W6 Player CYOA: Adolphe, Hawke, Richie, Taair

[holyspirits]

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START

[purities]

[Hello, boys. It's time to get down to business.

Literally. Because you are all now part of a group of mercenaries known as the Four Fangs. Lethal, efficient, and known for getting the job done. None of your assassination targets have lived to tell the tale. It's a reputation you've carefully cultivated over years and years of ugly work.

Now, it is the winter of the year 1656. Recently, you've been hired to take care of a demon who lives in the upper levels of a castle fortress just off the shore of Tanabe Islands. You do not know the name of the man who hired you and you do not care. The only thing you care to remember is the generous amount of money you were paid in advance, and the fact that based on the contract you signed, there will be double that amount coming your way once you finish the job.

You stand on the shore on this snowy, moonlit night, staring up at the castle fortress. Based on the information you have been given, there is a hidden entrance just 100 paces east, just before the shore becomes rock. It's cold. It's dark. You have your armor and a few items in your inventory, which you may decide how to distribute among yourselves.

Map: A simple map, leading you to the fortress's hidden entrance and all the way up the castle, where the demon resides. There are instructions written on the back explaining how to get inside through a secret tunnel, hidden in this very shore.

A lockpicking kit: As part of your AU lives, whoever nabs this will automatically know how to use the kit. Yippee!

Flint stones: A baggy filled with 8 flint stones.

Torches: Four torches to distribute among yourselves

Hand grenades: Ye olde grenades, like this. You pull a string attached to the handle to fire that baby up.

In terms of weapons, each of you can pick either a katana or a naginata, and you will all have a 12 inch wakizashi as a secondary weapon. You will gain proficiency in them as part of your AU lives. Yes, even Richie and Taair. Stop being useless twinks. You can pick specific aesthetics for your weapons and armor if you want to add more flavor text to your new lives.

Anyway, you are here, with nary a memory of your original selves. You're completely lost in the sauce and the castle fortress awaits. Decide how you would like to distribute your shit and how you will proceed.]

[historicals]

[ okay. au world or not, mad skills or not, taair is still taair, which means that he is not the best mercenary in the world, mostly because if given the choice he would rather negotiate his way out of anything and everything as opposed to kill anyone - but, the mercenary life does come with its perks. for starters, the travel. the people. the histories and stories he can learn and record. the friendships he can make. the... occasional story he can occasionally get from a target with a flattering smile and kind words before they get assassinated by one of the other three. (an experience that has likely happened dozens of times, usually with taair not intending to trap the poor sucker into getting murdered, but, well, it was going to happen eventually, and the least he can do is record the history of their life.)

it's not the cleanest work, but it pays the bills, buys him books, and of course brought him comrades he cares for dearly. that much is priceless, beyond every contract. it's a life of freedom, so there's not really any reason to complain.

so because he is still in fact taair khalisa nasir, he is the one of the four with a map today! he is also the one who probably read up on demons like a giant nerd. have we fought similar quarry to this before? do we have any information in the contract?

otherwise, once they land on the shores, he rests his hand on the hilt of his sword, absently running his thumb over a bird shaped engraving in the top for luck. he's all feathers and light, but what else is new. ]

One hundred paces to the east. Are we prepared?

[chrysanths]

[ The mercenary life suits Adolphe. He's fine being violent, but he also tries to take care of the others when he can. Sometimes he's needlessly fussy, like a nagging parent regardless of your age. His heart's in the right place. Probably. He's probably the person who tries to make things efficient. He is a stickler for these things and he will not allow a single tarnish on their record. 100% completion rate. No matter what.

Anyway, he's the one who has all their torches and flint stones, unless they want to hold onto their torches themselves. It's winter. It's cold. Have at ye. ]

Let's try not to get distracted on the way.

[ So, yes. He's ready. ]

[nonmagicuser]

[ to literally no one's surprise, hawke already has merc experience under his belt. just like the original run, he probably was simply conscripted into the business and simply never left after [redacted] happens. but it pays for a bed and warm dinner, he's got companions he doesn't hate, and the adventuring lifestyle suits him perfectly well.

but also ]

Before I freeze something off, even.

[ what would you do without his two yen commentary?

he thumps his naginata on the ground and peers into the distance. ]

We'll have to light things up at some point.

