>>724166
Seconding KROLM

Seconding Noodle-legs

FEN 2016/05/18(Wed)02:57 No. 724178 ID: 934071
File 146356542124.png - (439.34KB , 850x850 , Sketch183114047.png )

Your name is RANDALL KROM. You think.

You stand up- your legs are kind of wobbly, like noodles.

> Something seems off.

>>724178
You appear to be wounded. Seek medical attention.

FEN 2016/05/18(Wed)03:16 No. 724182 ID: fea673
File 146356660118.png - (741.21KB , 850x850 , Sketch18312747.png )

>>724179
You peel back the tattered canvas and chain mail, trying to see the extent of your damage.

Well.

>Well
...well you're not dead... I think. Maybe the universe just hasn't noticed you're supposed to be dead right now and as long as you don't bring attention to it you'll be fine. Anyways what can you see around you?

>>724182
look down real quick, you might be a ghost hoss

don't worry about it. if you are a zombie then you are a rare sentient one.

check surroundings for signs of this being the ghostrealm, otherwise enjoy your new apparent freedom from pain and need of internal organs

>>724187
"Woohoo! Yeah, liver, you're not the boss of ME anymore!"

But no, yeah, look around. I see dead things, nearby.

FEN 2016/05/18(Wed)04:19 No. 724193 ID: cde0d5
File 146357035149.png - (270.94KB , 850x850 , Sketch18312353.png )

You don't...feel dead. You kick at a pebble and it bounces away. Not a ghost, then.
You're on a battlefield, but there's been nothing here for at least a fortnight- whatever armies fought here, they're long collected their dead.

Don't feel dead, huh? You breathing? Heart beating? Flesh warm?

Take stock of what you have with you, too. You've got armor on, looks like. Any pouches or the like with anything in them? Any weapons?

1/2 FEN 2016/05/18(Wed)06:04 No. 724200 ID: 2067a4
File 146357665291.png - (381.81KB , 850x850 , Sketch183142816.png )

It takes you a moment to figure out why you feel so weird.
You're not breathing.

You now have what adventurers call an "inventory."
Wake up a horse and go back to town.

2/2 FEN 2016/05/18(Wed)06:15 No. 724205 ID: 2067a4
File 146357730976.png - (283.15KB , 850x850 , Sketch183143849.png )

You feel like you should be freaking out, but you're actually just kind of numb. You instinctively try to take a deep breath, but the air bubbles inside you and pushes out the hole in your chest along with a spatter of red. Okay, bad idea.

You look around, doing an inventory in your head.

YOU HAVE:
Simple Plate Armor (good condition except for the hole)
3 Names (can be given, taken, revealed or stolen. Your current names are RANDALL OF HOUSE KROM and two that you don't recognise yet.)
1 glass bottle of clear liquid

You currently have no weapons, but you could probably scavenge something from the filth covering the field.

>>724205
Tear banner from lance.
Remove breastplate.
Bandage wound with banner.

Not looking like a corpse might be important for future social calls.

Find a weapon that's embedded in someone real good, so you know it works well.

Find a tabard to cover your chest-hole, preferably one without any distinctive heraldic markings so you won't be mistaken for an enemy. If you can scrounge up some actual House Krom colors that'd be ideal, of course.
Next priority after that is a sturdy six-to-ten foot wooden pole, with optional pointy metal bit on one end: a primarily defensive weapon, enough to scare off brigands but unlikely to make you look like a potential murderer in the eyes of civilized folk.

well search around and see what you can find. Also see if you can find something to cover the hole in your chest. Just because it doesn't bother you doesn't mean it won't bother whoever we run into.

>>724224
I know madness is the norm for you kome, but what the flying furry fuck is that file.

>>724205
Scavenge a weapon.

