.

>>2517
>you can use either one to increase the result of the rolls, but the statistic you use will be the same one you'll use for the rest of the roll.
I choose physique then

>mirror
Can I use it to roll d10 of spirit instead of 6?

>>2515
Not everyone comes into the world the same way; some of us arrive by accident. Those forced into the world without consent, abandoned the moment they're born, face a hard life. Your case is one of these—the accident that brought you into the world behind the veil was the very same one that destroyed your family and your old life with them.

Not only with a new life, but as a new form of life, your way of moving through the hidden world beneath the veil is so alien to what you once knew that you're just as lost as a newborn, even if you have more tools to survive.

Your new needs, abilities, and disabilities don't come with an instruction manual, and you don't have the time to learn everything about your new body through instinct and trial alone. You already know this is a world in constant, rapid motion—one where you can lose everything in a single night, even if you're careful.

With no direction, no guide, and nothing but a pocket mirror and the clothes on your back, you wander the night searching for the one responsible for making it impossible for you to even walk under the sun without suffering lethal burns or do any of the things that once made up your daily routine. Your old life is gone. All you have left are the cravings for revenge against the one who destroyed it, and the thirst that clouds your judgment.

Your former home is now off-limits due to police investigation, and most homeless shelters are either too overcrowded or too unsafe—for you or any stray unfortunate enough to be too close when you can no longer resist your compulsions. You don't have many options for where to spend the day, and night is already running out again.

Turning these thoughts over in your mind and struggling to keep your impulses in check every time a pedestrian crosses your path—quickly looking away, pretending not to have seen you—you find yourself standing before a hole in the ground. You glance around the area and see more freshly dug holes of various sizes. That's when you realize—you're in a cemetery.

>129152
Yes, it's already done.

>>2516
With the number of gods sleeping on the other side of the veil, it's not hard to find one awake enough to hear your prayers and lend you their blessing in exchange for something else. Although it's most common for the god to make the first contact with a potential follower through signs, it's possible for someone to enter the true world of the occult on their own, especially without knowing at first what they're getting into.

Ironically, it's easier to get involved in these matters by accident than consciously, so your case and your sister's isn't so strange. Books, websites, and any other medium through which the most disastrous information can be transmitted are guarded by various groups that wish to keep the masses in ignorance, so the vast majority of rituals one can find are obviously fake. The only ways to escape that ignorance are for someone else to pull you out of it or for you to have a lot of luck, good or bad. Judging the circumstances in which you were raised and where you are now, you probably have the bad kind.

Night is closing in faster than you are reaching your destination. The only luck you have today is that the package you must deliver doesn't need to be kept at high or low temperatures according to the client, which is almost all the information the client provided when placing the order, apart from a poorly stated address.

In a little while you'll have to fulfill your part of the deal, and nothing you find is a house on the outskirts of the city where you must make the delivery; you only see empty land where not even other motorcycles bother to pass and many trees. Although you left in a hurry for this last delivery, you're not sure you'll arrive before your sister before it gets dark and she goes out alone to fulfill the quota. From time to time you think you feel your phone vibrating in your pocket, but you don't stop to confirm it so as not to lose more time or lose sight of the road. This turns out to be a good decision because it's thanks to that that you notice the woman waiting standing on the side of the road.

You stop the motorcycle near the woman dressed as a maid and she immediately speaks to you.

<Woman: Good afternoon. Are you the delivery man who called Dr. Hawkings?

That's the name of the recipient, but you don't think this is the address because you still don't see any house nearby.
<Woman: The doctor gave me instructions to guide a delivery driver from your company to the door.

You glance at the seal marked on the side of your motorcycle and on the package you're carrying on the back. Since you need the doctor's signature to confirm the package as received, you have to follow the maid down a dirt path that winds between the trees and then climbs a low but quite long hill. At least you're used to pushing the motorcycle and don't get too tired, just a little. Your fatigue doesn't go unnoticed once you reach the entrance door of the house, or rather, the mansion.

<Maid: Do you want to wait here or sit inside? I can bring you something to drink after calling the doctor, or take you directly to what you need to sign.

The mansion in front of you is so large it seems strange you didn't see it until you'd already arrived at the door. You see no signs of life nearby—no neighbors, no tenants, no other maids besides the one who brought you here. Beyond the open front door, you only see an entry hall with domino-tiled floors, some wooden furniture, paintings, and a staircase leading up to the second or third floor, which the maid takes after asking you to wait a minute, with or without the package and papers to sign, depending on what you tell her.

<Maid: Just a moment.

