T̷h̷e̸ ̵G̶a̴m̸e̵ - A VR Role-play

[RoostersAreAwesome]

Name: Jack Hernández
Age: 17
Gender: Male
Pronouns: He/him
User ID: 59
Personality: Loud, basically 99% of what he says is meant to be humorous. Overly confident, even in situations where he has no idea what’s going on. Refuses to vocalize his thought process, unless to annoy people. Never thinks before he speaks, and almost never before he acts. Sometimes acts like a genius, other times.. not so much. Can be obnoxious. However, he is generally friendly and accepting. Has absolutely no clue how to comfort people, and never opens up to others about how he’s feeling. Enjoys making people he considers his friends laugh.
Picture/Description: (Will not be drawing him. Unless as a stick figure. ) 5’ 8” tall, dark brown eyes, and dark brown hair that goes to his ears and sort of poofs up right it gets into his eyes (I don’t know how to describe hair). Currently wearing cargo pants and a bomber jacket. His dad is Latin American and his mom is Vietnamese.
Username: @RoostersAreAwesome
Other (weaknesses, habits, or special abilities): Has an amount of survivalist knowledge due to the insistence of a certain part-time-invisible cousin who may or may not be named Charlie. His cousin’s explanation was that he “wished I knew this stuff when I was your age” and “it might be useful one day”. Jack didn’t understand what that meant, but he enjoyed it anyway. Has a casual interest in the martial arts. Doesn’t seem affected by the cold, but can’t stand hot weather. Has no powers that he knows of. Has an unfortunate subconscious habit of picking at things, so should not be handed anything delicate or easily dismantled. Likes animals, and they generally like him, though he doesn’t know much about them and doesn’t have any pets.


I originally posted this maybe 10 minutes ago, but due to bad internet it got deleted and I had to rewrite everything. :/ I might edit this later if I remember something I missed.

 

[Yowza Wowza]

Name: Jack Hernández
Age: 17
Gender: Male
Pronouns: He/him
User ID: 59
Personality: Loud, basically 99% of what he says is meant to be humorous. Overly confident, even in situations where he has no idea what’s going on. Refuses to vocalize his thought process, unless to annoy people. Never thinks before he speaks, and almost never before he acts. Sometimes acts like a genius, other times.. not so much. Can be obnoxious. However, he is generally friendly and accepting. Has absolutely no clue how to comfort people, and never opens up to others about how he’s feeling. Enjoys making people he considers his friends laugh.
Picture/Description: (Will not be drawing him. Unless as a stick figure. ) 5’ 8” tall, dark brown eyes, and dark brown hair that goes to his ears and sort of poofs up right it gets into his eyes (I don’t know how to describe hair). Currently wearing cargo pants and a bomber jacket. His dad is Latin American and his mom is Vietnamese.
Username: @RoostersAreAwesome
Other (weaknesses, habits, or special abilities): Has an amount of survivalist knowledge due to the insistence of a certain part-time-invisible cousin who may or may not be named Charlie. His cousin’s explanation was that he “wished I knew this stuff when I was your age” and “it might be useful one day”. Jack didn’t understand what that meant, but he enjoyed it anyway. Has a casual interest in the martial arts. Doesn’t seem affected by the cold, but can’t stand hot weather. Has no powers that he knows of. Has an unfortunate subconscious habit of picking at things, so should not be handed anything delicate or easily dismantled. Likes animals, and they generally like him, though he doesn’t know much about them and doesn’t have any pets.


I originally posted this maybe 10 minutes ago, but due to bad internet it got deleted and I had to rewrite everything. :/ I might edit this later if I remember something I missed.

