The Age of Light: Chapter 1

>>119368
>That of a young woman, dead in her prime

>>119368
>That of a young man, dead in his prime.

>That of a young man, dead in his prime.

man

Woman

Rolled 9, 10 = 19 (2d20)

>That of a young man, undead in his prime.

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>>119386
>>119458
>>119602
>>119689

Majority wins for now.

You seem within the deep recesses of the water high cheekbones and fuller, though more skinned lips than you thought. A strong jaw but your other features give no inkling. You are sure though, you are a man. Wearily, you stand and you shake as you do so, in a way that many who have slept for long shake. Each step hurts in its own small way but you make your way forward none the less. You walk down a long corridor within the cave, crystallized undead all around you. In the distance, at the end of the hall, you can make out moans and calls for help.

>Attempt to free one of the undead from the ice
> Continue walking forward
>Head back towards the glass floor
>Write - In

>>119700
>Attempt to free one of the undead from the ice

>>119700
Sorry BTW Op is not dead just had to run an errand. Back for good. Majority wins. First three posters will warrant a response.

>>119700
>>Attempt to free one of the undead from the ice

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>>119706
>>119714

You reach your hands up high and dig into one of the spires. You lack nails, and your grip feels meaningless against the ice itself. Finally, perhaps in frustration, you strike the ice with all that you have. Desperate strikes against the ice leave your knuckles bloodied. It is too cold to bleed profusely however, so the pools of crimson engulf the crevices of your hands. The crack along the middle of the ice breaks apart and gives way to a single body. He wears sigils you have never seen, colors you are unfamiliar with, all dark in complexion. Perhaps you knew them once but not now. His body is limp. Long and dead, he does not seem to move. A falchion falls with him, burying itself in the ground next to his bloodied and frozen body. Water from the melted ice above drops on him.

>Inspect/Loot the Body
>Ignore the body for now
>Attempt to free another
>Contine down the path, towards the screams
>Return to the glass floor
>Write-In

>>119795
>>Inspect/Loot the Body
Grab that shimmy.
>Contine down the path, towards the screams
Now that we are armed, let's see what the commotion is about

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>>119928
As soon as you touch it, it turns into ashen dust. The ice encasing the un dead was the only thing keeping his decayed frame together. The impact was enough to start the fade imemdiately, but your touching of his person rushed the process. Left with his armor and his falchion, you don them. And a flood of memories return to you. You know how to use this sword. Why? Where are you from? Who were you before?

Pick a background.

>You were a Warrior. A proud member of the Knights of Fossa, you wandered the lands as a mercenary of sorts. You were born to a middling family of farmers. With a strong arm and an indomitable will, you showed what Lion Knights were capable of. That was, until you died during an assault on a rebelling Asylum filled with Undead. You were gutted while in the middle of a skirmish. Or so you thought.

>You were a Knight. Born to one of the High Houses of Kester within the land of Astora, you have always known a life of honor, sacrifice and chivalry. In your hayday, you commanded over one thousand troops in one of the greatest regiments in Astoran history. But your final task, to subdue the Beast of the Evil Eye, was doomed to fail. All of your men, yourself included, gave your lives defending mages of Astora who sealed a beast of the Abyss into a single ring, saving hundred of thousands of lives in the process. Or so you thought.

>You are a Sorcerer. You were born to a family of peasants on the outskirts of the villages surrounding the Dragon School of Vinheim. Naturally curious, you sought after and devoured knowledge as it came to you, rising above your station and becoming a powerful mage of undisputed commitment. When Seath called a summons of the mages for research, you were the first amongst your peers to volunteer. Leaving only your young apprentice Logan behind, you had not anticipated dying for Seath's twisted attempts at immortality. Or so you thought.

>You are a cleric. In Carim they say a man is only as valuable as his Faith. And you were a very valuable member of the clergy. Serving as High Cleric of Stonewall in the Southern provinces of modern Carim, you learned to bend faith to you will. Hunting down stray demons had always been your life goal, even as an orphaned child of the monastery. Taking down so many and founding the Way of White alongside the Allfather was your passion. Until the day you came across a demon so strong, he hadn't a name. Or so you thought.

>You are a Herald. Born to a clan of Onion Knights, you had trained from boyhood to become a fabled Knight of Catarina. Your uncle Seigmeyer had long led the struggles against countless demon hordes and agressors to your happy go lucky nation. He found himself accursed, making his way deep into the fabled Lordran to meet his fate. Your cousin Seigland would venture there as well. Seeing your chance to prove to the Onion Knights that you were worthy of their ranks, you rallied forward towards your destiny,

>>120135
If none of these befit you, write-in a story and class.

>>120135
Herald.

>>120135
>Herald
With a backstory like that, it's the only real choice

>>120205
>You were a poet. A sensitive man prone to minor fits, both physically and emotionally, you sought to unveil the hidden Truth of the world's beauty through meter and rhyme. You died alone in a poorhouse.