That moment stretches into several minutes. The complete absence of other people becomes more noticeable with every second you spend alone in the entryway. Suddenly, the gold and silver glints on the edges of the statuettes atop the poorly closed drawers and the table clocks stand out more than ever. What shines brightest by its absence, besides people, are the cameras or any other kind of security someone would want, especially someone rich, with a doctorate, and living in such a remote place.

Another thing that becomes more noticeable in that solitude is the sound of your phone vibrating with one last message received before it ran out of battery. The only sound you hear after that is the ticking of the golden clock's hand counting the minutes that have passed since the maid left and left you waiting there. You don't even feel the fatigue from climbing the hill anymore. But no matter how long you wait, the maid still shows no sign of returning soon.

Do I assume your sister is named Leyley, or do you want to give her another name?

>>2520
-Blood was red for everyone, except for lobsters and horseshoe crabs, they have blue blood.
Through the night streets wandered a certain girl with her mouth stained with dried blood, it was normal that people didn't want to get close to her, although perhaps her gaze had something to do with it.

A listless gaze, a tired and dead gaze.

-Dead was an accurate description, tired not so much, she had forgotten the last time she felt any kind of fatigue after becoming a creature of the night. But anyway, her gaze didn't give good intentions, at least not when she wasn't actively trying to pretend. For a long time she had been suppressing her hunger, the last thing she wanted was to succumb and harm someone, she even still felt some disgust if she had to resort to harming an animal to feed herself, that had led her to suppress hunger with other stimuli, like pain.

-She could heal extremely quickly, so self-flagellation was a good analgesic for this open wound in the absence of a cure, in the absence of being able to get any conventional tool that could pierce her skin, she would scratch her arms or legs, but that quickly became very dirty and problematic, so she ended up going for something simpler and easier to clean, which was biting her tongue.

From time to time when she felt a bit hungry, she would instantly suppress it, suddenly opening her mouth and biting her tongue with all the strength her new jaw with sharp canines could allow, the sensation and subsequent metallic and rotten taste of her own thick, clotted blood in her mouth was enough to take away her appetite and replace it with the urge to vomit.

-And so the nights used to be, biting her tongue and walking aimlessly waiting to find that night demon who took her life.

-It was a shitty plan for anyone who thought about it for more than two seconds, but she didn't have many options. Just wander and wander... eventually, statistically, she was destined to find something.

"...?

-She was in a very deep stupor, and in her wandering she ended up in the cemetery without realizing it, she looks around, tombstones and holes, she thinks for a second and a half that maybe she should search in places like this instead of going down the street repeatedly, until someone speaks to her.

-Her eyes suddenly open, going from being narrowed and indifferent to being as big as saucers.

"Who's talking?"

-She asked, and turned around slowly, seeing this incredibly tall and thin man, she looks him up and down, his clothing and weapons, if she didn't know better after having watched Van Helsing as a child, she would say he's some kind of monster hunter.

"It's mine... yes, that's what you're worried about, isn't it?"

-His words come out slowly, and with a very strong Scottish accent that for some reason had been reinforced after her fateful transformation. She remains attentive because her senses warned her that it was better to handle this calmly, like one handles a stray dog that stares at you menacingly on the street.

"I don't know what you're talking about... I'm after arriving, yes... I got lost walking and didn't even realize where I was going," she explains calmly. "And you, what are you doing here in the early morning in the cemetery now, huh? You don't look like a gravedigger." And she also asks the mysterious man.

Social 1d6+3 = 6.

"By any chance, aren't you the one with hostile intentions towards me, right?"

I understood that I can make several rolls

-Saying that, she also tries to concentrate better to see if she can better identify the origin of that bad feeling.

1d10+3 = 5

>>2523
With your keen senses you can hear the slightest sound, as long as you are not distracted by hunger. That a person of such height could approach you up to ten feet away without you noticing is not that strange, given your obvious condition.

>Who is speaking?
It's mine...yes, that's what worries you, right?
And you, what are you doing here at dawn in the cemetery now, eh?
By any chance, you're not the one who has hostile intentions against me, right?
<Nobody: Not for now. You should wear cleaner clothes if you can, it would help control your impulses and so that I don't have to see you with those intentions next time.

Although it sounds like a warning, his tone maintains the same gentleness as before. Now that he doesn't have his eyes on you, you feel more relaxed, as if his gaze had had a real, tangible weight that you no longer have to bear.

Having Nobody around also makes it easier for you to identify him for what he obviously is: a vampire. It also makes it easier for you to find that other thing that has your new body so upset, although that is still not so simple.