(Thanks for joining Roo :3 dope charrie, he was just added to the page )

 

[Yowza Wowza]

Name: Sphagnum
Age: Impossible to perceive, but has been vibing in human society for about three decades.
Gender: None. Whatever gave you the notion that they're obligated to confine themselves to an overrated human social construct?
Pronouns: None specified. Whatever others choose to use will work. Most of the time. And, wait, were you even given referral rights?
User ID: 1
Personality:
A true neutral chaotic maniac, yet operates with elegant flourish. Doesn't seem to have the capacity to experience any particularly adverse emotion, in either direction. Extremely confident in its own ability to preserve itself and remain elevated above everything in the process. The egocentrism hasn't yet encountered any limitations.
Can and will instigate discord for amusement. Thrives off of mayhem and gets the biggest kicks out of impediments. Quite intrigued by the fragile, unpredictable mortal psyche and will periodically fixate on someone in an attempt to gain an understanding of their mindset.
Indelicately flirtatious in virtually all mannerisms, but is personally incapable of experiencing attraction. Then factor in that serious narcissus complex.
Contrary to the essence of its being, Sphagum's a stickler for following through with vows. It's dependable- in its own roundabout, anarchic way.
Also, has this ingrained thing for confiscating mortal children. Gets very possessive of its abductees. Excellent babysitter potential.
Picture/Description:
Probably stands at 7' tall and then some. Has nothing to hide, but people seem most comfortable around clothed beings, and so compromise was made. Always wearing its tattered sash; otherwise likes to frequent loose-fitting jackets and slacks. Skin has the appearance of an epidote formation, and feels sparsely graveled to the touch, but it's entirely flexible. A set of living antlers branches out from the fractured bark frill on the backside of its head. Slanted, reptilian eyes. A luminous yellow essence emits from eyes and mouth when open. Hardly prominent snout over a mouthful of elongated black teeth. Tufts of leaves where ears should be- unclear whether that's an actual auditory system or not. Two freelance root systems; those descending from the neck are generally useless. Digitigrade legs that end in cracked stone hooves. Crazy long fingers and thiccccccc arms.
View attachment 2548079
Username: HeavensHens88
Other (weaknesses, habits, or special abilities):
A Spriggan- powerful nature spirit out of Cornish legend that takes form from organic matter. This one was perfectly average until the lure of the human rat race got to it. When Sphagnum willed itself to disconnect from its original environment, it began to function pretty much as a mortal, except it still sources its nutrition from the soils it roots into.
Which might just prove an issue in a virtual reality- SPONTANEOUS DIGESTIVE SYSTEM DEVELOPMENT TIME???
Fire is a definite weakness. The herbaceous parts are just as vulnerable to pests and blights as normal plants. Since Sphagnum literally anchors down into the ground wherever it goes, movement at a fast clip isn't attainable.
A multifaceted mimic, think camouflage- doesn't exactly conform to the environment, but has the ability to morph to a believable biotic fixture within it. This extends to absorbing and adopting the voice of whoever last spoke. It's a flawless mimicry that typically makes conversation extremely uncomfortable for the owner of the voice being utilized.
Sphagnum possesses and regularly wields the inhuman -how punny of me- strength typical to spriggans.
Yes, I am fully aware that writing a genderless cryptid without set pronouns is going to be borderline impossible.
Inconvenience is the point.

(why am I just NOW seeing this also yes
Someone has finally claimed numbah one

)

 

[Rose Quartz]

Heather opened her eyes to cool salty air blowing across her face decidedly unlike the stale city air she was used to. She was laying on the ground, her arms sprawled out to either side of her. Bright blue sky open above, like an upturned bowl, with stray tall stalks of grass bent down around her.

Despite the fine sand that had found it's way inside her clothes, she didn't mind laying where she was, idlily looking up at the passing clouds was something she hadn't done since she was a young child. Now, with the hiss and growl of rolling waves she felt a sense of peaceful calm that held her motionless.

Reality could wait for a while, absorbing the warmth of the sun, and the tranquility of being on the beach, was worth every second, even if it wasn't real. She could lay here forever, but that wasn't going to fix any of her problems, just delay them awhile.

She wished she was able, just for an hour to shut off her thoughts and enjoy herself, but that wasn't going to happen. She had too many responsibilities to just lay back and waste the day away.

Heather sighed, closing her eyes to enjoy the sun on her eyelids for a few moments before pushing herself up to stare out at the open ocean. She was up on a dune of white sand with sparse clumps of silvery grass. Next to her was a brown leather bag, and a long spear stuck in the ground with it's metal point to the sky. Braided cords dangled from whatever it was that held the spear head in place, with green and yellow glass beads on the ends, blowing in the occasional gust of wind.

