>>3015612
Get out of here with that Discord Cancer

File: killers.jpg (395 KB, 1024x1298)

395 KB JPG

>>3015612

KILLER

In life you were shunned, hated, feared, or maybe all three. You hungered for vengeance against those who wronged you. When your life came to an end, instead of dying you travelled beyond death, passing through endless realms of darkness. Finally you returned to the world of the living or, perhaps, were sent back.

You have returned as something more, but also less than, your former self, as though your weaknesses were burned away by fire and a new self rose from the ashes. You are hard as iron, cold as winter, and silent as stone. The site of your grave is the center of your lair, a rumor-shadowed hunting ground that few now dare approach. Here you remain, ageless and undying, enacting your vengeance in blood and pain upon the living, until the world's ending.

Where did you become undying? What place is now your home forever?

Lair
>Abandoned Asylum
>Dark Forest
>Rotting Farm
>Ruined Manor
>Placid Suburbia

>>3015618
>Ruined Manor

>>3015618
>Abandoned Asylum

>Abandoned Asylum
Good and ol' smell of "Happened bad things here".

>>3015624
Supporting

>>3015618
>Asylum
I guess, Forest is nice too.

>forest
can make tunnels to fast travel

>>3015618
>Placid Suburbia
Because we gotta follow the rules, and rules are broken most in suburbia.

>>3015624
This

I want muh mansion

>>3015618
>>3015675
FUCK MANSION GIVE ME MY NURSE

ASYLUM

>>3015618
>Ruined Manor

>>3015618
>>3015631
>>3015632
>>3015644
>>3015705
>>3015624
>>3015634
>>3015719


Asylum, Manor secondary.

Writing.

>>3015618
>Ruined Manor
I only spill blood on the finest carpets

>>3015705
We can have an in-home nurse anon!
Haven't you watched any hentai?

File: Dbd-journal-asylum.png (148 KB, 189x473)

148 KB PNG

>>3015618
>>3015744


There is insanity, and then there are those minds so twisted by madness that they lose their humanity. Blackwell Asylum contained them, those feral, unwanted things, far away from where the easily disturbed citizenry could see them. Nearby on a slanted hill stood the ancient manor known as the Marlow Estate, in which the Head Warden lived and looked down upon his charges from afar.

In that terrible place of warped and depraved minds, you were once a menial worker, a nurse of no standing, only poor woman forced to mop the blood and filth from the floors to earn a crust. After many years among the mad, something snapped inside you. Perhaps you went mad yourself, and were locked away, before escaping. Perhaps the head warden tried to force himself upon you, and in desperation you resorted to lethal violence. Memories of those days are hazy now. Regardless of how it happened, in the end you unleashed your madness on the inhabitants of that place, slaughtering any who stood before you, painting the walls you had cleaned so diligently with their blood. By the time the police detectives arrived, Blackwell Asylum had become a charnel house, and you had vanished.

Memories of your death are clouded. Did the police find you and put an end to you, or perhaps the ordinary folk of the nearby township? Did you die of starvation and exposure, searching for food? You can't remember. But now you are here. And here you will remain.

Now the decaying and decrepit halls of that abandoned building are avoided. Even now, years after the incident, rumors are whispered about a woman who still lives there. Some dismiss you as legend. But you are real, as any who trespass discover shortly before their life ends in blood and pain.

When you came back, or perhaps before then, you found your face in the world and put it on. Everyone else in the world was born with their face, but not you. Your face is special. It is not like theirs. Oh, you have a thing on the front of your head like they do, certainly, but it is a soft, vulnerable, revealing thing, full of weakness. It is not your FACE. Your face is like you are. It does not flinch, and it does not forgive.

Face
>Pig mask
>Gas mask
>Hood
>Sack

Look
>Battered
>Bloodstained
>Cracked/Torn
>Painted

>>3015807

>Gas Mask

>Bloodstained

WW1 AESTHETIC

>>3015807
Face:
>Hood
Look:
>Cracked/torn

>>3015807
Write-In
>Bandages
>Bloodstained

>>3015807
>Pig mask
>Bloodstained

>>3015807
>Face
-write-in: Medical Mask
If write-ins don't work, go Hood.

>Look
Painted

>>3015807
good shit supporting >>3015819

File: oeRXFOD.jpg (285 KB, 960x960)

285 KB JPG

>>3015807
>Bandages (Pic related without the hat)
>Bloodstained

>>3015807
>>Gas mask
>Bloodstained

>>3015807
>>Gas Mask
>>Bloodstained

>>3015807
>>Gas mask
>Bloodstained
The Grim Gopnik rises

>Gas mask
>Cracked/Torn
Let's make it the worst gas mask ever, baby!

File: nurse bloodstained gas mask.png (91 KB, 553x647)

91 KB PNG

>>3015807
>>3015819
>>3015822
>>3015826
>>3015841
>>3015843
>>3015855
>>3015864
>>3015872
>>3015880


The asylum was home to many soldiers brought back from the trenches of Europe, their minds addled and broken with shell shock from the horrors of the front. One of them brought your face with him. A gas mask, used to repel poison gas attacks. You stole it and took to wearing it in private, desperate to breathe clean air, untainted by the foul vapors of the asylum. When you slaughtered the inhabitants of this place, your face became drenched with blood, and it has been stained ever since.

When the living trespass upon your lair, it is not enough simply to kill them. That would be too easy, too unsatifying. Dark desires well up within you, unsatiated with mere murder. They demand more. Your victims must die to serve a purpose, and they must die by your own hand.

Dark Desire
>Blood: You revel in inflicting pain and violence on others.
>Punishment: The wicked must pay for their sins.
>Terror: Their fear is delicious nectar to you.
>Memento: You have a collection of a certain body part you harvest from each victim.


Method (Choose 2)
>Knives and saws.
>Hooks and rope.
>Electrodes.
>Traps and snares.
>Tooth and nail.

>>3015932
>Memento: You have a collection of a certain body part you harvest from each victim.

>Hooks and rope.
>Electrodes.

>>3015932
>Punishment: The wicked must pay for their sins.
>Tooth and nail.

>>3015932
>Terror: Their fear is delicious nectar to you.

>Electrodes.
>Traps and snares.

>>3015932
>>Punishment: The wicked must pay for their sins.
>Electrodes.
>Traps and snares.

>>3015932
>Terror: Their fear is delicious nectar to you.

>Hooks and rope.
>Electrodes

>>3015932
>Terror: Their fear is delicious nectar to you.

>Electrodes.
>Knives and saws.

>Terror: Their fear is delicious nectar to you.
>Traps and snares.

>>3015932
>Punishment, minor Terror

>Knives & Saws
Scalpels and bonesaws are readily available in a hospital environment. Extra bonus: lobotomy equipment.
>Traps & Snares
To punish and frighten those awaiting execution

>>3015932
>>Terror: Their fear is delicious nectar to you.
>Traps and snares.
>Electrodes.

>>3015932
>Memento: You have a collection of a certain body part you harvest from each victim.
>Knives and saws.
>Traps and snares.

Method matches Dark Desire. Trap, then cut off part.

>>3015932
>>Terror: Their fear is delicious nectar to you.

>>Hooks and rope.
>Knives and saws.

>>3015932

Punishment

Knives and Saws
Hook And Rope

>>3015932
>Memento: You have a collection of a certain body part you harvest from each victim.
>Knives and saws.
>Electrodes.

File: bonesaw.png (42 KB, 256x256)

42 KB PNG

>>3015932
>>3015946
>>3015949
>>3015951
>>3015962
>>3015964
>>3015971
>>3015973
>>3015976
>>3015981
>>3016003
>>3016010

>Terror: Their fear is delicious nectar to you.
>Knives and saws, Electrodes, Traps

You still possess the surgical knives and blood-rusted bonesaw with which you performed your mass slaughter. But ever since your dark resurrection, you also enjoy relying on indirect methods, using deadly traps, hidden pitfalls, and wicked snares to protect your domain. Once an interloper has fallen prey to one of your traps, you incapacitate them and drag them off to the center of your lair, where you maintain a functional electro-convulsive therapy machine. The victim's abject terror as you strap them into the chair is like sweet nectar to your dulled and wretched senses, and you delight in the writhing dance they perform when you turn on the machine.

In the darkened shadows of Blackwell Asylum, with only the crows for company, you watch and wait, hoping that your next victims arrive soon.

(Continued)

File: lonely highway.jpg (117 KB, 720x480)

117 KB JPG

>>3016024

SURVIVOR

Your battered old car heads east along the lonely highway, winding through the green valleys and forested hills of New England. When you hit a bump, you can hear parts of the car rattle and clatter, or maybe that's just your tools in the trunk. Should tighten those straps. If you could get a better car, or at least fix up this junker, you would, but this is all you can afford for now. At least it works, and stays on the road, mostly.

The latest rumors you're chasing have brought you ought here, back to the part of America you grew up in. The memories of those days are anything but pleasant.

Five years ago was the incident that became known as the Night of the Bloodhaven Butcher, when a slaughterhouse worker who supposedly died in an industrial accident a decade earlier attacked a group of teenagers exploring the abandoned abattoir on a dare. He murdered them in gruesome ways, often using his former tools for killing cattle, until only one survivor remained. In the final showdown, they triumphed over the killer in a desperate struggle, emerged victorious but bloodied and shaken by the nightmarish experience.

That survivor was you.

Until that night you had been a simple girl, content to live an ordinary existence. You allowed your friends to drag you along on their adventure against your better judgment. After they fell to the killer, one by one, and only you remained, something awakened in you. Something that refused to feel fear. Something that demanded you make your own fate.