<Nobody: St. Hubert's dogs were raised in a monastery and then taken to England to show aristocrats how good they were at tracking scents.

Nobody speaks out of nowhere, stopping for a moment from examining empty graves to raise their index finger in the air. At first you don't notice it, but after a few seconds it becomes impossible not to notice how the longest nail of a claw lengthens even more on its own.

<Nobody: They carefully mixed the breeds to create the best hunting hound. It is because of this mixture of blood that they began to be called Bloodhounds.

The nail cuts the palm of the other hand in a blurry motion that splashes fresh blood across the field like a jet of propulsion. The smell jumps into your nostrils almost as quickly and you feel the reflux of vomit crawling up your throat. Undoubtedly, the same nauseating blood that you use to stave off hunger runs through Nobody's veins, along with something even more repulsive.

<Nobody: I'm something similar.

The blood that spills on the floor could very well be lava, acid or poison because of how much it repels you, you instinctively know that the expanding puddle is something equally harmful to you and any other of your species. Once again, the color red is a danger sign for you, you must stay away from that blood and the subject to whom it belongs, since both were created specifically to kill you.

The blood stops as quickly as it once flowed and goes from concentrating in a single point to rising as a solid object on four elongated limbs. The rest of the body supported by the four legs finishes forming the red hound and you see how the bloody mass begins to move clumsily like a newborn puppy.

<Nobody: I ​​am a dog lover, like any hunter.

It's the first time you've seen him smile, it does little to ease your nerves.

<Bloodhound: Waf!

The bloody little dog comes up to you and somehow makes the sound of a friendly bark even without having the lungs and vocal cords to do that kind of thing, supposedly.

<Nobody: He likes you. Do you want to give it a name?

Your mind is about to collapse.

Turn 2
Successes: 1
Failures: 1

Social Roll: You must roll 1d6+3 to try to speak. Your roll must be greater than 4 to be successful.

Spiritual Roll: You can roll 1d10+3 to control yourself. Your roll must be greater than 5 to be successful.

Physical Roll: You can roll 1d6+4 if you want to run now or use your body for something that requires physical skill. Your roll must be greater than 5 to be successful.

Yes, you can roll twice, three times or just once.
You can always use points from your Physical stat to increase the result of any roll.
The difficulty of a roll may be higher or lower if you decide to do something different than what is suggested, even if you use the same statistic as one of the suggested rolls. You also cannot use the same statistic to make two different rolls in the same turn.

>>2524
"What a strange name, isn't it?"

-Continue to maintain the conversation in search of concentration and feel some irregularity, but for the moment it continued to be negative. He admits that the blood is his. No one approaches her, she continues to look at him, contact does not occur, she notices the change in his eyes.

"Converted? No, I haven't done that as far as we know, no...nor have I consumed anyone recently, I don't like it, no, eh? I tried with cats, yes, but the taste is not pleasant at all, nothing, I say...I'm after not eating anything for a while now."

-Things made more sense now, she remains calm while he walks to the holes.

"I guess you know what it's like...you're like me, right, huh? You're the first one I've found implicating since I became like this."

-I was in the cemetery to investigate the lack of respect for the dead

"Well, it makes sense, you're the person who does that kind of work, you seem that way, right?"

-No one questions her clothing choices, Flann crosses her arms somewhat annoyed.

"I appreciate the advice, yes, but right now I don't have the clothing availability to afford that, no... and you'll tell me where to get a job now, eh? Do you want me to steal it from someone or something, I say"

-The conversation then changes to dogs, the trackers, like in the movie The Fox and the Hound.

"My parents had one of those when I was a child, he was fat and old, very old, but he could smell food from the other side of the house and suddenly he didn't have any problems moving anymore"

-He shoots blood with his claw, the reflux in his stomach reaches him and he has to cover his mouth and nose, the repulsive aroma of that clotted blood was the worst

"Ugh...nice way to spoil a girl's appetite, huh?"

-His senses are sharpened again, that blood was dangerous, in more ways than one he instinctively took two steps back.

"Hunter?...I guess the movies got the look right"

-He tries to continue sounding cordial but his smile makes his nerves fray, even worse, his mind was beginning to suffer, hunger, pain, he holds his temple with one hand.

"A name?"

-Look at the bloody dog that was making impossible sounds, its gaze already seemed like that of someone with brain damage with pupils of different sizes.

"How about...Toby? That's what mine was called, heh..."

-Be silent again,

"So, hunter... I'm not looking for problems, I'm not looking for them, but I am looking for someone"

-He looked at his right hand before squeezing it tightly, his nails dug into his palm and it began to bleed, as it used to be, the pain was a good way to distract from the other annoying sensations that came with this body.