1/3 FEN 2016/05/18(Wed)12:42 No. 724235 ID: 2067a4
File 146360056053.png - (369.23KB , 850x850 , Sketch183171130.png )

You kneel down to tug at what looks to be a spear- the shaft slides out of the horse's side, revealing a wicked-sharp tip. You pull off the banner and wrap it around your torso. It's not the neatest job, but it should do until you find an actual solution.

2/3 FEN 2016/05/18(Wed)12:44 No. 724236 ID: 2067a4
File 146360068211.png - (578.51KB , 850x850 , Sketch18320716.png )

You wonder idly if the horse would wake up if you tried hard enough. What with the whole possibly-dead thing you've got going...

3/3 FEN 2016/05/18(Wed)12:47 No. 724237 ID: 2067a4
File 146360084115.png - (257.45KB , 850x850 , Sketch18320510.png )

Nope.

...Now you've just spent half a minute patting the face of a dead horse, but at least you have a weapon. All things considered, this could be worse. Something could be on fire.

Look around to see if there's any sign of your army. Any tracks leading off somewhere? Bodies dragged in a direction?

Do you know where your army was headed? Maybe you can catch up with them.

well I guess all we can do now is pick a direction and start walking until we run into something... hey before we do anything can you see if you can actually talk. I mean with a big ass hole in your chest I'm not sure if you can actually get enough air into your throat to form words.

Are you decaying? That'll put a damper on people seeing your face.

If you can't breathe, does that mean you can't speak? That might be a difficulty. I'm guessing you probably don't know any sign language. Keep an eye out for something to write with/on, assuming you're not illiterate. Don't want to make assumptions.

>>724276
>>724276
The is an high correlation with literacy and nobility. The fact that someone coughed up enough for our plate armor, and our noble surname means we were probably once quite an, er, renaissance man.

How much we can remember of that now, however...

Long as we're on the subject of fire, do you see any pillars of smoke on the horizon? Or other indications of human habitation or activity?

Also, can you read and write?

1/2 FEN 2016/05/19(Thu)02:50 No. 724403 ID: 0bba78
File 146365143205.png - (289.26KB , 850x850 , Sketch194104857.png )

Speaking of fire... there's a thin streak of smoke on the horizon. Your eyes are kind of dry and you can't really smell anything, but you're pretty sure it's coming from something small, a campfire maybe. There should be people there, if you're lucky.
You move off across the trampled field, looking for information. You can't remember how you got here or which side you were on- when you think about it, you realise there's a lot you don't remember. The last...months? years? are a blank. It strikes you, out of everything, as terribly cliché. Maybe you'll figure things out later.

2/2 FEN 2016/05/19(Thu)03:11 No. 724404 ID: 73d086
File 146365269752.png - (446.09KB , 850x850 , Sketch194113739.png )

You try to speak as you walk- first humming, then forming words. If you take tiny breaths you can sort of talk, but it doesn't sound promising. Though your throat is fine, unless someone patches up the holes in your lungs you won't be singing anytime soon. Seems like gurgling while you talk wouldn't be too well recieved.
You remember noticing a piece of parchment wrapped around the GLASS BOTTLE. You remove it from your inventory and unwrap the bottle. It takes you a moment to give names and meanings to the shapes, and for a second you're afraid you can't read- but no, it just takes some effort. You're not sure about a few of the letters, but "VODKA- DO NOT POUR ON WOUNDS" seems a reasonable thing to write. The handwriting seems too neat to be yours, but at least you've confirmed you can read.

[In addition to an INVENTORY, you can now view your skills. Your current known skills are READING, WRITING, BASIC HAND-TO-HAND COMBAT, USE OF A SWORD, SHIELD AND LANCE. Your inventory now also contains a SHORT SPEAR.]

well we still have some ways before we hit the source of the smoke. Keep an eye out for more things to scavenge and hopefully we can pass your garbled speech off as a wound or something... assuming whoever we bump into is friendly that is but we can cross that bridge when we get to it.

Aw, your mom packed you lunch for your battle! That's sweet.
Approach campfire.