You took control of your situation, finding a deep well of resourcefulness within yourself that you never knew existed. You fought back against the killer. And against all odds, you won.

What talent, in addition to your newfound courage, saw you through that night?

Talent:
>I am tough, athletic, and strong, easily able to run fast and swing a weapon.
>I am quick and light on my feet, easily able to climb or sneak into hidden places.
>I am smart and quick-thinking, easily able to think up a plan or engineer a solution.
>I am charming and relatable, easily able to make friends and inspire trust.

>>3016083
>I am tough, athletic, and strong, easily able to run fast and swing a weapon.

Stronk girl.

>>3016083
>>I am attractive, charming and relatable, easily able to make friends and inspire trust.
The thot who survived.

>>3016083
>>I am tough, athletic, and strong, easily able to run fast and swing a weapon.
Qt tomboy slasher fighter a must.

>>3016091
You are a man of refined taste.

>>3016083
>I am quick and light on my feet, easily able to climb or sneak into hidden places.
Ninja shit incoming

>>3016075
>I am quick and light on my feet, easily able to climb or sneak into hidden places.

Because strength means little to foess already dead, charm will only get others killed, and intellect is meaningless if you don't live long enough to use it.

>>3016098
I think that's kind of inaccurate. They're all viable as she's literally used her abilities once before to win.

>>3016083
>>I am tough, athletic, and strong, easily able to run fast and swing a weapon.

>>3016083
>I am smart and quick-thinking, easily able to think up a plan or engineer a solution.
All the greatest mortal heroes were wise and quick-witted. Odysseus didnt survive his encounter with the cyclops because he was strong; he survived because he was smart.

>>3016095
You as well.

>>3016083

>I am tough, athletic, and strong, easily able to run fast and swing a weapon.

>>3016083
>>I am tough, athletic, and strong, easily able to run fast and swing a weapon.
BUFF!

>>3016104
Yes, but anon wasn't controlling her back then.

>>3016083
>>I am smart and quick-thinking, easily able to think up a plan or engineer a solution.

File: sarah.jpg (39 KB, 564x752)

39 KB JPG

>>3016083
>>3016086
>>3016091
>>3016107
>>3016115
>>3016117
You were always the sporty type, excelling in baseball and long-distance track and field. Never much of a team player, though. You preferred running alone, finding yourself in the empty spaces of the local woods and lonely suburban neighborhoods. You could swing a baseball bat with the best of them, though, which came in handy not only in the regional girls' baseball tournament, but when you were trapped alone with the Bloodhaven Butcher and disabled him by bashing his skull in with a heavy length of pipe. You hit him again and again until long after a normal man would have been died, and then, letting the bloody pipe slip from your fingers, staggered away to search for help.

You didn't know about slashers, then.

You didn't know he would come back.

These days you still keep in excellent shape, although your exercise comes in an entirely different arena now, with far higher stakes than a regional championship. Now, if you slip while running, or miss a swing with the bat, you could be killed. Or worse.

You pull off the highway and enter the town of Greendale, population 11,621 according to the sign. Passing by row upon row of identical suburban neighborhoods with carefully cultivated lawns and gardens in front. Not unlike the town you grew up in. You wonder if this is what awaited you if nothing out of the ordinary had happened to you. Picket fence. Working husband. Two point five kids. Happy thoughts. Happy life.

All of that ended on the Night of the Butcher.

(Continued)

File: greendale.jpg (198 KB, 1024x576)

198 KB JPG

>>3016227


You survived that night, but were forever changed. Going back to your old life was impossible. You delved into the occult, searching for any explanation as to how a long-dead slaughterhouse worker could return from the grave to kill. And you began to hear rumors that there were others. Killers like the Butcher. Creatures called "slashers" with impossible endurance and vigor, who defended their lairs like a predator's territory, and killed for sport and pleasure.

At a stoplight, you glance down at the file lying on the passenger seat marked "The Nurse".

The latest rumors have directed you to this small, ordinary town, and the abandoned asylum in the woods nearby. If they turn out to be true, hopefully you can do something before the worst happens. You've seen the worst. It's not pretty.

It might be good to ask around first, see if the locals know anything your contacts weren't able to provide ahead of time. The file sitting next to you is pretty slim. You could check with the sheriff's department, see if they've heard of any disturbances. There's also the local library, where you could check historical records. And of course there's the town highschool. Teenagers inevitably get involved in these things. You're in your early twenties now, but you still look young enough to still get carded in bars, and you can kinda-sorta pass for a high school girl, at least for long enough to ask a few questions and slip away. It also might be good to stop by the hardware store and load up on any tools you might be missing.

>Sheriff
>Library
>Highschool
>Hardware store
>Write-in

>>3016237
>Hardware store

>Highschool
>then Hardware store.

>>3016237
>>Hardware store

>>3016237
>Hardware store
>Library

>>3016237
>Library

>>3016237

>Library

>>3016252
Seconding
Cops aren't gonna tell us shit and kids were too drunk to remember anything

>>3016237
>Hardware store
Are we going to play as the survivor or the slasher

>>3016237
>>Hardware store

>>3016252
Also supporting, we have time to visit two places right? The slashers don't roam the town, and we're challenging them.

>>3016258
>Are we going to play as the survivor or the slasher
Both!

>>3016237
>>3016243
>>3016248
>>3016249
>>3016252
>>3016253
>>3016254
>>3016255
>>3016258
>>3016266

You head into the town center, passing by a Polish restaurant advertising pierogies, a small grocery, a thrift store. When you find Dan's Hardware, you park in front and head inside to stock up on equipment. Your tools are ready to go, stashed in the trunk of your car, but it never hurts to be prepared, or to have extras. Afterwards, if you have time, you'll stop by the library. Locals lounging outside look with interest at the out-of-town girl heading into the hardware store. You try to act natural.

In the store you get yourself a bunch of things you might need. Nails. Power drill. Saw. Rope. Other things. You finish it off with several boxes of buckshot. The middle-aged guy behind the counter with a greying mustache, presumably Dan, raises an eyebrow as you pile your purchases on the counter.

"Hunting trip with my dad," you say. "Cabin needs repairs."

"Uh-huh." Dan is still wary but rings you up nonetheless. You pay in cash, wincing as you see how little is left in your wallet afterwards. At least there's enough for the gear, and a few days' worth of food and motel fees. You ask Dan for directions to the library and a local motel, then head back outside with your purchases.

It's not an easy job you've chosen, and it's made harder by the fact that it pays next to nothing. You're forced to rely on a meagre allowance from your parents, an occasional gift from your wealthier contacts, and whatever you can scrape by on menial labor jobs. Being tough helps with that last part, at least. You can easily work a few days landscaping, hauling, or scrubbing dishes, so long as you can convince the boss to look past the fact that you're a girl and hire you on for what they often call "man's work."

You dump your new stuff into the backseat of the car -- you don't want to open the trunk with all these people around -- and head off to the library.

The librarian is an elderly woman whose nametag reads Pamela, and she gladly shows you the back area where they keep local records and newspapers. "Don't have any of those fancy micro-film readers," she says with regret. "But you're free to look through what we've got."

>Search records of the 1910s, when the Nurse is rumored to have been created.
>Search mid-century obituaries, see how frequently she's been active.
>Search recent news, see what kind of activity is happening out there now.
>Search for mentions of the occult or local witchcraft.
>Write-in.

>>3016359
>>Search recent news, see what kind of activity is happening out there now.

>Search records of the 1910s, when the Nurse is rumored to have been created.
>Search for mentions of the occult or local witchcraft

>>3016359
>Search records of the 1910s, when the Nurse is rumored to have been created.

>>3016359
>Search recent news, see what kind of activity is happening out there now.

>>3016359
>Search for mentions of the occult or local witchcraft

>>3016359
>Search recent news, see what kind of activity is happening out there now.

>>3016359
>>Search records of the 1910s, when the Nurse is rumored to have been created.

>>3016359
>Search recent news, see what kind of activity is happening out there now

>>3016359
>>3016363
>>3016369
>>3016372
>>3016374
>>3016380
>>3016393
>>3016435

You find one of the original articles detailing the massacre at Blackwell Asylum. Annie Atkins, nurse and orderly, held responsible for at least thirty-six deaths and disappearances. Bodies were found dismembered and maimed, blood splattered everywhere, and some victims were even found alive in the electro-convulsive therapy chamber, drooling, their brains burnt out of their heads. A later article is vague on whether law enforcement or exposure was responsible, but she was supposedly buried in 1919 in the asylum's graveyard, alongside many of her victims.

Purifying the grave of a slasher with a ritual is one way to put them to rest, but that's dangerous in its own way. Messing with the occult always is. You prefer a more direct method. They do actually die for good, eventually. It just takes a solid tool and a lot of work. Still, you file that information away in case it becomes useful.

Switching over to recent news, you find that apparently some of the local youths have been agitating towards cleaning up and rebuilding the asylum. They have ideas about a homeless shelter, or a recycling center, or any number of the idealistic notions that pass though a young person's head. Not that you're much older, you think to yourself ruefully. You're what, twenty-one? Barely old enough to buy a beer? And yet the teenagers who always seem to get tangled up with slashers feel like complete and utter children to you. You suppose it's just what you've been through, compared to their comfortable lives up to that point. Still, you'd better get out there before these idiots take it upon themselves to clean out the surely-not-haunted-at-all abandoned sanitarium.