[gutterbound]

Let's hope not, Hawke. You don't have much length left to spare.

[Richie Tozier is perhaps the last person you'd expect to kill you. And perhaps that's what works to his shocking advantage. He's got the personality of a showboat, loves people, loves good sake and loose women, and boy does he love talking. You wouldn't expect he's just as good at listening, at goosing information out of leads and targets alike, nor dancing around secrets that folks might be keen to pull out of him. Moreover, his unique talent as a vocal mimic comes in handy. When a trusted voice calls to you from behind a closed door, why wouldn't you open it? It's not like it could be a band of four killers with drawn blades outside. That's just your general, your wife, your beloved brother or your son. Whoops! Sorry baby, better luck next life.

Richie drums his fingers against his hips, where his katana stays slung sheathed and easy. He cocks his head at the fortress ahead, then to the so-called hundred paces to the east.]

Wonder how "hidden" this hidden entrance is. Wanna take bets on it being booby trapped? [He looks up to Taair, mouth quirked.] What say we set one or two on door duty and the others on lookout, just in case? I don't doubt they've still got eyes on it, could do with a touch of caution.

> FIRST FLOOR

[purities]

[... They surface in a dark cellar, surrounded by dozens of barrels filled with cheap sake. It smells very, very bad in this room. But it is quiet and they can take a moment to catch their breath and recover. A few skulls float to the surface of the hole they just crawled out of, both child sized and adult sized. They stare at the gang with empty eyes, almost as if resenting them for surviving.

Why should four men with blood on their hands live, when a child and their mother could not? So many dead children, whose names they will never learn.

Regarding their inventory, their torches are all gone and the map is soaked through and totally useless. The flint stones will recover and so will the grenades. Richie's lock picking kit is missing a few pieces, but hopefully nothing that he'll need in the future. All their weapons are intact.

When they're ready to move on, there is a wooden door right across from them on the other side of the room. A little bit of orange hued, flickering light filters through it.]

[historicals]

[ boy, this is hateful. taair's up and onto the shore, immediately reaching for the others to make sure everyone is up and about and out of the water. the map can wait - his precious friends are so much more important, and once everyone's out, he finally exhales out, leaning back against the stinky sake door.

WE HAVE NO MEDICAL SUPPLIES but he cuts off a piece of cloth from something he's wearing to use if necessary, and will definitely want to look of everyone's injuries if possible!! but he sets his hand on our near drowning twunks, rubbing backs if anyone needs to hack up water, and breathes out. ]

Is everyone alright? [ it's a fine distraction from the tiny child's skull that feels like its boring a hole in his head. it makes his heart ache. ]

[chrysanths]

[ Adolphe glances at the skulls, but quickly looks away. He tries to regain steady breathing, but it's rough out there. There's a lot of coughing and straining his body to cough just makes him bleed more. Cool. But it's fine... his stupid endurance stat is still here. ]

... 'm fine.

[ He'll get in the way of letting them keep seeing the skulls and try to squeeze water out of his things while at it. ]

[nonmagicuser]

[ wheeze hacks pathetically. he might have survived the almost drowning but my mans looking like a drowned dog for the efforts. shakes like one too, rip. ignore the fact he's probably also resembling a bleeding pin cushion after all that banging too, oogh ]

Not dead yet.

[ but he's eyeballing richie when he says it. is your ankle still attached? do we need to carry your corpse? or is the power of lil richie powerful enough to keep you going? ]

Still with us?

[gutterbound]

[no actually he lost his whole leg as well. He is down to two limbs, this is now a fear and hunger cyoa.

Actually he's fine, just coughing up so much water and appreciating Taair's attempts to help him clear his lungs out. After hocking up a rather juicy splatter of water:]

Anybody want a drink?

[He's got more where that came from.

It's a piss poor distraction from the accusing glares of the skulls. He has a hard time looking away from them. Tiny children. Mothers too, no doubt. It's enough to make a grown man cry. Richie shudders, rising on all fours. His ankle feels fine so far, theoretically the bite won't be that bad.]

I'm still kicking, sure. I think I lost one or two of my little gadget, but I should be able to finagle most locks without. [Richie swipes his wet hair out of his face, squinting around.] This a drink cellar? What's that rotten smell?

