There isn't much reason to lose your cool now, you are strapped to a wall after all and death is calling at morning's first light. Fight your instincts and stay calm.

"If you're not here to hurt me, then why are you here?"

>”If you’re not here to hurt me, why are you here”

The figure, Scratch, laughs gently. “Not what I first expected you to say…but very good. I appreciate a man with a bit a’ bravery in him. Makes things easier on me. Ya don’t go on and start hollering and making a scene, which is exactly what we want to avoid right now, my boy.” His tail slinks about behind him slowly. “I’m here because you got no one else to turn to. Because I’m more or less your last hope. I’m here to help you get out of this mess, dear boy. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Help? “What do you mean help?” You quickly reply with a question.

“Exactly what I said. I’m here to help. To get those chains offa you and push you to freedom. To be more than just a rich man’s slave.” He begins to pace, moving evenly, not quite shifting his weight with each step he takes. “You see, I’m somewhat of a...business man in the world. I go about and try to give people what they want most in the world. Fury. Revenge. And as it were, most people usually want that right before they’re about to die. Whether by a bullet…or a hangman’s noose. I’m here to give you an offer you can’t refuse.

>Ask for more information.
>Refuse
>Stay Silent
>Write-In

"Offer? What kind of offer?"

>Ask for more Information

“What kind of offer,” Your voice I blatantly suspicious, but that can’t be helped. You were stuck in a stable and this man here was telling you that he could get you free. But there was always a catch.

Scratch stops and turns to stare at you. You can’t see it, but you have the feeling that there’s a smile stretched across his face. “It’s a rather simple offer really. I take off your chains, you get to go free and carry out any revenge that you want, and all I ask for in return is a simple little soul.”

A chill crawls up your back. A soul. Yah, that was clearly the price for all that. This was the kind of shit Jeb would have told you was wrong, evil. You were not a believer in god yourself, but you knew for a fact that Jeb was in touch with his spiritual side and he told you all about these kind of things. The tales of devils coming in the dark to make everything you want come true, in exchange for your soul. “My soul? No…I don’t think so.”

Scatch’s tail stopped moving. “I said /a/ soul, young man. Not /your/ soul. Right now, your soul is as useful to me as ash. Nothing will come of it for either of us. No, I need a different soul. Like..say…you’re master’s soul.”

>Inquire further
>you’ve heard enough, refuse
>Stay silent
>write-in.

>Youi're
Your.
Jesus Christ.

> Inquire Further

"Let's say I do it, then what? I'm just free to go off on my way?"
Things are never this simple and straight-forward, there has to be some deeper catch.

File: Contracts.jpg (131 KB, 414x290)

131 KB JPG

>Inquire further

"Let's say I do it, then what? I'm just free to go off on my way?"

“Absolutely, You’ll be free to ramble wherever you choose,” Scratch assures you almost instantly. “I’m not one to keep anyone tied down anywhere. You’ll be free to wander wherever. You can choose where to go, decide your own destiny.” Blood red eyes focus on your own. “You have my word. I will not keep you from choosing where you wish to roam or what you want to do.”

“Anywhere?”

“Anywhere. Even heaven if you so choose. I’m no stickler.” You see one hand reach out into the air and paper appears in front of you suddenly, right in front of your face. There’s all sorts of letters and the like written all across the page. “This is the contract, young man. I don’t know if you can read, but this here paper bounds you to your word and me to mine. It simply states that you will go on and bring me a soul and that I will free you from your bonds—to free you of your slavery to your master. And…I will also grant you tools for your vengeance.” He pauses. “Oh…but you have no name…Or do you? When all is said an done…everyone has a name…”

The contract rolls up into the air until you see an X on the bottom. “since you have no name as of yet…just press a finger in blood at the bottom and repeat any name you wish to give yourself. Right there, right at the X and we can get this whole affair over with.”

>Do it. [Name out Nameless slave]
>Inquire further.
>Refuse.
> Write-in

> Write-in/Do It.

"Right...so just my Master's Soul and then I'm free to go."

Well...if there's a contract involved, then everything should be fine, right? Just sign a sloppy Issac next to that X cause you don't write so good.