By the time you leave the library the sun is setting, and it'll take you a while to drive out to the asylum down forgotten country roads. Going in there at night would be dangerous. It's always dangerous, of course, but going in at night is one of those things that gets idiot teenagers killed in the first place. The darkness conceals, and worse, plays upon your imagination, until every shadow seems to hide the killer, and the terror is so extreme you can't think straight to make plans or anticipate their moves.

You drive to the motel, planning to head out into the woods at first light.

(Continued)

>>3016469

KILLER

You can sense their arrival before you hear them. Not quite sight, not quite smell, not quite feeling. A predator's instinct.

They are out there now, in the woods. You can hear them talking amongst themselves, laughing and joking. They think this will be enjoyable. It will be, but not for them.

Teenagers. It always seems to be teenagers. Occasionally you find a lone lawman, compelled to investigate the dark rumors surrounding the asylum, or a hunter who has strayed too far from his hunting grounds. But when groups like this arrive, it is often teenagers, impetuous youths deaf to the warnings of their elders to stay away, to avoid those darkened woods, and the abandoned halls that once imprisoned the mad and deranged. From the spider-webbed windows of Marlow Hall, the Warden's former estate, you look down upon them, and the pulse of your undying heart quickens in anticipation.

Is it time? Will you begin right away? Or will you savor this, planting the seed of fear into their hearts, letting them grow ever more afraid, until their terror is at its most exquisite?

>Kill the first one who becomes isolated.
>Stalk and observe them while hidden.
>Shadow them, whisper to them, put fear into their hearts.
>Attend to your traps, make sure they are prepared.

>>3016490
>Shadow them, whisper to them, put fear into their hearts

>>3016490
>>Shadow them, whisper to them, put fear into their hearts.

>>3016490
>>Shadow them, whisper to them, put fear into their hearts.
Spook 'em and they'll be more vulnerable to our traps.

>Shadow them, whisper to them, put fear into their hearts.

>>3016490
>Shadow them, whisper to them, put fear into their hearts.

>>3016490
>Shadow them, put fear in their hearts
>Check traps along their route, ensure there will be No Escape.

>>3016490
>>3016505
>>3016516
>>3016521
>>3016525
>>3016539
>>3016560

There are five of them, five fools who enter your realm of death unknowing, and you follow them as they move, in such a way they might hear your footsteps. They walk through the woods to the main gate, and you allow them to catch glimpses of you through the trees. They bypass the rusted iron of the main gate and climb over the wall, and you return by secret ways to watch them from shadowed places. They reassure each other, trying to raise each others' courage, and you whisper to them of what you have planned for their fresh young bodies. Their fear grows without them knowing why, unable to voice the nameless dread that stalks them.

You name them by their types, as they enter Blackwell. Generations repeat themselves, and recurring archetypes are eternal. The whore, the soldier, the fool, the scholar. And the virgin, whom you save for last, her horror tasting like the most delicious honey.

Soon their ridiculous party begins, their indulgement in tawdry pleasures and primitive lusts, caught up in their tangled web of rankings. It is all so important to them, so pressing and vital. Soon they will have other concerns.

Inevitably, two of them detatch from the group to engage in intimacy and congress. This is when they believe they are safe, but in fact are vulnerable. This is when it begins.

>Target the whore / the soldier.

>Only act to increase their terror for now.
>Confront them directly with saw and knives.
>Herd them into your traps.
>Electrocute them.

>>3016574
>>Herd them into your traps.

>>3016574
>>Herd them into your traps.

>>3016574
>Herd them into traps
When they fail to return, the terror of the others will be even sweeter

File: asylum halls.jpg (99 KB, 702x536)

99 KB JPG

>>3016574
>>3016582
>>3016604
>>3016608


I follow them through the darkness, the whore with her blonde curls and the soldier with his broad shoulders. I see flashes of faces, other soldiers who lay in their beds in this very asylum, their strong bodies wasting away with only broken minds to control them. Pitiful. Worthless. Meat for the blade. I think of my beautiful memories and slaughter and I laugh, the sound crawling through the dark halls.

"What was that?" I hear the whore saying.

"Ahhh, it was nothing," the soldier replies, witless and callous as ever. "Just the crows. Come on, Jess, let me get that off of you."

"Mike, I'm serious! I heard something!" The girl called Jess pushes her partner away. "What if there's, like, a maniac loose in the woods?"

"A maniac? Get real!" The boy called Mike pretends to stalk her menacingly, imitating an imagined killer. "Whoooo, I'm the maniac, Jessica! I'm gonna get you! Come here, my pretty girl!"

"Ugh! You are so lame!" The whore swats at him, grabs up some of her discarded clothing, and walks off in a huff.

The soldier plaintively calls after her as she leaves. "Aw, c'mon, Jess! Don't be like that! I was just messing around!"

The whore is lost. She does not remember the way back to the rest of her friends. She is isolated, confused. It is time. You reveal yourself to her, emerging from the shadows, and take great pleasure in the fear that twists her face, in the scream that erupts from her lungs, in the way she stumbles backwards and falls, abandoning her clothes to run half-naked off into the darkness, shouting for help. Your breath hisses in your mask as you follow.

You herd her through the hallways, blocking her escape, until finally she runs down the corridor you had planned for, and triggers your tripwire. Released from its tension, a set of surgical knives tied to a rack swings out from concealment and stabs into her arms and chest. Her scream this time reaches a higher pitch, musical to your ears. The trap does not inflict severe wounds, but they are painful and numerous, and it immobilizes its victim unless they can wrench themselves free. To do so would require a person of will and purpose. The whore is neither. She cowers as you approach, whimpering like a fearful animal. Delicious.

Wrenching her free from the blades, you sling the girl over your shoulder like a sack of vegetables. She struggles and fights, her weak fists raining ineffectually down upon you, but it is futile. Your body is hard as stone, your grip strong as iron.

You take her to your private sanctum, your innermost chamber, where you will take a little time to play with her before going back to the others. Let them be afraid when their friend does not return. Their terror will be all the sweeter.

(Continued)

>>3016716


SURVIVOR

You couldn't sleep too well. Night is a bad time for you, even now. So you got up and paced, made some coffee, checked and re-checked your tools, until finally it was time or good enough at least. So you headed out from the motel, driving into the woods in the early dawn hours.

It took some finding, what with outdated maps and vague directions from the locals, but by sunrise you made your way through the tangle of dirt paths and back-country roads to find it. The abandoned ruin of stone and iron that once had contained the mad and hopeless, the site of Annie Atkins' slaughter. Blackwell Asylum.

You have all your tools ready for you in the trunk of the car. It's tempting to bring everything, to plan for every possible situation, but you can't afford to load yourself up too much. Encumbering yourself limits your agility and running speed, which could easily prove fatal.

You usually bring "Young Betsy" along with you, a bloodstained aluminum baseball bat with a wrist strap and taped-up grip. It's the successor to Old Betsy, your wooden bat from your baseball days which you broke over the head of that hillbilly with the chainsaw. Other than that, you bring a ranged weapon, a backup piece, and some useful things.


Ranged (choose 1)
>Sawn-off two-barrel shotgun, devastating at close range.
>Pump-action shotgun, well-suited to fighting at midrange indoors.
>Hunting rifle, accurate at a distance.


Backup (choose 1)
>Machete
>Several knives
>Pistol
>Grenade


Gear (choose 2)
>First aid
>Flashlight
>Flares
>Rope
>Occult talisman
>Tin can alarm
>Noisemaker
>Colored smoke grenade
>Write-in, something you could buy from a hardware or hunting store

File: slasher killer mid.png (626 KB, 1020x1634)

626 KB PNG

>>3016728
That's all for tonight. Hope you had a spooky Halloween, and you're enjoying this so far. I will return tomorrow to continue.

>>3016728
>Pump-action shotgun, well-suited to fighting at midrange indoors.
>Machete
>First aid
>Flashlight

>>3016728
>Pump Action shotgun
>Several Knives
>Rope
Lesson learned about flashlights always dying at the worst possible time:
>Rugged propane lantern, with spare fuel.

>>3016728
>Sawn-off two-barrel shotgun, devastating at close range.
>Grenade
>First aid
>Tin can alarm

Damn, Raven. This writing is exceptional, you've really kicked it up a notch.

>>3016728
>Sawn-off two-barrel shotgun, devastating at close range.
>Grenade
>Flashlight
>Colored smoke grenade

I'd say, because killers are far stronger and tougher than humans, a machete will do little to deter them, especially because we have to get close to use it. Not only will our attacks with it be impotent, but also we'll leave ourself within range to be attacked.

A grenade is best. Something to help us disorient the killer or to help us escape if things get tough. Smoke grenade to negative some of her 'home' advantage, or maybe to help us either escape or sneak up to the killer to use our shotgun.

Sawn-off shotgun because if we're going to get close, let's make it count. It'll shred the killer.

>>3016728
>Pump-action shotgun, well-suited to fighting at midrange indoors.
>Pistol
>Flashlight
>Occult talisman
And it better be a Maglite, none of those cheap pieces of shit.

>>3016728
>Pump-action shotgun, well-suited to fighting at midrange indoors.
>Machete
>First aid
>occult talisman

>>3016728
>sawned off shotgun

Rather than buckshot, could we pack some slug? We are killing slashers, not sparrows. While the spread of the buckshot might help compensate for accuracy, it is not going to do much to a naturally resilient slasher.

>Several knives
Utility is best in these situations. We can use them to trip a trap from a far away, throw them at the killer, unscrew bolts, picklock...etc. I would especially suggest agasint the grenade. Only hulking brutes fall for those and there are resilient enough to resist them anyway.

