Sugarcane

//because we CREATED them.\n\nSISTER and i.\n\nto combat the SPIDERS\n\nthat our MOTHER made.//\n\n[[((Back))|questions]]\n\n<<set $questionsAnswered = true>>\n\n

The sight of the falling haint only serves to draw peals of vicious laughter from his brothers-in-arms. You flick the viscera from your hand and prepare for the charge.\n\nYour heart skips a beat. The world gasps. An opening presents itself.\n\n[[Charge the swarm]]\n[[Stand your ground]]\n[[Get to higher ground]]

You duck into an alley to avoid a patrolling Horseman further down the street (better safe than sorry), walking to a parallel street before continuing west. As you leave the alley and walk out onto the sidewalk, you notice that everyone around you is looking up into the sky at a small black shape hanging overhead, falling rapidly.\n\nLooks like a [[new arrival]].

Lifting his head again, he resumes. "My compatriots and I were particularly interested in the part that, perhaps, was not intended for us to see-- that is, namely, your encounter with the 'Angel' at the gentleman's club immediately following the completion of your task. The 'Angels,' as I'm sure you are aware, are a relatively new phenomenon in this great but sometimes stagnant city of ours. For this reason, they fascinate us greatly. We feel that you, with your limited history with their kine, are now in a unique position to learn more about them."\n\n-[["How exactly am I supposed to do that?"|How]]

You swing your broken bottle with the zeal and ferocity of an expert fencer hopped up on PCP. The Haints fall beneath your improvised murder-weapon like wheat beneath the scythe. However, despite your efforts, there are too many of them pouring toward you.\n\nThe bottle finally gives in and shatters in your grasp, perforating your hand and leaving you disarmed. The Haints overtake you and their teeth take hold of your skin, ripping you apart and filling the ruined apartment with shards of your sticky, black-gored remains.\n\n//Game over.//

You spend the next hour prostrate on Greco's nice mahogany desk with the Sangue the sculptor's swift scalpelfingers darting across your face and body. He is quiet and clinical throughout, and Greco is surprisingly curt in his etiquette, turning away for the duration and watching the comings and goings of the crowded street beneath his office window.\n\nAt one point Sangue requests that you remove the scarf you keep tied around your neck out of self-consciousness regarding your deathsign. You narrow your eyes and shake your head. He does not press the matter.\n\nBefore much longer the operation is complete. You sit up and replace your clothes, and Sangue offers you a mirror with which to appraise your [[new corpseform]].

Silence blankets you from all directions as you fall forward through the doorway. You have time to pull in a single rejuvinating breath before you begin to fall, your body hurtling down into a sprawling pure-black void, down and down intoooOO@o244000((A))#(#(#(HB@@@@@@!!)($$$$$@)9(@#)N:v-vvv-______9(333[[!!!]]b

The towering Horseman throws an arm out toward you, and you just manage to leap away, tumbling to the side and gaining your footing just as the monstrous city official turns to face you again.\n\nYou have only an instant to act before the Horseman will press his attack.\n\n[[Charge]]\n[[Run]]\n[[Defend]]

You charge the frenzied mob, determined to make such an account of yourself that all of Stygia will remember you in tales of the clawed horror of the Lonesome Town massacre.\n\nYou grip a Haint by the throat and pull out his esophagus. You plunge your free hand into the chest of another. One after the other they drop before you. Black gore covers your chest and arms.\n\nIt isn't enough.\n\nThe swarm overtakes you, and soon you are riven, your corpseform a million clotted pieces spread across the street.\n\n//Game over.//

Miraculously, your insane idea works. You crash through the window and tumble across the open floor, and are rewarded by a series of heavy thuds and loud, bloody screams as a dozen or more less graceful Haints destroy themselves on the building's outer wall. You picked a good room-- the ceiling is caved in, meaning you have an escape route if things go south.\n\nA score or more of the Haints manage to follow you in, climbing through the window and ruined walls. They rush you, grinning as horribly as ever. You've got a fight on your hands.\n\n[[Grab a brick]]\n[[Grab a pipe]]\n[[Grab a bottle]]

Since the appearance of the Angels and their subsequent attack on the Loathespiders, Stygia has been restless. The electrical sensation of potential change seems to suffuse everything and everyone, and change is something the dead don't have a lot of experience with. Stygia has very much become the epicenter of a great conflict, but it is a conflict in which none are yet sure where to stand. The Loathespiders are a constant threat to all of Stygia's residents in the way that terminal illness is a constant threat to the living, but should the Angels eradicate them entirely, where would they then turn their attentions...?\n\nYour incredibly sagacious ruminations are interrupted by the ringing of your [[phone|Phone Call]].

"That is a part of what we are hoping you will determine. It can be argued that any catalyst for change, especially change on a grand scale, in such a place as Stygia where change may never occur in many thousands of years, is of paramount importance, and worthy of immediate and decisive understanding. The Angels have already begun asserting themselves as such a catalyst, as evinced by the slowly but steadily increasing population now that the Loathespider numbers are diminishing. Can you imagine the implications if a day should come when the Loathespiders should cease to exist entirely? Stygia would have no agent to cull the proverbial herds. Who knows what might become of the Deadlands then?"\n\n[["That doesn't sound like such a bad thing."|badthing]]

//STYGIA is an EXPERIMENT.\n\nthe DEAD are the CONTROL.\n\nANGELS are the VARIABLE.//\n\n[[((Back))|questions]]

//YOU ARE TOO MANY TRANSGRESSIONS.\n\nCEASE NOW. DIE NOW.\n\nHALT! HALT! HALT! HALT! HALT! HALT!\n\nCITIZENS ARREST. GET 'EM BOYS!\n\nSENTENCED GUILTY MURDERER. NO PAROLE.\n\nGLORY TO THE EMPIRE.\n\nVOID TAKE YOU, USELESS SHIT.\n\nLAY DOWN NOW. [[DIE NOW]].//