"I'm looking for the person responsible for being like this, that must align with your kind of field, right? Don't tell me that the movies lied about that part, don't tell me"

"I don't want to get into your business, but if we can help each other, it would be good for both of us, a 'netpositive', as they say, right?"

Social: roll/{roll1d6+3}
Spiritual:roll/{roll1d10+3}

>>2527
>No.
Thanks for everything
May love bless your path, and grant you protection this cold night
<Emmanuela: Likewise... You must already know how dangerous these hours are.

You think you hear her say something like that, again the helmet gets in the way of the conversation, thank God that's the last time and you no longer have to endure the fear of being in their effeminate presences.

While in the park there are not even two homeless people sleeping, near the church the absence of people is total. It's not until you set foot on the steps on your way to the building's only open door that you see the scant candlelight escaping from inside the place, and the two armed women guarding it on either side of the entrance.

<Right: ...

The one on your right is leaning on a triangular shield, with a bored face.

<Left: Cronch 🍎...

The one on your left is biting an apple, also looking bored. This one does not have a shield, but only a polearm.

<Right: ...

The one on the right watches you go up the steps.

<Left: ...

The one on the left watches you go up the steps.

<Left and right: ...

They both watch you go up the steps.

**https://youtu.be/7wp3rzAdwT8?si=JtnQb1ioiWNfCp2s**▾
<Left: ...The one on the left gets tired of watching you climb the steps and enters through the door, perhaps to throw away the part of the apple that cannot be eaten. You don't remember there being so many steps, but for some reason you can't get close to the door for more than a minute until the one on the left returns with a shield and they both stand up straight to block your way, just when you finally reach them.

<Right: hey... you can't pass.

That's all they tell you, until you tell them that you come from Emmanuela or they themselves notice your red hand.

<Left: Oh, another one of those? No, yes. You can come... This way.

The two separate to give you way, the one on the left is the only one that follows you. The small door leads to a hallway barely wide enough for the two to walk side by side without touching shoulders, the standing candles scattered around the place are not abundant until they reach the point where the hallway opens on the right into the main room where the priest and the congregation attend mass during the day and in which several figures covered in white and red habits are currently gathered within a circle of candles. You can't understand a word people say or even see their faces.

<Left: Emmanuela brought another one.

You hear the woman who was your guide talking to someone before turning to the left and entering a room narrower than the hallway itself, inside there is only a bed, a desk, a shelf full of flasks and a nun with clothes similar to the others but with fewer pieces of armor.

<Inside: Thank you.

The nun inside the room puts down the magazine she was reading, looks at you for a second and nods to the other, indicating that she can return to her post.

<Inside: You can sit here... Or on the bed, whichever you prefer.

He vacates the only chair in the room to offer it to you, whether you accept it or not, he still remains standing so he can look you in the eye without having to look up too much.

<Inside: Well... Good night. What was it that happened? Or...what did that do to him? Oh-o!

She looks and sounds nervous as she asks you, for some reason she doesn't stop looking at you even when she starts taking out jars from behind the glass on the shelf, which causes her to drop some of them, fortunately closed and made of a material that doesn't break just as easily, but that does roll very easily under the bed. How necessary any of those jars were is left in doubt when she doesn't bother trying to pick them up or ask you for help to do so, trying best to ignore it.

<Inside: I am Fauna...! By the way... Just tell me... Or tell me how you got hurt and how you feel... To know if we need to disinfect or... It wouldn't be good if it were poisoned.

Sometimes she leaves pauses, other times she lowers her voice a lot, she rarely looks you straight in the eyes or comes closer than three feet away, even if she has to stick to a corner of the room, which makes it as difficult to have a conversation with her as with any other of the sisters you've met so far, even if she has at least given you her own name.

>>2529
"I didn't want to profile you either, sorry, sorry if that was rude."

-The talk of clothes turns to puppy stories, baptizing the solid-blooded dog with a cute 'toby'.

"Yes, they are pretty"

-Toby barks happily to which she makes a small smile. Quickly the dog runs past her and leaves her spinning in place, with spirals in her eyes from dizziness.

"The faster you finish your business, the faster you're going to help me, right? I'll follow you, yeah"

-As far as speed is concerned, Flann stays behind the hound and no one else, although it was difficult to lose them anyway due to the metallic essence of the cannon, they stop in front of the facade of a store and enter without problem without needing to break something.

"..."

-If no one could, surely she too

1d10+3 = 10
He concentrates very hard to see if he can turn into a mist like his vampire comrade and be able to keep up with him.