Gear

Now this is the tricky part. I feel like our objective, instead of killing the slasher should be to get the survivors out of there and come back better prepared for the killer. She has given no signs of abandoning her hunting grounds, so we should be okay when we get out.

>First aid
>Noisemaker

DIstract the killer and rescue the survivors.

>>3017972
Kind of a weird goal since we don't know that there are any survivors, and IC we don't even know anyone is in there.

>>3016728
>Pump-action shotgun, well-suited to fighting at midrange indoors.
>Machete
>First aid
>Flashlight

>>3016771
Changing this vote from Grenade to Several Knives in the interest of breaking ties instead of Raven's mind.

>>3016728
>Sawn-off two-barrel shotgun, devastating at close range.
>Several knives
>Flashlight
>Rope

>>3018142
You... fine, alright. Fuck. Final switch, nobody else come in here or I'll use the knives that didn't get picked to dismember someone.

>Machete

>>3018145
...Knives? Yeah, I want knives more than machete and I think machete's ahead.

>Several knives

I swear to god

>>3016728
>Sawn-off two-barrel shotgun, devastating at close range.
>Machete
>Flashlight
>Rope

>>3018153
Should be
>Knives
not machete. I cp the wrong thing

File: burning eyes.gif (169 KB, 500x667)

169 KB GIF

>Pump-action shotgun
>Several knives
>First aid
>Flashlight

Okay, I'm just calling this before it gets any more crazy. Update soon.

>>3018158
Thank you. I... I needed that. I think I was about to go into cardiac arrest.

File: apb05.jpg (968 KB, 1920x2422)

968 KB JPG

>>3016728
>>3018158

Soundtrack: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1TxEdJaZkY4

It's just you and the crows in these lonely woods. A cold wind blows, rustling the leaves of the trees overhead, as you pop the trunk of your car and take a look.

Inside are all the tools you've accumulated over five years of slasher killing. Knives of every size, power drills, saws and hammers, pistols and shotguns and hunting rifles, trinkets and talismans of the occult bequeathed to you by your contacts. Everything a girl needs to set herself against an unstoppable monster from beyond the grave.

You load yourself up, taking a solid pump-action shotgun, versatile and effective in close quarters, along with a mixture of regular buckshot shells and a few special ones loaded with salt, iron filings, and holy water, a mixture that sometimes proves effective against the more eldritch varieties of these monsters. Strapped on your belt and in a shoulder harness are several small knives which prove useful for all kinds of things including stabbing. You also have a small red first-aid kit and a solid, reliable flashlight (you checked the batteries).

There is one factor, you have noticed, that complicates things. Another car is parked nearby, in good condition, with pretty fresh tire tracks. That means it must have arrived recently, maybe in the past twenty-four hours. Probably a gang of teens looking for somewhere isolated to party, piling into someone's dad's car and heading out the old abandoned asylum, where all those legends about how it's haunted by an undead nurse who tortures and kills unwary travellers are, surely, just silly ghost stories.

There are footprints leading from the car into the asylum, but none coming back. Whoever drove out here is still inside.

So it looks like in addition to saving any theoretical future victims, you'll also have to save the current ones who are probably now captured or trapped inside. Assuming any of them are still alive. Could be you'll just find some freshly dismembered or electrocuted corpses. Wouldn't be the first time.

Okay, where to start?

>Head straight in the front gate and see what you find.
>Call out a few times, see if anybody answers.
>Search for the basement. There's always a basement.
>Circle around the building, investigate the perimeter.
>Check out the manor overlooking the asylum.

>>3018205
>Circle around the building, investigate the perimeter.
Look for bushes with spots to look through, roots to trip over, the usual

>>3018205
>>Check out the manor overlooking the asylum.
Birds eye view.

>>3018205
Nice pic

>Search for the basement. There's always a basement.

>>3018205
>Circle around the building, investigate the perimeter

>>3018205
>Circle around the building, investigate the perimeter.

>>3018205
>>3018211
>>3018223
>>3018229

You decide to do a sweep of the perimeter first, see if you find anything. There's always a chance you'll need to make a hasty escape and return later, and in that case stumbling into a trap laid in the woods could be a problem. Resting your baseball bat across your shoulders, you take your time circling around the asylum, keeping your eyes open for anything suspicious.

A certain patch of ground looks odd to you, right in the middle of an obvious path through the trees. So you pick up a long stick and poke at it. Sure enough, it's a concealed pitfall trap, camouflaged with leaves and branches. Probably iron spikes at the bottom or some other form of nastiness. You pull enough of the foliage away to make it obvious, tie a red ribbon around a nearby tree to call attention to the spot, and move on.

Some slashers keep enough intelligence to build traps, or lie in wait, or go around obstacles, while others are mindless beasts who doggedly pursue their prey and nothing else. You wonder why, sometimes. Probably Julian at the museum would have an idea, or Carlos at the pawn shop. They know about those things. You don't really care. They're predictable enough. As long as you know their habits and their weaknesses, that's all you need to corner them and beat the shit out of them.

Okay, time to go inside. Time to get this done, Sarah, you tell yourself. No chickening out now. I mean, you're just going to head into an abandoned asylum with a murderous specter from beyond the grave who, if she catches you, will probably fry your brain, or torture you with surgical equipment, or maybe both. What's the big deal, right?

You climb over a crumbled section of the outer wall, cross the overgrown courtyard, and head up to the nearest window. The shroud of fear descends as you get closer, the asylum walls seeming to radiate an unspeakable sense of dread, and you steel yourself for the coming confrontation. Looking inside, it's still dark in the early morning light, so you use your flashlight to scope out the room before entering. Cobwebs, rat shit, the ineffable presence of death and terror. The usual. Taking a deep breath, you step through the window and into the asylum.

Once inside, taking a moment to look around, you think you hear something, and stop for a moment. Yeah, there it is again. A familiar sound, by now: a voice crying out in fear, calling for help. One of the idiot teenagers, probably. You could go check it out, see if you can help them. But slashers sometimes use their victims as bait, like worms dangling from a hook. It might be safer to do some searching on your own first.

>Investigate the cries for help.
>Shout a challenge, draw attention to yourself.
>Search for traps, disable them.
>Search for occult talismans, destroy them.
>Search for any signs the Nurse has left of her trail.
>Search for the basement.

>>3018291
>Investigate the cries for help.

>>3018291
>>Search for traps, disable them.
Can't be hasty.

>>3018291
>>Search for occult talismans, destroy them.
>Search for occult talismans, destroy them.

>>3018291
>>Investigate the cries for help.

>>3018291
>>Search for traps, disable them.
on the way to
>Investigate the cries for help.

>>3018291
>>3018310
>>3018320
>>3018338
>>3018345

You head towards the voice while keeping your eyes open for traps. Good thing, too, because you almost step in a bear trap concealed in a patch of shadow, rusted but still functional. That would have been unpleasant. You pick up a good-sized chunk of crumbled masonry and toss it into the trap, setting it off, and the spiked jaws close with a loud snap of metal. Skirting past it, you continue on.

Reaching the source of the noise, you find two boys, highschool age. One of them is clearly injured, sitting leaned up against the wall, blood staining his athletic jersey, his breathing shallow. The other is a wiry, awkward-looking kid with a dishevelled mop of hair, probably the one doing the shouting. When he sees you, his eyes go wide with shock, and you stifle a laugh at his goofy face. Understandable. Poor guy is probably scared out of his mind, and here's a girl covered in weapons emerging from the shadows. Still funny.

"Who are you?" the kid asks, nervous. "Are -- are you with her?" You can smell marijuana smoke all over him. Being high probably hasn't helped his paranoia levels.

"No," you say. "Relax, pal. I'm not with her. As for who I am? All you need to know right now is I'm your best shot at making it out of here alive.

Sometimes they don't believe you, or even attack you, but this guy seems to be on the level. He takes a moment to think about it, then nods. "Okay. D-do you know what's going on? About her? The --" He pauses, and adds in a whisper, as though speaking her name might bring her here. "The nurse?"

"I do." You look down at the jock's wounds, his skin pale from blood loss. "I take it you already met her."

"She came out of nowhere," he manages to say, then winces in pain. "I think she got Jess, first. Then later she came for the rest of us. We got separated --"

"Yeah, that's how it works," you say. The two boys look at you in confusion. "There are patterns," you try to explain to them. "They usually act in certain ways at certain times. Like how they usually go after the sluttiest girl first, but save the virgin for last. Nobody knows for sure why they do it. Just how it is."

"They?" asks the wiry stoner kid. "You mean there's more of those things?"

"Mmhmm. We call them slashers." You kneel down next to the athlete, check out his injury. Open incised wound, from a knife or a saw. He'll live, but he won't be doing much running with his guts open like that. "They come back from the dead, hungry for something. Usually they get it by viciously murdering anyone who crosses their path."

"You've dealt with these things before?" He laughs in disbelief. "So you're some kind of slasher killer?"

"You could say that," you say wryly. It's a stupid title, but you haven't thought of anything catchier yet. Maybe "slayer" could work?

(Continued)

>>3018448

"Okay, well -- I'm Will," says the wiry kid. "This is Mike. If you can get us the hell out of here, we'll appreciate it."

"Sarah," you tell him.

"That's a first aid kit you have there, right?" Will asks. "Can you patch him up?"

Stitching and bandages would get this guy on his feet again, but who knows when you might need those supplies later? Might be better to just tell them to hide.