The girl looks up from the smear of blood on her hand and quirks a brow at you.\n\n"... okay, well thank you for saving me, crazy person. Please feel free to go about your busine--"\n\nShe stops herself and looks off momentarily, the light of recognition entering her eyes.\n\n"Wait, hang on. Stygia like in the mythological underworld?"\n\nYou nod matter-of-factly. The girl laughs.\n\n"Cool! So I guess that means I'm dead then."\n\nYou nod again. This time she doesn't laugh. She looks for a moment as though she's about to get pissed off, but as more of that wan understanding fills her eyes she begins to look increasingly like she's going to cry. The memories must be coming back to her.\n\n-[["What's your name?"|Her Name]]

Roughly humanoid in shape, but totally devoid of feature or detail. Slick, sheer black torsos sport four rudimentary 'limbs,' which droop from the center of mass like smooth, flacid tentacles. Atop the torsos are smooth, faceless white heads. Despite having legs, the shapes do not walk, but rather float along as though riding an invisible wire, suspended smoothly and completely silent.\n\n[[((Back))|Song]]

The music heightens.\n\nThe air is thrumming, beating like a frightened heart.\n\n//The tower is screaming.//\n\nThe Haints stop laughing and begin covering their ears.\n\nOne by one, they begin to [[shatter|shatterhorns]].

[[Look at your arm]]

You stagger to your feet and wait for the Horseman's second charge, watching as the lumbering beast rotates its massive frame to face you. That horrid roar, like the scream of some massive dying animal, tears through the air again as the Horseman rushes you once more.\n\nYou wait until he's nearly upon you before lashing out with both of your clawed hands, aiming for whatever parts you can reach, seeking to do whatever damage you can.\n\nTo your horror, you don't manage to do [[any|no damage]].

Stygia II - The Sisters of Stygia

Though the fever of rage still burns hot in your cold chest, your accumulating wounds are making your corpseform sluggish. You begin thinking you won't be able to hold out for much longer, when suddenly, something [[strange|strangeclaws2]] happens.

After you manage to convince Amy that going to the Hospital is the absolute //last// thing she wants, the two of you walk together in the direction Sangue indicated would bring you to Lonesome Town.\n\nOn the way you do your best to give her the abbreviated version of everything you've come to understand about Stygia and of being dead-- the city, the Empire, the Hospital, the number on her arm, her 'loose strings,' the different kinds of abilities people can have. She listens intently and asks a lot of questions, recovering from the disturbing news of her own death with surprising alacrity. She seems particularly fascinated in your particular gift and the nature of your job.\n\n"I gotta say, as afterlives go, things could get a lot worse than having creepy super-powers. What do you think mine are?"\n\n-[["No clue."|3A]]\n-[["No way of knowing until you use them somehow. It just sort of happens."|3B]]\n-[["Asking a shit-ton of questions, apparently."|3C]]

The prospect of attempting to enter the base of the tower isn't exactly one that fills you with glee. You decide instead to wait out here in the street for the time being to see what [[develops|Regret]].

//i am NERVA.\n\ni am THOUGHT.\n\ni am TRANSMISSION.\n\ni am PROGRESS.\n\ni am MUSIC.\n\ni am COMMUNICATION.\n\ni am THE INTANGIBLE.\n\ni am ONE HALF of the DESIGN.//\n\n[[((Back))|questions]]

You knock on the door quietly three times. After a long few moments of receiving no response you knock again, louder this time. A minute passes, but you are met by the same total lack of response.\n\nThat is, until the cry of a loudspeaker fills the air and a [[song|Song]] begins filling the stagnant air.

"I suppose you could refuse," Sangue sighs languidly, "but you won't. You are curious. The prospect of further knowledge entices you. The angels, I believe, are a subject of particular fascination to you. At least, one angel in particular is. Knowledge also of yourself which, if you are prone to introspection, you may have found surprisingly lacking. No, I don't believe you will refuse. You will find that, once your questions have been answered, your only choice will be to continue."\n\n[[((Back))|Questions]]\n<<set $hasRefused = true>>

You throw out your wings and hit the brakes, hyper-extending one leg beneath you and locking your knee. The speeding haint fails to stop himself or veer away, and smashes face-first into the heel of your foot. His corpseform crumples and drops away.\n\nOne down, [[dozens to go]].

//come then.\n\nride my WIRES and\n\ni will PROCESS you and\n\nconvert your QUESTIONS and\n\ntransmit [[ANSWERS]].//

<html><center><a href="http://kittyhorrorshow.wordpress.com" target="_blank">Kitty Horrorshow</a> presents <big><big><big>STYGIA II</big></big></big> - The Sisters of Stygia </html>//[[Begin|Apartment]]

"I... can't go there," Amy says quietly.\n\nYou knit your brow and step toward her. Her eyes dart to you, then back to the strange district, as though she were afraid to look away from it for long.\n\n[["What's wrong?"|what's wrong]]

You pass over an alley and immediately stall yourself, diving down into the space between two buildings. You figure it'll allow you to funnel the advancing maniacs, and if shit gets too heavy you can jet straight the hell up out.\n\nYou land gracelessly and compose yourself as quickly as possible, and within seconds the battle-crazed Haints are filling the alley, all crowded together and fighting each other to be the first one to tear you apart.\n\n[[Grab a pipe]]\n[[Grab a brick]]\n[[Grab a bottle]]

A knife enters you, somewhere under your ribcage. Hands seize your armsword by the elbow, throwing off your momentum.\n\nYou open your eyes, and your vision is filled with pale, grinning nightmare faces. Twoscore murderous wretches enfolding you completely, a writhing lunatic tide bent utterly on your complete evisceration.\n\n[[Kick your legs]]\n[[Yank your arm back]]\n[[Claw at their eyes]]

The Horsemen are gone, but the two of you are being stared at by an increasingly large crowd, and the middle of a city street isn't a great spot for the conversation that you know is about to take place.\n\n"Wh--" she begins to ask, then coughs, spraying a fan of dark blood onto your coat and down the front of her own shirt.\n\n"Come on," you say, "you're alright, let's get out of here." She allows you to help her to her feet and, keeping an arm around her for support, you take her [[out of the road|Moving on]].

like\nglass puppets\nmade of\n[[rotten meat]]

CRACK\n\nYou cuff him under the chin. The blow exposes his pale throat. You swipe your other hand across the exposed flesh, drawing three jagged lines across the white canvas. Black ichor flies, the Haint's body slumps with a pitiful gurgle.\n\nOne down, [[dozens left]].

