NullWorld Quest [Original Setting]

[HypoSoc]

​

AWAKEN

The WORD stirs you, spinning your self into being, an entity separate from the void that is all.

YOUR TASK IS SET. YOUR DUTY COMPELS YOU. GO FORTH AND COMPLETE MY MISSION

From Identity comes Consciousness. From Consciousness, Curiosity. Is this what it means to exist? How strange. Questions -what a new experience- arise by the bushel -what is a bushel?- begging for answers. Unfortunately for your self-examinations, the WORD seems impatient.

DO NOT DAWDLE. BEGONE

And the first feeling you experience is discomfort, as you are removed from the not-

-and violently ejected into the is. Lovely. Pain, you decide, is a bad thing. Immediately, you take note of you surroundings -what an experience! to have surroundings- and note that you seem to be in some sort of forest. As a first sight, it is a rather fetching one. The light shines through the densely packed trees, illuminating the detritus and foliage of on the ground. An orchestra of buzzings and scrapings -insects, your mind helpfully provides- dances in your new ears. Scents and feelings abound overwhelm your deprived self. It seems you have been gifted with a body to go with your Identity. You examine yourself.

What is your name?
[ ] (Write in)

What are you?
[ ] You are a normal human
[ ] You seem to be some sort of steam-powered automaton
[ ] You might be considered human, if you ignore the cat ears and tail
[ ] (Write in)

What is your gender?
[ ] Male
[ ] Female
[ ] (Write in)

[X] Drake
[X] You seem to be a hybrid of a dragon and a human
[X] Male

 

[HypoSoc]

Character Sheet​

Drake, the Half-Dragon
Stats: Hidden
Wings: Pitiful
Equipment:

• Pocketless Tunic x1
• Tree Branch Might Quarterstaff x1

 

[HypoSoc]

Index
Null 0
Drake 1
Drake 2​

 

[Dreadis]

[X] Reva
[X] You might be considered human, if you ignore the cat ears and tail
[X] Female

 

[Balatro Philologus]

[X] Reva
[X] You might be considered human, if you ignore the cat ears and tail
[X] Female

 

[kinglugia]

What is your name?
[X] Drake

What are you?
[X] You seem to be a hybrid of a dragon and a human

What is your gender?
[X] Male

 

[Kelenas]

What is your name?
[X] Drake

What are you?
[X] You seem to be a hybrid of a dragon and a human

What is your gender?
[X] Male

 

[Trilonias]

[X] Kwaznatch
[X] You might be considered human, if you ignore the cat ears and tail
[X] Female

 

[Chibi-Reaper]

[X] 013
[X] You seem to be some sort of steam-powered automaton
[X] Undefined, pending modifications and installation.

 

[Space Penguin]

[X] 013
[X] You seem to be some sort of steam-powered automaton
[X] Undefined, pending modifications and installation.

 

[Malcolmo]

What is your name?
[X] Drake

What are you?
[X] You seem to be a hybrid of a dragon and a human

What is your gender?
[X] Male

 

[inverted_helix]

[X] Reva
[X] You might be considered human, if you ignore the cat ears and tail
[X] Female

 

[Jiven]

What is your name?
[X] Braise
What are you?
[X] You seem to be a hybrid of a dragon and a human
What is your gender?
[X] Female

 

[Jaertin]

[X] 013
[X] You seem to be some sort of steam-powered automaton
[X] Undefined, pending modifications and installation.

 

[codeRR]

What is your name?
[X] Drake

What are you?
[X] You seem to be a hybrid of a dragon and a human

What is your gender?
[X] Male

Click to shrink...

 

[HypoSoc]

[15:37] <HypoSoc> roll 1d4 for bonus
[15:37] <qqdice> HypoSoc rolled 1d4: 3 = [3]
[15:38] <HypoSoc> roll 1d2 for event
[15:38] <qqdice> HypoSoc rolled 1d2: 2 = [2]

Click to shrink...

You marvel at your new body. It is everything you could have hoped for, possessing matched pairs of arms and legs, and even (you assume) a face! You run your hands across yourself, marveling at the new sensations. It seems that most of your body is covered in a smooth, fleshy, tannish substance –skin you recall– though your forearms instead are enveloped in a course, red, almost-metalic material –scales, your mind insists– much like a bracer. Similarly, the back of your hands are armored. Beyond that, your only clothing seems to be a well-worn tunic, dissapointinly bare of pockets. Truly, you have a splendid body.