Choose 1:
>Use first aid on Mike (Spends 1 charge, 2 remaining)
>Save it for later.
Choose 1 or 2:
>Ask them more about the Nurse's attack.
>Ask about the rest of their group.
>Keep them distracted from their troubles with a joke.
>Tell them they're idiots.
>Write-in.

>>3018455
>>Use first aid on Mike (Spends 1 charge, 2 remaining)
He might need to run.
>Ask them more about the Nurse's attack.
>Tell them they're idiots.
Stupid teenagers.

>>Use first aid on Mike (Spends 1 charge, 2 remaining)
>Keep them distracted from their troubles with a joke.
>Ask them more about the Nurse's attack.

>>3018455
this >>3018480

>>3018473
+1

>>3018455
>Save it for later.
Lie and say it wouldn't help. Tell him to head back to town.

>Ask them more about the Nurse's attack.
>Keep them distracted from their troubles with a joke.
We know the patterns, so we already know about the rest of their group.

File: nurse mask.jpg (29 KB, 280x283)

29 KB JPG

>>3018455
>>3018473
>>3018480
>>3018488
>>3018494
>>3018495

You help Mike out with some of your first aid supplies. If he can run, he'll have a better chance at surviving this. "Thanks," he says. "Hey, you're pretty hot. After this is done, do you wanna maybe --"

"Don't make me accidentally slip with this needle here," you tell him, and he shuts up. "You guys are idiots, you know that? Going off to party in an abandoned asylum with all kinds of horror stories around it, what did you think was going to happen?"

Will laughs. "I mean -- monsters aren't real, right? Or at least, that's what everyone thinks. I guess everyone's wrong."

"They are wrong," you say grimly. "Monsters are real. Did you both see her? What does she look like?"

"She's wearing an old nurse uniform," Will says. "And she has, like, this gas mask. Covered in blood. Pretty creepy. I just saw her for a second."

"What happened?"

"Well -- Mike and Jess went off to bone, but then only Mike came back. He said she stormed off in a huff and he couldn't find her afterwards. We all agreed to go look for her, so we split up to search the place."

They always split up, you think to yourself.

Mike grunts in pain and manages to say, "I found a trail of blood. I was following it when -- I saw her. And I ran. I'm not scared of a woman, but that thing -- I knew right when I saw her, and she turned to look at me, and I saw that mask, and the blood. That's not a woman. That's not a human being at all."

"Too bad she's not a sexy nurse, right?" you say, trying to lighten the mood a bit.

Mike laughs. "Yeah, too bad. Anyway, I bumped into Will --"

"Literally," Will interjects.

"She kept coming after us. That's when she got me. She could have finished me off, but she didn't. It was like she was enjoying herself. Didn't want it to end. We got out of there and managed to hide. Almost stepped in a trap, too, but Will here managed to spot it." Mike looks up at the smaller boy. "Thanks, pal."

"Don't mention it," he says sheepishly. "So -- now what?"

"Now --" You stop talking when some instinct warns you. You can just hear a hissing sound. Like someone breathing heavily through a gas mask.

Looking back over your shoulder, you search the shadows, until finally you see it. The glint of light on glass. Your blood freezes in your veins.

The nurse is right there. Watching you. How long has she been standing there?

"Shit -- run!" you shout at the two boys. "Get out of here! I'll hold her off!" You unsling your shotgun, hit the action release, and get ready to dance with the devil.

>Roll! 1d10, first three results count.

Rolled 9 (1d10)

>>3018537

Rolled 4 (1d10)

>>3018537
oh fug

Rolled 5 (1d10)

>>3018537

Rolled 9 (1d10)

>>3018537

>>3018537 (You)
>>3018547
>>3018548
>>3018550

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5bUuptcEcWY

As the haunting form of the nurse emerges from the shadows, you stand firm and aim your weapon. Blam! Your first shell of rock salt and iron filings hits the nurse square in center mass. All it does it tear her uniform and slow her down. She still comes towards you, raising the bloody bonesaw in her hand. You rack the slide, ejecting the spent casing, and fire again. Blam! Another hit, stopping her in her tracks. Blam! This one staggers her. Blam! Last shot knocks her down.

Nice work, you think to yourself, trying to keep your nerves steady and quickly survey your handiwork while she's incapacitated. You dealt some serious damage, but not enough to step in there and end things. Damn. You're tempted to try it anyway, to rush in there with your bat and knife and get this over with quick. But you know what happens when someone tries to rush things. When they assume too early that it's finished, and leave themselves open. You did it yourself, on the Night of the Butcher, and you have the scars to remember it by.

So instead you fall back, retreating into the shadowed halls of the asylum, to reload your shotgun and prepare for another battle.

"Wow, that was really something!" Will says from beside you, startling you.

"Didn't I tell you to run?" you demand of him.

"I mean, yeah, but -- I was worried. I made sure Mike got out of there and then I came back to see if I could do anything. I'd feel real bad if you showed up to help us and then got murdered instead of us, you know?"

"Great, but you shouldn't stick around, or we'll be in trouble -- fuck!" You look back to see a shadow falling across the wall. She's already after you. How do they get up so fast? What is it that brings them back?

Your heart pounds in your chest as you run. The shadow pursues, relentless, unstoppable. You start knocking over anything in your path that might slow her down. Rusted filing cabinets, IV stands, rotting doors, ruined sections of walls. Will follows you, doing his best to help throw down obstacles in the Nurse's path behind you.

Eventually you manage to get enough space to hide in the shadows of an old office. Though you want to gasp for deep breaths, you force yourself to breathe shallowly, and hold your finger over your lips indicating Will should do the same. He nods, his eyes wide with fear. You hear the Nurse's shuffling steps moving down the hallway. She pauses in front of the office, and for a moment you're afraid she'll investigate and find you inside. But instead she moves on. You wait several long moments before looking outside, making sure the coast is clear. Then you head back into the office and, with a sigh of relief, sink down into a sitting position against the wall.

"Can you stop her?" Will asks.

"Gonna try," you say, still trying to slow your breathing and heart rate. "I've done it before, so -- here's hoping."

(Continued)

>>3018630


You start reloading your shotgun and planning your next move, while Will peppers you with questions. "How many times have you done this? How do you kill something like her? Can we just find my friends and leave? Can I do anything to help?"

Choose 1:
>Answer his questions.
>Tell him to focus on staying alive.
Choose 1:
>Allow him to stick with you and help out.
>Tell him he needs to hide until it's safe.

>>3018632
>Answer his questions.
But honestly, he asks a lot of questions, let's ignore half.
>Allow him to stick with you and help out

>>3018632
>Tell him to focus on staying alive.
>Allow him to stick with you and help out.

>>3018642
This.

>>3018632
>Tell him to focus on staying alive.
>Allow him to stick with you and help out.

>>3018632
>>3018642
This

File: slashers.jpg (144 KB, 699x1020)

144 KB JPG

>>3018632
>>3018642
>>3018643
>>3018648
>>3018674
>>3018677


You grunt and say, "You ask a lot of questions, kid."

"I talk a lot when I get nervous," Will says. "Like when I'm trying to explain to a teacher why I don't have my homework ready or my parents want to know why I smell like weed or you know stuff like that? But I feel like, you know, being chased by a homicidal undead killer around an abandoned sanitarium, I have a pretty good reason for being nervous."

"I'll give you that. I don't have time for all of those, but I'll give you answers to the two important ones. No, you can't just leave. That's not how this works. You can try it, but something will stop you. I'll bet you any amount of money that your car won't start, no matter what you try. If you try to escape on foot, you'll find a gorge that wasn't there before, or maybe a predator will get in your way. If this was a house, all the doors would be mysteriously locked. However it works, something will prevent you from leaving."

"Really? What about you?"

"Same for me. I'm stuck here along with you guys, until this ends. And there's only two ways it can end. Either the Nurse kills us all. Or we kill her first. And to answer your other question, yes. Slashers can be killed. It's not easy. But it's possible."

"How do you do it?"

You try to think of how to explain it. "Slashers aren't alive. They're sort of like vampires or zombies. They're all different, but they have certain things in common. They're full of anger. They're mean as hell. And they're hard to kill. But they have a weakness, like how you can shoot a zombie in the head. My friend Julian at the musuem calls it a "dark heart." Sometimes it's an object that's important to them, but usually it's their actual, physical heart. Their bodies resist a lot of damage, but it builds up over time. If you whack away for long enough, you can stun them, put them out of action for a few minutes. That gives you the opportunity. You can escape then -- something about them being down and out stops the effect . Or you can finish them off by cutting their heart out."

"Woah."

"There are other ways of dealing with them, but they usually involve messing around with spooky stuff. I don't like doing that. I prefer the direct approach."

Will subsides into silence for a moment, then asks, "How do you know all this?"

"Because I'm Sarah fucking Jones. I'm mean. I die hard. And I kill slashers."

With your gun reloaded, you're ready for round two. Will seems eager to help, so reluctantly you allow it. "Okay, no more questions. Just focus on staying alive. Let's go." With the goofy mop-haired kid in tow, you head off once more into the shadowed hallways.


(Continued)

>>3018686


"What are we doing now?" asks Will.

>We're tracking the nurse down and kicking her face in, because fuck her.
>We're looking for your other friends. We'll try to keep them safe.
>We're checking the basement. Sometimes they take victims alive, and keep them there.
>Write-in

>>3018690
>>We're checking the basement. Sometimes they take victims alive, and keep them there.
The slut was gone first, right? Would be an easy capture.

>>3018690
>>We're checking the basement. Sometimes they take victims alive, and keep them there.