1/2 FEN 2016/05/19(Thu)06:59 No. 724426 ID: 14de5f
File 146366635025.png - (338.87KB , 850x850 , Sketch194134355.png )

The sun climbs steadily overhead, streaking across the sky in the opposite direction as the smoke.
You keep an eye out for anything of use as you walk, but there's nothing but scraps. The battlefield hasn't been so much picked clean as the surviving soldiers took everything with them- tragedy and whatnot, but good swords wouldn't be left to waste away in the dirt.
You pass a heap of bare earth around noon and pause to inspect it. You don't seem to tire anymore, but it feels respectful to pause.

2/2 FEN 2016/05/19(Thu)07:08 No. 724428 ID: 14de5f
File 146366690583.png - (417.07KB , 850x850 , Sketch19415507.png )

Despite your worries, the smoke doesn't disappear as you travel, and, by the time the sky is beginning to grey, you reach the edge of the forest from where it rises. You're but a few hundred steps away from your goal.
> How do you proceed?

Approach "sneakily." *Clank clank clank*

Go slow, but as un-stealthily as possible. Wave your hand in greeting but pretend to be mute. Lean heavily on your staff, as if exhausted and lame of leg. If they are friendly, this will elicit sympathy; if hostile, apparent weakness may provoke an immediate, clumsy attack rather than a better-prepared ambush later.

>>724430
This seems sound.

>>724430
This seems sound.

>>724430
This. but be on the lookout for cloth along the way, or just tear a scrap off of your hole covering and tie it around your neck. Make sure there's some blood on it. This way, if people wonder why you cant talk, or sound like a gurgling mess, you can show them your "Throat Injury"

>>724467
Mutes were known and recognized even in antiquity.

>>724472
Huh. The More you know.

>>724507
Get enough people swinging swords and axes at each other, and you're bound to end up with some cut tongues and crushed jawbones. Some of them survive.

The deaf had it much worse, as a whole.

For now, playing the mute/throat injury card will work. See if we can get some writing supplies later, too. Approach quiety so we can observe them, but try not to appear hostile.

1/3 FEN 2016/06/01(Wed)01:43 No. 727161 ID: 37a739
File 146477058908.png - (452.37KB , 850x850 , Sketch231125416.png )

You steel yourself, resisting the urge to take a deep breath. Time to press forward- into the forest green.

2/3 FEN 2016/06/01(Wed)01:51 No. 727165 ID: 37a739
File 146477106320.png - (671.11KB , 850x850 , Sketch2311353.png )

Almost immediately the quiet is shattered by the harsh, excited bark of a dog. The underbrush rustles, and the creature pops onto the path in front of you.
"Barnabas, where are you?" A shout echoes from the same direction, no doubt the animal's master. "Come back here, good dog!"
Barnabas (?) swishes his tail and makes a soft boof noise, but doesn't turn around. Good think you hadn't planned to be subtle.

FEN 2016/06/01(Wed)01:55 No. 727168 ID: 37a739
File 146477130409.png - (431.02KB , 850x850 , Sketch231131622.png )

"...Oh." The young man freezes, hand resting on the dog's scruffy head. "Um. Hello?"

>>727168
Wave in a friendly fashion. Gesture that you cannot talk.

yep, friendly body language seems to be the best way to do this right now.

Put your hands in the air, maybe smile at him. Make sure he knows you aren't trying to hurt him

Give a deep, elaborate bow, then fall over as if losing your balance. Stand up again, slowly and stiffly, by climbing the staff. This will further establish you as either someone with a combination of imperfect courtly graces and severe injuries, or possibly a traveling performer specializing in physical comedy. Nonthreatening, in either case.

Wave at them! >>727174
Pet barnabas?

Wave at the human, hold out hand for the dog to sniff.

Given the kind of stuff we might smell like, I don't think the dog will be too pleased with us.