>Write-in/just do it"

"...yes...the soul of the person who's controlled your entire life for you. That's the soul that I want you to bring." Scratch nods as you ask him your question. "After that, you'll be able to go wherever you want to go." His eyes narrow. His body still shrouded in the dark of the stable. "I'll need you to sign in blood..."

You feel something prick the fingers of your hand and you cry out--more in surprise than in pain. You glance to your hand and see a clawed, black hand reaching out of the dark it's nails sharp against your skin. "Now that that has been taken care of dear boy," He extends a hand. "Go ahead. Sign."

Shakily, you reach out and press a finger against the paper..instantly, you witness the paper starting to light up. You almost pull your hand away but you keep writing .I. S. S. A. C. Issac...or at least...that's how you think it's spelled. You never had a head for letters. But this name had stuck with you ever since Jeb had told you all about the boy's story from the bible and the greater things he had done. He even spelled the name out for a you a few times.

The moment you finished, the contract rolled up completely and dissipated.

"Hehehe...goooood." There was a palpable Ecstasy in Scratch's voice. "Very good..." He snaps and the chains hold you to the wall are immediately ripped from the wall.

"Now to give you a tool to help you get the revenge you so deserve, dear boy...Issac. You have four...binds keeping you, don't you? Which one bothers you the least?"

>The muzzle on your face.
>The iron collar on your throat
>The cuffs around your wrists
>The shackles upon your ankles.

>The cuffs around your wrists

They'll be the easiest to get off after everything is said and done; that and they're the most loosely fit of the four things so they're the least bothersome.

>>46120480
>The iron collar on your throat

I'm gonna need a tie-breaker. Might roll a Die myself.

Rolled 2 (1d2)

1. Wrists
2.Neck

>>46120480
>The cuffs around your wrists
i like where this is going

Never mind. We got a third vote vote.

>>46120835
>>46120828
Fine then, I denounce my vote. I don't want to contradict the dice, let's "roll" with it

>>46120480
>The cuff around your wrists
Glad you came back QM. Would've been a shame to leave this dead in the water after that first thread

"Well now, then." His voice is darkly sweet. There is pleasure breaching through the murky taint of his voice. "Close your eyes now, son. This won't be but a second." You the scarf move and squeeze your eyes. Within moments you feel the sour heat of breath on your face, foul. But with that stench comes the snap and rattle of chains as the bond instantly drop from your arms. The metal on your head drops away and in the next instant, and your neck is free. The breath is gone.

"There, ain't that...liberating?" You wrestle with your fear and pry your eyes open to see that all your bonds are free...no, the cuffs are still there, as Scratch promised, but now, nothing else held you down. "You're not stuck here no more. Lovely." A crude smile stretches in the darkness.

"So just the Master's life...right?" Your voice comes out soft. Meek. Scared.

"That's right. You just need to kill the man that controls your life and you'll be free to ramble where you please." A slight moment of relief spreads through you...

And then the burning begins. From the neck. A sizzling. A blaze. A pain. You hear flesh on white iron and the agony of burning radiating from your wrist for an instant… every sin you ever felt you’ve committed, every anger you’ve ignite, all your hate—it’s all coiling around your wrist.

Your hand shoots over to your wrist and feel...flesh and metal...woven together. "Now, don't think I'm going to send you into that lion's den unarmed you hear? I'm no Darius, you see." He reaches out in the darkness far away from you...and you feel a hand stroke your wrist almost lovingly. "I'm sending you in with something more than man. With this, Dear Boy, you'll command the judgement of hell itself. Coils of cinder and metal will burn through the flesh of man, you control it. Anger is your fuel. Your fire. The Chains are yours now...use them to scorch the mortal soul of that Master of yours. Do Old Scratch proud."

(1/2)

File: thumb_big_hd_be0c1b014fda(...).jpg (21 KB, 516x290)

21 KB JPG

As he finishes speaking, you spot a small length of chain, no longer than four links strapped onto the cuffs on your wrists. You stare…and feel anger. Anger at having this burned into your body. Anger at Scratch. Anger at so many things. And in that instant, Links upon links of red hot metal form from the ends of the chain—no, the chain extends, growing hotter and hotter, more volatile. You look at Scratch. His eyes burn back in pleasure.