>>3018690
>We're checking the basement. Sometimes they take victims alive, and keep them there.

>>3018690
>>We're checking the basement. Sometimes they take victims alive, and keep them there.

>>3018690
>We're tracking the nurse down and kicking her face in, because fuck her.

>>3018690
>>3018694
>>3018696
>>3018697
>>3018718

Sometimes, you explain to Will, the slashers keep a victim alive. They enjoy terror, pain, and suffering, and holding a captive lets them indulge in terrible pleasures at their leisure. The usual spot to keep them is the basement. There's always a basement.

"Always?" asks Will.

"Always. It's part of the pattern. The prisoners aren't always there. But it's the most likely spot. If any of your friends were captured instead of killed, like that girl Jess, we'll probably find them there."

And so you search the asylum until you find that narrow stairway into the stygian darkness, and you go down ...

... to ...

... the basement.

Here the sunlight is totally eclipsed, and you need to use your flashlight. Its narrow beam is the only illumination as you creep through the damp hallways, crowded with broken medical equipment. Eventually you see another light source, and carefully move in that direction. The light comes from a room with a heavy metal door, wrenched halfway off its hinges, showing a slasher's terrible strength. You think, as you enter, that you're prepared for the worst.

You were wrong.

You have only a few moments to glimpse the horrors in that chamber. The generator, delivering current. The machines with snake nests full of wires, all leading to the center of the room. The chair in the center, and its occupant, a once-beautiful blonde now slashed and mangled by saws and blades, and the metallic cage fastened around her head like a hollow helmet, and its blinking electrodes attached to the wires. You see the girl drooling, and the vacant stare in her eyes, and you know that there is some small blessing in the fact that her mind has been burned and scorched away by the electroshock machine, and she no longer comprehends her own doom.

You drag Will away and swing the heavy door shut. He begins to vomit. You don't blame him. You're considering going back in there, facing the horror, and ending the girl's suffering, when you hear a high-pitched screech, an eldritch wail, that you seem to hear not with your ears but with something deeper, a sound that travels not through air but through ether.

"She's coming," gasps Will, intuitively understanding.

In these cramped and shadowed corridors, there's no place to dodge and evade, no place to hide. To stand and fight would be suicidally brave. There's only one option.

"Run!" you shout at Will, grabbing him by the wrist, and hauling him away from that chamber of horrors. Pursued by the echoing, wrathful shrieks of the undying nurse, you flee into the subterranean depths of the asylum, away from fear and further into the darkness.

File: silent hill nurses.jpg (110 KB, 636x900)

110 KB JPG

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=maS68s9jpYo

Continued (concluded perhaps) tomorrow!

>>3018733
I'm curious, shall we decide who's going to survive, the slasher or the survivor?

>>3018739
One's a tomboy monster hunter, the other's a murderous sadist.

Knowing /qst/ it's about a 50/50 who they waifu.

>>3018739
I plan to try for the best with whichever perspective is live a the time.
No favorites, live or die on merit (and circumstance) alone.

>>3018739
Sarah fucking Jones.

>>3019042
I wouldn't even give it 50/50. When has /qst/ EVER picked best girl without the GM's direct intervention?
Personally, I'd just go with whatever's plot appropriate at the time.

File: murder nurse.jpg (274 KB, 1543x2160)

274 KB JPG

Short session tonight fellas, but tomorrow's free so I can go hard into the final stretch then. Update incoming.

>>3018731
>>3020709

KILLER

Someone new is here. There is another trespasser. She does not fit. She is not part of the pattern. She comes with guns and knives and stands boldly in your path. What has brought her here? What drives her to invade your lair?

It does not matter. She carries weapons, but they cannot hurt you. She is brave, but she will know fear. She will feel terror at your approach, and pain by your hand, and then she will die. Just like the others.

You had a premonition that they would search for their captive friend, and so you descended into the basement and found your instincts were correct. The new girl and the fool were there, intruding upon your innermost chamber, the electroshock therapy room, and bearing witness to your handiwork within.

You were quite pleased with this one. Oh how you smiled as you cut away her pretty skin, and laughed as you placed the electrodes just right as she struggled in futility, and thrilled with excitement as you threw the switch to activate the generator and send the voltage coursing through her brain. She is now a ruin of what she was before, and you take an idle moment to contemplate whether letting her live on might be the crueler fate. A decision for later.

Right now you must hunt.

All that remains is to determine your quarry. The soldier will be somewhere above. Their misplaced confidence in their own physical strength makes them arrogant, and thus easy prey. The fool is a bumbler, but slippery, unpredictable, and often wilier than expected. And then there is this new girl. She does not have a type by which you might name her. Perhaps she is trouble. Perhaps you might do well to pursue her first. But then, what could hurt you? Weapons can scar your flesh, but nothing more. You are death itself, and surely death cannot be killed.

Who will you chase?

>The soldier (Mike)
>The fool (Will)
>The new girl (Sarah)

>>3020732
>>The soldier (Mike)
He is isolated.

>>3020732
>The fool (Will)

>>3020732
>The Soldier
Separated from his group, wounded, and generally next on the list. But, we must also ensure the Scholar and the Virgin see what happens to him. Because their fear is delicious, and they will run, away from the strange new girl. Divide and conquer.

>>3020732
>>The soldier (Mike)
He's wounded. Easy prey.
Another victim will probably rattle the others too.

>>3020732
>The soldier

>>3020732
>>3020744
>>3020746
>>3020749
>>3020756
>>3020786

You allow the fool and the unusual girl to flee. Let them run. Let them escape into the spiderweb of hallways below the asylum. Let them feel hope at their temporary respite.

Once you toiled within these corridors, service passageways for the staff, transporting foodslop, soiled laundry, or occasionally a body to the incinerator. You remember their labyrinthe twists and turns well. There are few exits back to the sunlight world of the surface. You shall monitor them, and return to finish things here, once your other business is complete.

Two have fallen to you already. The whore is shut away in your chamber, her mind scorched beyond reasoning. The scholar, as usual, overestimated his own observational prowess. That leaves four, counting this unusual interloper. The soldier shall be your next target. Already you have wounded him earlier. Now you will finish him.

It does not take long for you to find him. As you suspected, he is with the virgin. After the whore falls to your blade, he often turns his masculine charms on her. Perhaps it is the fate of all women to be subjected to these repulsive lusts. You wait and watch from the shadows, your undying heart quickening in anticipation of the impeding terror.

"It was crazy," the soldier is saying. "I've never seen this girl before. She must be from out of town. Showed up out of nowhere, acted like she already knew what was happening. Helped me out with some stitches and bandages. And then the nurse showed up again, so of course me and Will were like, woah, fuck this, but this new girl, she just took out her shotgun and blammo!"

"So what happened?" asks the virgin. "The nurse, is -- is she dead?"

"I don't think so. I saw her took a blast right to the chest and it barely slowed her down. I don't think she's human."

He is right. Humans are soft, fearful, vulnerable. You have no such weaknesses. They were burned away by death. You are stone and winter, iron and shadow. You are cold and inevitable as the grave.

This will be simple. With the virgin present, the soldier's protective instincts, his deep-seated need to always appear masculine, will compel him to defend her. Easy meat. The only question is how? What method will you use?

>Swiftly and brutally slay him, leaving nothing to chance.
>Toy with him, savor his fear as he realizes his helplessness.
>Drag him away into the darkness, to increase the virgin's terror.

>>3020831
>Drag him away into the darkness, to increase the virgin's terror.

>>3020831
>>Drag him away into the darkness, to increase the virgin's terror.

>>3020831
>Drag him away into the darkness, to increase the virgin's terror.
Let him scream.

>>3020831
>>3020838
>>3020845
>>3020852


The virgin says, "What will happen to us?"

"Don't worry," the soldier says confidently. "I'm here. I'll protect you. As long as I'm around, that thing can't get you, all right? Trust me."

From the darkness behind him you reach out with your cold hand, all too eager to prove him wrong. The virgin sees you, perhaps a faint glint of light in the lenses of your mask, and her eyes go wide. She screams. But it is too late. Your hand closes around the soldier's ankle, withered fingers tightening in a vice grip. He has just enough time to realize what is happening before you pull him off balance, and he tumbles to the ground.

He kicks and struggles, but your grasp is iron. His strength and courage are nothing. Your laughter at his futile efforts hisses in your mask's air filter.

The virgin is still screaming, her terror too great for her to overcome. You watch her for a moment, savoring the exquisite expressions of fear on her face, before taking your quarry away. You drag the soldier across the ground, into the darkness, leaving his fate to her imagination. She is still screaming as you fade into the shadows.

The soldier continues to fight, kicking at your arms, shouting insults, grabbing for purchase on an object or a wall corner, anything that might slow your progress. Nothing does. You cannot feel pain. You cannot be provoked. You cannot be stopped. His strikes find no purchase. His words fall on deaf ears. His hands grab only ancient masonry or weathered medical equipment, crumbling in his fingers. There is no respite, no reprieve, no remorse.

How will you seal his fate?

Choose 1:
>Saw
>Trap
>Electrodes
Choose 1:
>Display his body, so the others might witness and despair.
>Hide his body, so the others might fear his unknown fate.

>>3020902
>Electrodes
>Display his body, so the others might witness and despair.

>>3020902
>>Saw
>Display his body, so the others might witness and despair.
Rip and tear.

>>3020902
>>Trap
>Display his body, so the others might witness and despair.

>>3020902
>Saw
>Display
Take extra care to not pull any of his stitches. Let this interloper see the futility of her work.