She stood up dusting off the fronts of her pants in a vain attempt to clean her clothes. Shifting the sand inside enough to have it cascading down against her skin. There was sand everywhere, but that was the least of her problems.

Amid the beautiful surroundings, sparkling grey-blue ocean, and bright white sand with outcroppings of black rocks, stood a horse sized, fire engine red, bug. Sitting up had caught it's attention and now it was heading toward her, far faster than she'd thought it's six legs could carry it.

A sharp exhalation got her to her feet, and she grabbed the spear wide-eyed and frantic. The briefest moment spent lamenting the end to the tranquility. She clenched her teeth together waiting for this bizarre creature to get closer to her, taking a step back for every ten that it took. Uncertain she was ready to face the giant spider like creature.

Facing it would be better than running terrified. This thing chasing her across a beach was nightmare fuel.

"Get back!" She shouted taking one final step back to brace herself and placing both hands wide on the shaft of her newly claimed spear. Her voice didn't cause any hesitation in the approach. The bug bore down on her as though she had been the only source of food it had seen in an age and a half.

Heather drew in a hissing breath through her teeth, tensing and viscously thrusting her spear into the creatures soft looking face. Which followed with a squeal, and clicking as it pawed at its own face with its hard legs.

She pulled the spear back, dislodging it, and waited for the creature to either drop or come at her again. But it did neither, once disconnected from the pointy end of her stick it vanished in a puff of thick red smoke that clung to the sand where it had stood.

Heather grimaced at the smell, covering her mouth and nose with her elbow, wishing she had a long sleeved shirt on. The smell was awful, similar to the smell from the freezer, when it had accidentally gotten unplugged and left to rot for a week before anyone had noticed.

She stepped forward to gather up the bag that would no doubt be useful, and spotted a silver coin half buried in the sand where the bug had been, and picked it up in the same motion to pick up the bag.

She didn't know where exactly she was, but finding others was going to be important if she was going to make it here. She wasn't going to be able to sleep knowing that there were big nasty bugs that could eat her wandering around.

 

[RiverStorm]

