Originally Posted by mikecxz
start heading north, consider the possibility that this is a fake world, possibly a flawed reconstruction of a set area of space and that your actions deviating from the set orders and going outside the boundary of what you were supposed to be able to do has caused the world to start to destabilize.
The urge to head northward overtakes you. You travel there with a sense of urgency. So far there is only two things you know for certain about the uncity, it is incredibly unstable and it is a recreation of the HCotHHoH. You wish you could understand your reason for being here. The memories of your death are so blurry that sometimes you don't think they exist. All you can make out is the vague concept of a struggle, and then her face. You don't even remember her name. In fact, you don't remember much at all, you don't even remember your name. It's feels so odd, like you just misplaced most of your memories. You swear that you had them all just a moment ago.
The world begins to flash around you. Some of the buildings turn into giant instances of "EROR". Your feet sink into the ground which then disappears. You fill the sensation of falling, yet you're standing still. You then feel the sensation of a strong impact. Your nose starts bleeding, and the world restabilizes but only for a short while before it begins to repeat the process. you make haste towards your destination.
The world is definitely flawed, but you are certain you aren't the one who's causing the flaws. As you get closer to your destination, the world begins to grow even more unstable. The buildings disappear and you find yourself walking across a vast empty plane. You're gripping the sword so tightly now that you start crushing its hilt. Your hand is incredibly uncomfortable. You wish you could let go but you think you would die from doing so. You can see a silhouette off in the distance. It's a bust of some sort. It grows bigger... no it's not growing, it's coming closer to you. No, you're coming closer to it.
The sound of metal scraping together pierces the void.
"By the gods, it came out of nowhere! Have with you! I mean at you! You, uhm... would it be racist if I call it a hare?"
"You're gonna kill it does it even ****in' matter?"
"It certainly does matter. Cleric, you're documenting this all, right? Don't document anything racist I say!"
You find yourself in a dungeon. In front you is the gigantic bust of your master. She is a beautiful necromancer. And you appreciate the bust's existence. However, you do not appreciate the existence of the three rapscallions - one male warrior, one female warrior, and a cleric that has his or her (you can't really tell) uninterested eyes stuck to a PDA - that dare exist near your master's excellently crafted. You hate these emotions! They're unnatural! You understand now, you've been brought back by some necromancer. You're being controlled against your will. "STOP
." You demand of the rapscallions.
"Gods, he's doing the thing! The hare is doing the thing!" Yells the female warrior, taken off guard by your sudden announcement.
"Dude, what?" Asks the much more laidback male warrior. The cleric is too into its PDA to care it seems.
"The thing that wizards do when they're not talking to you, but through you?"
"The thing. That unholy creepy, talky thing. Wizardspeak?"
"I think you mean Sagespeak."
" You charge at the warrior and violently swing your sword. They both clumsily dodge out of the way. You then go for the cleric which simply raises its hand and casts some sort of spell on you without even taking its eyes away from its PDA. You've been frozen.
"Nice work cleric," says the female warrior, "uhm, what should we do with this guy now?"
"Yo, cleric check to see if this guy is wanted by the IIE." Says the female warrior.
"No point." Says the Cleric "It is undead."
"An undead moonhare? How peculiar." The female guard pinches you on the cheek. "He's somewhat cute. Also he seems freshly killed. Mr. Hare, my I ask you some questions about this dungeon?"
"AGH! Could you stop with the wizardspeak, it is so unpleasant!"
"IT'S MAGESPEAK, YOU WORTHLESS SLUT
." This isn't you speaking. It's that necromancer's influence over your body that has you acting like this. You want to apologize and explain your strange predicament to these people, but it keeps getting overpowered by your absolute need to kill them all in violent ways and then make them submit to your master.
"Why, you certainly are one unpleasant moonhare if I've ever met one. Cleric, are you making note of how polite I'm being to this moonhare despire the fact that he called me a slut. Make a note of how I'm being strong in the face of terrible moonhare sexism."
"Mmmm, Cleric you're actually writing about my heroic deeds this time and not just browing the aethernet again!"
"I said yeah, didn't I?"
"You said, whatever."
"Yo, guys, the novel isn't what's important right now," says the male warrior.
"Yes it is, Kyle. It's the entire reason for this quest of ours." responds the female warrior.
"Listen, this bunny here is mad crazy. He's about be unfroze in damn second now, and I think we should off right now, if you know what I mean."
"You mean killing him and not some disgusting sexual euphemism, right."
"Yeah, sorry. I've been trying to cut down on the "you know what I means", but it's hard, you know what I mean. Anyway, let's kill him now."
"Wait," the cleric speaks up, "this dude could have some info on the necromancer."
"Cleric is right. I say we interrogate him first, Kyle."
"I have a name you know!" says the cleric.
"It's not like it matters when all you do is look at your stupid PDA 90% of the time! If every instance of my glory wasn't recorded on that device I would have smashed it FORTNIGHTS ago!" The cleric and the female warrior give each other death glares. The male warrior just seems exhausted. You want to kill them al- NO! You want them to help you.
Examine, Talk, Attack, Pick Up, Drop
: Just a Sword, PDA, Locket, Net x100