(Welcome to the Frontier!)
You are a soldier, deployed to the far-flung village of Willowknot.
It sits on the edge of an unexplored forest comprised largely of,
you guessed it, willow trees. However, the settlement has been
reporting an unusually high number of monster sightings of late.
As the senior member and squad leader, you will both guide the
other nine soldiers with you and investigate the possible source
of the monster outbreak. Be wary, though. It is easy to lose your
mind in these darker corners of the world, when you’re all alone.
Oh, and one more thing.
Do not trust the lights.
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(Evening)
You fold your spyglass away into a satchel at your side, satisfied with what you’ve seen. The sun is setting, and a column of smoke rises from the horizon in the distance — right where Willowknot should be. It’s always reassuring to know you haven’t gotten hopelessly lost. There weren’t many landmarks in the stretch of plains between the village and your garrison.
“Alright, boys! We look on course to reach the village tomorrow if we keep a good pace. Start pitching tents, or you’ll be doing it in the dark soon.”
A chorus of unenthusiastic ‘yes, sir’s greeted you, save for the more respectful response of the couple of men who were already used to working with you. It was disappointing, but entirely unsurprising. Few soldiers tended to get excited over getting sent out into the countryside, monster sightings or no. You remember your first assignment to such a quiet location nearly drove you mad with boredom. Perhaps sharing some methods you’ve learned to pass the time would help win over your new companions.
As the sun dimmed and eventually dipped below the horizon, grass was stamped down and a fire was built. You’d all been carrying a minimal amount of firewood, and supplemented with whatever you could scavenge on the way. Mostly dead grassroots and a few twigs or small branches. There weren’t many trees around. But once the pitiful flame built itself up enough to be useful, a cast-iron pot was brought out and propped up over the fire. Liam, who’d accompanied you on several scouting trips prior to this, brought out the large clay pot your squad had been guarding with their lives on the journey here.
This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.
Broth.
It was a cheap, watery broth, but that didn’t matter. What mattered was that it was liquid. The broth was the only thing that made your hardtack rations bearable to eat. The brick-like bread was infamous for sometimes breaking teeth when eaten raw. There was nothing to be done for the jerky, sadly — that would always taste like salted shoe leather, no matter what manner of ambrosial broth you tried to boil it in. A few hopeful soldiers still dipped theirs in the pot of hot broth as you ate, but their disappointment was soon made evident on their faces.
Once the meal was finished, a short and half-hearted debate sparked over who would take first watch. Everybody knew it was Arrel’s turn. You took first watch three nights ago; you’d be on fourth tonight. Content to have a full belly, you took a short while to idly banter with your comrades until you were ready to try and sleep.
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(Night)
You’re jolted awake by a strangled, gurgling scream.
Your heart starts beating wildly, desperate to shake your body free of its torpor. As you’re grabbing your weapon and pulling on your helmet, you start to hear shouts from your squad. Bursting through the flap of your tent, you lay eyes on the cause of the commotion. First, you think it’s some kind of dog; a canine jaw is clamped over the throat of Kel, the third watch for the night. As you look further up, though, you start to think it’s a spider. Except, it only seems to have six legs — each with far more joints than necessary and ending in… hooves. Beyond that, the spider-like abdomen blends into what appears to be the tail of a scorpion. A single deflated eyeball is impaled on its barb.
The abomination finally tears out Kel’s throat. As you begin to shake yourself free of the horrified trance you’d been ensnared in, it begins to unfold its legs. Stretching out all of the many joints to their fullest, the beast goes from barely reaching your waist to towering over the campsite at twice your height. It tilts its head skyward and howls.
It’s a whiny, high-pitched noise. The thing’s voice seems to crack from the amount of blood still filling its mouth.
At least five more identical voices answer it.
{What do you do?}
{> “Grab your gear and run for the village!” (WIP)
{> “Form a defensive perimeter!” (WIP)