My plan is to look for a priest or other literate sort. Right now, we're going wherever this guy's going

1/2 FEN 2016/06/12(Sun)00:28 No. 729073 ID: b68e42
File 146571651292.png - (141.05KB , 680x512 , 3442023-koqD6qHhRyNEofWq.png )

You give a short bow, leaning heavily on the spear, then wave. The man approaches slowly- he has a bow in hand, but it's not drawn or aimed at you.
As he opens his mouth to ask a question, you gesture to your throat and shake your head.
Can't talk. Sorry.
He nods slowly, then calls to you across the clearing, still standing a safe distance away. "You wear no colors, Sir. What army brings you to the fields of Verneuil?"
And you just told him you can't talk. You raise your shoulders in a shrug, gesturing vaguely.
He stares at you for a moment, then slaps a palm to his forehead. "Right. Sorry, Sir." He considers for a moment. When he starts to speak again, it's a different language- but one that seems even more familiar than the first. "Uh. It's too much to hope you understand Scottish, right?"
You understand him perfectly.

2/2 FEN 2016/06/12(Sun)00:50 No. 729075 ID: b68e42
File 146571783323.png - (164.89KB , 680x512 , 3442024-k3NOPawcfpJNUTnN.png )

You nod, gesture towards him.
I understand. Keep talking.
He raises an eyebrow, still keeping a firm hold on his bow. "How many of us are there, then?"
You raise two fingers, then look at the dog. You raise a third finger.
The young man chuckles. "Good to see more of my countrymen survived." He steps forward, offering you a handshake. "I'm Duncan."

The fire is warm- despite your surprise at one being lit in the heat of summer, the forest offers enough shade for it to be cool under the trees. Seeming satisfied with whatever answers you have given him, Duncan offers you a place to sit, chattering absently the entire time. Somehow he manages to say so much without actually revealing anything of substantial meaning, and you're glad he doesn't mind your inability to reply.
Unfortunately, your good fortune doesn't last forever.
"I'm sorry to ask this of you, sir, but might you remove your helmet?" Duncan asks. "It is strange speaking to one who's face you cannot see."
At this point, you're going to have to take it off eventually. Better now then never. You say a last goodbye to your chances of normal human interaction, and take off your helmet.

>>729075
Well maybe it's ok? You look terrible but not obviously dead.

What are you worried about? Your helmet did a good job of keeping your brain bucket intact.

Creepy, but not terrifyingly "Oh my god a dead guy" so.
Them eyes though. They Dead.

Wash your face if you can, it'll take away from the whole zombie look.

We look alright. A little shellshocked and exhausted perhaps, but alright.

>>729075
Well, you don't look healthy, but maybe that's to be expected after walking off that battlefield.

we don't look too bad. But maybe we can try interacting with the dog to avoid getting questioned?

1/2 FEN 2016/06/20(Mon)02:29 No. 730970 ID: b0980d
File 146641494916.png - (643.80KB , 850x850 , Sketch201104012.png )

You turn away, unwilling to see Duncan's reaction, afraid of whatever will happen now.
"..."

2/2 FEN 2016/06/20(Mon)02:30 No. 730971 ID: b68e42
File 146641499995.png - (572.89KB , 850x850 , Sketch20195447.png )

"..."

Everything went better than expected.

Go on, look! Be brave!

Look at the dog's reaction instead.

He seem to appreciate your insecure behavior. Maybe you can add CHARM to the list of skills.