You bring down your arm on the Horseman's back.\n\nTo your horror, the blade slides off to one side. The Horseman is [[unharmed]].

Greco sneers, then uses his thumb to indicate the man beside him. The man, still working diligently, is dressed in long, ornate violet robes that cling to his unnaturally skinny form. His face is obscured by an ostentatious ballroom mask complete with golden sequins and black plumage, and from the sides of his head sprout a pair of ridged obsidian ram horns.\n\n"This here's Sangue," Greco says. "He's the [[sculptor|Sculptors D]] who contracted us for that job you did. Says he's got something [[new|Sangue]] for you."

"If you must know," Greco says hautily, "he's making me a new eye. If you recall, last week after your haunting, you took a little side trip and had an adventure at a strip club that ended up with a whole lot of people perma-dead and a whole lot of Horsemen pissed off."\n\nYou nod, smiling to yourself.\n\n"You may recall also that during that whole time you had my eye in your pocket recording the whole god-damn thing. Or maybe you glossed over that part when you were rubbin' your face into that birdgirl's feathers."\n\nNot exactly how it happened, but you let Greco [[continue]].

Your fat cyst of an employer, a cigar-chomping hustler with a corpsecraft addiction and an obsession with spiders. So great is his obsession, in fact, that he has come to resemble one through the repeated patronage of nameless back-alley Sculptors. His distended upper body rests perilously above a bloated, hairy thorax and eight fat, precarious-looking legs. He's an appaling sight, but he pays well enough, covers for you, and generally keeps his word.\n\n[[((Back))|Phone Call]]

Lifting his tumescent fist from the desk, Greco points at his face, indicating the work currently being done on the inside of his skull.\n\n"See this? This is happening because of your little escapade at the strip club last week. The eye I gave you to record your last haunting saw the whole thing, and yesterday the Horsemen came here barkin' up my tree, so I had to smash the fuckin' thing. So don't let me ever hear you say that I ain't never done nothing for you."\n\nGreco sniffs pitifully. "It was my pretty eye."\n\n-[["Thanks, Greco."|2D]]\n-[["You're my hero."|2D]]\n-[["What an idiot."|2D]]

Greco closes his remaining eyes and attempts to relax. "You remember that [[sculptor|Sculptors B]] I told you about, the one that contracted us for the job you did last week?"\n\nYou nod. Greco motions to the man with his thumb. "This is Sangue. He's the guy. Says he's got a job for you."\n\nYou look to the man, who turns slightly in your direction, nodding politely before resuming his work. He is dressed in long, ornate violet robes that cling to his unnaturally skinny form. His face is obscured by an ostentatious ballroom mask complete with golden sequins and black plumage, and from the sides of his head sprout a pair of ridged obsidian ram horns.\n\n-[["So what's he doing to your head?"|2E]]

Greco snarls, visibly straining to keep his head still.\n\n"Sometimes I wish you wasn't dead so I could choke the shit outta you."\n\n-[["So who's your friend?"|2B]]\n-[["So what's this guy doing to your face? Your brand of ugly is irreperable."|2A]]

Rounding a corner, watching the perfect blackness undulate behind each transparent lid of the buildings around you, you are suddenly face to face with a squat, windowless white building, atop which is the [[tower]] described to you by your employer. You remember your employer also telling you that this was the most likely place to find the Wire-Queen.\n\n-[[Wait outside for a while|Wait]]\n-[[Approach the building|Approach]]

//[[goodbye]].//

"At the far western edge of Stygia there is a district called Lonesome Town that is, for the most part, empty. The average ghost finds that upon approaching the district limits of Lonesome Town, a foreign but ineffable urge compels them to turn around and return to Stygia proper. As you can imagine, our knowledge of what goes on within the limits of Lonesome Town is accordingly limited. One thing we do know is that at the center of Lonesome Town is a radio tower, and it is here that you are most likely to find the Wire-Queen herself."\n\n[["What makes you think I'll be able to get in?"|Where2]]\n

Frustrated, you lean down and scream into the girl's ear. She springs to consciousness and retaliates with a scream of her own, her wide eyes fixing on yours in a look of confused disorientation.\n\nThe Horsemen, looking as disappointed as it's possible to express with a dead horse's face, turn and trundle away upon seeing the girl wake. You've [[saved|safe]] her.

Vacant silence [[pushes in|with regret]].

A mighty heave of your wings sends you straight up, and in seconds the haints are following, speeding toward you in their strange wingless flight. The Horseman roars furiously from the ground below, and the haints cackle wildly in their pursuit.\n\nOne of them, narrow-bodied and incredibly fast, is gaining on you with tremendous speed.\n\n[[Take him out]]

The shape plummets screaming to the ground with the speed and force of an ejected escape pod making planetfall. It's a coffin, sleek and shining-black, hewn into sharp, angular perfection.\n\nIt stakes itself upright in the street with an enormous crash, sending concrete spraying in all directions. The lid falls forward with a gasp, and the unconscious form of a young woman slides out, slipping down into the road and sprawling out.\n\nThe coffin dissolves, leaving the [[girl]] where she lay.