>>2528
>Doctor? Mr. Hawkings? I brought your package. I just need the signature and I'm leaving
<...: ...No one answers your questions or your screams other than the echo of the empty place, after a long wait you fulfill your promise and return to your motorcycle to leave... only to notice that the engine does not start. Without many options, you try again and again to start the bike until on the fifth or sixth try you succeed without any further problems. You may have to check it later, but when you return home, you won't have too much gasoline and the sun won't wait for you to set.

Taking one last look inside the mansion before leaving, you notice a landline, perhaps the one they used to order the package and one that you could have used to contact your sister or someone else in case you were stranded there, but you no longer have the need to do so.

<Gary: Huh... Good job.

The path back to the office is easier to follow, but just as long. When you finally arrive, everything is already turned off in the building and there is only one person left to receive the unsigned paper that you hand him, which he does not even bother to look at because he does not want to take his eyes off the screen or to see you enter or leave.

<Gary: See you tomorrow.

The departure time passed quite a while ago so you have no reason to overstay nor does he have a reason to keep you, at least it doesn't seem like he has any interest in doing so.

<Ashley: Where were you and why aren't you answering?

Your sister's annoyed face greets you as soon as you leave, she pushes a heavy bag against your chest, forcing you to carry it. Although the special bond between them grants them both some knowledge about each other's location and condition despite the distances, their power is limited, and obtaining only incomplete information tends to frustrate Ley.

<Ashley: You know we don't have time left to pay the fee. I had to bring this here so it's your turn to do the rest, quick.

Again, he does not wait for you before getting on your motorcycle, although he does have to do so for you to drive.

The gods demand constant tribute from their faithful to continue granting them their blessings, and the one with whom they made a contract does not expect them to go to mass every Sunday but rather to sacrifice something fresh in their name. You don't know the full details of the pact they have, but that's the basics. Your sister probably knows more than you about all this, after all she is the one who spends the most time reading about these things and the one who carries the talisman and most of the blessing.

<Ashley: Did you discover any worthwhile places? We cannot always use the same ones.

The bridge, the park and the alleys of the poorest neighborhoods are the places they visit the most when it is time to look for sacrifices. The presence of homeless people, drunks and the high concentrations of fog at this time of year make them ideal places to catch victims that few would miss without being seen or raising a lot of suspicion. Ley believes that they visit them too often, which is why he has insisted on rare occasions that you use your job as a delivery driver as an excuse to look for houses or apartments that are easy to invade and where brands that are just as easy to invade live. Even though she asks you this question frequently, she never forces you to take her to a past client's house if you don't give her the information yourself. For now, she lacks the ability to read your mind and cares more about watching her back than exercising more dominance over you. So it's up to you to choose where to take the bike and also do the heavy lifting.

Luck Roll: Roll 1d6 along with the turn, regardless of what you decide to do or where to go.

>>129752
>>2531
At this point I don't think it's something they're going to fix for Chan.

>>2530
>Lev
The mortal enemy of every knee with torn menisci. The stairs. I calmly begin to walk on this one, observing the steps so as not to trip due to the low light. One step, another step, and another and another... Step after step. It's higher than I thought. I increase the pace, first: quick steps, then jogs, then, I don't care anymore and I run https://youtu.be/UPkoQf50zXM▾ I was determined, I wasn't going to let myself be defeated by some stairs.

".........::"

"W-wait a minute--.. heavy breathing sound moment... Thank you"

I rest my hand on the shield, and I breathe....

"Thank you"

I look up, already somewhat exhausted, and notice a shield in front of my face. I rest my hands on my knees and watch the two guards. You couldn't get through.

"Aren't visits to the lord's house accepted?"

''I say with a tone, more than offended, confused. I adjust my tired posture to a more normal one, and look at them with a raised eyebrow.

"How strange... Sister Emmanuela told me that... Maybe I was confused?"

":..."

"Ah, well, thank you very much"

https://youtu.be/PDOSiDC88rs▾
With that I proceed to walk inside the church.... A narrow path, while I am escorted. The atmosphere was strange, it reminded me of walking through the sewers, but of course, without that humidity and the smell of sulfur. We turn the corner and among their rituals, we arrive at what seems to be where I need to be. A pharmacist? It must be the one who made the red bottle that they wanted to offer me earlier.

"Good evening, sorry for the intrusion."

''I say, as I enter the room at a calm pace, and sit where I am indicated. After that, I show him my hand.

"A poor infant abandoned at birth was crying with cold and fear..."