1/2 FEN 2016/08/24(Wed)12:16 No. 744209 ID: b68e42
File 147206618813.png - (609.23KB , 850x850 , Sketch243204552.png )

You steel yourself- finally, you look up to check his response.
He doesn't seem scared. Or horrified. Or disgusted, even. That's a good sign, you think. You give him a small smile.
"Thank you. Uh," Duncan scratches at his neck. "I do hope this isn't too great of a trouble for you..."
You shake your head, pleasantly surprised. It's nothing, you gesture.
Duncan laughs, relieved. "That's good," he says. He reaches out to scritch the dog's scruff, smoothing out its fear-spiked fur, seemingly unaware of its wide eyes and barely-covered teeth.
"So, uh." He waves his free hand vaguely. "I think I should have some parchment and a quill in my bags... can you write, sir?"
You consider for a moment, then nod.
"Alright then," Duncan says. "Give me a moment..."

2/2 FEN 2016/08/24(Wed)12:34 No. 744213 ID: b68e42
File 147206726828.png - (730.01KB , 850x850 , Sketch243205130.png )

"Damn, out of ink..." Duncan shakes his head, sliding the writing kit back into his satchel. "I'm very sorry- I'd been certain I had an extra bottle with me!" He sighs. "I will have to buy some once we get into town..."
Town? The word catches your interest. What town?
Duncan tilts his head to one side. "?"
You said...houses. Many. You make the shape of a roof with your hands.
"...Oh, the town?" Duncan catches on. "That would be Rueil. More of a village, really, but I suppose you'd know that, Sir. That is where you're headed, no?"

Rueil is recorded to have merged with a nearby village sometime in the 18th century, but I'm not sure if it actually existed in the 15th... For the purposes of this quest (already hardly historically accurate) I'm just gonna assume it did.

Yep that's where we're going. Gesture in the affirmative.

nod, why not

We have literally nowhere else to go.

Perhaps it lies within the sinewy tendrils of house KROLM.

FEN 2016/09/23(Fri)02:25 No. 749293 ID: 794f13
File 147462273326.png - (722.44KB , 850x850 , Sketch235105755.png )

You nod, leaning back as you watch the sun set between the trees, turning the forest into a masterpiece of rich, deep greens and reds. Your new companion pulls a whittling knife from his satchel and sets to carving arrow shafts from the narrower pieces of kindling, an idle motion- he tosses them aside as soon as he finishes, raising a pile of neatly cleaned sticks.
You watch him work, vision blurring slightly, and you realise your eyes no longer shift to adjust to the fading light. All of a sudden you feel sick, a numb, cold feeling where your stomach should be.

FEN 2016/09/23(Fri)02:36 No. 749294 ID: 794f13
File 147462337130.png - (744.75KB , 850x850 , Sketch23511531.png )

It's not until Duncan has curled into himself, sleeping quietly, that you yourself try to rest. It quickly proves futile- not only do you no longer feel exhaustion, you're simply unable to fall asleep. Feeling slightly hurt, you close your eyes and decide to wait until dawn.

>>749294
Realize that your immortality is actually just kinda rad. Like shit man you play your cards right and you'll be emperor of humanity and see all the cool stuff we get up to in the 17th century

See if you can carve adequate arrow shafts yourself. Lots of spare time, might as well learn new trade skills.

Just because you cant sleep doesnt mean you cant rest. Lay down, close your eyes, and think of nothing for a while; kind of like meditating.(it actually really helps with mental tiredness if you cant sleep) You don't have to do it all night either.

1/2 FEN 2016/09/23(Fri)13:14 No. 749341 ID: 424f59
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You lie still, listening to the forest's gentle sounds. Birds whistle softly high up in the trees, and you can hear animals scuffle just out of the fire-light's glow.
The night passes faster than you had feared, and shortly after dawn Duncan wakes.
He moves over to you, shaking your shoulder carefully. He shifts back when you open your eyes, rubbing at his forearm nervously. "Sorry to wake you, Sir," he says. "You were sleeping real quiet, an' I worried something was wrong..." Duncan waves a hand. "Sorry."

