>>806798

You awaken lying on the floor. Sickly light comes through the holes in the mouldering curtains. Somehow, still, that little bit of light repulses you. As you roll over to put your back to it, a layer of dust that has built up over everything, even you, is disturbed, and you find yourself in a smog of ashen dust that cloys your throat and leaves your eyes watering.

Coughing dryly, you push yourself up to a sitting position. You pause half way, staring down at your hands as the dust slowly settles around you. Your skin is an unhealthy brown, no colour a living being would have, and countless cracks run across it. Your fingers are more like claws, withered things you would struggle to hold something with, while your arms are emaciated, so thin that the cracked skin covers little but bone. You study the rest of your body quickly, but the rest is the same. You can't even tell what gender you are. The remains of clothes fall off you, turning to dust even from the tiny disturbance of your movements.

The room you are in was once a bedroom, but the furniture is so dilapidated you can't tell much from it. Once, there had been a mirror on the wall, but it must have shattered when the frame rotted and it fell from the wall, as bright fragments glitter on the floor between pieces of rotted frame. You crawl across to the fragments anyway and pick one up in clumsy hands, turning it towards you.

The visage of your sunken ghoulish face, hairless cracked scalp and most of all the unnatural ghost-lights playing deep within your eyes... they're all too much. You throw the fragment of mirror aside in horror, slicing your hand in your haste. You retch for a few moments, overcome by disgust at your own form, and let out a few sobs, the sounds horrifying muted and distorted by your ruined throat.

Eventually, as you calm down, you realise the pain of the wound is a distant thing, and you look down at the cut, waiting for blood which never comes. Dry flesh meets your gaze, barely distinguishable from the corroded skin that covers it. You flex your hand, but it works fine.

You try to swallow, which takes several attempts. You can't sit here weeping and cringing forever. What now?

>Search the room.

>Leave the room.

>Draw the curtains and look out the window.

>Write in.

>>806799
>Draw the curtains and look out the window.

Throw back the curtains!

Can we do anything to further check ourselves? Can we take our pulse, find a mirror, check our skin?

>>806817
Seconding

Gotta see where we are in all this

>>806799
[x] Search the room
[x] Furiously masturbate

>>806799
>Draw the curtains and look out the window.
>Search the room.

You push yourself to your feet. Although your legs are withered they manage the task, leaving you struggling to balance for a few moments as your head spins. You shake it lightly, trying to dislodge the sense of vertigo. You simply stand for a few moments. You breathe deeply a few times, in and out. As you do it, you realise you don't need to. You stop and hold your breath, but as the moments drag on, you feel no need to breathe in. All you hear is the slow beat of your heart, deep inside you, and even that far slower than you think it should be.

With the first staggering step you almost fall, but the second is easier, and you cross to the window, even if you walk like a cripple. The light through the threadbare curtains forces you to wince, and for a moment you have the thought that the touch of light will burn your skin, but as you nervously reach out a hand nothing happens. You take hold of a curtain, with crumbles under your clumsy grasp. In the end, you brush them aside with your forearm, revealing a pane of glass crossed by four iron bars.

The scene outside is of a city. The view is hauntingly familiar, and you can't help but feel you've seen this same view a thousand times. At the same time, something about the view makes you feel immensely homesick, as though being reminded of a time and place you were happy. The street outside is paved, and lined to either side by great townhouses of three or four floors. All of them are in a state of partial ruin. A wagon is abandoned in the middle of the road, as are smaller items you can't identify. You must be on the third floor yourself, for it all to look so far away. In the distance, you can see a great tower rising above the rooftops, capped with a green light. It reminds you of the light of your eyes in the mirror fragment, and you shiver involuntarily as you imagine the distant tower watching you.

The sun shines down with a sickly light, struggling to break through foggy clouds above the city. As you look up at it, you again feel an inexplicable revulsion, and quickly turn away, back towards the room. That isn't enough to shake the sensation, and its only when you shuffle sideways to lean against the wall beside the window that you feel yourself calm down a little. You stand there on shaking legs for a few moments, watching dust glisten in the air as it catches the light of the dying sun.