> THIRD FLOOR

[purities]

[Past the courtyard and through the ornate doors, the gang will find themselves facing a long, winding staircase that will lead them to the third floor. The halfway point of their adventure. Wahoo.

Dripping blood on their way up, and assuming they don't immediately pass out and die, the group can climb the staircase and make it to the third floor landing. There they will see a simple wooden door. No bells in sight. No fancy decorations. Not even a lock. The door should open with only a simple push.

How will they approach this?]

[historicals]

[ up we go...! haggard and exhausted. taair's not much for heavy lifting, so he will bring up the rear this time, since he's in...relatively...okay shape... comparatively, letting richie take point.

we're so paranoid at this point - once they get up the stairs, taair looks left and right and tries to listen for any approaching sounds or strangeness, looking at the door a bit warily from around adolphe and hawke's sides before peering back to make sure they aren't being followed, also? ]

... Perhaps there will be a party after all... [ this is a joke. even he is suspicious of this door. ]

[chrysanths]

[ Adolphe is exhausted. He's probably holding onto red warning HP by this point with pain that comes with every slight movement he makes--even breathing. he didn't get struck at vitals, but damn.

Is there anything that smells past the door? Like there's a heavy stench or something? ]

[nonmagicuser]

[ hawke has ascended beyond the pain of death and has entered the numb nirvana of i can't feel a damned thing but the slow crawl of time. it's great! he's great! he's barely clutching onto adolphe up this miserable climb by the time they reach the top ]

Are we there yet?

[gutterbound]

Closing in, hoss.

[Richie speaks low, especially as they come to the door. He'll listen against the wood for a moment first, seeing if he can hear anything amiss.

If the coast is clear, he will push open. If he hears something beyond, he'll stop to assess, relay the message back to the gang. What do his jug-ears hear?]

> FIFTH FLOOR

[purities]

[They fall and fall and fall and, eventually, they fall back into their previous selves. Mercenaries. Sellswords. Men whose greed has led them to this castle, the promise of wealth being enough to make them throw caution to the wind and sign a contract to slay a demon. Now look where it's gotten them.

But even as they fall back into their old selves, something feels... loose. Knocked askew. Slightly out of place. The echoes of their real selves trapped in the back of their minds. For the purposes of the rest of this CYOA, their memories as mercenaries in 17th century Japan remain firmly in the forefront of their minds. These feel real. Current. Like this is their life.

Meanwhile, their canon and heavenly memories feel as though they came from a past life, like they've stumbled across the foggy recollections of a previous incarnation of themselves. Dulled with time, but still somewhat accessible. Kind of wild to reincarnate into a ronin, but whatever.

(As a note none of them will remember that Adolphe and Hawke are, you know, double dead. Don't worry about that for now.)

When they regain consciousness, it is with the vague memory of tripping balls, clumsily climbing their way up the castle walls after exploding the third floor, and then getting caught by guards on the fourth floor and subsequently thrown into the dungeons on the fifth floor... Overlaid, though fuzzily, with the trauma they experienced in the abyss. It feels like a very detailed dream they've just woken up from.

The dungeons are where they find themselves now, each in their own individual cell along a long corridor.

Aided by the dim light of the torches propped up on each end of the room, they can see each other through the bars of their cells. Howdy, neighbor. Perhaps more importantly, though, they're all free to notice that the doors of their cells have been left slightly ajar. Unlocked. There's is nothing preventing them from simply walking out.

That said, their bodies are currently in the same state that they were when they left the third floor kitchen. Injured and covered in viscera, but not drowned, or small, or sewered or even magical.

What now?]

[historicals]

[ the last thing taair remembers from the fuzzy trauma of his dream are those golden bars - so you can imagine how disorienting it is when he sits up with a gasp and finds himself staring at prison cell bars once more.

it takes him a full second to actually function enough to realize what's happening. the world closes, static hums of feeling trapped, but then there's the sticky, awful feeling of gore and viscera that whammies with pain, and that is a shot of reality. it's enough to staunch the panic and bury it deep under the surface for now, to find his logical center as taair drags himself to the door, presses a hand to it, feeling it move in his hand with a sense of utterly indescribable relief.

this lasts for about one second before horror kicks in, the memory of what happened with the grenade. he sucks in a breath, sharp, and tries to speak. nothing comes out, at first, and then, finally, croaked - ]

Richie? Adolphe? Hawke?

