The Nameless Thread

[Thadius]

You should probably watch the opening movie. Just FYI.



I love this game. Really I do. And I only just picked it up for a song.



This is my TNO's starting stats. For your info, I will NEVER put stat points into Charisma. Pointless, because I know of a way to do it so much BETTER.

Blackness. That's what I tell people I first remember. A black sky, with gray shores, and water more reflective and as opaque as quicksilver. A dead tree on an island in the middle of the river, the water lapping at my boots. A cold wind that you can't feel, but nonetheless, chills you beyond the bone, to your very core.

Then a sudden pain in my chest, I fall over, into the river, and I see a thousand skeletons, all pointing accusingly at me.

And then light.



After I awoke, I realized I was on a hard slab. Not the most comfortable of places to be napping. And then I started to put two and two together when I smelled the stench of death.

Clearly, I had died. I groaned as I got up.



Fortunately, it appeared as though I was not the only one mistaken for dead. Though I couldn't blame whoever did the mistaking, really. After all, if this chatterbox ever stopped talking and lay still, he could EASILY be mistaken for dead.



I began to realize I had bigger problems than merely being mistaken for dead. I had mistaken my own identity, for one. I couldn't recall my name. This...could be an issue.



And not only was I nameless, but I was also scarred. Which would explain the constant pain whenever I tried to move.



Even as I asked the skull to read my back out, I knew, with a heavy sense of forboding, that this wouldn't spell out anything good for me.



Somehow, even with my memory lost, the name triggered something in my brain. Some deep-seated words of caution. I asked the skull to read on.



Even as I asked, I looked around. No books were readily apparent. Either somebody stole it, or it was never here to begin with. In either case, I had no journal, so I was failing whoever wrote those notes already.



I figured, while I was busy looking around, I might as well ask the skull about half the things on my back.



I was unused to the idea, then, that there would be more walking dead than me. But as I looked around, I noticed that clearly, that was not the case. More bodies shambled around, without the slightest sign of actual life in them.



I thought it was a little unfair of Morte to dismiss them as not having feelings just because they were dead. I had died, apparently, and I still had feelings. Right then, they were of annoyance.



While I COULD go and punch zombies barehanded, I realized that it was probably smarter to arm myself. At least then I'd have an advantage on the zombies.



Something told me that the corpses hitting me wouldn't be an actual problem.



And here's Morte's stats! Morte is a pretty handy guy to have around, he gains some special abilities, some of which improve the longer you keep him! Downside is, as he's a mere floating skull, he can wear literally nothing that might keep him alive. The upside to THAT is that he can't really be tagged by foes all that often! Morte'll be a staple of the party.



I found a few bandages on one shelf. They didn't look like they'd help much, but every bit counts.



On another, I found the scalpel.



Once again, Morte started to annoy me, so I began firing back.



Thankfully, he understood the potential consequences of not aiding me.



And so we got to work.



After destroying all the corpses, the key was mine. Now to get out of here.



Sadly, the key didn't work on the door near where I got it. Oh well.



Once again, Morte started chattering. Once again, I took the opportunity to pump him for information to fill the gaps in my memory.



'Dustmen' wasn't a very fear-invoking name. 'Corpse-men' might've been better.



So they believe everyone dies...and the fact that I clearly had, yet wasn't...I could begin to see the problem here.



...He couldn't be serious. Some vague memory was trying to push to the surface regarding the word for what this was.



I would take any chance proffered to me to steer this conversation away from that sort of topic.



...Something told me that keeping Morte in line would be trouble.



Okay he had a point. I wasn't even sure if I was walking straight.



It looked like it was going to descend into a sarcasm-contest...



But then Morte came up with a good idea.



So I gathered some supplies up, and made a crude, but functional, journal.



It was then that I was introduced...



To the sheer depth...



To Morte's and my own depravity. Which brings me to now. I'll write more in a bit, journal. I have to help Morte look for his jaw after I jokingly knocked it off him.