Something was wrong.
In fact, maybe everything was deeply wrong.
Aros scrunched his body further into the fetal position, feeling the biting cold creeping through his veins like an unwelcomed virus, and his eyes were still fastened shut as he reached up and tangled one of his hands in his raven black hair.
He didn't want to wake up, and he definitely didn't want to deal with this.
He didn't want to face another day of misery. Especially when he, even in his incredibly groggy state, could tell his environment was so... Amiss.
First of all, there was the lack of city noises. All the sounds vying desperately for attention-- Begging to be acknowledged and evaluated-- Were suddenly lacking.
He'd grown callous to the noise, however, learning to become deaf to the bustle-- He could shut it all out, he'd been shutting out some sort of noise of one kind or the other all his life. Plus, based on the fact he didn't feel the sun's warm rays of piercing light licking at his skin, it could always still have been nighttime, the city's inhabitants sweetly and peacefully tucked away in their beds safely, before the morning rush hour and chaotic race to their respective areas of work.
But if that was the case, why could he hear the sounds of the country, reminiscent of his old homes before Memphis? Cicadas clicking, birds singing brightly somewhere nearby, chorus frogs chirping, and he felt his scalp prickle at the distant screeching of coyotes.
And oh, how the cold still bothered him.
It was the cloudy, early mornings like this one that were usually the worst, before beginning to move around and warm his body up. They made him long for his old beds and homes, sheltered from the venomous bite of the elements, but those days felt like distant memories-- Separated by a whole new life; Even if they were merely two weeks prior.
At the very least, the stinging wind chill of the previous night had subsided, but only to give way to an annoying dampness in the air, causing his clothes to stick to his sweaty skin in an uncomfortable way, and his lungs to feel heavy.
Oddly enough, he also felt full as though he had recently eaten, even though he was sure he had gone to sleep hungry, and the last time he had eaten a full meal had been, as of that morning, three days before; when a frail old woman had taken the initiative to take pity on the homeless teenager due to deciding he looked similar to her grandson, and insisted on treating him to a restaurant.
And what he was laying on was definitely different now, knowing for sure that he had fallen asleep on a city bench the night before, just as he had every night lately.
But now he was most certainly huddled on the ground, his tall frame cradled by moist soil.
Aros's russet eyes snapped open, his entire body heaving as he flung himself up into a crouching position, arms wrapping around his torso as he searched his surroundings wildly.
A cave.
Of course, he was inside of a cave.
It traveled on deeper down into the earth behind him, and a little ways off in-front of him he could make out the entrance to it, filling the place with just enough light to see.
He was on his feet in no time, turning in a circle franticly, his breathing rapidly speeding up along with his heartrate; his stomach clenching up with anxiety. Where am I? Oh God, where am I? What am I supposed to do? I don't remember coming here-- Was I drugged? Did someone drug me?
Dirt was smeared across his face and body, and he stopped so abruptly in his spinning that he nearly fell back down, however catching himself and began patting himself down to knock all the dirt off his body, before raising his right hand and wiping his face off as he tried to force himself to regain some kind of composure, forcibly calming his erratic breathing.
If he wanted to be able to think his predicament through, he'd actually have to be able to think.
He glanced around, eyes focusing on a random black pack laying on the ground, cautiously crouching down beside it, and immediately noting it was, indeed, not his. The first thing he did was gingerly pick up and unsheathe the item laying beside of the bag-- A Damascus steel dagger-- Its eight inch long blade rippling with lighter and darker colored steel, and its handle made of deer antler. He stared at it for a moment, before shoving the weapon back into its sheathe and laying it aside, quickly fumbling with the zipper on the bag to open it, and inspect its innards.
One food bar, one water bottle, and one jar of ill smelling... Something. He snapped the lid back onto the clear gelatinous goop, giving a small hacking sound of disgust at its smell. What am I even supposed to do with these? How're they supposed to last long?
He stuffed the provisions back inside of it hurriedly, finding the strap on the bag and slinging it across his chest, clipping the dagger to the strap for easy access.
He exhaled deeply as he stood back up, his mind practically screaming in confusion at the sudden twist in events-- And, once he was up, he proceeded to simply stand there and stare at the cave's mouth for a good several minutes, trying to process things; just trying to understand what he should even do.
Aros shuddered, taking several tentative steps towards the cave's mouth before breaking into a jog, desperate to get outside and understand where exactly he was. Fresh air and a light breeze slammed into him, along with relatively bright sunlight, compared to the cave's darkness. His eyes went wide, slowly looking up and around as he drank in the stunning scenery; moss covered boulders and fallen trees, the ground having a layer of dead pine needles that crunched underfoot, and colossal pines, firs, and redwoods towered into the sky, dappled sunlight filtering through to the ground...
And the utter lack of anything familiar.
He moaned, meandering forward a few steps, eyes sharply darting this way and that way, and he quickly noticed that the path leading from the mouth of the cave splintered off in three different directions, causing him to falter a bit, pausing to glanced down each of the identical trails-- Before simply trudging on down the one veering right with, in a very Aros-esque way, little time spent choosing which path to follow.
All he knew was that he had to be doing something, anything, to get away from wherever he currently was, and attempt to find a way out of what seemed to be an endlessly maze-like forest.

 

[Butterscotchbitesfinger]