>Search the room.

>Leave the room.

>Write in.

>>806928
>Search the room.

>>806928
>Search the room.

>>806928
>Search the room.
I like the ambience so far.

>>806799
> Brown skin
Triggered

>>806928
> jump for joy
Nigga, you are immortal. Try to have fun, don't waste eternity being a sad sack.

>>806946
>implying immortal equals invulnerable
you sure make dangerous assumptions

>>806928
Risk a "H-Hello?" Try to see if anyone is around.

>>806946
FOUND THE DRUMP SUPPORTER

YOU READY TO GET STUMPED BY HILLDAWG?

>>806948
No I didn't

>>806928
>Write in
Check inventory ;)

But, being serious,
>Search the room

There must be something here, some clue as to who or what you are. There's a small cabinet beside the ruins of what once might have been a large bed, an empty lamp on top of it. You pull open the drawers in it clumsily. Most of what was in them has long rotted beyond recognition or use, but two things remain. One is a small lockbox. You lift it. It's made of silver, it seems, and is engraved with swirling patterns and flowers. A tiny keyhole is on one side. You try to prise it open, but find it locked. The other things in the drawer is a pendant. You put the box down on top of the cabinet and lift this new item up by the chain. It's gold, all of it, even the chain. As it dangles from your withered fingers something about it makes your heart speed up, a dull thump once every couple of seconds.

It's a locket, you realise. You kneel down, half falling back to the floor, and try to open it. Your fingers scrabble for purchase on the tiny item as frustration mounts. Eventually, though, you manage to hook it open, and prise the two halves apart. You take a sharp breath in as the insides become visible, instinct overwhelming the knowledge that you don't need to breathe. A picture, tiny, and painted by hand. A woman. Curling brown hair, fair skin, smiling prettily... beautiful. You shudder as you remember your own face. Is this painting you? Or what used to be you? The other side of the locket is engraved with words. Your mind blanks on them for a few moments, but after staring for a few moments they make sense:

'My Dearest Tallia,

Power Comes from Mind and Heart,

I Love You Always'

Tallia. That was your name. You know it. It fits like a glove to your sense of self, however unsure that might be. That picture is not you. You realise that too. Who is it? Someone important. Your fingers curl as best they can around the locket. Power comes from mind and heart. Those words run through your mind again.

You push yourself to your feet again, leaning against the wall for support. The other side of the room has a small desk, but whatever scraps of paper were on it are dust. All that remains is a faded feather quill, stood upright in a dry ink pot. Nothing else in the room has survived.

>Leave the room.

>Try to break the lockbox open.

>Write in.

>>807004
>Leave the room.

>>807004
Take the lockbox and leave.

>>807004
>Leave the room
But keep the pendant and lockbox hidden. We don't know if there are bandits or the like outside.

>>807004
>>Try to break the lockbox open.

We're leaving the room.

Tie break between take the lockbox with us and hide it before we go.

>>807062
Well, y'all know my vote.

>>807062
I'll change it to hide

You cross the room back towards the lockbox. Half way you stumble and fall. You manage to get your arms out to break your fall, but still land heavily, and send up a big cloud of dust with the impact. Making sure not to breathe, you crawl the rest of the way over to the bedside. You pick up the lockbox and weigh it for a moment in your hands. The pendant, still grasped with its chain wrapped around your hand, you know that is important to you, a key to your locked mind. Is this box as well? There's no way to tell. It's heavy for your withered arms to carry, and you don't know what else you might find. Safer to leave it here for now. You can always come back if you need to. You put it back in the bottom drawer of the cabinet, then put a hand on the bed to lever yourself back to standing.

You make it to the door successfully, and turn the handle nervously, half expecting it to be locked. After all, the window had iron bars. It isn't. A haunting creak sounds at as the wooden door swings towards you, making you jump. You stand in silence once the sound dies away. Nothing happens. Maybe there is no one around to hear. Maybe they just don't care.