Vicious ghosts, gifted with the comparatively underwhelming power of flight. Almost every single one of them is stark, raving mad. They're Stygia's bloodthirsty criminal element but they are also frequently willing to work as bloodhounds and hired guns for the Empire. They have no loyalties or morals, no stances or scruples. Like birds out of a Hitchcock film, the only things that matter to them are flying and homicide.\n\ntl;dr - Crazy, angry, flying shitheels. Bad news.\n\n[[((Back))|goodbye]]

The frenzied Haints throw themselves at you en masse, driving you backward in the fervor of their assault. You swing your fists and pummel the ones that get too near, waiting for opportunities to grab individuals and bring them forward, only to smash your horns against their skulls and send them sprawling, broken, to the ground.\n\nOne throws his arm out, slashing at you with a knife.\n\n[[Fuck him up]]

//[[What are you?|hahaha]]//

You are standing in the CHAMBER OF WIRES. The hum of static and electricity surrounds you. The room is largely devoid of light, but for the eerie and highly luminescent glow emanating from the figure suspended in the center of the open space.\n\n[[NERVA, THE WIRE-QUEEN]] is here.

Another lurches forward and swipes with a knife, and you gouge open his [[wrist|wrist2]].

You grab the first thing you see-- a three-foot length of hollow lead pipe jutting out from a hole in the wall nearby. Armed and ready, you stand against the wave of Haints as they close the distance.\n\n[[Swing away]]

"Well, the Horsemen came a-knockin' and they was lookin' for you, or any evidence that could be used against you. Starting to get the picture?"\n\n"They took your eye?"\n\n"No," sighs Greco. "If they took it, you'd be a stain on the wall somewheres. I smashed it. Don't ever let me hear you say I ain't never done nothing for you."\n\nWhat a [[sweetheart|Sangue]].

When first you lay eyes on the hollow buildings that lay past the city limits of Lonesome Town, you immediately understand how the place got its name. Beyond the street separating you from the weird, unfamiliar district, the buildings themselves are like soulless, vacant shells-- utterly empty, not just lifeless but set apart from life entirely. Even when compared to the rest of the city of the dead, the place seems barren, cold on the deepest level. Standing at the penultimate edge, you feel practically vibrant in comparison to the air before you. And rising above the ultradead rooftops, somewhere deep within, you see the black silhouette of a radio tower.\n\nYour companion having left you, you see no choice but to [[enter|Town]].

You catch his wrist and bring your head crashing down against his elbow, breaking the Haint's arm backwards. The Haint cackle-screams and you throw your head to the side, driving one horn into the side of his skull. He slumps and lies still.\n\n[[Grab another one]]

You crane your neck and look straight up the tapering side of the skeletal structure. A hundred black lines score the backdrop of the overcast sky, converging and intersecting like a crooked ladder leading to the world above. Blinking red lights glower in baleful silence all the way to the top of the tower, which disappears into the gray expanse somewhere far above you, beyond sight.\n\n[[((Back))|Tower]]

The towering horse-headed marauder charges you. Its dead, bestial eyes glower with cold hatred and murderous intent.\n\n[[Go low]]\n[[Go high]]\n[[Dodge]]

like\nglass puppets\nmade of\n[[rotten meat|meatsword]]

"I must, at their bidding, maintain their anonymity, and can brook no further inquiry on the matter. Needless to say we are well-placed and influential in the social thoroughfares of Stygia, and as such, we are good allies to have. You have also experienced first-hand our ability and willingness to make good on payments for services rendered to our cause. Rest assured, this much will not change."\n\n[[((Back))|Questions]]

You pull your sluggish corpseform off of the ground and crack your neck, readying yourself for the final confrontation. The Horseman lowers its head, apparently deciding to play chicken.\n\nThat suits you just fine.\n\nYou both charge at once, propelling yourself forward with as much speed as you can manage.\n\n[[Go left]]\n[[Go straight]]\n[[Go right]]

You pick up the receiver and place it to your ear. The sound of strained, guttural breathing instantly identifies the person on the other end. Not that [[Greco]] needs any identifying-- he's the only person that calls you.\n\n"Got a job for ya, kiddo. Get down here."\n\n-[["What kind of job?"|1A]]\n-[["Now's not a good time, little busy."|1B]]\n-[["And I've got two words for you."|1C]]

In the traditional context, 'disarming' refers to skillfully removing the weapon from an attacker's hand or otherwise rendering them unarmed. You suppose slicing his arm off at the shoulder technically counts.\n\nYou duck down just in time to hear the knife whistle through the air above your head, then swing your arm up and catch the Haint under the shoulder. The blade cuts cleanly through the corpseform of the deranged aggressor, and his arm spirals off into the crowd that surrounds you. His body, stumbling and off-balance, soon disappears as well.\n\nTwo down, [[dozens to go|dozens]].

You come to your senses and realize that suddenly there is no longer a crowd seething against you from all directions. You stand alone in the street, surrounded by bits of putrid corpseflesh and great fans and spatters of black sludge.\n\nJust as soon as you begin to think the battle is over, a wretched, bestial roar tears through the silent Lonesome Town air.\n\nThe [[Horseman|Horsemansword]] stands before you.

You leap to the right at the last possible moment, rolling away and springing to your feet again while the hulking monstrosity rockets past. He struggles to maneuver his own massive frame around, and you seize on the momentary advantage, hoping to make the best of your superior agility. You dash forward, preparing to smash your horns into the Horseman's side before he can turn to face you completely.\n\n[[You're too late]].

