Endgame

I take a sip gingerly, and the shakily set the glass down on the edge of the table. The water seems to go down with some issue. My voice is quiet, shaky, sometimes barely audible. "I... I wanted some quiet, I suppose... Nothing bad, just... I re-immersed myself in my faith. Bought this little place. I, I think I fixed it up nicely, nicely enough... How, how are you? How's the family? Masson, and little Rachelle..."

I take a deep breath in and speak, in raspy tones. "I'm, I'm sorry, I..." I break down into a fit of coughing, and weakly, a bony hand reaches out and gestures to a glass of water on my nightstand.

The home's interior greets you. Your boots step onto a weathered old rug. A bookshelf in the corner, overflowing with various novels and tomes and texts. A chest tucked to the side, slightly ajar, its contents obscured by the lid's shadow. A small desk flanking the wall, the stacks of papers and bundle of quills suggesting it was used for writing. Across from the entryway, in plain view, a bed. Your entry doesn't register with the bed's occupant for a bit, until... My head lolls over to look how came in. I was never the picture of health, but my condition had decayed. My ghastly skin had become even ghastlier, now a morbid bluish-white. Any and all definition had left my face, leaving my eyes sunken, my jawline skeletal. My hair was all but gone.There was no smell of rot, merely the image of death. My pupils, cloudy and dim, wander a bit before focusing on you. "K...Karie...?"

The knock on the door, the creaking on the stairs - even if the noise did get the attention of the house's occupant, chances were he wasn't in good condition to get up and answer the door. The front entryway seemed unlocked, at least.

36 Repose Way was a quaint little place. The surrounding neighborhood suggested that the house must've once been a wreck, but it seemed like a fair amount of work and effort had gone into reversing the home's decay. Still, some signs of age lingered - the porch creaked, the handrails were wobbly, And tossed out on said porch were all of Sorrow's belongings. Well, tossed was a harsh word for it. They were placed under the overhang in an organized manner, with a a small little bowl set out to collect gold from potential buyers. Each item was labelled with a price, and sure enough, the Greaves were marked with an asking price of 50 gold. Any passerby could probably loot the porch if they felt so inclined, but perhaps that wasn't the best way to respect a dying Heroican. Sorry if the initial posting was unclear on what I intended for this, samurai turtle! The boots are yours for 50 gold regardless.

The doors of Heroica Hall creak open, and... ...an unfamiliar face steps through. Friend or foe? Hero, or not? A new quest? He was a nervous looking man, hunched over and shoulders curled, his blue-gray robe dragging behind him as he shuffled across the hall. Seeing that the Quest Board wasn't the appropriate bulletin for his message, the man glumly pins the crumpled up notice to a neighboring wall, and swiftly makes an exit.

I said I was going to stop at my twelfth. That went real well.

I'd love to see a definitive finale for Heroica, and I'd be willing to help as I can. And, yes, I have been lurking these past few months.

Technically, he revived twice in the first phase of Q48's battle alone.

Weeellll, the final boss of Quest 48 was something like forty rounds, so....

Hey, at least the primordial dragon fights only lasted six rounds apiece.

Not if you git gud! Nah, more in aesthetic/tone/characters than the batt;es just being "die, die again." I may or may not be doing my seventh runthrough of DSII at the moment...

Would anyone be interested in a very Dark Souls-esque quest in the future?

Mentioning hair color... I found some notes on Gabriel recently from 138 (I had a physical folder for them once upon a time!) and in the margins it mentioned how he dyed his hair from black to brown to disguise himself at one point, and decided to keep it. So, uh, I guess that's canon...?

In other news, I am also going to hosting another quest again, except built with entirely real LEGO bricks. Hey, unless the board started screwing with the page length again, that one's only like 35 pages. (And it only took two months.) Two questions for the resident redhead: You have to give up your current job as a Heroican, and start a new career doing something you've never done before. What is it? Who is more handsome, Gabriel or Masson? (Full honesty required.)

I have a handful of quest ideas, if anyone wants me to toss one over.

I poke my head back into this game for one second and the first post I read is Monk Pretzel trying to gift Sorrow an ether core. Y'all need new memes.

"I wasn't going to interpret the remark like that, goes to show where your mind has been. And no. I wasn't aware they ever broke."

I smile as the music starts. "Took you for a singer, not a guitarist. You're pretty good, though."

"Weird how none of the minstrels here seem to play much... Maybe they can only do it in battle? Weird adrenaline thing, maybe." I ponder, still nursing a mead.

"Sounds good. If Masson ends up at the Academy of Enlightment, the demon hunting experience he has will suit him well, hrmph. I keep seeing a pianist that looks like him at the inn I've been holing up at.... Rachelle walking and talking yet? Ah, yeah. After leading such a nonstop life, a month or two of just nothing is probably the most welcome thing in the world.

I gladly take my seat. "It's good to see you too. With the way time works in this hall, I wouldn't be surprised if it really has been an eternity. So, what's new with you and the family?"

I approach a familiar redhead in the hall, standing over the table. "I don't suppose you've forgotten your grandfather?"

Okay, seeing "Luosh" in a tag for a new quest really, really tripped me up. I thought Q48 got bumped somehow.

"Yeah, but explodey dragons are notoriously - NOTORIOUSLY - dangerous, it's not like... Well, I have no clue where I'm going with this. But half the cropulation... That's, that's no good. Your family and friends and whatever are 'kay, after that, right?"