You might have not access to a mirror, but all in all you believe yourself to be a dashing half-dragon. Idly, you decide to name yourself. After all, selves needed names. In consideration of you draconic frame, you decide upon "Drake." Not that creative, you know, but all you have going for you is that you are a half-dragon—

Your mind comes to a halt.

HALF-DRAGON!

You eagerly twist your head, and almost squeal upon confirmation that you do, in fact, have wings. Oh glory of glories! You can easily picture your epic form doing momentous deeds with the aid of these magnificent limbs. People will swoon in envy and desire upon glimpsing your mighty form, taking shelter from or within your enormous wingspan. You unfold them to full length—

Oh, that's rather embarrassing. You quickly pull them back in to hide your shame. You don't think you could possibly generate any lift with those... Please tell me I am not stuck with these. They have to grow, right?

You assure yourself, that yes, your magnificence will be evident in the near future. Besides, there are other great features of your semi-drakehood. Why, you must be able to spew forth fabulous flames of fiery fury. Such a technique must be within your grasp. It's instinct, right?

You take in a great heave of air and release your power.

You take a moment to curl up into a ball and wallow in self-pity.

Right, can't sulk forever. Surely this too will improve with time, as well. You just have to stop thinking about how you are a pathetic example of whimpdom who can't even-
And you curl up again.

After a few more cycles of turmoil wherein you learn the pain of disappointment and the fragility of emotions, you resolve to be on your way. There is a whole world to explore after all.

You head out in a direction at random.



It strikes you suddenly that the background noise is gone. The buzzing of insects and skittering of forest animals which had been your constant hiking companion tapered off. It had happened so slowly that you only now just noticed. The trees around you looked the same, as do the foliage. Still, there is something that makes this area different. A smell, perhaps?

A shiver crawls down your spine and you DODGE

There is a crash from where you just stood, and pile of viscous, and vicious, amalgam of green gunk just bigger than your head. –Slime, you are helpfully informed– It hisses? growls? spews air bubbles? at you and prepares to lunge—

[ ] What do you do? (Write in)

[X] Dodge it's lunge and see if there's a stick nearby you can use to hit the slime with.

 

[Malcolmo]

[X] Dodge it's lunge and see if there's a stick nearby you can use to hit the slime with.

 

[HypoSoc]

21:28] <HypoSoc> roll 1d3 for dodge
[21:28] <qqdice> HypoSoc rolled 1d3: 2 = [2]
[21:29] <HypoSoc> roll 1d2 for search
[21:29] <qqdice> HypoSoc rolled 1d2: 2 = [2]
[21:29] <HypoSoc> roll 1d3 for dodge
[21:29] <qqdice> HypoSoc rolled 1d3: 2 = [2]
[21:29] <HypoSoc> roll 1d4 for attack
[21:29] <qqdice> HypoSoc rolled 1d4: 1 = [1]

Click to shrink...

The putrid pile of pus pounces, but you were prepared. A quick step to the side remove your torso from its trajectory. Noting that it would probably be a bad idea to touch the thing that is try to grab a hold of your face and/or organs, you give a quick once over for some sort of weapon. Luckily the forest is just brimming with serviceable walking and thumping sticks. An acceptable branch lies just a short distance away.

The ooze seems to have recovered from its second failed strike and is ready to leap once more. You dash for your chosen weapon, listening for the slime's tell-tale hiss. As you expect, it attacks mid-stride. You juke out of the way barely, its cold membrane brushing against your back. Close, but not good enough, snot ball!

Your hand grasps onto the stick, and you take the stance of an expert swordsman. Well, maybe not an "expert" swordsman, or even a "swordsman," but it is a pretty stance-y stance for a person with no combat experience. Why, you can picture yourself in this very pose, wielding a god-forged blade against a shadowy demon, a princess cowering behind you, taking comfort in your magnificent, outstretched wings...

Your mental image curls up into a sobbing ball as both princess and demon mock your lack of endowment.

GAH! You can't get distracted. You enemy is before you. Time to demonstrate your awesomeness through the art of combat!

You swing your stick mighty quarterstaff at your foe, a shout bellowing from your lungs. You can feel the power from the strike, and you know that this will be the last your adversary experiences. A clunk erupts as contact is made—

—with the ground next to the slime that didn't even bother to dodge. It looks at you askew, astonishment on its lack-of-a-face.

Shut up, Slime. I don't need your damn pity.

[ ] What do you do? (Write in)

 

[Malcolmo]

[X] Try again, this time with less daydreaming and more aiming.