You step out into the hallway beyond, keeping a hand against the wall for balance, the other grasping your pendant tightly. The hallway has a wooden floor and panelled walls, just like the bedroom. At the far end of the hallway is a larger, heavier door, shut, while along the sides of the hallway are several other doors. You stagger down looking in each in turn. The first is a small library, the books mouldering in their sagging shelves. Another is ringed with wardrobes, and has a full length mirror standing in the centre of the room, still intact. A third room contains little but a brass bathtub, empty of water, and some discarded clothes beside it which seem to have fared a little better than any others you've yet seen, being at least recognisable for what they are. The last seems to be empty but for the ruins of some furniture you can't identify any more, though there seems to be a pile of old cloth in one corner. There are some odd objects on top of the pile, and though you can't make out quite what they are, you get a sense of unease from them.

>Explore the library.

>Explore the bathroom.

>Explore the mirror room.

>Explore the other room.

>Try the door at the end of the hall.

>>807090
>Explore the bathroom
maybe we can clothe ourselves with the stuff on the floor.

>>807090
>Explore the bathroom.

>>807090
>>Explore the library.

You go into the room with the bath, and make it to the bathtub. You sit upon the side of it for a moment to relieve your trembling legs. Once they feel a little steadier you lower yourself to your knees, not trusting yourself to bend over without falling. You lift the top item of clothing from the pile on the floor. It's a dress. Once a vivid red, you suspect, but now faded closer to brown. Frilly skirts and lace down the bosom and collar. Expensive, once upon a time. The rest of the pile are undergarments, clearly a woman's.

You sit staring at them for a few moments, then clumsily begin to dress yourself. The attempt does not go well, you're too thin for the clothes to stay on easily, except for the dress itself, which hangs from your shoulders inelegantly and the hem of which brushes the floor. Still, being clothed gives you some sense of comfort. You look around the room a last time, in case you missed anything else.

You're being watched.

You let out a strangled cry and stagger back, falling onto your backside as you step on the hem of your dress. A green witch-fire eye, peering through the window. Your heart pounds, sounding almost life-like, as you lock eyes with this other. It's a crow, you realise. Just a crow. You crawl back towards the bath and use it to pull yourself to your feet, then step around it and cross to the window. The sun doesn't touch this window, being around the corner of the house. The crow looks normal, but it stays still, stood between the iron bars, watching as you approach, until your hand reaches out and touches the glass in front of it.

It lets out a single course cry, the first sound you've heard that you didn't make yourself, and takes flight, keeping to the shadows of the street as it speed away. You swallow, and stare after it long after it is lost to sight behind the rooftops. The view from this window is similar to that from the bedroom, but instead of the great tower, stone walls rise above the rooftops. One part looks like it might be a gatehouse, with two towers rising together. A white and gold flag of a sunburst flies atop the ramparts there, looking clean and new. Shadows beneath it move about the parapets. People?

You lean against the window frame, watching, uncertain. Something presses into your hip as you shift your weight, and you reach down to find a pocket hidden amongst the folds at the top of your skirt. Your fingers scrabble for purchase, put pull out a small purse containing a few coins, and a small ring with a tiny silver key upon it.

>Explore the mirror room.

>Explore the other room.

>Try the door at the end of the hall.

>Go and try to unlock the lockbox with the key.

>Write in.

>>807167
>>>Explore the other room.

>>807167
>write in
take the lockbox with you into the other room, and unlock it there, while you investigate the mysterious room.

>>807178
>>807167
+1

>>807196
<3

You put the key and purse back in the pocket, and return to the bedroom. The key must go in the lockbox. You retrieve the box, and sit on the bed, cradling it in your lap. Then you stand up again. Some instinct drives you to take it to the other room, and open it there. Perhaps it's just a whim.

Either way, you shuffle back to the far end of the hall where the final room is, moving more slowly and awkwardly with your hands full. You sit and place it down in the room with relief and look between the box and the strange pile in the corner. Are those... bones? That sense of unease again as you look that way, like something is pulling at your heart.

