Gardevoiran

The Narrow Path

As soon as you start reading the book, you feel the words rush into your retinas as if they were harassing you. You can't help but feel the knowledge flow into your mind and soul, tainting it with the darkened powers that you feel swarming into your brain. At first, everything seems surreal, but before you know it, you see a vision of what's to come.

The path before you is one of marrow and viscera. The carcasses of one and all lay before you, regardless of anything. Men, women, children, animals, everything around you is dead. You glance down at your arms, only to find them a transparent cerulean. You do not exist in this world anymore. You are merely an apparition, able to gaze into what may become of this world should you continue down the path of this book's grasp on necromancy.

As your vision starts to fade, you see the remains of a series of warriors, with two living figures amongst the crowds. There exists a pile of smoldering ash, a puddle of wasted dreams, a sword as red as the sky, an eyepatch, soaked in blood, and a sword, carried by the worlds most powerful mage. Behind all of the remains, you clearly see what is a warrior of divine wrath, though fallen to her knees and struggling to rise once again. What's beyond her, though, is even more terrifying.

You are barely able to catch a glimpse of an amputee mercenary, with black smoke and smog leaking from every orifice, before you find yourself wishing you were as far away from the sun as possible. For a moment, you cannot see anything but the color white, but as your vision returns, you find Brock holding onto your shoulder in an attempt to support you. "You okay? You went as pale as a beach for a moment."

Despite the words calling you back to the pages, you feel like you shouldn't reopen this book for a while...

The Narrow Path

You stick your head out beside Brock, who calmly looks at you before sighing. "... listen, there's a reason that this book shouldn't be read. It holds centuries of magic that, in the wrong hands, could absolutely destroy the world." He reaches into his bag and pulls out the tome, a darkened violet surrounding his hands as the latch on the tome comes undone. Suddenly, your mind clears, and the tome in front of you is not as alluring as it was before. Whatever you thought was 'mental deterioration' had suddenly vanished. The sealing magic on the tome must have been what called you to it.

Brock places the tome in your hands. "What you may learn from this book may never leave you the same." Brock pauses for a moment to let that statement sink in. "A man died in my old sanctum because he dared to read it. If you are still willing to read it, please, read it up here. I can keep what you may unleash from destroying you, me, and everyone in that damn tent."

Into The Dark: Tales of Maroleth

Ursaren assisted all he could with Alice's magical pursuits, but he found he wasn't needed. It wasn't insulting to him, as he knew that all magic was different in its own specific way. He gave it his all, but once his attempts were proving unneeded, Ursaren simply observed the girl's attempts at magic before nodding off at the end. Somehow, the old man slept surprisingly softly. He made barely any sounds aside from the occasional soft roar of his inner bear coming out. It was actually quite impressive.

When Alice's attempts at magic occurred in the early morning, Ursaren awoke with a sudden panic, rolling off the bed and onto the floor with a thud. At first he was a slight bit annoyed, but he found himself laughing away the agitation before getting up and moving towards his gear and clean clothes. He was ready to switch to a different color, so he found himself wearing his new red garb. It was similar to the blue, how it had a serious number of patches, indicating that not even the glorious color of crimson red could withstand the mighty transformations from Ursaren's normal form to his bear state.

After putting on his new clothes, grabbing his bag, and re-equipping his shield, Ursaren went downstairs to have himself a spot of breakfast. A majority of the group was downstairs when he arrived, and they were all talking about a potent threat of the Dark Elves from before might come to attack this village too. Someone suggested a scouting trip, and everyone began to chime in with their thoughts as they discussed what to do. Nicademus expressed a desire to help the party. Aeryn spoke with a fair bit of wisdom about the issue at hand. Alice brought up her good point that learning the lay of the land was a good idea. Settionne... well... he was fairly right too. Ursaren didn't have much to add, but he did know what he desired to do.