Cassandra blearily opened one eye, it was hot and sticky and she felt the blistering heat on her skin. She opened her other eye, last time she had checked it had not been this hot back home, actually is was worse than hot, it was humid. Wait, just a second, was she in a desert? Oh my gosh, a desert?! Really people? With her skin type? She was pale and this wouldn’t do her much good at all, her skin was red, “oh brother” she muttered rolling her eyes. She looked around at the red sand that stuck to her and her sunburn stung as she attempted to stand, she crumpled back to the ground and tried to stand again she stepped backwards and something jabbed into her foot, she lifted her foot with a wince, an arrow had just created a hole in her sneaker “seriously?!” She groaned before it registered with her, an arrow, an arrow either meant she was being attacked by crazy people which at this point may not surprise her or that she had a weapon at her disposal. A backpack also lay on the ground, she unzipped it and shut her eyes waiting for something to fly out at attack her but when it didn’t come she reached in and pulled out a food bar, she also pulled out a water bottle which luckily had water in it because it could be days before she found another stream, there was also a weird balmy thingy in a silver pot, she unscrewed the lid and sniffed, it smelled awful but she assumed it must have some kind of medicinal cream. She placed the contents back in the backpack before she zipped it up and swung it onto her back, that’s when she saw the bow on the ground as well as the arrows, she grinned. One of her best assets, a bow an arrow. She slung it over her shoulder as well as the arrows, she set off in whatever direction she wanted to go, she still wasn’t quite sure what she was doing here but she wasn’t about to question it and be a sitting duck.

 

[TamingMaster]

Spoiler: Another character:

Name: Fabian Peruna.
Age: 18yrs.
Gender: Male.
Pronouns: He/They.
User ID: 0.
Personality: They are the cliché angsty, angry, hate-the-world type. They're rude, sarcastic, and tired of pretty much everything. They're always fighting against someone or something. They love smashing things, beating up bad guys, and laughing at people dumber than they are. They're very loud-mouthed, aggressive, obscene, and direct with their words. They prefer brawn over brains, and don't like being told what to do. But, they're actually really soft and amazingly kind to people they like, especially elderly people and animals. They're also very protective over certain people, and willing to do almost anything to keep them safe. They absolutely hate kids, but they are always gentle and patient with them. They don't care much for labels.
Picture/Description: They're 5'9" tall, have super short, almost-lavender hair, with two darker purple stripes on the right side, blue eyes with a smudge of eyeliner, pale blushed skin, and a leaner build. Sometimes their face becomes covered in purple, glowing markings, the cause of which is linked to their slime production. Their identification number is in the middle of their left hand. Their style is techwear/grunge, mainly anything in black and white, but they're not opposed to a bit of colour now and then. They generally go for long clothes, such as jeans and long sleeve shirts, with a shorter sleeve shirt thrown over, or maybe some type of harness-style outwear. They're not against wearing things like skirts, nail polish, and potentially even dresses, but are embarrassed to show off their legs and arms. Usually heavily decorated with piercings (a cuff, two hoops, a stud, and an industrial bar, in each ear; double cuffs on both eyebrows; a nose bar, and a single nose hoop on the right side of their nose), rings, and necklaces. You'd have to fight them, if you wanted them to take them off. He has a few large, faded scars on his back, but they don't bother him anymore.
Raised by his two adoptive moms in a loving environment. A lot of bullying and mistreatment from other kids, and a misguided background, lead him to become angry with the world, using his aggression as a shield. But his moms still support and love him endlessly, no matter who he grows to be. He's a mommy's boy, and he's not ashamed of it anymore.

Username: TamingMaster.
Other (weaknesses, habits, or special abilities): They can secrete a purple, glowing, neon slime from their skin, which can be of varying textures. Sometimes it can dry into a soild mass or something like rubber, other times it stays almost like honey. It's usually based on emotions or concentration, and they're not very good at either. Use of their adaption might cause glowing marks to appear anywhere on the body; these can indicate a dangerous amount of usage and, if ignored, can lead to nosebleeds, confusion, seizing, unconsciousness, or even death.
His weakness is a metal detector, dehydration (due to his adaption), and bugs.

 

[FrankieDoodle]

Dex stirred, the earthy scent of grass and dirt tickling his nose. He didn’t remember when he fell asleep, but random naps wasn’t unusual for him.
He stretched, letting out a soft purr. Sun danced across his back, and he took a blissful moment to enjoy its warmth, before figuring out where his three a.m. “adventure” led him this time.

He propped himself on his elbows, his ears twitching lazily as he scanned his surroundings.
Trees. Lots of trees, he noted. He didn’t remember a lot of wilderness in the crowded city of L.A., but it was certainly better than a gutter somewhere.