[ but that door is getting pushed OPEN, and he uses the bars to pull himself properly to standing, and steps partially out to remind himself he can. ]

[chrysanths]

[ Adolphe comes around eventually, scowling at his new revelations and instead, he'll do his best to ignore all that in favor of trying to get through their current contract relatively intact or so the devils help him. This is why he gets up and tries to shake off whatever gore and viscera is on him. Disgusting. Truly. He grabs a torch.

He just angrily kicks the door of his own cell open and just. Fucking leaves. Where? I have no idea! He's looking afor a dungeon exit from this long hall. Adolphe can be sad at a later time. ]

[nonmagicuser]

[ nothing like the echoing trauma of your own mother reminding you every problem that's ever happened is your fault while she dies in your arms

there's a confused garbled noise from hawke, tired and exhausted physically and now mentally weary on top of it all.

but it's fine! it's fine!!!! clearly it was just an incredibly vivid nightmare and he just has to Not Think About It while they've got a job do it. .....that's if he can even get up but the old man noise he makes at least gives them the sign of life that reassures more than anything ]

We're not getting paid nearly enough for this.

[gutterbound]

[Richie comes to slow. Foggy, breathing hard and feeling baffled by the lack of weight on his legs.

(Naive)

Would would Eddie say that?

Who was Eddie?

He smacks his lips, parched dry. No blood. Looking up and around, and hearing a bang and seeing legs in a mad strut zip by. Adolphe.]

Hey...wait...

[He rolls to his feet. Fifth floor, this is the fifth floor. They'd consumed some kind of psychoactive soup. Gone on a little field trip to some merry land in their own heads, and now have who knows how long to hightail it out of here. Nothing but a dream. A doze, a drug-addled vision of things never to come.

God, I hope not.

Richie rolls to his feet, and starts after Adolphe. Halts at Hawke's cell and edges in to lend him a hand up.]

You got that right.

[Let's fucking skedaddle.]

> SIXTH FLOOR

[purities]

[And then, after presumably bleeding all over the stairs, they find themselves standing on the sixth floor landing. There is a large, wooden door in front of them. Oppressive stone walls to the left and right. Behind them, they hear the crackling of fire and see the orange hues of the flames on the floor below.

The fire will, unfortunately, continue to spread. All they can do is hope that the castle will not cave in on itself until they've finished the job.

How will they approach this door?]

[historicals]

[ aw nothing says home like oppressive stone walls!!!

taair makes sure everyone's rushing to the door - moving them carefully, making sure no one is immediately in danger of passing out just in case, unable to stop being Like This at any time, but once we're up the landing, he leans against the door to listen for sounds over the fire...?

or maybe he just leans against it because he is also poisoned probably and lacking blood in his body and is so exhausted that he just needs to lean against the door for a second.

okay. is it open. is there a doorknob. can we just like. open it. ]

[chrysanths]

[ Adolphe has calmed down drastically after whatever the fuck that was before, though he's still in a daze. His walk up the stairs helped with that probably. Walkies? Actually helping mental health? Hateful.

He still helps Hawke up the stairs because stairs are a grueling task no matter what universe you're in. When Taair leans against the door, Adolphe just. Scruffs him. And then tosses him onto his own shoulder. ]

[nonmagicuser]

[ you're a pal, adolphe. some part of him feels weird about it but it's fine! it's absolutely not important.

he's probably a little roasted on top of literally everything else so wowee, is he feeling it now. may this whole place simply blow up so he doesn't have to think about trying to get down, amen 🙏

taair getting potato sacked at least gets a tired snort out of him but now it's turn to lean against the wall before he falls over and rolls right back down the stairs. ]

[gutterbound]

[sort of an exasperated glance at Adolphe the extremely injured taking Taair the also injured but significantly less bloodlossed over his shoulder. He'll assume Hawke-helping duty then. Ladies and gentleman the room is in shambles.

Richie will hobble them both to the door. What is the situation. please don't be locked. He does not wish to have to grenade this.]