"I think that a hike is a good idea, and while I would love to come and assist the group that goes on the trek, I feel my restorative talents are of much more use here," the old man spoke before taking a bite of an apple, chewing it a fair bit before speaking once again. "Though if everyone here insists that I may be of more use on the hike, I shall go with the exploration group."

Revenant: A Sci-Fi Adventure (Always Accepting!)

After Matija had been changed, Tibulass led the two girls into the town in pursuits of the finest bar, winery, or somewhere else that sells booze to the masses without asking many questions. Sure, the skin graft and scar of brain surgery was a thing, but when you were walking down the street along with three or four aliens per yard, you weren't incredibly shocked by the stranger that had some scars. Hell, that guy clearly had a broken arm and he was just kinda walking through the street casually.

At last, the two girls arrived at what seemed like a pretty standard bar. The neon signs were flickering against the brighter lights of the station, and the grizzly people in the bar definitely told that this bar was trusted by the ragamuffins of the station, which gave Tibulass a good feeling that she could get a strong drink here and get wasted. She only had to hope this place had pretzels now. A large sign beside it read "The Wasted Wormhole". Not the best name for a bar, but it was catchy to Tibulass.

"How's this place? Think we could get shit-faced here?"

@iTem

I, the Demon King, Will Summon My Own Damned Heroes!

---

A lot of things happened at once. There was the sudden explosion of slime, the crazy mess of angry mobs, and the sudden aggression by the other members of what was assumed as Jason's posse. More importantly, there was a lot of yelling, scaring Digbie a small bit. More importantly than being scared, Digbie was encouraged by his fear to perform his namesake talent even better. He had a job to do, and while nothing was aggressing him directly, he was going to continue the task that he was assigned.

So, he kept digging. This time, Digbie decided to put some of his talents into his skills. He had 3 mana crystals, he could do this. With every hit Digbie landed on the soil, he utilized {Soil Manipulation} in small discharges, aiming to soften his path with each strike against the stone and dirt before him by means of shifting it and shaking it, making it's structural integrity weaker. Along with each strike against the soil, Digbie activated {Tremor Sense} passively in a small radius around him to prevent some bad customers from trying to get the drop on him. Not only that, but {Tremor Sense} would help him understand if he was about to regret what was going to happen with his digging.

---

Available Skills

+ {Use Light Equipment]
+ {Tremor Sense - Tier II}
+ {Soil Manipulation - Tier I}

Inventory

+ <Curved Rock^TM>
+ <Woodland Pick^TM>
+ <Some kind of Rat Sack^TM>
- 3 Mana Crystals
_{"+" indicates major items. "-" indicates storage inside those items}

The Narrow Path

Walking over to Jen's forge, you feel the sickening repel of divine magic course through your body. The book isn't near Jen's forge, so where could it b- "I imagine you are searching for the dark tome." Jen stoically interrupts your train of thought before looking at you. The soot on her face from forging surprisingly fits her personality and passions, which shocks you a fair bit. "It is with Sinclair. You will have to converse with him if you want to get the tome."

Jen stands and turns towards you, wiping the soot away from her eyes and staring at you with a deep scowl. "The Light has told me I cannot stop you from reading the tome, but I must warn you. Whatever you shall read in that accursed tome is magic that is to be reckoned with. Tobias, please do not let the tome corrupt you and turn you into someone like Sinclair."

You see the two exits to the material world on each side of the pocket dimension. From the blurry images of the material world, you'd imagine that the one closest to you is the one you should take to see Brock.

The Narrow Path

You inspect your arm again, only to find nothing else new about the arm. It's the same arm you had five minutes ago.

Eve backs off from you a bit before quickly saying "Y-you look kind of tired, there are beds over there for you to use..." She quickly turns around and runs off to a nest on top of the bedrooms, clearly a bit scared of you. Plus, you noticed her lip was bleeding a fair bit. Looks like she's not impervious to pain.

