“Yes, it is
Your bold words do nothing to halt the creeping darkness as it melts around you, a viscous swirl of liquid pitch that blots out even the faintest of silhouettes. The girl, the creature, fully emerged from the pool of black she floats towards you almost lazily, her grin warm and loving and full of too many teeth. Paralyzed by fear, or perhaps bound by the shadows, your feet remain rooted to the bed of the stream – you are trapped here just as much as if you had stepped upon a landmine. She dodges uncomfortably close to your person, a butcher eying cattle that had been fool enough to wander into the slaughterhouse.
A delicate finger traces your spine.
“Mokou’s stand has sauces…” the fairy sighs wistfully. “But if I go there, you’d run away… and if I took you there, she’d try to take you to the village… she doesn’t like eating humans much…"
An opportunity presents itself. It is not much of an opportunity, you will admit, but the odds are better than just standing here and waiting while she plans out exactly what cuts she’ll be ripping from your flesh. You let your Thompson Gun drop to your waste, boxing your hands around your ears, and with a twist and pop you pull VanOwen’s head from your shoulders. You shudder at the change – the transition between thinking with your old pal’s brainmeats and thinking without much of anything at all isn’t at all like getting a sharp and nasty case of brain freeze, but that’s the best way that you can put it. You, for lack of a better word, see
Rumia staring intently at VanOwen’s pretty face.
This is going to work!
Playing your part, you release the low and hoarse chuckle of a headless horseman.
“That’s right, little shadow,” you intone darkly, “I am not like the others which you have preyed upon in the darkness of this forest. Unlike those fools, I-”
You are quite promptly interrupted from your suitably dramatic and not at all meant to be intimidating speech regarding the precise nature of your status as a Revenant and how you are also
a Nzumbe by the fae creature’s attempts to snatch the head from your hand. You can’t rightly explain the subtle and nuanced differences between the various types of corporeal ghosts and animated corpses when you’re being knocked about by a shadow in the shape of a girl.
“You brought horderves!” She… squees? No, that can’t be right, fae are dark and calculating creatures, whose intelligence should be incomprehensible, as alien as any of the greater being wrote of by Lovecraft. Yet for all that the fairy sounds every bit the over-excited girl-child. A trickle of drool slides down her chin. “I only ever get those at Reimu’s parties, and I’ve got to behave
at those, Wriggle says. Gimme, gimme, gimme!”
You have to think fast. Surrendering the head is almost out of the question – not only does it carry with it much sentimental value, but it also holds the greater of the trophies that you took that day. VanOwen’s lucky hat. Yet, you can always take the head off some other unlucky bastard that wound up dead in a ditch somewhere, and you’d rather not risk your immortal soul by dying before you’ve managed to lift the curse of undeath from yourself. You slip the hat off of the head somehow in the middle of the tussle, and as soon as the opportunity presented itself, you jump to your feet and pitch the head in a random direction with all of your might.
“You want the hors d’oeuvres
?” You ask the fae. “Then go f-”
Your stomach drops like a stone as the head collides with the bubble of shadow that had surrounded you. Instead of soaring through for some great distance in the hopes of buying yourself precious time to escape, it crashes into the blackness. Like a nail dropped into a vat of molasses, it sinks into the darkness slowly, and you don’t imagine that any of made it outside the child’s bubble. The realization strikes you, the darkness is not some ability of the fairy, a spell or majick cast to frighten and bewilder its prey; rather, it is an extension of the creature itself, no less a part of her than your fingers are a part of you…
“-uck. Well, fuck me.”
The fairy pats her stomach, satisfied with the tasty, if small snack that you just delivered to her with such great alacrity.
“That was tasty~
” She stares at you again, with wide, bright eyes that should not be near so innocent. “I wonder if the rest of you is just as yummy…”
Grinning once more that smile of too many teeth, the fairy child raises her left hand, allowing it to be coated by whatever viscous material from which the ink-black bubble of shadow was formed. It twists and morphs, reshaping itself into the likeness of a falcon’s talon, five ebon blades sprouting like fingers from the amorphic tube of darkness that her arm had become. A single razor’s edge traces down from the center of your stump-like neck, a thirsty hunger lighting up her eyes as it tears through tie and shirt and blazer and skin.
And then she begins her bloody work.
You do not scream. You do not feel pain, and you will not give this fae beast the satisfaction of hearing your dying pleas.
When she is finally finished, her shadow drops from its bubble canopy, and happy as a child given a kitten on her naming day, Rumia dances off into the forest humming a happy tune filled with the hope that her next meal will be just as tasty. But for her laughing song, the forest lies still and quiet, the younger creatures still paralyzed in fear of the passing shadow. The sun is soon to set, and the moon is soon to rise waning, giving little light to those fool enough to wander off into the depths of the forest.
It is dark. You have been eaten by a grue.
Welp, there's your first Bad End. >>170690
pretty much called it. But don't worry; a Bad End here or there won't keep you from getting a Good End or Golden End, or even make those two harder. But do expect them to happen every now and then.
The Library is coming up next. It'll give you helpful hints, a la the Taiga Dojo from FSN.