2/2 FEN 2016/09/23(Fri)13:26 No. 749343 ID: 424f59
File 147466237376.png - (457.31KB , 850x850 , Sketch235202225.png )

It's fine. You shrug.
Duncan reaches to help you up, and you take his outstretched hand. Your joints protest as you stand, muscles and tendons stiffened by the cold. It takes you a moment to find your balance, but once you do everything seems in order.
"Let's go," Duncan says, shifting as he leans on the heavy walking stick he's holding. "Barnabas must have wandered off somewhere in the night, but I'm sure he'll be fine..." He idly adjusts the bag slung over his shoulder. "We'll skirt around Verneuil itself, aye? It'll add a few hours, but better safe then sorry." He considers for a moment. "Do you want anything to eat before we go? I have some dried vension."

Accept and stick food directly in your chest hole.

You should probably not attempt to eat. Decline.

1/2 FEN 2016/09/26(Mon)09:59 No. 749831 ID: b68e42
File 147490918433.png - (801.43KB , 850x850 , Sketch261184711.png )

You're tempted, but you shake your head. No thank you.
Duncan shrugs, but doesn't insist. You set off through the woods, footsteps sharp in the early morning quiet.
You pass through a clearing in the woods in time to see the sun rising from before you, light catching the droplets of dew that gather and shake from your armor as you walk through the high grass. Duncan pauses beside you, expression soft, face raised to taste the golden warmth. You stand quiet for a while, and around you the forest stirs as the land wakes to welcome the day.
Your progress is marked only by the sun's journey through the sky- around midday the trees give way to the monotony of open plains- tall, pale grasses and golden wheat. Duncan removes his cloak in the august heat, and you pause for rest in the rut dividing two fields. He offers you water, and this time you're afraid to refuse. You drink a little, hoping he doesn't notice the dark blotches that spread across the material covering the hole in your chest.
Just a few hours later, the first houses of Rueil appear out of the bright summer light.

2/2 FEN 2016/09/26(Mon)10:00 No. 749832 ID: b68e42
File 147490925898.png - (720.93KB , 850x850 , Sketch261185533.png )

Nobody stops you as you walk into Rueil, but the children playing in the street running through the village stop to stare at you both with unabashed curiousity. Somewhere between the houses a dog barks.
"I'll try to find us a place to stay," Duncan says as you walk, leading you towards a chalk-whitened house separated from its neighbor by a neat green hedge. "I believe this is where the village physician lives..."
The door opens before he can knock, revealing a small woman surrounded by a storm of fox-red hair. "Hello," she says simply. Salut.
"Greetings," Duncan gives a short bow. He says something else in french, too fast for you to understand, but you get the gist of it. The woman grimaces slightly and gestures to your armor. You catch something... Désertion?
Duncan shakes his head emphatically, looks back at you, and shrugs. He adds something more, and the woman quips back in latin. You understand that bit- obscurum per obscurius- but it does little to help.
You look at Duncan askingly, but he just shrugs again. He turns back to the woman- she starts to respond to his question in french, switches to latin at the sight of his widening eyes, then sighs dejectedly as that fails to bring any effect.
"You..." She switches to scottish, the broken phrases sounding strange in the soft of her mouth. "...Should come inside." She opens the door all the way, gesturing for you to enter.

Step inside the doctor's office, establish privacy, remove bandage. Time to get an expert's opinion on your injury.

The issue isn't that we could cause her to lose her job, it's that we could get ourselves (and her, and Duncan) killed. Again.

I don't think politeness would let us run off into the village, but maybe we can talk our way out of this.

>Talking
Hmmm. Did not think that one through.

Woah, not on the first date! At least let me buy you dinner.

>>749832
Enter the doctor's office and set your spear aside to clearly demonstrate you are not a threat, try to explain via your almost-talking ability that you have a wound that should have killed you, then ask her not to scream before removing your covering.

If your limited speech can't get the point across, gesture that you have a massive puncture wound, and for her to be quiet, then remove the covering.

I'd say these,>>749881 >>749834
But sign or make a motion for something to write with, then write this stuff out if she can get you a pen and paper.