Look, I don't want to criticize your methodology, but the situation's a bit dire. Prodding her gently isn't going to cut it if you really want to save her.\n\n-[[You're right, sorry|Shake]]\n-[[Maybe I don't want to save her|Don't be that way]]

a raging [[storm]]

You nod your assent and Sangue places his hands together.\n\n"Splendid, most magnanimous, dearest haunter! My compatriots will be most elated to know that you have accepted our request. Now then, before you embark on your eruditious sojourn, there are two matters that require [[attending]]."

She quirks a brow and frowns, then smirks at you. "Sorry, I forgot some of us are born with all the answers. Since you //answered// all of my questions I'll go ahead and keep thinking you're not a total shit-head."\n\nYou shrug.\n\nThe two of you continue walking for a time, Amy keeping quiet for the most part as she internalizes all of the new information-- though she does occasionally ask a pointedly stupid question purely intended to piss you off.\n\nShe cuts herself off in the middle of one, however, coming to a dead stop. You turn and look to her, and see that she's staring dead ahead. Turning back around, you look where her attention seems to have been arrested and realize that the city limits of Lonesome Town are [[just ahead]].

One of the corners of her mouth twists up into a half-frown.\n\n"That's disappointing," she says with a sigh. "Still, it's exciting. I hope I get something cool like yours. You don't think I'm a ghoul, do you?"\n\n"Nah," you reply, "you're not creepy enough."\n\nShe grins. "What if I ask to smell your hair? I want to know what kind of shampoo you use so I can drink it. Let me live in your mouth."\n\nThe two of you continue to banter as you go, Amy talking about her mortal life with remarkable ease for someone who only just left it behind. Either she's in some kind of weird denial, or she's simply a bouncy, adaptable young lady. Judging from the candor of her speech, you guess the latter.\n\nThen, all at once, Amy stops walking and simply stares forward. You watch her for a moment, then turn forward and look in the same direction to try and see what has arrested her attention.\n\nThe city limits of Lonesome Town lay [[just ahead]].

Poor thing, you think to yourself. When she wakes up she's in for one hell of a shock, followed by a bitch of an adjustment period. For a moment you consider simply continuing on your way-- you're on the clock, after all, and you don't have the time to personally welcome every fresh-meat newlydead that falls out of the sky-- but then you notice the duo of Horsemen on the far east side of the street. Their attention having been attracted by the coffin drop, they've begun to make their way west, toward the girl.\n\nKnowing [[what they'd do]] to her, you decide to [[get to her first]].

You lunge forward, driving your armsword at the Horseman's exposed stomach.\n\nTo your horror, the blade glances off to the side, throwing you off-balance.\n\nThe Horseman is [[unharmed]].

Seeing how slow and clumsy the hulking Horseman is, you decide to takeflight. You doubt whether you'd be able to take him down, but you can almost certainly out-maneuver him.\n\nThat's the idea, anyway.\n\nWith astonishing swiftness, the Horseman is behind you. His great strides brought him to you faster than you could have expected. Before you can react, a massive hand seizes you by the neck and lifts you from the ground, only to bring you smashing back down moments later.\n\nYour corpseform is instantly destroyed, rendered a broken and distorted wreck by the Horseman's devastating blow.\n\n//Game over.//

The crooning of <html><a href="http://youtu.be/NlbriMxECiw" target="_blank">some bygone singer-songwriter</a></html> snakes its way through the streets and alleys of the vapid district. Turning, you see that suddenly the streets are filled not just with sound, but with shapes as well. In every direction you can see there float dozens of silent humanoid [[forms]], all identical, all silent and perfectly motionless.\n\nMotionless at first anyway-- soon they all begin drifting toward you.\n\n-[[Call out to the figures|Call Out]]\n<<if $weapHorns>>-[[Break down the door]]<<endif>><<if $weapWings>>-[[Fly up to the roof]]<<endif>><<if $weapClaws>>-[[Stand and fight]]<<endif>><<if $weapArmsword>>-[[Stand and fight]]<<endif>>

Downtown Stygia is a creature of monstrous beauty. A twisting labyrinth to rival Escher's most convoluted, with curves and ridges and grinning slick-skinned phantoms that would make Giger weep. It is a modern promethean of crude alleys and dead streets all stitched haphazardly together and animated by forces at once wondrous and malevolent, staggering in its beauty and terrifying in its depth-- a house of secrets and a garden of [[delights]].

SWICK, SWACK, SHICK\n\nOne more drops, and another, and another. Your hands and arms are soon sticky with necrogore, but the advance continues. There seems to be no end to them.\n\n[[Don't stop slashing]]\n[[Take off]]

The sculptor straightens himself and approaches you cautiously, maintaining a polite, almost obsequious posture. He knits his hands together and tilts his head, watching you from beneath his odd feathered mask.\n\n"Your employer showed me the recording of your most recent performance, and let me say that it was both entertaining and inspirational. Truly you are a master of your most vital of crafts, a savant by any measure."\n\nHe lowers his head slightly and you think you can, somehow, see him smiling behind his mask. "I most especially enjoyed the [[spiders|Job, cont'd]]."

<<if $weapWings>>[[LET'S DANCE, FUCKERS|wingsgo]]<<endif>><<if $weapClaws>>[[RIP AND TEAR, RIP AND TEAR|clawsgo]]<<endif>><<if $weapHorns>>[[I'M THE JUGGERNAUT BITCH|hornsgo]]<<endif>><<if $weapArmsword>>[[THE VORPAL BLADE GOES SNICKER-SNACK|swordgo]]<<endif>>

You begin desperately kicking your legs and leaning back into the Haints behind you, catching one under the chin and another in the chest. Your effort seems futile at first, but to your surprise the graceless flailing of your legs actually manages to drive a few Haints back, giving you a small enough opening to get your feet under you and yank back your arm.\n\nThe dance [[begins again]].

