Thanks for the compliment, StrawBarrel, but if you or anybody else wishes to critique me on anything, please do! Be as nasty as you want.
You wander back to the arena. When you enter, a deafening silence fills you. Absolutely nothing can be heard, not even your own breathing or the jeering of the crowd. Classified is standing with his hands folded behind his back next to the remains of your clone. Maybe he's saying something, you can't tell with his gas-mask. A small twinkle of light in his suggests he might actually be impressed. That magical twinkle quickly disappears when you start looting yourself. The loot is surprisingly decent, all things considered. The hilt of your old sword is a bit more weighty and has sharpened guards. That sharpening was likely a bad plan if you think about it, but in a pinch you could use it as a make-shift axe by keeping it in the sheath. The amount of times that came in handy amounts to a total of twice. You remove the useless shard of blade from it and pocket the hilt to attach it to your current sword later. Other than that, free second trenchcoat! Even better, the fabric is genuinely black this time, rather than covered in dirt and grime to the point that it looks black. It's a bit more rough then you remember, though. Finally, you pocket the pocket knife, because that stuff's useful.
You decide not to wear the trenchcout right now, as the gore on your would ruin the inside. You wrap it around your waist, and twist the coat part around so it doesn't drag along the floor.
The complete silence of the room is really starting to unnerve you. When you leave, it comes fairly close to a run. The only thing you could hear was the blood rushing through your body, which is kind of a creepy sound to hear. Still, unnerving you doesn't do that much.
You go back through the door at te end of tunnel, Classified being right behind you. When you go through, you blink a few times due to the bright light.
You feel a pinching sensation of something nipping at your heels. When you look down at the offending object, you see a large crab, squeeling a bit and and repinching your pant leg. After that, jumps on your shin and locks itself in place. Classified still doesn't say anything about it, though he does seem amused by it. He's not laughing, but he's got that air of restrained humour. You decide to ignore it.
You are standing in front of the skull-door. A dark and chilly aura seems to emit from it, as you find yourself needing to gather some will-power to go in.
This is likely a point of no return, so if you wish to prepare some things, now's your chance.
Health: Wounded (suffering from blood loss).
Energy: Tired and lightheaded(blood loss).
Inventory:
Polished European Greatsword.
Black Trenchcoat.
Ugly old Jumper(gore-covered)
Jeans(gore-splattered)
Flashlight
Sharpened hilt
Pocket knife
Thoughts:The necromancer's behind this door, most likely. Death wizards are not a happy combination of words.
Author
Topic: Brass and casinos: A detective game. (Read 9219 times)