“Those Chains, Issac. You can swing ‘em ‘round and they’ll feel like they don’t weigh a thing for you. You’ll never get burned by them either. These are your tools for revenge.” His form begins to sink into the floor, his red scarf pooling at the floor. “I will see you before this night is through. To collect that soul you so owe me…”

He leaves you there…alone, chain burning.

You will your anger from your mind and slowly…the chains dissipate. You smile. You have what you need all right.

>YOU HAVE GAINED THE CHAINS OF JUDGEMENT<

Now. What to do?

>Go after your Master. That’s all you need. His soul.
>Go after Seymour first. He’s the one who put you into this mess. He’s going to pay. This is revenge after all.
> Test out your chains first. You don’t want to go in not knowing how to use them.

>>46120855
Ah. Didn't see this till after I wrote this bit.
>>46120885
Ey! You were in the first thread!? Great to see you again then!

>Test out your chains first. On Seymour. Make that sumbitch pay his pound of flesh.

>>46121282
Doesn't matter, my goal was to not stop with schematics, and let's progress the quest. Because that's what happened, I am satisfied.

>>46121321
This. Seymour will be our test run. Then the master.

>Go after Seymour.

You clench your fists and hear the length of chain grow and clatter to the ground. Yeah. Seymour. That motherfucker. That goddamn no good nigger. He was going to get it first. The Master was going to be in his house, minutes away from the stables. Seymour, though. Seymour was a hop, skip, and a jump away. Probably in his shack with all the other niggers around. You release your fury, and replace it with determination.

The walk to the group of shacks where the slaves lived wasn’t far away. And the first place you decided to head too was the shack the Seymour shared with his mother’s family and a second family. From the small window you could see a fire burning inside the small hearth they had, and some laughter and talking in the air. Sounds like they were having fun.

Shame that was gonna end soon.

You kick open the shoddy wooden door and immediately call out “Seymour, come out nigger. I’ve got a pound of flesh for you.” You ignite your chains and are ready.

The people inside stop talking and look over at you, fires burning from your wrists and looking angry as the devil himself. The women scoop up some children and the men step forward—but no Seymour.

“Look, I-I dunno what you want…but…” One of the men begins, but stops. “Shit…you that devil child.” His eyes are wide.

“Issac. My name’s issac. Where’s Seymour.”

“I…” He looks to your face and then the chains. “I don’t kno—“

You don’t have the patience for this. “WHERE?” You yell out you flip your hand in the air and slam the chain into a chair, smashing it and making it burst into flame. “I ain’t playin’ right now! Where’s Seymour?”

There’s a silence for a moment. “H-he’s at Ol’ Jeb’s House.” One of the children state, clinging onto his mother. “He said he was gonna learn that old nigger something.”

(1/2)

Jeb. You don’t say anything more. You just turn around and run out. Jeb. What the fuck was Seymour doing with Jeb? You run.

Jeb’s shack appears just second later…what should you do?

>Try to look in before going in. You don’t know who or what could be in there.
>Just run in. Jeb needs you.
> Your chains could light that shack easy. Smoke Seymour out.

Uh? Anyone there?

>>46121946
>Try to look in before going in. You don’t know who or what could be in there.
Still here!

>Try to look in, but if you see some shit, god of war this bitch.

>try to look in

You creep around the back, keeping low and finding a window to the side of the house. Going in was a good way to just get hurt or to just hurt anyone you weren't looking to hurt as well.

Inside you clearly see Seymour walking around for a bit, the fire low in the hearth and a bottle of something in his hand. Looks like he stole something from the mater's house. Didn't matter now. He must be feeling pretty good about himself.

"See, Jeb. You just wasted your ass for nothing! Goddamn nigger's gonna die tomorrow! And ain't nobody gonna want to take care of your ass." Seymour walks around, clearly starting ot get a little drunk. "Left his ass in the stables. Mater's gonna hang his ass in the morning--cost his son the engagement to that uppity white fucker's daughter."