[[Why are you doing this?|whydothis]]

Impenetrable blackness lay behind the gaunt eyes of the desolate buildings all throughout this condemned quarter. Upon stepping across the threshold, you were instantly aware that not a sound exists within Lonesome Town's limits. It is as though sound were afraid to ride the empty air, afraid to stir what may wait in any or all of the hollow buildings and tenements that surround you. If you were capable of breathing, you guess that you'd be unable to hear yourself do so.\n\nYou walk quickly, doing your best to navigate the quiet streets and make directly for the [[tower|Streets are filled]].

like\nglass puppets\nmade of\n[[rotten meat|meatclaws]]

You stop yourself mid flight and begin clumsily turning around, thinking to charge the group head-on and take a few out. Unfortunately your halting speed and poor maneuverability turn you into a flapping, twisting target. The swarm is on you in moments, and a hundred teeth and a hundred jagged nails sink all at once into your skin, pulling you apart into nothingness.\n\n//Game over.//

The face is workable, though you don't care much for the nose.\n\n<<if $weapWings>>More important are the wings at your back-- they are magnificent, black feathered masterpieces that twitch and flutter tentatively as you contract the muscles surrounding your shoulders. Though you have not yet attempted anything with them, you are certain that they will, with a bit of practice, be strong enough to hold you aloft as you soar above the streets and crooked byways of the city of the dead. You feel [[powerful|ready]].<<endif>><<if $weapClaws>>You look down at your hands and find that your fingers have been lengthened, the final digits elongated into fine points. You drag one of your fingertips across the surface of Greco's desk and leave a long jagged mark with an almost effortless finesse.\n\nGreco turns to you and stares, incredulous. "Who's payin' for that, ya shit?"\n\nYou [[smile|ready]].<<endif>><<if $weapHorns>>Your attention is lifted from your nose, however, when your eyes first meet the reflection of the horns that now extend from either side of your head. You reach a hand up to delicately trace the tips of your fingers along the curves-- they feel sturdy and implacable. You thrust your head forward suddenly and ram your horns into the mirror, shattering the glass and causing Sangue to leap backwards. You barely even felt the impact. You smile to yourself. [[This was a good choice|ready]].<<endif>><<if $weapArmsword>>That said, your nose is the least of your concerns. You look down to your right arm and are delighted to find that Sangue has not failed you. From the elbow down, the entire length of your forearm and hand has been replaced by a wide-bladed greatsword of terrible, savage beauty. It shines like polished black steel, and you are pleased to find that it is surprisingly light and agile. The blade itself is leaf-shaped, the 'sweet spot' of the outside ceraded for optimal brutality.\n\n[[Fuck. Yes.|ready]]<<endif>>

You pivot, leap back, kick off against the wall and spring forward just as the Horseman closes the gap, raising a clawed hand high and bringing it down toward the monstrous horse-face with all of your strength.\n\nYou aren't quick enough. The Horseman's arm flies out and smashes against your side, sending you sprawling away.\n\n[[Get up and wait]]\n[[Get up and charge]]

In an instant the crowd surges forward, the Haints filing in from all sides, desperate to destroy you at the behest of their monstrous Horse-master.\n\nYou square your feet and throw out the great, ruinous blade of your arm, steeling your nerves before beginning your [[murderous dance]].

like\nglass puppets\nmade of\n[[rotten meat|meathorns]]

<html><center>To be continued in... <big><big>Stygia III</big></big> The Surgeon of Stygia</center></html>

The Horseman approaches you, stands above your crumpled form.\n\nYou close your eyes and clench your teeth, damning everything as you prepare yourself for [[true, final death]].

You heave yourself up and begin to dash up the fire escape, climbing four stories before mounting the top of the wall and rolling forward onto the roof of the building. Below you the crowd hoots and shouts and screams and laughs, Haints flying and climbing and dashing up to get to you.\n\n[[Make a stand]]

The crowd is upon you in seconds, leaving little time for you to prepare yourself. A solitary Haint leaps forward from the horde and you throw your head forward, reflexively smashing your horns into his face and shattering his skull. Black corpseblood hits your face and neck. The body drops. There is a single moment of quiet stillness, and the mob begins to scream again.\n\n[[The charge continues]].

The Horseman rounds on you and throws out his hands, seizing your horns one in each. You bring your hands ineptly to the sides of your head.\n\nPain-- real, actual pain-- ignites your body in an instant, centering on your head as the Horseman gives a triumphant roar and rips the horns from your skull. You feel as though your skull is splitting in half-- and in fact, it very nearly is.\n\nYou pain brings you down. You fall to your knees and [[close your eyes]].

Suddenly the crowd parts and a particularly large Haint trundles forward, laughing savagely and beating a fist into a palm. He leers at you from beneath his ridiculous shades, monstrous tongue lashing out over his lips. He charges.\n\n[[Go low|Low]]\n[[Go high|High]]

The crooked black finger that towers imperiously over downtown Stygia, through which all of the dead are inevitably channeled. Nobody knows exactly what happens inside the building, only that it is operated by the Surgeon, and that all who enter the place return paler, changed, something vital pulled from them, memories stripped away.\n\nYou'll know definitively soon enough, you think.\n\n[[((Back))|Stygia II]]

For a time, nothing happens. You continue to watch the strange moving darkness behind the gaunt, vacuous window-eyes of the buildings around you, meditating uneasily on its restless churnings. After a while you begin to consider attempting to enter the base of the tower, as well as the possibility of simply turning and walking away and giving Greco and Sangue the slip.\n\nThen the crackling howl of a loudspeaker rends the stagnant Lonesome Town air, and a [[song|Song]] begins to play.

You know a losing fight when you see one. You leap up as quickly as you can and beat your wings against the air, lifting off and flying instinctively toward the tower. The haints give chase.\n\nAs they near the tower, something [[strange]] begins to happen.

