You briefly consider resurrecting the child as a wight and having him murder his own father, but that would mean another mouth to feed. You drain the last of the life from the man and use it to stave off your remaining hunger, then focus the buzzing energy inwards - you feel your muscles tense, and when they untense they seem a little tauter, a little stronger. Not a massive change, but every little helps.
You wander into the shack that served as the family's home and ransack it for anything of interest. Unfortunately, their prized possessions mostly amount to a collection of pots and pans and plenty of food. All completely useless to you. You take a pair of long cooking knives from them just in case, and a sock full of copper pennies from beneath their bed. You also find a satchel of the type worn on the back and take it for carrying purposes. You decide to look for better clothes.
Jackpot! A thick, brown leather coat that stretches down past your knees, lined with wool and plenty of pockets. It would keep you warm if your body produced any heat, and it will certainly keep you dry. You throw on the farmer's shirt and leggings, a stout pair of boots, a belt into which you slide the pair of knives, and complete the look with the travelling coat.
The night draws on and you have work to do, so you pile the chickens into the shack's hearth and set them on fire (they burn easily and crisply, and you have to take great care not to set yourself alight), then drag the three corpses into the woods one by one. It takes much of the night to dig shallow graves and bury them (
Would have been easier with a second pair of hands, you think to yourself), and by the time pre-dawn is approaching you need to hide somewhere yourself. You dig your own shallow grave and cover yourself up with dirt, then settle down for something approaching sleep.
The master was not big on personal interaction between his slaves, so when you weren't serving him you mostly sat around in the crypt or were commanded to 'sleep'. You can't actually sleep, you don't need sleep, but a wight lasts about as long in direct sunlight as an ice sculpture, so you make do. You put yourself into a sort of meditative trance and allow your mind to wander.
This would be an excellent moment for your mind to have come up with some sort of prophetic dream or insight into the day you just had, but honestly you spend nearly all of it coming up with new songs for your repertoire.
You have learned to develop a good sense of time over the weeks you have been alive, so you dig yourself out of your grave a few minutes before sundown and sit in the shade of a tree to watch your eternal foe set.
You're hungry again, but you won't starve if you don't find food tonight. You vaguely recall a path through the forest, so you spend an hour or so finding it and then lie in wait for a potential traveller. An hour and a half later, you are rewarded by the appearance of a blonde human in a blue cloak, four-string guitar slung across his back.
You leap in front of him. He draws a sword, but you lazily knock it from his hand. He backs up against a tree and you slowly advance upon him, singing.
"Mike the wight,
Is the right wight,
Opposer of light -"
"Beware his sight!""...what?"The traveller launches into an improvised extension of the song.
"Fear his might,
Hide from his sight,
Terror of the night,
Mike the wight!"
You tilt your head and slowly advance on him, hand outstretched. He slowly reverse-walks around the clearing as you follow him.
"Draining the innocent can be so much fun,
You think you can, but you just can't run,
Sometimes I will beat you up first,
Either way you end up i-in a hearse!
Draining the innocent is so much fun,
Eating life force like a dog in a bun,
Pray to your gods, they can't help you fight
The draining you'll get from Mi-ike the wight!"The traveller unslings his guitar and starts playing.
"What's this feeling, this palpable fear,
The tension that grows when a wight is near,
It's terrible, it's horrible, it preys on your mind,
The fate awaiting you is so unkind,
But if you spare my little life,
I'll teach you how to use that knife,
I'm far more use to you alive - "
"Utility won't stay my scythe -"
"But I can sing, can dance, can play,
Can while away the hours of day,
It's much more fun with me around
Than sitting in the silent ground,
Your songs are fine, but you could strive
To learn from me if I'm alive,
Of swords, of words, of songs of praise,
Of magic too, beneath the rays
Of Sun I'll never see again
If you don't spare my life and then
Allow me now to bend my knee,
A servant yours I then shall be!"
The singer bends his knee and looks up at you with a desperate hope. You recognise the gesture of fealty, but do you accept it?
Mike the Wight
Health: 11/11
Buzz: -/5
Might: 4
Stealth: 4
Will: 3
Armour: 1/1 [Adds 1 to deflection, soaks 1 damage.]
Sustenance: 1 Day
Drain Life: On a successful attack, drains life directly from the victim and adds to your health pool, or to sustenance. No cost.
Create Wight: A victim you have recently drained of all life can be brought back as a wight under your complete control. Cost: Health. The total health you spend creating the wight will be its new (and total) health. This is a permanent subtraction from your own health. The new wight's stats will be half of your own (no subtraction).
Frenzy: If you are sufficiently buzzed up, you can turn some of that into rage to keep you fighting. Effectively increases your Might by 50% during a single fight. Cost: 4 Buzz / [Might] Buzz (whichever is higher).
No mage training!
Fine Leather Trenchcoat Ensemble (Armour: 1/1)
Satchel
21 copper pennies.
Your grave rags.
Belt
Twin knives (2d4 damage)
Author
Topic: Wight [ISG/TSG] (Read 18500 times)