Aside from the bedrooms, you see a large runic table off in the corner of the realm. Well, it's more off to the side, because the room is circular. It's one of the more interesting items to appear there since you returned into the room.

Other than that, there's a firepit with a circular bench around it. You could probably talk to some people there. The nature of the fire being purple also indicates that you may be able to perform some weird supernatural acts with the fire in question. It's also calling to you, similar to how Brock's book did a while ago. Could be interesting.

The Narrow Path

You lean back only to rest your back against the wall of the pocket dimension, only to find the wall of the realm is somewhat uncomfortable. It's curved in a way so you don't get any real back support, but your shoulders are leaning against the wall. It's not the worst feeling of being uncomfortable ever, but you do think it's still pretty trash.

Suddenly, Eve slams back into the ground in front of you, clearly back from another trip up to the top of the pocket dimension. She climbs up back onto her knees before she shakes a bit, fixing her feathers and hair (is that hair?) into their normal ragamuffin appearance. Then she notices you there.

"Y-you didn't see that, right?"

Reign: Kingdom Come

Lorenzo of Windor

Gear

- Three different cloaks. One black, one brown, and one lavender. (Not including a white one wrapped around Martyrdom)
- Trusty Bow
- Quiver of Arrows, approximating twenty-five.
- A thick red blanket made by his mother.
- Two bones. (One chewed a fair bit)
- The best beef jerky he had. (4/6 meals remaining)
- Flask of mysterious beverage.
- Flask of water.
- 20 meters of fine quality rope.
- A modestly-wealthy sum of gold.

---

"These wolves... something has got the pack annoyed. This isn't natural!" Lorenzo remarked as Martyrdom ran back to Lorenzo's side, whimpering as he looked at the cripple with a pair of saddened eyes. It was clear the dog was in a lot of pain. Sighing a small bit, Lorenzo took his cloak off and wrapped it around Martyrdom's midsection, tying the cloak around the dog tightly. It would ruin the cloak, surely, but Martyrdom needed the bandaging pretty decently for a quick-fix.

Lorenzo notched another arrow as soon as he heard the screams of the bard, but he lowered the arrow when he realized that it was useless to fire it off blindly in the bushes. Col had run after the bard, anyway. A cripple losing one of his only defenses was a major loss in his head. For right now, he was occupied with what was causing these wolves to grow so aggressive. "It's been a few years, but I don't recall these wolves being so aggressive towards anyone unless they were cornered. How... peculiar."

Revenant: A Sci-Fi Adventure (Always Accepting!)

Tibulass woke suddenly, the artificial gravity of the station jolting her body in the bed and causing her to snap awake. She sat upright in bed for a few seconds before sighing and turning to get out of bed. "Nngh... at least I'm not nauseous anymore." The girl stretched for another second or two before finally standing, grabbing a nearby piece of furniture for support. She was still a little dizzy from the surgery, and it seemed the medicine she took for that had been wearing off. Thankfully, she wouldn't have to use it for long.

The cockpit bunk was... cozy. Tibulus hadn't had a need for sleep, so he always stored his belongings in here to keep Stryker from having an aneurysm about the cockpit proper being full of stuff, but now that Tibulass needed to sleep, the room would see a lot more use. A bit of it had been unpacked from the boxes and such, mainly a blanket and pillow for the bed, but that was about it. She'd make this room a bit more homey later. Right now, she wanted to get to work doing things that she had missed out on in her afterlife.

Tibulass held a cigar in her hand, tempted to use it, before placing it down on the nearby desk. She wasn't going to ruin this body with cancer just yet. She couldn't cure that easily. Then again... she did perform a successful brain transplant. Anything was possible.

A short walk to the rest of the bunks occurred before the pilot knocked on the door to the third cabin. That was where Matija was, right? "Matija? It's Tibulass. I'm gonna go get piss-faced drunk and eat a pretzel, wanna come with?"

@iTem