Have you ever been talking with someone, or yourself, and end up repeating a word over and over again so much so that it starts to sound incorrect? You could be going over a plan or just having idle chatter and you say the word ‘identifiable’ as an example a few to many times, and you’re all of a sudden convinced that there's a silent G somewhere in there?

Could even be a smaller word in some cases, but regardless, that feeling that it’s off and the random realization where your mind goes ‘aren’t I pronouncing it wrong?’

Well it was very much in full swing at the moment, though for good reason. You’re dealing with and trying to not only communicate but also investigate some weird sapient blood tattoo’s, while in a cave system riddled with monsters that would very much like to gnaw on our ankles, and you just got potentially jumped by something giving off the scent of blood.

All in all? Not nerve wracking, confusing, or complicated in the slightest.

Now, a thought that might have passed through your mind in this situation is obviously questioning what was giving off the scent, and if you should be on alert. The answer to that obviously being yes you should, but only if you didn’t figure out what it is you were on guard against.

We however, no longer had that issue.

“Isn’t that the big guy you warned us ‘bout yesterday?” Malcolm says, breaking the weird silence that had fallen over us.

For context and to rewind time a bit, just moments ago we were huddled at the entrance to our little alcove in the tunnels fully expecting something to run into us at any moment. Being the one to have alerted the others in the first place, and having the best basic senses, I had been the one to first smell the blood and move forward.

In situations like these, more times than not it would be best to hold your ground and act with caution. Which I still did for the most part, but the runes were being weirdly active and encouraging, for lack of a better word. Curious, I ended up slowly inching my way into the main tunnel where the sounds had come from, and almost immediately came face to face with a massive furred head.

Reacting mainly on instinct, I jumped back a ways and kept to a low crouch with full intentions to bolt if need be. IF, need be. Which I quickly came to realise was the case, as the head and the body it was attached to stayed there unmoving, the light in its eyes that you’d expect from anything and everything seemingly gone.

Having seen me retreat, the other three quickly moved forward, Malcolm full sprinting forward with Rayner staying back a bit and Atkin moving to my side. Unsurprisingly, they quickly came to the same realization and confusion that I had as the creature just stood there, slightly leaning against the wall.

It took a few seconds to pass and the body full slumping over into a bleeding heap on the floor before Malcolm broke the silence and brought us back up to the present. “Yes…? It looks like it at the very least.” I respond.

Not entirely sure what to do, Rayner made the first move and walked up to the body and poked it a few times with one of the daggers he had. “I can confirm it's probably dead, I just don’t know how.” He said.

Relaxing a bit, I bring myself back to an upright position, slightly lost in thought as usual as an idea started to piece together in my head. “Rayner, you said that that guy was a, what did you call it… floor boss? Something like that, right?” I ask. “I did, why?”.

“You also mentioned that crypts attract monsters to them due to something powerful dying and giving off ambient magic that they then want to consume. Also correct?” The idea that was slowly forming unsettled me, but by this point my curiosity was proving itself too much of a curse to properly dispel the insane notion that had sprung up. “Yes… I get that you’re a bit uncertain on things but now probably isn’t a perfect time for a world lesson.”

Now, call me crazy, but even when I first heard of how crypts were made I had this thought, but if monsters and other such beings were pulled in simply by ambient magic, why did it have to be something dying? What if it was just an influx of magic as a whole?

I wouldn’t call myself strong in the slightest, and as random as it is in relation to this, I also didn’t particularly believe in karma. But for whatever godforsaken reason the thought that led to those two questions was if I had something to do with it.

Pulling logic from other worlds most likely isn’t the brightest idea, but dying not only once but three times, coming into contact with a supposed god, the ferryman of the dead, and some sort of mind oriented tree had to leave a mark on anyone. Now again, the idea of the Kharon I interacted with being anyone near the same kind of being as folktales from earth isn’t a given, but a god and a weird tree had to count for something. In any other context I'd dispel these thoughts as my brain just going on a tangent, but I had a hunch that doing so wouldn’t be smart.

Zoning back into reality, I realise that I had somewhat backed myself into a corner by asking those two things. To me, I felt as if I had a revelation, even if it was weirdly random, but to the others I asked about the creature in front of us and then how crypts were made before spacing out for a good few moments.

What did situations like these call for you may ask? My most powerful ability, random impromptu story creation. “Do you think there's something going on with the crypt then? You mentioned before that ‘floor bosses’ don’t usually leave their territories, but if what you said about what this guy was fighting before also being a floor boss, then the only explanation that comes to me is that we might actually be in a really bad spot right now.”

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There’s a special secret I use when I have to make cover stories on the spot, and that is half truths. You can’t be called out if what you say is technically correct, and in this case it worked out. Because while not the main reason for my questions, this other thought was a byproduct.

“That's… A good point actually, I didn’t think of that.” Atkin says, resting his chin in one hand while the other was crossed over his chest. Rayner also looking like he’d just been struck by lightning.

Malcolm on the other hand, was fairly casually leaning on the guard of his greatsword not seemingly worried about what I had said, which was also the time I came to realise how good the hands I found myself holding were “I get that that could become a thing, but we don’t really struggle in combat around this level.” Malcolm nonchalantly mentions.