He let his eyelids droop, listening for any indicators to where he was. He could hear a stream nearby, but the incessant screaming coming from the trees was enough to distract him from any other sound.
His brows knitted together, his face souring. The birds were ruining his tranquility, and had he not just woken up, he might’ve climbed up to silence them.

With a huff, he pushed himself to his knees. His eyes were drawn to a brown bag by his side, and for a moment he wondered if he stole it. He didn’t remember stealing anything, but he didn’t know how else he would’ve gotten the bag.

Please have cash, he silently pleaded, rummaging through its contents. Much to his disappointment, there was no money. Instead, he found a water bottle, food bar, and some sort of strange gel in an unmarked container.
He unscrewed the lid, taking a large wiff. As the pungent smell hit his nose, Dex retched, quickly resealing the lid. He couldn’t help but feel disgusted with whoever owned the bag before him, deciding they purposely put the terrible smells in there, knowing he would sniff it.
As he was in the process of plotting the previous owners fate, the large wooden staff by his side caught his eye. It looked similar to his mother’s krabong, but it lacked the faded look hers had.

He placed the bag to the side, running his chewed fingertips over the smooth wood. His eyes were full of wonder, his ever-moving tail picking up speed.
His mother never let him play with one before, worried he would hurt himself. But that had never stopped him from removing it from the shelf mounted on the wall whenever no one was home, and dreaming of using it on every other occasion.

He got to his feet, his palms wrapping around the krabong. His ears twitched in excitement as he swung it, cutting through the air like a blade.
After he had his fun, he reached down, picking up the bag and swinging it over his shoulder. Between his new weapon and the toxic gel in his backpack, he felt unstoppable. As the birds screamed in his ears, he held his head up high, beginning his trek to civilization.

 

[TamingMaster]

(Forgive me, I haven't written anything in ages.)

Leita stirred in her sleep, one hand going straight to her yawning mouth as she sat up, her eyes still unopened. "Dad, you have to get up, or you'll be late fo-" She was interrupted by a strange sensation as she put her hand back down to her side, after her morning stretch. It wasn't like the sheets of her bed, or even like the soft cotton of their couch, it was slightly... rougher.
She peeked through her eyelids, only for them to be shot fully open a second later. The world around her was dark, lit only by faint turquoise glowing coming from slithering vines and large, scattered toadstools, which were growing precariously on the black slate ground that filled the chasm she stood in. Underneath her was a large patch of moss, it glowed a vibrant, pulsing blue, and crept down the chasm walls, inhabiting the shelves as it went.
Despite the seemingly damp cave environment, it was warm. A gentle breeze carefully swept through the chasm every few minutes, blowing up to the shelves where the foliage, and Leita, stood. However the warm air seemed to carry a heavy pressure with it, the type Leita had only felt when she had been diving in deep water. And, with every breath she took, it left a menthol-like feeling in her throat, something she wanted to be rid of as soon as possible. "Well," Leita started, standing up slowly, taking another hesitant breath, "I'm definitely somewhere out of state."
She took a step closer to the edge, clinging tightly to a vine that dangled sporadically from the low roof, and peered over the edge. It was void of any light, even with the various plants that she could make out, near to what she assumed was the bottom of the chasm.
She scooped up a tiny shard of the slate, that had been chipped from the wall beside her, and dropped it down the abyss before her. She waited patiently for a ding, or a clack, but nothing happened. The shard just kept falling. That was until, it hit something at the very bottom. It echoed back, then fell silent for a few moments, before a low growl rumbled through the caves. The fungus around her started humming, glowing brighter, and the ground shook slightly. Then, everything fell completely, and eerily, silent.
Leita carefully stepped back from the edge, trying to be as quiet as possible. Whatever that was, she didn't want anything to do with it. But, in her cautious haste, she didn't see the bag sitting behind her, and ended up tripping backwards, knocking her back on a slimy wall fungus. She paused for a moment, hoping whatever creature lurked in the depths hadn't heard her. A minute passed, or maybe ten, before she felt safe enough to continue on.
"Ugh," she quietly exclaimed, her face scrunching in disgust as she watched the slime drip off her arms, onto the floor beside her. She didn't even want to think about the slime dripping down the back of her shirt. Instead, she set about wiping her arms on the moss. It wasn't long before the bag she had tripped on finally caught her eye.
When she was confident enough that she had removed enough slime from her arms, she shuffled forward and lifted the bag off the ground. Unbuckling it proved to be more difficult than necessary due to the sticky residue leftover from the fungus. But, once it was open, Leita reached inside and carefully took the contents out, one by one. Some kind of protein bar, a bottle of water, and a tin with a weird screw cap. She tried to open it, but the slime was, once again, making it difficult. Oh well, she thought nonchalantly, I can always try again later, when I find something to clean this gunk off with.
Each item fit back into the bag perfectly, though now coated in a sickening substance, and Leita flung it over her shoulder. She glanced back at the empty chasm once more, before setting off down the only path she could have, straight ahead.
After a few minutes, the foliage became sparce, the air started to cool, and the low-pressure, menthol air had almost completely gone. While it was harder to navigate in the dark, Leita was glad she could finally breathe well.
Even though she wanted to call out, to see if her dad was nearby, she was adamant about staying quiet until she was a safe distance away from the monster from the depths. Luckily, her trail of thought, or lack thereof, was interrupted by the sound of her foot hitting something, followed by metal being scraped across the stone flooring. She bent down, tapping the ground around her, searching in the darkness for the object. As her hand came into contact with the cold metallic surface, she flinched back a little, before confidently reaching forward and picking it up. The sharp edge snagged her palm a little, causing her to wince. Thankfully, her other arm, which had a hold of the handle, was just strong enough to stop it from thundering to the ground. "Is this... a sword?"