Shit. The damage was bigger than you thought. Wait. Was Seymour talking to Jeb? You peek around a with a little more focus. Where the hell was that old nigger? You scan around and see nothing...nobody in Jeb's chair, no in his smal lbed, where the fuck...

Your blood goes cold.

He's at that patch of straw you used to sleep in. He's just laying there. He ain't moving. His eyes just seem to follow Seymour around...but it doesn't look like he can move. You remember what Seymour told you a the stable earlier. Jeb was stupid now. That knock to the head made him like that.

You've had it. You stand up and jump in through the window, angry coursing through chain flowing. This motherfucker was gonna pay.

(Roll 1d20)

Rolled 7 (1d20)

>>46122699
Blood can't be unspilled!

Oh shit I'm feelin' it.

Rolled 12 (1d20)

Hell yeah fuck yeah I feel like killin' it. 8U

>>46122699
Dont know how to roll!

>>46122699
Still dont

>>46122952

put "dice+1d20" in the options portion of the post

>>46122699
dice+1d20
Third times the charm?

Rolled 10 (1d20)

>>46122699

>>46123037
All that bumbling for a 10. For shame.
Least I know how to roll now.
>>46123004
Yeah, forgot the quotes

>12. Success!

As you jump in Seymour looks over at you in surprise before your chain wraps around his neck and slams him into the wall next to the fire place. You hear Seymour scream as there is a small sizzle of fire on flesh in the air.

The chain unravels from his neck and you walk forward, towards him. "Get up, nigger. We ain't done here."

Seymour coughs, forcing his body to stand. "What the fuck..." He stands up, a perfect circle of burned flesh around his neck. "How the hell did you...?”

“It don’t matter.” You fling the whip out again, smashing it into the side of Seymour’s face. You bring your arm back, arcing the chain in the air and then bringing it back down. The flaming metal scorches across Seymour’s back and he howls. And then you pull up and do it again. And again.

(1/2)

There was no room for forgiveness now. You glance over at Jeb whose eyes are fixed on you. Witnessing everything. That didn’t matter now, either.

Again and again. Over and over. You whip the man on the floor, not saying anything. You don’t need to. The chain’s talking for you.

Seymour, though. He’s just a crying. Begging. “Stop! Stop! Stop!” With each hit.

It’s getting annoying.

After a few final hits, you bring your arm back and bring it down one more time, wrapping the metal around Seymour’s neck. You pull back, and Seymour is forced to stand. You keep the chain around his throat this time. You pull him closer, rightening the coil around his windpipe.

“You’re still the bitchnigger, Seymour. Always was.” His eyes stare at you in pain. Fear. Helplessness.

You just snap his neck.

Seymour’s body hits the floor and you just stare down at it. Either he’s dead. Or he ain’t gonna be walking anymore. Both worked for you.

Now you had one more thing to do.

You walk over to Jeb, the fire at your back and washing your fury from your mind, the chains disappearing. There was something you had to do before you went off to finish what you have to do.

You look down at Jeb, who stared back up at you. Unmoving. His eyes burning fiercely. What should you do?

>End his misery. This ain’t no way for a man to live.
>Say goodbye.
>Do nothing. Walk away.

>>46123515
>End his misery. This ain’t no way for a man to live.

File: Feels neck.png (98 KB, 483x484)

98 KB PNG

>>46123515
>End his misery. This ain’t no way for a man to live.
Would you let your dog live like that? It's the humane thing to do.

>End his misery...but say goodbye first. Its only proper.

>End His misery. Say goodbye first.

“Hey Jeb.” You say softly walking over to the old nigger where he lay. You kneel down to get closer to his level. “I’m…I’m sorry about this. All this shit. I just…I just wanted….” You stopped. “I fucked up in that house. I should have just kept out of Seymour’s way back then…” You shake your head. “But can’t take that back anymore. Now I gotta…go and take care of some business and then get out of here. But before I do…” Emotion wells at your throat.

This was the man that raised you when you were a child. Just some abandoned baby that killed his momma in childbirth. And Jeb was the only one who was looking out for you. Nobody else wanted you. No one tried to raise you at all. It was just Jeb.

And now you had to kill him.