(I'd like to get the Fool with an exchange trap. That is, trap the Virgin in such a way that someone can take her place, then herd to fool to her. Thoughts, fellow Slasher-anons?)

>>3020902

>Trap
>Display his body, so the others might witness and despair.

>>3020902
Ravenking you magnificent bastard
>Electrodes
>Display his body, so the others might witness and despair.
Fry his brain until he's nothing more than a walking hulk and let him wander around the asylum for it to stumble in the others' way

>3020902
>Saw
>Display his body, so the others might witness and despair.

>>3021184
>>3020902

I love this. But, instead of just frying his body, could we try and fry the regions of his brain relating empathy, compassion and the sensation of satiety? The survivors are already frightened by us, so we should have some time to make a cannibal sociopath that will easily kill them.

>>3020902
>Trap
>Display his body, so the others might witness and despair

Ooooh! Immobilize him over a trap, gag him, then herd the interloper and the fool to him so that they activate the trap and unwittingly doom the soldier!

>>3021604
Sounds kind of convoluted for a slasher I'd say

>>3021526
Changing to
>Trap
>Display his body, so the others might witness and despair.

>>3020902
>Saw
>Display his body, so the others might witness and despair.

>>3020902
>>3020904
>>3020906
>>3021005
>>3021006
>>3021120
>>3021184
>>3021526
>>3021604
>>3021682
>>3022857
>>3022858

You drag the boy down the halls until you reach the main entrance of the asylum. There you have securely fastened the doors with padlocks and lengths of heavy chains, the same ones used in a former lifetime to seal the cell doors of the most violent inmates given strength by their depravity.

Roughly you throw the boy down in front of the doors, and take several steps back. You are curious. Sometimes their fear drives them into an animalistic state. Sometimes it pushes them beyond their limits. What will this one do?

"You fucking bitch," he snarls as he picks himself up off the ground. He is badly scratched and bruised, but can still stand. "What do you want? Why are you doing this?" He raises his fists. "You want to fight me, huh? Is that it? Well, fuck you! Let's go, then!" Impressive fortitude, you must admit, and either courage or stupidity.

The boy lunges forward, his arms outstretched, no doubt hoping for one last final confrontation in which, somehow, he will prove the victor, perhaps wresting your own weapon away from you and attacking you, emerging triumphant.

Alas for him.

He steps into the snare you crossed over, triggering the chain to tighten around his ankle and yank up him into the air. He hangs there, suspended upside-down by his leg, wriggling like a worm on a fisher's hook, and just as helpless to evade or defend himself.

In your hand you have ready the blood-rusted bonesaw, the implement of murder that has been at your side ever since the day of the massacre. You move forward slowly until you stand directly in front of the boy, looking at him from behind your lenses. Your breath quickens, hissing in the air hose.

With a shrill screech muffled by the mask you swing the saw downwards. The boy blocks it with his arm in desperation, crying out in pain as the blade cuts deep. The serrations slice through as you withdraw the blade.

For a moment you pause, just to revel in the terror, to see the boy realize he can do nothing, his certain knowledge of impending doom.

And then you begin to hack and slash, the boy's cries rising over the wet sound of cutting flesh, and you do not stop until your saw is clogged with blood and fat and the walls and floor are marked with crimson red.

>>3023039


SURVIVOR

In the escape through the underground tunnels, you and Will fled through the twisting, subterannean corridors with only your flashlight or the occasional flickering ceiling light for illumination. While you know how to keep your cool in these situations, drawing on your experience with them, It was still possible that you two became separated, or that one of you stumbled into a trap or an obstacle.

>Roll! 1d10, first three results count.

Rolled 7 (1d10)

>>3023049

Rolled 2 (1d10)

>>3023049

Rolled 9 (1d10)

>>3023049

>>3023055
>>3023058
>>3023062
Looks like the fool steps into a trap but we get away without the Nurse harassing us.

>>3023049
>>3023055
>>3023058
>>3023062


Will managed to stay with you during the escape, although in the rush through the darkness he cut himself badly on a sharp-edged object. If he keeps pressure on the wound he'll be fine for now, but it limits his ability to run or fight back. Fortunately it didn't slow him down much at the time, or leave an obvious trail of blood, and you managed to escape without leaving any signs where you went.

You find a service stairway leading up, and return to the ground floor of the asylum.

"Not a place I thought I'd be happy to see again," Will says. "But it's a actually an improvement over being down there.

You pass by treatment rooms with rows of age-weathered hospital beds, and bare padded cells with their doors lying ajar. You try not to imagine the nurse lunging out from those shadows. At one point you find a supply room with closets stocked with old chemicals and medical supplies. You think for a moment about trying to loot some supplies here, but there's no way the tools or bandages can be hygenic, and you don't know enough about chemicals to actually try to use any. Maybe should've paid attention in chemistry class back in highschool, instead of just thinking about the next game or track meet. Reluctantly, you pass by it and move on.

Heading into an intersection of hallways, you notice something lying on the ground and squat down to examine it. A pair of thick glasses, the lenses shattered.

"Recognize these?" you ask Will.

"Yeah," he says. "They're Preston's."

Stepping cautiously around the corner, you find him. Preston's bloodied form has been lethally ensnared in some improvised, hand-made trap that used mattress springs to drive a set of knives and scissors into him from both sides, catching him between and imprisoning him in place. From the look of these wounds, it wouldn't have taken him long to bleed to death. A small mercy.

Will looks on, visibly disturbed. "Poor bastard. Him and Jess. They're both gone. I can't believe it."

"Were you close?" you ask him.

"Not really. Just kids from school. It's still fucked up, you know? Just yesterday I was sitting in biology class with this guy. And now -- here he is." Will sighs. "He was a gifted kid, you know? His parents were real proud. This is going to hurt them hard."

"It's too late for him, but -- if you stick with me, I'll try to get you back to your parents."

Will laughs. "I doubt they'll care either way. My parents aren't really the loving, caring type. But thanks anyway."

Choose 1:
>Take a few minutes to fix up Will's injury. (Uses up medkit)
>Save your supplies.
Choose 1:
>Investigate the dead kid's body for clues or anything useful
>Search for the killer
>Search for the remaining survivors
>Search for some vulnerability or weakness you can exploit
>Search for a escape route or hiding place for Will

>>3023202
>>Save your supplies.
If it's not going to kill him, we will do the fighting.
>Search for the remaining survivors
Should be at least one left, at least, according to the 'pattern'.

>>3023202
>Save your supplies.
A tad ruthless, but we don't know what shape everyone else is in yet. Or what we'll be like.

>Search for the remaining survivors
We've got to stick together.

>>3023202
>>Search for some vulnerability or weakness you can exploit
>Save your supplies.

>>3023202
>Take a few minutes to fix up Will's injury. (Uses up medkit)
>Uses it entirely, or uses one of the two remaining charges?

>Investigate the dead kid's body for clues or anything useful
The glasses, the 'Gifted' description, this is clearly the Nerd. They usually find something useful right before they get offed.

>>3023202
>Take a few minutes to fix up Will's injury. (Uses up medkit)

>>3023391
>>3023202
Support

Fuck

File: please stand by.jpg (178 KB, 900x674)

178 KB JPG

Testing

File: jason.jpg (397 KB, 1920x1080)

397 KB JPG

/qst/ is fucked up right now, I'll have to try again later.

File: hjh33pbfoc2y.jpg (1.04 MB, 1071x1500)

1.04 MB JPG

So for some reason posting above a certain character length in this particular thread is fucked up. Can't update until hiromoot fixes the servers. I'll keep trying so check back.

File: slasher killer update.jpg (293 KB, 1000x1025)

293 KB JPG

Updating via png because for some reason text is fucked but image uploading is fine.

>>3025107
>Say you'll stay with them and keep them safe.
Our primary objective is to kill the slasher, yes, but we can't just ignore two survivors. If they get out of this alive, they have each other for support, which is more than we had.

>>3025107
>Say you'll stay with them and keep them safe.

>>3025107
How exactly did we kill the last slasher?

File: slasher killer 4-2.jpg (205 KB, 1000x710)

205 KB JPG

>>3025107
>>3025118
>>3025161

>>3025333
>Somebody has to do something
>I like shooting things that get back up so I can shoot them again

>>3025333
>I lived through an attack. I don't want anyone else to go through that.
I can't always prevent the slasher from getting a kill, but I try and save anyone I can.

>>3025333
>Somebody has to do something about these things.
>I lived through an attack. At the time, I wished someone would save my friends and I. No one did.

>>3025343
I disagree. I think our ultimate goal should be the distruction of the slasher, as while we can save one or two here, we might get maimed/die in the process.

Killing the slasher prevents further victims. Those already involved we should all but write off. ( I won't fully go with that as I don't know if the slasher powers up per-kill or some shit.)

>>3025356
Our DIRECTIVE is the elimination of the slasher IN ORDER to fulfill the OBJECTIVE of preventing further deaths. Therefore, neglecting the lives of others is directly counter-intuitive to our objective. We save those we can, but we are not delusional; those doomed, we will not risk more than the situation entails.

>>3025333
>Kill or be Killed. Either I go after them, or things will fall out in such a way that one of them is after me. Something about the Dark Heart's destruction.

File: slasher killer 4-3.jpg (251 KB, 1000x750)

251 KB JPG

>>3025333
>>3025340
>>3025343
>>3025351

>>3025721
>Roof

>>3025721
Uh yeah
>Roof
That's the only one that doesn't give immediate advantages to the nurse

>>3025721
Roof, m'boy

>>3025721
>>3025732
>>3025859
>>3025944


Fighting here, in her home turf, only gives advantages to the nurse. She's had almost a century to learn every nook and cranny of this place. It'd be too easy to step into a trap or an ambush. There's just one place you can go that will remove all her advantages. The roof. There, in an open space, it'll be just you against her. A proper showdown.