The box forgotten for a moment, you crawl across, almost falling as you place your hand upon a chair leg that rolls under your weight. You recover though, and continue on. The item in the corner looks like a cushion, ragged and tattered. On top of it is a pile of bones. A long, canine skull sits at one end, a collar with silver writing upon it looped around the disconnected vertebrae. Again, you gasp, some deep ingrained habit overruling the fact you don't have to breathe. You reach out, hand trembling, and touch the yellowed bone of the skull. Your dog. Your friend. Your touch dislodges the skull, which slips off the cushion and rolls across the floor. The collar falls loose and drops to the floorboards as well.

Panicking, you crawl forwards quickly, grabbing the skull and hugging it to your chest. After a few moments you place it back where it was with the rest of the bones. You touch it again, gently. Your eyes sting, though no tears fall. You pick up the collar instead, feeling the ancient leather beneath your tattered fingers. You twist it to read the letters upon it.

'Akko, my dearest companion and protector'

You clench your hand around the collar. Akko, your dog. Your only friend in this place. You know that much. A little spark of memory. Your protector against all that frightened you, your companion in the loneliest of days. He would never abandon you. Surely, now, when you needed him the most he would be here.

'Power Comes from Mind and Heart.' You find yourself remembering those words, and realise the locket's chain is still wrapped around your other hand. You tighten your grip upon it.

The bones upon the cushion twitch, and you scream, a horrible strangled cry. Shadow seems to gather amongst them, and form the shape of a dog. In a sudden moment, the skull moves within the shadow, and turns to look at you. It barks, though the sound seems to come from a long way off, and echoes, slowly dying away. Tail bones wag as the skeleton climbs to its feet, and you shuffle backwards on hands and backside.

The shadow creature leaps towards you.

>Embrace it. Akko would never betray you.

>Fight it. You don't know what this is, but Akko is clearly dead.

>>807279
>>>Embrace it. Akko would never betray you.

>>807279
>Embrace it
Seems friendly enough. I mean, it's wagging its' tail, after all.

Always trust a doggo, after all.

>>807279
>Embrace it. Akko would never betray you.
Forever a friend, to a fault and beyond.

In a moment of clarity, you realise that it isn't an it. It's a he. Akko. Protector and companion, even now. He leaps on top of you, almost weightless, being made of just a few old bones and a shadow. You feel the ghost of a sensation as it licks the withered skin of your face. For the first time you feel a little happy, and you realise you're smiling as well as you can. You try to speak to him, but the words come out horrifically mangled, completely unintelligible. He gives a quiet, echoing bark back anyway. Eventually you clumsily push him away and roll over so that you can get up again.

Heart lightened by your company, you switch your attention back to the lockbox. You kneel in front of it and pull out the tiny silver key upon its ring. As you suspected, it opens the lock with a slight click. You try a couple of times before managing to get your fingers to hook under the edge of the lid. It opens. It contains a few rings and bracelets of silver and gold. Some of them have little gemstones set in them. Valuable. Like the dress would have been once. You touch the faded material you were wearing again.

Under the jewellery is something else. A tiny note, protected by the box. You pull it out and unfold it. It's worn and crumpled. Soft feeling. As though it has been read many times.

'My Dearest Tallia,

I hope you enjoyed the last books I sent you. I hope these will also be to your liking. My work here at the Tower continues and I still won't be able to come home for some time, but my thoughts are always with you. Remember, power comes form the heart and mind. Soon more than ever. Stay strong, my dear.

How is the puppy? Have you managed to decide on a name yet? How about Akko, like the dog in the story I used to read you as a child?

With my love.'

You stop to think for a moment. The same as the locket. The same person, you're sure. Akko nudges your thigh and you look down at him. His collar. You go and pick it up from where you dropped it, and put it back around his neck, where it hangs from his bones and passes through the shadowy flesh of his neck.

>Explore the library.

>Explore the mirror room.

>Try the door at the end of the hall.

>Write in.

>>807383
>Write in
pet the goddamn dog. I don't care if you're a mangled, desiccated zombie thing. PET IT

Then do whatever Idk

>>807383
>Explore the library.

>>807383
>Explore the library.