"Firstly, your current visage is well known and is a wanted target of those unpleasant Horsefellows. My compatriots and I believe it would be prudent to change your face so that it might be beyond their ability to recognize. We will, of course, render this service to you free of charge. I would also personally like to extend to you a special offer-- I will augment you a means of self-defense of your choosing, to further aid in the completion of your task."\n\nWhat kind of self-defense would you like Sangue to corpsecraft for you?\n\n-[[Wings]]\n-[[Claws]]\n-[[Horns]]\n-[[Fucking Armsword]]

Through the front door and safely inside, you lower your hood and pound your way up the stairs to Greco's office. Pushing open the door and entering, you find him in his usual place, seated behind his desk. His head is tilted backward, and you can see that one of his eight eyes is missing. An abnormally tall and grotesquely slender robed man stands at Greco's side, dipping his long, needle-like fingers into Greco's empty eyesocket, twitching and fiddling delicately with something therein.\n\nThe eye of Greco nearest you rolls toward you as you enter. "You owe me an eyeball, shit-head."\n\n-[["How do you figure?"|2A]]\n-[["Who's your friend?"|2B]]\n-[["I don't owe you the time of day, you creep."|2C]]

You let the Haint get close and take a swipe. Leaping backward, you expertly throw up your arm and deflect the knife, forcing the Haint's arm to the side and leaving him open to attack. You bring your blade around and drive it down into his chest, sending him to the ground with a dejected, furious 'gluck, gluck'ing sound.\n\nTwo down, [[dozens to go|dozens]].

like\nglass puppets\nmade of\n[[rotten meat|meatclaws2]]

You slash your armsword left and right, cutting down three or four onrushing Haints, but it isn't enough to beat back the surge of murderers that presses ever closer. The tide overcomes you once more, fists pummeling and blades slicing your necrotic pseudoflesh.\n\nAll seems [[lost]]...

All at once you find yourself alone amidst a sea of writhing black gibs, all that remains of the once-ferocious Haint-mob.\n\nA furious roar shakes the air.\n\nBefore you, the [[Horseman]] still stands.

//a SPACE between SPACES.\n\na HOLE in the FABRIC.\n\nBENEATH the SKIN of EVERYTHING.\n\na DARKNESS underneath ALL LIGHT.\n\nmy HOME.//\n\n[[((Back))|questions]]

"But of course, dear friend," Sangue responds pleasantly. "How may I sate your curiousity?"\n\n-[["Who are your compatriots?"|Compatriots]]\n-[["Who is the Wire-Queen?"|Wire-Queen]]\n-[["Where do I find the Wire-Queen?|Where]]\n-[["What do you want to know about the Angels?"|What About]]\n-[["Why are the Angels so important?"|Importance]]\n<<if $hasRefused>>\n\n\n-[["Alright. I'll do it."|Accept]]\n<<else>>\n-[["What if I refuse?"|Refuse]]\n<<endif>>

Just now, the stakes are a little too high for the subtle approach. You roll the young woman over, put your hands on her shoulders and begin to shake her, yelling at her to wake up, trying your hardest to wrest her from the arms of sleep. After a few moments her eyes flutter open and she looks at you, then begins looking frantically back and forth.\n\nThe Horsemen, instantly losing interest, turn and leave. She's [[safe]].

by <html><a href="http://kittyhorrorshow.wordpress.com">Kitty Horrorshow</a></html>

By your estimation, anyone who is given the chance to alter their body in a method of their choosing and //doesn't// immediately choose to have their arm made into a giant sword is a fucking idiot. You state as much to Sangue, who only 'hmm's impassively and [[nods|Reconstruction]].\n\n<<set $weapArmsword = true>>

The carcasses of the Haints fall from the sky en masse, dropping like dead birds, splattering on the pavement far below.\n\nThe Horseman bellows another furious roar.\n\nYou narrow your eyes and swoop forward, flying straight down toward your opressor.\n\n[[Ready...]]

Enormous black metal structures that lay at the base of the Hospital, forever churning and wailing and staining the pale Stygian sky with heavy black exhaust. Like so many other things in Stygia, nobody is quite sure what they're for or what they do. Most people are content not to think too hard on the subject-- they're part of the Hospital, and thus largely avoided.\n\n[[((Back))|delights]]

"Amy," she says. She turns her head and looks at you. "Thanks for your help."\n\nYou nod. She turns away. Both of you are quiet for a few long moments.\n\n"This is really it, huh? This is the big secret of the afterlife?" She gestures to the city with a wave of her right arm and goes still when her eyes fix on the inky black numerical tattoo that's steadily decreasing on her forearm.\n\n"Come with me," you tell her, remembering the job you still have to do. "There's [[a lot you need to know]]."

CRACK\n\nA haint's head splits wide open, spraying globs of black ichor across the grinning faces of his compatriots.\n\n[[Swing again]]

You wonder idly how it is that so massive a creature as a [[Loathespider]] can stride across the surface of a building without stirring so much as a mote of dust within it. The shadow of the spider passes quickly and completely and gray light returns, and you approach the window to watch the massive spider as it goes. It hastens along building faces, stretches its great legs across rooftops, all the while never making a sound. In the spider's path a small shape flickers and darts through the air, goading the enormous arachnid along. Other small shapes begin joining it soon after.\n\n[[Angels]].

Her body, nude, hangs suspended as though crucified from great cables and bundles of wire that grow from the ends of her arms, replacing hands. Further wires and cables snake and coil about her legs and midsection. Her skin is slick and palid, corpselike. Her opaque eyes emit a strange, liquid green light. Breath, distorted and downsampled, seethes from her throat, oozing languidly from lips which hide behind a rebreathing apparatus not unlike a mechanical flight-mask. Her matted, night-black hair spills over her bare shoulders, and two long, green-black horns, pointed like those of a bull, curve outward from her skull.\n\nShe rolls her head toward [[you|questions]].