"You two should stay behind," you tell Grace and Will. "I'm going to confront this thing head-on. It won't be safe for you."

They look at other, an unspoken communication passing between them. Then they look back at you, a spark of determination in their eyes. "We're coming with you," Grace says. "You said you'd stay with us and help us until this was finished, right? Well, we're staying with you too."

You try to argue, saying that they'll just slow you down, even though really it might be good to have somebody watching your back up there. But they're set about it. Eventually you give in. "All right, if you're sure you want to be as stupid as I am." You give each of them one of your knives, and they are able to loot half-decent improvised weapons from the debris of the asylum: Will finds an unbroken chain, while Grace grips tightly to a sturdy length of pipe.

Together you find the stairs and head up, knowing that one way or another, it will end soon.

>>3026063


KILLER

The interloper and her fool companion have reunited with the virgin. Your instincts tell you they will not separate again. It is time, then. Time for the last battle, in which you will show them that courage and resourcefulness is nothing against your undying strength. You will drink their fear like wine and rip their flesh like paper. You will show them how foolish it is to hope.

You follow their trail, a clear path to the stairways. They have gone up. Perhaps they think, in the open spaces of the roof, depriving you of the shadows in which to hide, or your trap-strewn corridors, they will have an advantage. They are wrong. There is no advantage. There is no scheme or stratagem that will aid them. There is only your iron strength and will, and their weak flesh to be hewn and frail spirits to be tormented.

Emerging onto the roof, you see the open air for the first time in what might be years. Time and beauty have lost their meaning to you. The clouds have gathered, and a light rain descends. You turn your face to the sky. Raindrops land on your lenses.

A sound returns your attention to the earth. She is speaking, the interloper. Behind her cower the fool and the virgin, the remaining survivors from the initial group. Their brave champion stands before them, metal weapon in hand. Words come from her mouth. You are disinterested. The language of humanity holds little interest for you now. All that you perceive are the emotions: fear, bluster, desperation. Weaknesses that were burned away from you. In their place is only your dark desire. Fear. Terror. Pain. Suffering. And finally -- death.

You hold your bonesaw in one hand and a long scalpel in the other. Your cold fingers tighten around them. Through the rain-streaked lenses of your face you fixate upon the steadfast interloper and her trembling wards.


>Roll. 1d10, first three results count.

Rolled 4 (1d10)

>>3026067

Rolled 10 (1d10)

>>3026067

Rolled 1 (1d10)

>>3026067
yikes >>3026081

>>3026067
>>3026074
>>3026081
>>3026085

Slowly you move towards the interloper. She readies herself, metal bat in hand. The rain is intensifying, as though the elements themselves bore witness to this contest. You swing your blade and the girl defends, and your terrible strength clashes with her frail humanity. She is driven back, desperately defending, able to prevent herself from being wounded but not to muster an offense against your onslaught of blows. Soon she tires, and you see an opening, and cut with your scalpel at her pretty face. She dodges backwards just in time, escaping with only a minor wound, but unbalances and falls to the ground.

The young boy, the fool, runs forward brandishing a knife in an uncharacteristic moment of bravery, placing himself between you and the fallen girl. It costs him everything. You plunge your scalpel into the soft space above his clavicle, arresting his movements, causing a bright red flow of blood. Leaving your knife embedded there, you pick up him by the throat with a single hand, imbued with terrible strength. His feet kick in the air, his fingers clutch at your iron grip, to no avail.

A scream cuts through your hearing. You had forgotten about her, the other girl, the virgin. A foolish mistake, you realize as you recognize her presence. Her knife plunges into the lens of your face, stabbing, tearing. You push her away, but the damage is done. Your face is broken.


SURVIVOR

A deafening scream pierces the air as Grace drives her knife into the eyepiece of the Nurse's mask. The monster throws her off and reels back, clutching at her broken mask. She's vulnerable, you realize, scrambling to your feet. Now's your chance to end this.

>Roll. 1d10, first three results count.

Rolled 9 (1d10)

>>3026346

Rolled 38 (1d100)

>>3026346

Rolled 3 (1d10)

>>3026346

Rolled 9 (1d10)

>>3026346

Rolled 6 (1d10)

>>3026346

>>3026085
You are the man!>>3026351
>>3026362
Also oof.

>>3026346
>>3026351
>>3026357
>>3026365


With a satisfying metallic thud you bring the aluminum bat Young Betsy down on top of the Nurse's head. The blow staggers her, and while she's off-balance, you keep going, not allowing her to recover. Strike after strike you slam into her, knocking her weapons from her hands, driving her to the hard stone of the rooftop.

When she falls, you drop the bat to the ground so you can grab the shotgun slung around your back. At point-blank range you fire all four shells into the Nurse's torso, furiously racking the slide in between each shot.

With her withered flesh blasted away, you can see it. That pulse. That ethereal darkness, like a living shadow, beating and thumping with unnatural vitality.

Grace stumbles to your side, still clutching her knife, that hand bloodied from glass shards of the mask lens. You take out your own knife. And together, you each plunge your blade deep into that horrible blackness.

A howling wail tears the air apart, like space itself is being rippen open. A terrible darkness, like the void beyond the stars. You are both forced to shut your eyes and cover your ears, unable to withstand the onslaught on your senses. And then --

-- silence. A light breeze. And a cool summer rain.

You open your eyes to see a black scar on the stone of the rooftop, like a human silhouette but larger, and scattered like haphazardly painted ink.

"Is -- is she gone?" Grace asks, breathless.

You nod, still trying to catch your own breath.

"Thank god," she says, relief washing over her. Then a sudden shock. "Oh no -- Will!"

She runs over, and you follow, preparing your remaining medical supplies. But it's too late. His eyes are dim, his chest still. The nurse's finger marks are clearly visible over his crushed throat. Grace is in denial, reaching out to touch him, to check for a pulse, but you already know. Will is gone.

"He gave it his best shot," you say. "Bought us enough time. Spent his life to do it. I'll remember him." You don't know what else to say.

>>3026554
Sad, I wanted the slasher to win

>>3026554


You bury Will's body in the woods nearby, marking the site with a stone etched with his name and date of death. Trying to explain all this to the authorities would draw too much attention. But eventually the carnage inside will be found, and hopefully this grave as well.

"You know, I didn't tell you the whole truth back there," you say to Grace. "Another reason I'm doing this? I was hoping to stop anyone else turning into me."

"What do you mean?" she asks.

"I mean -- I went through this. I was you. I was alone with my friends, in a dark abandoned house, and a killer came back from the dead. He picked us off one by one, until only I was left. Even though I won in the end, and I escaped, I --" What else can you say? That you were never the same? That you woke up every night in terror, seeing blades in the darkness? That your old life was gone as surely as though the killer had finished his work? That, even with the killer dead, you feel like you've failed, and that this girl will live on but broken, like you? "I'm sorry," you say, not knowing how to explain it.

But if anyone would understand, it's the girl who just survived the same experience. And it seems like she does. She reaches out wordlessly to take your hand, and you accept it. You stand together in the rain, looking down at the grave.

"I want to come with you," Grace says quietly.

"Don't be stupid," you tell her. "This isn't a life anyone should lead. I'm only doing this because -- because --"

"Because someone has to," she says, echoing your words. Her eyes blaze with her newfound determination. and her fingers grip firmly around yours. "Because if we don't, who else will?"

You try to muster objections, but none of them work. They're all the same perfectly logical reasons that you've been ignoring this whole time, and all of them feel half-hearted coming from you. Finally Grace says, "Unless you're outright refusing me, I'm coming."

"I --" You sigh and grumble, unable to say the words. Maybe it would be better to have an ally for these dangerous jobs. Maybe you're hoping to give her a purpose in life, like you found. Or maybe you're just lonely for some company on the road. Whatever it is, you can't say no to her. "Fine," you finally say. "Let's go."

Together with Grace you walk through the lonely woods towards your car, fallen leaves rustling under your feet. Part of you is already wondering what your next job will be. Whatever it is, it looks like this time you won't have to do it alone.

File: slasher killer end.png (1.05 MB, 1000x1429)

1.05 MB PNG

That's the end! Thanks for playing Slasher Killer, hope you enjoyed yourselves!

>>3026595
See you next Halloween, then?

File: jackolantern.jpg (27 KB, 1280x720)

27 KB JPG

>>3026600
Maybe so, anon. Who knows what spirits may rise from the grave on Halloween?

>>3026575
shit taste

>>3026595
That was fun!

>>3026595
great quest raven! honestly i've dropped out on some of your old quests because they've gotten too long, but any time you write something short like this I'm 100% there. What happened to OWQ and that alternate world quest, by and by?

>>3026713
We don't speak of the dead.

>>3026713

Thanks anon.

I'm working on a finale thread for Overwatch, going through some of the events I had planned and wrapping things up. As for Nightmare Planet, it was too overloaded with ideas, but I may return with a streamlined version in the future. I also enjoyed doing something short based on random inspirations, and you may see more of it in the future, so stay tuned.

>>3026914
I like the short episodic ones you make the most, personally.
It's too easy to get burned out on really long stories where you've got to keep track of plots and characters from 30 quests ago.
Thanks Raven!

>>3026595
I´m gonna need the sauce of all of that you are dropping

This was great, thanks for running