>scottish...broken phrases
Maybe try writing in latin?

>"You..." She switches to scottish, the broken phrases sounding strange in the soft of her mouth. "...Should come inside."
Nod to show you understand, and enter.

1/2 FEN 2016/09/27(Tue)03:16 No. 750002 ID: 40e503
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You dip your head and, throwing the village a last, cautious glance, follow the red-haired physician inside.
"Ramsfoot!" The woman calls to a flaxen-haired youth who peers out from what you assume to be the kitchen. "Réchauffer l'eau pour le lavabo, s'il te plaît," she says briskly.
The physician guides you to the kitchen table and motions for both of you to sit. She asks Duncan something and he stammers back in rough french, passing a hand across his throat.
She nods sagely, gets up, and disappears into a different room.
Duncan turns to face you. "I told her you can't speak," he says. "She'll see if you're too badly wounded, and I'm sure we'll be able to borrow some ink..."
Something clatters and the doctor reenters the room carrying a stack of paper with an inkwell perched atop it. She takes a seat across from you and slides the papers your way. "I suppose we should all introduce ourselves," she says, speaking latin now. "I'm Yve."
"Duncan." Your companion stands up to shake the physician's hand.
You pick up the proffered pen and dip it in the open inkwell. Randall, you write.
"Good to meet you, Duncan, Randall," Yve smiles lightly. "I've asked Ramsfoot to heat up some water for you, and I'd like to take a look at your wounds." She ties back her hair with a ribbon pulled from her apron pocket as she speaks.
"Sorry?" Duncan asks.
Bath then wounds.
"Ah."
You tap Yve on the shoulder. Can I speak with you alone?
She considers, then nods.
I am... You hesitate. Badly injured.
"Where?"
You gesture to the makeshift bandage covering your chest.
Yve nods again, and you catch her arm before she can turn away.
Please promise not to scream.

2/2 FEN 2016/09/27(Tue)03:17 No. 750003 ID: 40e503
File 147497147058.png - (622.72KB , 850x850 , Sketch27293137.png )

Content warning for rather graphic description of Randall's wound in the second and third paragraphs! Please read with care!

The bathroom is small and neatly kept, stone floor warmed by the steam from wooden washbasins. Yve folds her arms across her chest as she waits for you to undress, idly chewing her lower lip.
The armor has kept your body mostly intact. What's left of your breastplate has stopped the dark, slimy coils of your gut from spilling out, and you can see its purplish shimmer from between the shards of your shattered lower ribs. One of your lungs is damaged, a tear in the spongy pink flesh. Other than that there's little else to worry about- save the missing chunk of spine. Whatever it was that hurt you tore through metal, mail, muscle and bone, leaving a yawning hole set squarely in the center of your torso.
You have to lean against the tub as you remove your armor, muscles unable to support your back without a full spine. You can see the tops of mashed vertebrae sticking out of the mess, but there's little you can do about the missing rings. You slide down into a sitting position, head resting against the edge of the washtub. You wonder if she's going to scream. You're mildly surprised to realise you don't care.
You can hear Yve breathe in sharply, but that is her only reaction. She washes her hands in the smaller basin, waiting for you to finish undressing, seemingly almost unbothered. You watch her- small, pale hands, pocked by little burns and faded scars. Still and even. A surgeon's hands.
Finally Yve looks you up and down, the detached gaze of a practiced physician. "You should be dead," she says.

Well, we are. Embalming is probably the most practical procedure at this point, so we won't decompose further.

Well, we are. Embalming is probably the most practical procedure at this point, so we won't decompose further.

Id just nod at this point. You have no explanation and nothing to go on really.

>>750003
nod and shrug, you don't understand why you're up and moving either

I think I actually am dead. This is. Strange.

We don't feel dead, which we can certainly share.

Does this body heal at all? she could poke our finger with a pen knife and see if it clots. Or for that matter if it bleeds.