 

[TamingMaster]

(Trying out what I prefer. Lmk which reads better!)

Tingling. Why is my body tingling? Fabian wondered, barely able to conjure a single conscious thought as they started to wake. Their head was pounding, causing them to reach a hand up to their forehead. They let out a long sigh, trying to remember what exactly happened yesterday, before reiterating their previous question to themselves. Seriously, why is my body tingling?

They lazily opened their eyes to check, but the blinding light forced their pupils to dilate painfully, and their eyelids slammed shut in return. They didn't understand how their room was so bright at this time in the morning. Unless one of their moms had opened the blinds? Surely it was too early for that already? They couldn't really focus due to the pounding in their head and the tapping across their skin.

Fabian braved another glimpse, squinting to keep out as much light as possible, this time hoping to figure out what was causing the odd sensation once and for all. As soon as they looked down at themself and saw the thousands of dark grey blobs covering their body, they let out a blood-curdling scream, sat bolt upright, and frantically stumbled to their feet. They backed away, brushing the tiny creatures off violently, their entire body jittering uncontrollably. "BUGS," they yelled, desperately trying to shake them out of trouser legs and sleeves. "VILE LITTLE YUCKIES."

After Fabian had calmed down, and backed far, far away, they realised that the things that had been crawling on them weren't actually bugs; they were just little tiny rats. This prompted them to take a step or two closer, to get a better look at the strange creatures. They shrugged, Must be an exotic breed...

They looked up, then around, only just realising that they weren't at home, in their warm bed, in their cosy house, with the world's best parents, and that they were actually in the middle of nowhere. A quick 360-degree turn solidified that assumption in their mind.

All around them stood a huge bamboo forest, taller than they ever thought possible. It swayed gently, clacking together every so often, as the leaves rustled over head. Fabian couldn't feel any wind, only still air, so it must've sat at a higher altitude, brushing the tops of the giant, vibrant, green stalks.
The sun shone through the lush leaves, leaving golden green patterns shimmering across the entire forest floor.
The earth below was soft and mulchy, perfect for miniature rat colonies, but terrible for a full-grown adult who continued to be pulled into the ground with every pause in movement.
It wasn't as bad when they were laying down, as their weight was evenly distributed. But, now, all their weight was placed on two spindly legs, and they found themselves sinking more rapidly with each step.