>>807383
>Explore the mirror room.
I guarantee we're actually a dude. We're a dude with a feminine name wearing the clothes left here by the person that wrote those notes.

You try to pet Akko, and feel the ghostly touch of fur for a moment before your hand passes through the shadow that makes up his skin. You feel the bones of his back instead then, and pull back quickly, though the dog doesn't seem to mind at all that you just touched his spine, just staring up at you with his empty shadowed skull eyes.

You put everything from the lockbox in your pocket, leaving it sagging, and wander through the hallway to the library room, Akko padding along behind you, the bones of his feet clicking against the floor boards.

The library is a mess of rotting shelves. Some have collapsed, leaving a mass of half disintegrated paper across the floor. A chair sits in front of the window, ideally placed to catch the sun form the window. This one has bars as well, and you can see the glow at the top of the tower as you could from your bedroom. Your skin crawls. Being watched. You're sure of it. The tower can see you. You step to the side so that it is hidden from sight. The feeling of being watched disappears instantly.

There seems to be nothing useful in the library. You look down at Akko, poking his nose among the papers. The light from the window glints on the lettering of his collar, and his shadow flesh seems to fade to invisibility in the light, leaving him a mere skeleton.

The collar. 'Companion and protector' it said. 'Power comes form the heart and mind'. Was it your belief that Akko would protect you? Or his own will to do so? Either way, it could overcome even death, it seemed. A new certainty slowly formed in your mind. This was a library. You had come here to learn, to answer questions you had. If Akko had not changed, why should your books? They would answer if you asked.

>What do you wish to know?

>>807438
So we're some sorta corpse crossdresser?

>>807446
What caused this unlife?

Our identity isn't very useful as a corpsething.

>>807446
What's the tower
what the gorilla fuck are we
what happened

>>807447
Exactly. We might even have been a trap in life.

>>807446
>What is the answer to life, the universe, and everything?
Wait no, better idea
>What are we?

“What am I?” you try to say. It comes out strangled. Surely no one would be able to understand it, but your books aren't someone, they're something, and they seem to get the message. Pages on the floor slide over one another, forming up into a great square of overlapping pages. Ink shifts next, flowing apart and together from faded text to an answer in letters three inches tall. Some corner of your mind tells you that the letters are in your handwriting.

'The essence of who you once were.'

“What happened, what caused all this?” Again, the library seems to have no trouble understanding you.

'Someone made their dream real.'

“What's that tower?”

'A lighthouse.' The words shift again after a brief moment. 'The Watcher.'

You pause. None of those answers really helped. If anything, they raised more questions. You shift a step forwards, and look out towards the green light at the top of the tower. The lighthouse. The Watcher. Capitalised. You step back as your skin begins to crawl, and shudder as you stand in the shadow of the wall. You look back down at the books. It had seemed too good to be true. No, that was a silly thing to think. Could thinking that make it true?

>Ask the library something else (what?)

>Go to the mirror room.

>Go to the door in the hallway.

>Write in.

Probably only have time for one more post before bed. Shall hopefully continue this tomorrow though.

Happy to hear any feedback/admiration/condemnation/suggestions. Are people enjoying?

>>807543
It's pretty dope, so far! I'm interested in learning more about our protag and the world around them.

>>807541
>Go to the mirror room
Might as well see what we can figure out about ourselves from our desiccated appearance.

>>807541
>Go to the door in the hallway.

>>807543
It's pretty neat. Wished things moved faster though, especially since you're pretty wordy.

Any time estimate on when we will start up again?

>>807560

Probably around the same time tomorrow. Something like seven or eight pm GMT (I'm brit).

>>807575
Sounds good.

>>807541
>Should we trust the Watcher?
>What are you?
>What are the important questions I should ask right now?

>>807582
Seconded

“Can I trust the Watcher?” you ask. Akko barks, answering your garbled words, and you wave a hand vaguely to try and quiet him. He does, but you can't tell if it was due to you wanting him too.

The letters on the pages shift again.

'The Watcher will not lie.'

“What are you?”

'A library.'

“What do I need to ask right now? What's important for me to know?”