Now consider my point of view for a moment, they obviously don’t want to run into any of the bigger creatures around here, but just throwing out there that they ‘don’t really struggle in combat around this level’ when talking about the monster that literally caused rocks to fall from the ceiling and send tremors through a massive part of the cave system? I don’t have to point that out to much more, do I. “You’re right, but it’s still something to think about.” Rayner continues.

Letting the three of them talk a bit more while having the occasional question for input from time to time, I mostly glossed over the conversation as I was busy dealing with another thing. Ever since I had first smelled the blood from the wolf-weasel, which I still didn’t know the actual name of, I had been trying to both ignore and calm down the blood runes.

Having now attached a metaphysical strand of my mind to them so we could better communicate, it also meant I was more susceptible to being distracted and influenced by the blood if something happened, and it very much wanted me to know that something was actively happening.

After trying to ‘talk it out’ of doing whatever it was that it wanted to do, I ended up just giving in and asking it what it was trying to pull off.

Now if you think back to when I got the runes, you’ll remember that it was because I touched the blood that had pooled up after the wolf and snake had fought. And when I did, it not only showed me a part of its life when still a part of the snake in particular, as most of the blood was from it, there was also a decent portion that belonged to the wolf. And the one other main thing that it wanted and I had now further pieced together was that it not only wanted more blood, but it also wanted more of its own kind. In other words? It was specifically hungered for the blood of the completely free and open corpse that was right in front of me.

Now, not one to turn down such a polite request that was literally dragging through my mind with the only reason I hadn’t done anything yet was because I was actively suppressing it through sheer force of will somehow, I just obviously had to comply.

Walking up to the body of the wolf, I stop for a moment and question how I would do this, and how I could either make it so the others didn’t see me do so, or at least have a way to bullshit my way out of most questions. Suffice to say? There wasn’t really anything I could do.

Using falsehood, as I would reluctantly refer to when I used my special eyes, just to fully replicate the setup when I first got the blood, I’m immediately stopped in my tracks by yet another thing as I look upon the corpse. That weird white-ish mist that wrapped around the body and was slowly dissipating.

Remembering when I last saw it, that being when I saw the snake's corpse, I wonder if it was almost like a sign that I could have the blood consume a corpse. Putting it to the side for future questioning, I kneel down and place my hand on the ribs of the wolf.

Unsure what to do, I sit there for a moment waiting to see if something would happen. After a good few seconds go by, I wonder if there was something else I had to do before remembering that there was in fact another prerequisite, to give the blood the go ahead in the first place.

Immediately upon doing so, I felt as if my hand was thrown in the deep end of a pool, an almost compressing force being pushed onto it as the runes slowly slithered around my arm like a nest of snakes. Simply letting them do their thing while slightly angling myself so the other three couldn’t see my arm, I watch as the runes almost seem to infinitely flow upwards towards the rest of my body.

Curious as to what it was the runes were doing other than supposably consuming the blood somehow, I pay close attention to them while trying to focus in my sight towards the part of the wolf I was touching, and more closely my arm. With a bit of difficulty, I narrow down the intensity of the world around me as it shifts and warps to focus on the weird white mist of the wolf.

Closing off my absent thoughts, I try pull all of my available attention to the task at hand, only to be violently distracted as the runes seemingly start to actually absorb the blood in a similar manner to what happened initially.

My sense of self disappears as I’m pulled into an indescribable vision of almost like an inside look at the life the wolf had lived but almost as if it was from the perspective of being inside its mind.

Time fades as it did before as I experience the rush of perspective, completely immersed in it, giving no quarter to anything that wasn’t what I was seeing. Places and sights meld together in a melting canvas of indescribable thought, emotions and mind mixed together into a form unfit to be described by either words or the sane.

What could be imagined as years pass, the casual life and strife that a being should experience all part of the flow, wars and combat only seen as mandatory as the world spins in a collage of thoughts and actions.

A world broken by-

And then it was over. As abruptly as it had started, and as random as I could have guessed, I quite literally snap back to reality as I feel my mind violently recoil, causing me to stumble back as I try to find my footing.

“What was that?!” I hear Rayner yell, my brain taking a few seconds to fully piece together what had been said. Turning to look at him, my vision sways slightly as I shake my head to try and wake myself up.

Clenching my eyes shut for a moment while clutching the side of my head, I open them again and look towards Rayner, his face twisted in confusion and shock. “... I was hungry.” I somehow mumble back at him.

In hindsight? Not the best thing to say if his reaction was anything to go by. “Are you a vampire or something?" Malcolm asks, his voice actually displaying something other than excitement or disinterest for once as it practically drips with apprehension. “Of course not. That wouldn’t make any sense.” I refute, quietly noting that vampires exist in the first place.

Having gotten my mind to stop experiencing whiplash, I turn back to the corpse and see a slightly confusing sight. Where once was a full body, now was barely a pile of bones and a skin that was very quickly turning to ash…

Maybe claiming I was a vampire wasn’t that far off.