“Jeb. It ain’t right for a man to live like you are now. So…I’m…” You felt yourself flare up from within. The world wasn’t fair. And that just pissed you off. “I’m gonna make sure you don’t suffer, much.”

You stand up and take one last look at Jeb. Eyes burning fiercely. But eyes burning with understanding. He knew what you were doing and what you meant by it. “Good-bye, Jeb.”

You bring the chains down, mustering as much anger as you can—At Seymour. At the master. At the world. At the goddamn world—and slice through Jeb’s head like butter, the metal of your chains hotter than anything else.

The floor catches fire. And as you leave, you can feel the fire spreading behind you. It was time to end this. How were you going to do it?

>Go through the front door. Kill anyone in your way. (Roll 1d20)
>Go in through the kitchen, sneak your way through the house and just kill the master. (Roll 1d20-5)
>Just light the place on fire. Take out anyone who makes it out.

Rolled 10 + 5 (1d20 + 5)

>>46124173
>Go in through the kitchen, sneak your way through the house and just kill the master. (Roll 1d20-5)
Should at least try right?

>>46124341
Dont know how I fucked that up. Does that roll still count?

>>46124376
I'll give you one more.

Rolled 12 (1d20)

>Go through the front door. Kill anyone in your way.

Aw hell no. None of these assholes are free of sin. They sat back and watched you suffer your whole life. You stand as judge, jury, and executioner; their crime is willful ignorance of the pain inflicted on you and yours, and the penalty is death.

Rolled 2 - 5 (1d20 - 5)

>>46124173
>Go in through the kitchen, sneak your way through the house and just kill the master. (Roll 1d20-5)

Rolled 11 (1d20)

>>46124433

Rolled 1 (1d20)

>Sneaking is for pussies, take these fuckers head on and kill anyone in your way.

Rolled 2 (1d2)

1. sneak
2. Fight

>>46124726
Soooo, are we doing crits? Cuz thatd be kinda shitty if you're gonna stick with the d20.

>Fight head on 1! Fail!

You rush in. Or at least try. You got to the front door and tried to burst through it. Shame it was locked. And thick. You ran face first into it after trying to hit it with your chain to shatter it and that had left you seeing starts for a few seconds. Well. That was embarrassing. There was a small bit of mercy In the fact that no one had seen you fail like this.

Clutching a bloodied nose, you open a window in the side of the house and jump in, only to slip and fall onto your face once again. Man, you really weren’t at the top of your game right now. Groaning you get up off the floor and trudge into the foyer of the house and climb upstairs, where you were sure the master was sleeping.

As much as you wanted to go berserk, your failure at breaking in, twice, had left you reeling…and even more so was the fact that no one was even around. No matter how far you went into the house, you didn’t encounter a single servant or anything. Christ, tonight was not a good day for a rampage.

Easily enough you make it the master’s bedroom door—as you had helped clean it earlier in the day and you sort of remembered where it was—you slowly creak opened the door…to find a shotgun staring right at you. “Say hello to devil for me.”

(Roll 1d20)

>>46124903

I might move onto something else later, but for tonight, I'm just gonna stick with them.

Rolled 2 (1d20)

>>46124970

Rolled 14 (1d20)

>>46124970

Rolled 4 (1d20)

>14!

You flick you hand up in surprise and hit the shotgun with your chain. The gun jerks upward and shoots straight into the ceiling. You hear a grunt of surprise from the other side and a shriek as well.

Not wasting any time, you bullrush into the door and push the man behind the door away. You run right into the room and see the Mater's wife curled up on her bed and the master on the floor, his gun lying near him. He reacts instantly the moment he sees you and reaches for the shotgun again. You flick your hand and crack it against hte stock, whipping it further away.

"You're that nigger...how did you get out?" Seaborne scrambles to get up, but you're one step faster, whipping his legs out from under him, causing him to fall back down on the floor.

"A friend." Is all you say before you wrap your chain around his leg and pull with all your strength.

Seaborne goes flying into the wall of the room and your chain comes back over two you. Scratch told you to take his soul but you have no idea how to do that. What should you do?

>Just kill him, that should do it.
>Bring him to Scratch alive.
>Don't think, feel.