All the movement above, from Fabian trying to keep his footing, started to stir up the rat colonies below. Their chittering started to grow louder, and the ground was flooded with the sound of their retaliatory footsteps as they made their way to the main entrance.
As they flooded out, Fabian decided that it was time to leave.
They quickly flicked their head around again, picked a direction, then began to run as fast as those spindly legs would carry them. The rats, of course, followed closely after, screeching and clawing at their heels.

A few obscenities and what felt like a million miles later, the rats seemed to dissipate fairly quickly as he reached the edge of the forest. The few that still straggled behind behaved weirdly as he stumbled across the biome lines. Almost like they weren't allowed to cross, or wouldn't dare to.
"Yeah... take that... you pesky... vermin," Fabian mocked, short of breath, but not of gloating.

They were glad to catch their breath, finally. Their hands grasped their knees as they breathed heavily, taking in the new scenery as their heart settled; a vast desert, filled with just sand, disguising the occasional seared plant or undergrown cacti. A plain, undoubtedly hot, landscape.
They knew they had to chose potential dehydration versus the rats again.

Out of the corner of their eye, they spotted a pack dangling by its torn strap, from the branch of a rotten, bare tree. It's bark peeled away, splitting up the trunk, baring the hollowed insides. Next to the tree, leaning against it slightly, was the handle of something. They swore that neither were there the first time they looked, but put it down to exhaustion.
Fabian curiously crept towards them, "Hello? Who does this belong to?"

The only noise was a loud gust of humid air, brushing across the surface of the sands. It churned the sand slightly before disappearing, leaving the sand to blanket whatever lie beneath it.
"Anyone?" Fabian called out once more, almost in arm's reach of the bag. "If you don't answer, I'm taking it."

Silence.

They pulled the bag down, causing a few of the smaller, and inevitably weaker, branches to split away and ping off in odd directions. One, however, ended up scraping the back of Fabian's hand. They barely flinched, but were annoyed by the minor inconvenience. Tch.
Sighing it off, they flipped the bag open, raising an eyebrow as they examined the contents. The food and water obviously spoke for themselves, but Fabian was curious to know what was in the little tin.

They placed the bag into the sand beside them, plucking the tin from the bag and unscrewing it promptly. Only to be hit by an incredibly strong medical scent that would've been a shock to anyone's nose. But, apparently not Fabian.

It was quite the opposite for them - they actually enjoyed the smell of it, and immediately took a small glob out of the tin and rubbed it into their wound.
They expected it to help, but not as fast as it had, or as well.

Still gripping the tin, they brushed over where the graze should've been, but there wasn't even a bump. They sat in shock for a few seconds, before cautiously screwing the cap back on and tucking it safely in the bag. They didn't want to waste their miracle gel on minor scratches or accidental spillage.

Fabian stepped away from the bag for a minute, to focus their attention on the weapon hidden by a mound of sand. All they could really see was the long handle, decorated with intricate engravings and a leather handle. They tried to pull it out, but it wouldn't budge.
They'd have to dig the rest out with their bare hands, if they wanted a better look at it.

They started digging slowly at the sand, the sharp grains barely seemed to move at all. By the time they'd scooped some out, it was like it had already flowed straight back in to the hole.
It wasn't long before Fabian had started to get frustrated by it, and resorted to a more violent method of removal: a sturdy kick.
The vibrations from the kick spread out throughout the sand, tempting the large predators that hid below.

The desert beneath Fabian's feet began to shake and rattle, much like it had with the army of rats, but this time it was something so much bigger.
In front of them, a large pile of sand started to rise out of itself, some racing down the edges of the form emerging before them. As the sand started to thin, the colours underneath showed through and gradually became more visible. Bright red body, six pale legs, two beady, black eyes, and claws at least double the size of Fabian's entire body.

They stared open-mouthed, before considering their best exit strategy: Grab the bag and run.
Unfortunately, the bag had gotten hooked on one of gigantic crab's claws, and the crab wasn't in a friendly sort of mood. If they wanted it back, they'd have to fight for it. Which meant digging the weapon out before they got snipped.

Fabian started desperately digging, their teeth gritted and focus entirely set on getting the weapon.