"It's better now, but apparently it bit me when I didn't realize it"

The normal thing, that a baby leaves you a pitbull bite, of course kek. I watch her, confused by her nervousness, and how she doesn't pay attention to how she drops bottles of ointments and things like that. After that, I look at the ceiling of the room, and listen..... It makes sense.

When he mentions his name in a high tone, I open my eyes in surprise. It's not a genuine surprise, more than anything it's like a joke, an act.

"A pleasure... Fauna! kek"

"I am Lev"

''I was going to offer my hand, but I remember the cramping pain when I moved it towards her. With the other hand I apologize, and I look at the damaged hand... I turn it a little and look at Fauna again in the eyes."

"I don't think it's infected yet, it was a few minutes ago, but I think the wound is a bit open, so I don't want to risk it."

"..."

"I don't suppose it has poison haha"

''I follow her with my eyes, it was... Her reactions were curious. Then my eyes focused on the corner of the room, but I still paid attention to Fauna.

"can I ask you a question?"......

"...."

"Do you work here, or do you live?"

>>2532
Nobody returns to being as silent as before while attending to his business, following the bloodhound beneath the establishment's door. Keeping your instincts at bay is less complicated the farther you keep him from you, though you aren't entirely sure you can evaporate in the same way even with your mind more capable of focusing.

With your eyes closed, you imagine your body shifting from solid to gaseous, until you lose the need to close your eyes... and your sight, partially.

The sensation is like being underwater at night; you can't see, smell, hear, feel, or breathe properly, but you know you still have those senses. Staying like this for more than a few seconds is more desperate than just holding your breath for a minute.

<Nobody: -cho time here.

You regain your senses as quickly as you lost them, so much so that it takes you a moment to realize Nobody is already heading to the other end of the bookstore, ignoring the handful of ethereal figures floating through the room flipping through books and paying you the same level of attention. When the hunter and his dog reach the back wall, they transfigure again, though you can't distinguish the slightest cracks in the concrete they slip through until it's your turn to do the same. The experience isn't any more pleasant than the first time, even prepared, nor is it the third time you have to do it to exit the stationery store next door and end up back on the street.

<Toby: Hrrrmm...
<Nobody: The trail ends here.

Finally, you get a moment to rest when Toby stops to scratch the asphalt of the road as if trying to dig it up. You feel exhausted as if you'd truly been holding your breath for several minutes or swimming in the open sea. It's not precisely physical or mental fatigue you feel; it's more like your vampire abilities are dimmed or responding less. You're less sure you can turn into mist now than when you first tried it.

<Nobody: I thought you'd feel more uncomfortable in my presence, but you're handling it well.

You don't know if it's because your senses are temporarily less sensitive due to exhaustion, because you're already used to having Nobody by your side, or because all that effort to suppress your instincts is making you better at controlling them, but Nobody is right, more or less. Your Spiritual trait rises to 4

<Nobody: I'm done with what I can do for tonight. Let's go to my lair before dawn so you can tell me more about your case.

He places a gentle hand on Toby's head to signal it's time to leave, and the dog stops digging. Before lifting his knee from the floor, Nobody pulls a leash from his belt and attaches it to the dog's harness.

https://youtu.be/-pTgXSKjNvQ?si=U8xrcQtCGEd-5XL6▾
The rest of the walk is quiet. The few people out walking or jogging before sunrise direct more glances at the dog accompanying them than at you. Those glances are also friendlier, despite Toby's strange reddish hue. They don't cross many people or streets before reaching Nobody's blessed lair: an apartment complex. Right on the ground floor, they meet an older woman with red hair who is just opening the building's doors.

<Nobody: Good morning.
<Concierge: Good morning, Mr. Nobody. Out for an early walk?
<Nobody: No, I had to pick this one up urgently. His name is Toby.
<Toby: Haa, haa...
Nadie encourages the dog to position himself in front of him, panting from the walk and lack of hydration, assuming he needs to drink water given what he is and not just pretending.

<Concierge: Aww, how cute. And he's red too... Yours?

Proceed in your direction, until Nadie intervenes to introduce you.

<Nadie: No, she is a new caretaker. Flann, this is Caren.
<Caren: Nice to meet you. Your name sounds like a dessert.

You smile and raise your hand to say goodbye to Nadie, who walks away down the hallway after nodding to you as a form of farewell.

<Caren: Have a good day. Bye Toby!

They climb the spiral stairs to the fourth floor; Nadie opens the door marked 403 with a key he kept in his belt, and immediately three or four dogs of different breeds and sizes jump on top of him, all equally excited to see him and barking their heads off.

<Dogs: WOOF! GUAUGUAUGUAU! WUF!
<Nadie: Calm down, it's too early to make so much noise. I'm glad to see you too.