The words collapse back into the original text, and return to their respective pages. There's just a mass of old disintegrating pages on the floor again. Perhaps the library can't give opinions. Maybe it ran out, somehow. There's so much you still don't know. More of it, you suspect, than you can even realise at the moment.

As you leave the library, you feel the Watcher's gaze upon your back until you pass beyond the door frame into the hallway. You stagger down the hallway with one hand against the wall for support. You stop at the doorway to the mirror room. It was full of wardrobes. A collapsed table against one wall was surrounded by debris. Little boxes, pots, bottles. Make up?

You look the other way, down the hall to the heavy door at the end. It looks far more substantial than the one to your bedroom, and has a very obvious keyhole. Is it locked though? Something you hadn't noticed before catches your eye. A hole in the ceiling to one side of the door, with a thin rope hanging down against the wall. A bell. A servants bell.

>Use the mirror room.

>Try the door.

>Ring the bell.

>Write in.

>>807661
I think the choice should be obvious.

>RING-A-DING, MOTHERFUCKER

>>807661
>“What are you?”
>'A library.'
... Thanks.

>Ring the bell.
>Tallia has alerted the horde!

Right, I'm signing off for tonight. I'll hopefully post up the next section tomorrow, early evening GMT.

Am looking forward to seeing if people's choices start making use of this world's logic.

>>807681
I like this idea a lot. Here we have a situation that looks hopeless and bleak at first glance, with a number of questions whose answers just raise more questions, but it's clear we have the power to influence our surroundings, if even just a little bit

"Power comes from the heart and mind." This is a profoundly powerful statement, especially under such grim circumstances.

Stay well, Mostly Dead. I look forward to more from you.

I'm set to continue this in a little while.

Anyone else want to give me some input before I get to writing?

>>809298
I would say "don't kill the dog", but you already screwed that up.

After a few moments of hesitation you pull the string for the bell, and hear a distant ring in the depths of the house. You wait, but nothing seems to happen. Standing there, you try the door, but it seems to be locked shut. It was worth a go at least.

Just as you think to turn away, Akko's skull raises, as though he has heard something. You listen hard. Nothing. No, there! Footsteps, slow and shuffling. Rather like your own, you can't help but think. Someone like you then? The sounds outside slowly progress to outside the door, then there's a dull click from the lock. You step back from it, your heartbeat rising to a steady thumping pulse. The door opens outwards ponderously, ever so slowly.

Standing outside is another just like you. The ruined remains of what might have once been a human, a genderless ghoul-like form of corroded cracked skin and emaciated limbs. Ribs show clearly beneath the flesh of their torso and blue-green ghostlights play in their eyes. Those eyes widen slightly as they see you, and the being takes a half step back. Something in its hunched gait brings back a spark of memory in you, but it drifts away from you like smoke on the wind before you can remember anything certain.

A single thought is at the forefront of your mind. This thing is repulsive. It's very existence is unnatural, offensive. Your horror looking at it is far beyond that caused by its appearance. On a deeper level somehow.

>Back away from it.

>Attack it.

>Push past it out of the door.

>Wait and see what it does.

>Try to talk to it (say what?).

>Write in.

>>809363
>Try to talk to it (say what?).
>Who what are you?
Do not merely hope for a response. K̲N̲O̲W̲, for truth, that an answer must be given - it answered the toll of the servant's bell; its duty is to serve.

Power comes from the heart and mind.

>>809363
>Try to talk to it.
"Has anyone really been far even as decided to use even go want to do look more like?"
>Wait no better idea
"Who are you?"

>>809363
We gotta restore our humanity at a bonfire ASAP

But seriously
>Write in.
Wave, or give some other nonverbal sign of greeting. We've had bad luck with talking so far.

>>809363
>Write in
>>809545
What he said.

Ended up being too busy last night to post again. Anyone want to tie break? The choice is fifty-fifty between talk and wave at the moment.

Rolled 1 (1d2)

>>811613
1. Talk
2. Wave

Despite its shock at first seeing you, the creature is clearly waiting for something. There is some sense of recognition, of acceptance in its eyes and demeanour. It answered the servants' bell after all. It must want to be told what to do.