>>46125460
>Don't think, feel.
Seems like the best way to get results

>Search your feelings.

File: 4727cry.jpg (26 KB, 325x325)

26 KB JPG

>Feel.

Well...uh.

How would you get a soul? You had no idea. No clue whatsoever...but...maybe you didn't need to know. Not everything was based on thinking. So, then. Stop thinking.

As Seaborne gets up off the floor, you rear your arm back. You had to do it somehow. somehow...

You cast your arm forward and the chain darts forward. The chain sails through the air and pierces into his chest. Yeah. Yeah.

This feels about right.

The chain sinks into the flesh, but doesn't seem to break into it. Seaborne goes absolutely rigid and he stare straight into your face. He twitches for a few moments and you feel your chain snag onto something.

You jerk your arm back and, suddenly, something bursts from Seaborne. A small crystal triangle bursts from his chest, your chain wrapped around it. You bring it towards you and you catch it.

...A soul.

As Seaborne crumples to the ground you hear his wife shriek "Help! Help! THE NIGGER KILLED MY HUSBAND!"

The hall is instantly filled with the sound of men running towards your location. The gunshot must have alerted them, but Mrs. Seaborne's voice must have brought them rushing.

>Fight your way out.
>Jump out the window.
>write in.

>>46126029
>Jump out the window
Nope

>You're already in the shit now, time to fight! No survivors = no problems!

I'll give it a minute or two more before I roll for tiebreaker

Rolled 1 (1d2)

1. Fight
2. Window

>>46126029
Fight

File: 6a00e54efdf1128833014e899(...).jpg (54 KB, 800x536)

54 KB JPG

There is no sense in running now. You grip tight on Seaborne’s soul and turn around, your chains growing and their flames scraping across the floor, the carpet behind you catching in flames. Rather, there was no reason for you to run anymore. You were stronger now. You can’t lose now. Nothing can stand in your way. You like it.

The first man that appear is cut straight through the middle as you whip the chain through him, his lower half still standing while his torso smacks into the wall behind him. The men following after him fare no better. You roar through the house, chains of fire and spite burning through the flesh of men as you charge. No one can stop you, you’re damn invincible. Blood and meat fill the halls as you walk through them, all men falling to the floor in death.

You kick a man over the railing of the foyer as you walk down the stairs, the fire that had begun in Seaborne’s room spreading farther and farther. Fuck this place. You walk out of the house and make your way down the road. You can hear screams and the crackling roar of flame behind you. But that’s fine. You have what you came for.

You had your revenge.

….
……..
………..

Scratch waits for you on a hill just outside of the plantation property, staring at the inferno that you caused. “At least I can say that you’re more than a little passionate, yes?” He chuckles and turns around, his form still impossibly cloaked in shadow and his long crimson scarf pooling unceremoniously around him. “I trust you brought me what I asked for?” He holds out his hand.

You don’t say anything and drop the triangular crystal into Scratch’s hand.

“Hnhnhn~” He chuckles happily, rolling the crystal in his black fingers. “Good, good. This is a good soul.” His eyes lock onto your face. “Now. Give me Jeb’s soul.”

…what?

Scratch points to your left wrist and caught in one of the links…is a small trinagle crystal. You glance up to Scratch. “No.”

“…Give me. The soul.” The glee is still in his voice, but you also feel like Scratch isn’t playing with you at all. “That was the contract. Bring me the soul of the man controlling your life. While your master’s soul is nice, /Jeb/ was the one who was always twisting your fate in his hands. He made you who you are…he gave you your jobs…he created your view of the world. He was the one who controlled everything around you…not your dead master. Now. Hand it over.”

>Hand it over.
>Don’t hand it over.

Almost to the end stretch. I swear.

>>46127060
>Hand it over.
This isn't something to play around with, a deal like this.

>>46127060
>Don’t hand it over.
Jeb wasn't our master. He helped us, but at any point we could have refused that help. We could have worked in the stables instead of the house if we chose to. Seaborne was our true master since we couldn't go against his word.

Defend Jeb's Soul
Fight with Scratch
>Refuse to choose a side

>>46127476
>>46127564
Argue for his soul, fight if we must
Seaborne was the "master" without him, things will be different. Jeb may have shaped us but he wasn't our master.