Nadie hurries you inside with hand gestures from the one he isn't using to pet his dogs, wanting to close the apartment door as soon as possible to prevent even a little of the noise from escaping and bothering other tenants.

<Nadie: These are Toby and Flann; they'll be joining us for a while, so treat them as part of the pack.
<Dogs: ...

Among the dogs curiously sniffing you, there isn't another of the same color as Toby, though your senses are still too tired to focus on just one scent among all the ones flooding the apartment, despite it being so spacious.

The few pieces of furniture present in the apartment are relegated to the corners and walls, leaving most of the central space open for the transit of more than ten people at once, or for the dogs to leave toys and plushies scattered all over the floor, which is bare of carpet and partially covered with newspaper. The dim lighting doesn't let you appreciate in detail what's in the place, despite the closed window occupying the opposite end from the entrance; you only know that another wall is covered by a shelf mainly occupied by books, a lamp, and some decorative objects, and that there are at least two more rooms connecting to this one on the left and right.

<Nadie: Sit wherever you like or use the bathroom if you need to; I'll attend to you in a moment.

Nadie leaves you alone with the few dogs that stay with you in the large living room instead of following him, and with those that enter later to sniff you and Toby; he doesn't return until a few minutes later to leave some food bowls by the window and fresh water for the dogs, making sure to monitor them while they eat to ensure none steals food from the others.

<Nadie: Tell me everything you know, please.

He immediately takes advantage of the brief moment without barking to sit in one of the few individual armchairs near the bookshelf, his face as serious as before, even though some puppies soon approach him to rub their faces against his hand or leg, asking him to pet them or throw a ball they're carrying in their mouths.

<Nadie: I'll just warn you that I'm a hunter, not a detective. If you don't have a trail I can follow, it'll be hard for me to find what you're looking for.

He seems to fix his gaze on your neck when he isn't looking you in the eyes, but waits until you tell your story from beginning to end before making any comment.

>>2535
>Are visits to the master's house not allowed?
Good evening, sorry for the intrusion.
A poor infant, abandoned at birth, was crying from cold and fear...
A pleasure... Fauna!
May I ask you a question?

You nod.

>Do you work here, or do you live here?
<Fauna: ...

She finally looks you in the face, even opens her mouth to answer, then hesitates, closes it again, and opens it once more.

<Fauna: Y-yes... I-I mean, yes, I live here. But what I do is sort of like a job too, n-not that I'm unemployed or anything... A-and it's not like there's anything wrong with being in need, w-we help people like that all the time...! I-I'm not saying you a-are... Y-you know...

After stammering extensively and gesturing very little with her hands, she waits for you to confirm that yes, you do understand. Her manner of speaking at least distracts you for a moment from the sensations in your hand; right now all you feel is a slight itch beneath the bandages, but scratching probably isn't a good idea.

>>2537
Sí.

>>2538
>Lev
A faint smile of acceptance is drawn on my face and I close my eyes when I see the nurse feeling her body and pulling out a gun. Too much love for so much hate in life.... Sensitivity condemns me. I hear the trigger.... Click click click, who would have thought I would die in a church, by a nurse, the absurdity of life simply is... Wonderful.

"....."

".....:::?''

But god didn't want me to die today, nor in this way. My hand goes to my chest, searching for any wound in my heart, any sign of warm moisture of vitality, but nothing. I open my eyes, and let out a slight sigh from my nose (when you laugh by letting out air slightly).

"A miracle"

Life has great things for me, something tells me in my heart.

"Don't worry"

"Everyone makes mistakes."

And blessed be your mistake of not remembering to reload your revolver, and blessed be that you had to use it against me, and not in a real situation. With my other hand in the pocket of my jacket, I play with my rosary, counting the wooden beads, more as a distraction while I stay still so that she can clean my wound. The cotton burns a little, but that just meant I was purging all the bad. At first I thought it was alcohol, iodophor or hydrogen peroxide, but it seemed something else.

"...."

After that I watch as she puts that kind of green paste on me, it made me think of those burn balms or wound disinfectants, it was strange, but I was infinitely grateful. I also see as her hand puts new clean bandages on me.

"You're good at this"

I say quietly, while watching her finish the job. And when she answers my question and gets nervous, I laugh a little and raise the palm of my hand in a sign of 'Don't worry, I understood what you meant'.

"You must be a great person to dedicate yourself to this."

"Helping the needy has great value, although sometimes people don't show it."

With everything ready, I slowly get up from the chair and adjust the collar of my shirt. I look at my bandaged hand and try to ignore the itching, then say goodbye to Fauna.