>>120448
>>120410
>>120266
>>120205

A herald through and through. You often enjoyed drinking and fine dining in youth. But knighthood called. Minor miracles aside you are skilled as any man with a sword. Not the strongest. Not the fastest. But the will of a God is within you. How long had you been there, frozen and unhelpful to your kin? It matters not.

[Gear]
Vagrant's Scale Armor
Vagrant's Scale Gauntlets
Vagrant's Scale Boots
Scimitar +1

[Stats]
Level 9
VGR: 12
ATT: 10
END: 9
VIT: 12
STR: 12
DEX: 11
INT: 8
FAI: 13
LUK: 11

What now young herald? What of your name and destination? What to do next?

>>120509
Make your way out of the cave, or whichever way seems to lead to an exit. You've a duty to your kin, now.

>>120509
We are Siegfried, Herald of Catarina. We will follow in the footsteps of our kind and bring glory to the Onion Knights. Also getting to enjoy some fine food and drink along the way could not hurt after being trapped in ice for so long

>>120676
>>120931
OP is not dead once again, justerrands. Will be posting in the AM. I have high hopes for this story guys so be sure to feedback me here whenever you want

>>120931
>>120676
>>120962

Seigfried. The name rings hard in your head. Memories of your cousin and uncle leaving the shared grounds that the estates covered. Long boorish and lackluster metals coated your home. It was to symbolize your status as knights. The armor always looked so silly to you. You are pulled back to your surroundings as another scream echoes from down the hall. What could possibly be that noise? Who is that ? You grab the scimitar and swing it fluidly. You lack the raw dexterity to weild it in one hand, so you use it much like a longsword in two. You lack a shield, which is bothersome but this scimitar will have to do. You swing it handily as you walk down the cooridor and it fills you with a determination and swagger that you have not felt for a long while.

You died on the ship travelling to Lordran, to a being of pure Abyss, lying in wait beneath the waters. But now you feel alive again...

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>>121390
You come to an open expanse of ice cavern. The room is filled across the walls with frozen dead. Many seem to have been frozen in much stronger stuff than the vagrant you unblocked before. But to your left you smell something rancid. Turning to look, you see a young woman surrounded by two undead. They appear to have struck her a few times already with the bloody clubs they wield. As you turn, you snap a peice of the ice beneath you. Your footing lost a bit, you stomp back in reflex. Startled, the two turn to face you. Their skin is all but decayed, their eyes sunken and filled with the curse. They begin to hobble quickly over to you, perhaps smelling fresher meat to mindlessly bludgeon.

>Attack (Roll 2d100s to determine effectiveness. Crtical successes on attack are based on weapon used. On a scimitar this is 75+. Critical fails are 5 and below. Op takes the first poster's roll.)
>Run Inwards towards the woman
>Run past the woman to an exit?
>Run back to the previous room

>>121437
>>Run Inwards towards the woman
Try and get between the girl and the undead. A Knight of Catarina would never stand by when the innocent needs to be saved!

>>121593
You put as much force into running as you can. It takes more effort than you remember to his this speed, but you are light weight enough to narrowly avoid two of the sluggish clubs above you. You roll forward and land directly in front of the woman. He has long, auburn hair that masks a portion of her face, as she sits on her knees, head sunken low and sobbing from what you imagine is the pain. Something pulls at your heartstrings seeing the woman in such dire straits. But you need to act and act now. You see she has left something small to her left. You can only barely make it out, but it looks to be a talisman of some kind. Looking back, the two stumbling undead lurch quickly towards you. Fighting doesn't seem to be optional now, but at least you stand ready to defend the maiden, as a Knight of Catarina!

Roll 1 d100

Rolled 2 (1d100)

>>121628
Attack the undead with the wide arcing swipes of our scimitar

>>121437
OP is back. Gonna wait for two more lurkers to announce themselves before I continue.

>>122356
lurking

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>>122521
>>122387
>>122356
>>122218

You bring your blade up to bear against the terrible beasts. At first, you are confident that the wide arcing swing of the scimitar will surely be enough to do away with both of the ghouls at once. But as you take your first step forward, you misposition the arc, and you come entirely too short of the two walking corpses. They do not show you the same courtesy of failure. THey both bring their clubs down upon your skull, producing and audible crack and echo throughout the cave. You are stunned at first, terribly in pain second. With the doubled impact you hit the ground hard, you scimitar falling far and away from you across the ice. Now prone, the two undead attempt to finish you off, both of their clubs coming down upon you. You are given a split second to react, but your head is foggy from the blunt impact, and you can hear the muted whimpers of the scared girl behind you. You have to move, lest you die. Will you come back as one of them? A thought you'd rather avoid methinks.

Roll 1d100 and write in your action

Rolled 84 (1d100)

>>122563
Shoulder check them away from us, hopefully we can grab our sword after they have been knocked down

>>125247
Sweet! A better roll this time

Still here Gravelord?

Rolled 24 (1d100)

>>122563
Punch the undead

>>125247
>>122563
Supportan for when op comes back.