“Who are you?” you try to say, but as before, the words come out as a hideous mockery of speech, too deformed to be anything even approaching understandable. The ghoul's expression switches form expectant to confused then begins to morph into what you realise can only be hostility. You begin to step back away from it, but your clumsy movements betray you in your haste and you trip over your own feet, falling backwards onto the hallway floor.

The creature bares its rotted teeth in a snarl, letting out a gurgling muted cry so similar to your own speech of a moment ago. It steps forward, arms raising out towards you, withered fingers grasping.

>Back off from it.

>Fight it.

>Try to reason with it.

>Write in.

>>811679
>Back off from it.
>Try to reason with it.
>Ask the library for advice.

>>811679
>>Fight it.

>>811679
Back off from it

In a sickening moment of clarity you realise that if you take the time to stand up it will catch you. Instead you scramble backwards awkwardly on the floor. The ghoul advances after you, one stumbling step after another, gaining slowly but steadily on your awkward shuffling.

You look around in desperation. You're level with the doorways into the mirror room and where you found Akko. Your eye catches the chair leg you slipped on earlier, just a few paces away. Even closer, the lockbox, still sitting open on the floor. Either would be better than your bare hands to fight with. Can you even fight this thing though? You might not be sure exactly what you are yet, but you're quite sure a warrior isn't it.

>Go nto the room where you found Akko to get a weapon.

>Go into the mirror room.

>Continue backing down the hallway.

>Write in.

>>811792
>>Go nto the room where you found Akko to get a weapon.

>>811792
>Go into the room where you found Akko to get a weapon.
I suppose we can maybe get the servant to listen by showing him that neither of us is capable of dying.

You twist to crawl forwards into the room where you first found Akko. You see the chairleg you slipped on, lying on the dusty floor where you left it. You scramble as fast as your withered limbs can take you. You're almost there when you hear a thud. A glance back shows that your pursuer has fallen. At least he is an uncoordinated as you are. You crawl on, but stop as you feel a grip around your ankle.

You can't reach the chairleg. Instead you lunge to one side, falling flat as you take hold of the lockbox.You twist around and swing wildly, hitting the ghoul in the side of the jaw as it wriggles closer to you. The blow twists its head to one side, splitting ancient skin. No blood comes out though, and it barely seems to notice the blow. Instead, it sinks teeth into the side of your emaciated calf, almost biting to the bone. Just like him, you feel no real pain.

You do, however, hear a bark. A distant echo, as before. Then another, much closer and deeper. A great shadowy mass hurtles past you. You make out the shape of a dogs jaws closing, and the ghouls head is ripped from its shoulders. It loses it grip upon you, falling to one side.

You scramble back away from it, abandoning the lockbox, and once you reach the wall, use that to stand up. The ghoul wriggles awkwardly, then slowly clambers to its feet. You freeze, but it does nothing. It can't see you, you realise after a moment. Without eyes it can't see. You slap one hand against the wall, but it doesn't react. Can't hear either. You look down at the chairleg, and back at the ghoul.

>Get the chairleg. Try to kill it.

>Get the chairleg, walk past it.

>Just go past it.

>Write in.

>>812379
>Get the chairleg, walk past it.
Let's give the servant the benefit of the doubt and chalk their attack up to not being able to gather their wits as fast as we did. Grab the chairleg in case it opts to start swinging wildly though.

>>812379
>Get the chairleg. Try to kill it.

Experimentation ahoy! Let's find out more about our altered state.

>>812379
>Get the chairleg, walk past it
We don't know if a person's still in there somewhere

>>812379
>get the chair leg. Try to kill it

>>812379


>Get the chairleg, walk past it

Am back about, but not sure how much or for how long. May continue this this evening, or may not. Will be a new thread if it is as this is either in or about to enter permasage.

>>814672
Please remember to link the new thread here, and backlink this thread in the OP of the new thread!
I only mention this because a lot of QMs that I've watched wouldn't think to do this if nobody reminded them to.

>>806798


New thread at >>819632