"Thank you very much for all your help, Miss Fauna, sincerely"

I feel around my pockets looking for something

"I don't have anything to give you as a thank you right now.... But I hope god blesses you" the typical

"..."

"Ah, by the way, could you thank them on my behalf to Sister Emmanuela and a.... 'You'?, I think they stripped her of her name"

"Anyway, I won't bother you anymore, see you tomorrow"

With that I say goodbye and leave that room.... I look around

"(where it was)"

I think it was this way if I remember correctly, so I move forward

>>2540
>A miracle
Don't worry

Nodding is easier than stopping worrying, and even for that you have difficulties because of how much you shake. At least your hand doesn't shake when you have to do your job and in no time at all you're clean and bandaged.

>You're good at this
You must be a great person to dedicate yourself to this

You shake your head, seems to prefer that rather than answering verbally, though you try anyway.

Right now I don't have anything to give you as a thank you.... But I hope God blesses you
Ah, by the way, could you thank Sister Emmanuela and... "you", I think they took her name away
I think it was around here if I'm not mistaken, so I move on
<Right: It's this way.

The gatekeeper from before responds to what you say aloud and guides you back to the exit. You don't remember hearing her come despite the quietness of Fauna's room.

<Left: Be careful with the stairs, don't trip.

You can imagine how bad it would be to fall down these stairs, but inexplicably, you have no problem at all descending them after a few steps and seconds.

The sun is already rising as you leave the house of the man, yet your energy levels are dropping, another human sign that you need to rest. With no other unusual event getting in the way of your path, you retreat to your resting place to sleep a Christian 6 or 7 hours, more or less, judging by the clarity that still exists when you open your eyes again.

It's still early for you to reunite with Fauna or to act in the name of your god in the same way you did last night, you assume. It's at this moment that you notice or remember that you didn't have a watch when Fauna told you to come back today at that time, nor do you remember seeing a watch in the church, nor seeing one around that time. Plus you're hungry, and you want to go to the bathroom, so you probably can take care of those and other needs to pass the time until it's almost dawn again or you remember when you need to go get your hand checked. It still itches a little.

>>2542
Sleeping outdoors is especially dangerous on cold days like these, and with how poorly protected your shelter is from the elements, you might as well be sleeping outside. Fortunately or by miracle, it seems like it hasn't rained or snowed during the time you've been resting, since you wake up, alive and relatively dry, at some indeterminate time in the afternoon, you can assume.

<Someone: Good afternoon.

Someone's voice confirms your assumptions, or to be more precise, not the voice of someone random, but the unmistakable voice of someone you know and who you know has trouble pronouncing certain esses.

<Someone: An empanada?

He offers you the already cold dough with a bare hand, without a plate or napkin due to lack of resources. This is something he often does, since he, like you, lacks the means to refrigerate or preserve food for long periods. Usually he trades it or shares it with whoever gives him something of use or at least thanks.

<Someone: Of meat, it's the last one I have left.

The rusty cart he uses to carry his food and other goods isn't any cleaner than him, the few Tupperware containers he brings are also in poor condition due to the lack of water and soap to wash them frequently and the fact that he often mixes them up with his other clutter, as he's doing right now.

<Someone: The other one I traded for this... but...

After asking you to wait and search through his things for a while, he takes out two fruits.

<Someone: Pera. Do you want one?

He offers you one of the pears and keeps the other, covering the cart and his things with a somewhat cleaner sheet than the rest.

<Someone: I'm going to keep the seed and plant it outside of my box. When the tree grows, I'll eat pear all day.

He tells you with a smile of rotten teeth that doesn't do much to grace his unfortunate face.

<Someone: I can give you one too.

Despite his ugliness, intellectual deficiency, vagrancy, disease, and oddness, the people in the community see him as a kind person due to these customs of sharing what little he has with others without harboring ambitions to possess more. The people call him Angel, obviously because he has a name and isn't just called "Someone," although it's unclear if that's his real name or some nickname.

At times in the afternoon, he usually passes by these remote areas of the city to pick up whatever he finds discarded out of sight of the officials who would bother to enforce the law that prohibits people from rummaging through trash containers. You also know he lives under the bridge in the center near other homeless people, although you don't know exactly what conditions he lives in or what he does with the debris he collects, if anything besides just accumulating it.

The sentence is good, but it alone doesn't fill the stomach, and it's already late enough to take something to your mouth without it counting as breaking the fast, your body knows you need it. It's also late enough for the free soup to start being served behind the church, if you prefer a more complete meal.