File: d1740e11bd8f151de08743730(...).jpg (46 KB, 564x906)

46 KB JPG

>Don't hand it over

"He's not my master!" You yell at Scratch. "He didn't control nothin'! He just gave me a better life, he gave me opportunities, I took them all!"

"Regardless. The contract dictates what you must do. If you had any problems with the terms, then you shouldn't have signed. Now give me /that soul/,"

No. You’re not going to hand it over.

You rais you hand up with your chain alight. No way in hell that you were going to hand it over. “NO!” You yell out and bring the chain down. “Jeb didn’t control anything!” He was likeyour father, but he was never your master.

Your chain falls with fiery vengeance…and stops in midair. One black claw was raised. “This is my chain, Issac. Not yours. You cannot harm me with it.” The scarf around Scratch’s throat lifts into the air and forms a crown above his head. “That was not a request.” Scratch’s voice loses all amicability. “I didn’t ask you for your opinion. I wanted you to give me the crystal. The contract states you either give me the crystal, or I take your soul instead. Which is it? Hmm?” His hand wraps around the chain and pulls you up onto your toes, then snaps down, digging you into the dirt. “You wanted to be free? Freedom comes with a price.” He steps forward, you see darkness leaking off of him like smoke.

His foot steps on the top of your head. “Now. Give me the soul. Else, you work for me. You’ll be /my/ slave this time. What do you say?” Pressure grows on your head. “His soul. Or yours.”

>Give him Jeb’s soul.
>Agree to work for him.

Final choice of the night boys.

>>46127868
>Give him Jeb’s soul.
A new master? Don't think so. However hard this is, working for Scratch will probably be worse. Don't know what he is but he ain't no angel.

Give him Jeb's Soul.
Agree to work for him.
>Swallow Jeb's crystal and tell Scratch to go get fucked, cause you're not gonna do either.

I desperately need a tiebreaker, lord.

>>46127868
>Give him Jeb’s soul.
We'll find a way to take it back. Hopefully.

>Inform Scratch that when you made the contract, you specifically asked if you were retrieving "The" master's soul, not "My" master's soul, and point out that the use of "The" in your question only refers to one person in particular, which is Master Seaborne.

>>46128197
I don't think we're smart enough to lawyer our way out of this. Can't even read.

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Gritting your teeth, you pull the crystal from its chain, the pressure on your head slowly, slowly, getting unbearable. And you slide it pout and take your hand away from it. Shit. You hated this but…this was all you could do.

“Hmm. Good. I’m glad you found it in your best interest to give me what you promised.” Ling spindly fingers wrap around it and pick up Jeb’s soul and the foot comes off of your head. “I will treasure this one…Keep the chains, Issac. I have no current use for them.” He turns to look at the blaze again. “Yes….contract complete…you are free to roam where ever you please…” is form begins to dissipate in the air. “Unless…”

You look up. Unless?

“Do you want this soul?” You see a long thin, toothy grin spread on Scratch’s face. He holds Jeb’s soul in front of you. “Then I have another offer.” His faceless grin mocks you as he stares ever confident down at you. “Roam where you will. Live life as you please….but. /But/.” He leans down and his grin opens and you see a singular eye gazing at you. “I have a job that you could easily do while living your life and eventually buying back Jeb’s soul from me, my dear boy.”

“How would you like to hunt Angels?”

https://soundcloud.com/zeal-and-ardor/devil-is-fine

That's it for tonight! We'll be picking up the story next time a bit farther down the timeline. If you have any suggestions on how I can make this better for next time I will be glad to hear it. I'll be around for a little while longer, feel free to talk to me if you'd like.

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>>46128428
>“How would you like to hunt Angels?”
And I thought we were in the shit before.

>>46128482
Thanks for the run.
I don't really have much criticism except that you might wanna ditch the d20.

>>46128557
Ah. I see. Possibly. A lot of my own favorite quest tend o use the D20 system and I liked it, but...hmm. I'll think about it. Thanks for sticking around. I'm honestly thinking I should make a character sheet for next time.