You plant your feet and ready yourself for another charge. Your sole advantage over the lumbering horror, you decide, is your agility. You only have one chance to do anything, but if even a single instant of hesitation presents itself, you will have the advantage.\n\nThe Horseman turns, screams, and begins barreling toward you.\n\nYou stand firm, awaiting the decisive moment.\n\nThe distance closes.\n\nThen, just as the Horseman begins pulling back his arm to attack, your opening presents itself.\n\nYou [[strike]].

You spot a cinderblock near your foot and lean down to heft it up. You raise it above your head and grin down at the closest Haint. He's too close now to back away-- the crowd of his bat-shit buddies is pushing unceasingly in from behind him, and he has nowhere to go. He cackles idiotically as you bring the heavy block down on his skull, liquefying it. His body crumples.\n\nUnfortunately, you don't have time to haul the heavy brick up again. You managed to take one out, but three more fill in, then five, then a dozen. They swarm you, cover you, tear into you with nails and teeth, and rip you into a thousand unrecognizable bits of quivering black corpse-sludge.\n\n//Game over.//

"The kind you're gonna do, whether you like it or not. But I'll appeal to your curiosity and tell you there's someone important who wants to meet you. Get down here ASAP, and keep your damn head down. Every [[Horseman|Horsemen A]] in town wants your ass on a platter."\n\nBefore you can respond, the line goes dead. Looks like it's time to go to [[work|Downtown]].

The black number tattooed on your arm, the number which denotes your position in line to see the Surgeon of Stygia, is no longer simply dropping. It is [[plummeting|Stygia II]].

"Save them. Just get your smart ass down here now. And keep your head down, the [[Horsemen|Horsemen C]] are gunning for you and I hear they're //real// pissed off."\n\nClick.\n\nYou sigh, take one final look out the window, and resolve to head [[downtown|Downtown]].

"Like fuck you're busy. Staring wistfully out the window and pining doesn't count."\n\nDammit.\n\n"Just get down here, there's someone you gotta meet. And keep your head down. The [[Horsemen|Horsemen B]] are out in force, and last I checked, they don't like you much."\n\n"Fine," you say, and hang up the phone. You take a last long look out the window before standing and leaving your small apartment, making for [[downtown|Downtown]].

You stand firm, waiting for the Haint to get as close as possible before making your move. Just as soon as he's on you you duck, nearly hitting the floor before springing up again and smashing your horns into the bastard's groin with a [[vengeance]].

You plant your feet and stretch your fingers, grinning savagely. You give in to the madness of battle, ready to stand against a thousand more if that's what it takes to [[survive]].

and from the static\n\n\n\n\na voice\n\n\n\n\n\n//who are [[you?]]//

You start by trying to prod her awake, placing a hand on her shoulder and shaking her lightly as you whisper a few 'hey's and 'wake up's. She sleeps on, ignorant. The Horsemen are getting closer.\n\n-[[Keep trying to prod her awake|Prod Again]]\n-[[Try harder|Shake]]

You approach the base of the tower and begin to examine the sole feature of the squat white structure-- a similarly unadorned white metal door with a simple metal door-knob.\n\n-[[Try to open the door|Open]]\n-[[Try knocking the door|Knock]]

Still, [[they come]].

SWICK, SWICK\n\nTwo more slashes, two more dead Haints. Cold black fluid crawls across the skin of your fingers. The bodies disappear beneath the pounding feet of the frenzied crowd.\n\n[[Keep slashing]]

You keep swinging your arms, left and right, left and right, your mighty pipe caving skull after skull of the menacing jackal-eyed horde. Unfortunately, your efforts are in vain-- they outnumber you, and their tireless madness is enough to overpower your attempts at self-preservation.\n\nThe pipe is ripped from your hands and discarded. You're pushed back against the wall by the crowd. Teeth sink into you from a dozen cackling mouths, and your skin is torn away from your body, leaving nothing but a fan of thick, bilious black soul-stuff on the ground.\n\n//Game over.//

Despite the complete, alien strangeness of the situation, you decided to attempt the diplomatic approach.\n\n"Hey," you call out to the slowly advancing crowd. "I'm looking for Nerva the Wire-Queen. I'm not here to hurt anyone."\n\nNo response. The figures continue their silent, mindless approach. With each inch of ground the figures gain, the surmounting sense of dread welling up inside you heightens.\n\n<<if $weapHorns>>-[[Break down the door]]<<endif>><<if $weapWings>>-[[Fly up to the roof]]<<endif>><<if $weapClaws>>-[[Stand and fight]]<<endif>><<if $weapArmsword>>-[[Stand and fight]]<<endif>>

One leaps forward and you duck, plunging your hand into his stomach, [[disemboweling|disemboweling2]] him instantly.

Every ghost in Stygia can do something that not everyone else can. You're a Spook, meaning you can go into the land of the living to terrorize mortals and harvest their ecto. There are also Ghouls, Haints, Gremlins, Fetches, and of course the Sculptors, who have the unique and frightening ability to alter the corpseform of the dead. Plastic surgeons without the plastic, they can hide deathsigns, add limbs, change faces, and otherwise mold a ghost the way a mortal sculptor molds a lump of clay.\n\n[[((Back))|2B]]

You roll to the side and charge the Horseman, hoping to catch the horrid thing at a disadvantage. You spring forward, leap, lash out with both of your clawed hands in a furious attempt to tear open whatever part of the Horseman you can manage to hit.\n\nTo your horror, your claws do [[no damage at all|no damage]].

You're starting to fall into a rhythm. The Haints are mindless in their frenzy, so you soon realize that if you take them out from one direction after the other you can beat them back.\n\nLimbs fly, limbs break, ethereal bones shatter into ectoplasmic slivers. Bodies slump to the ground, only to be tramped as more file forward, desperate to find and [[destroy you]].

The roof of the apartment is now empty, save for you and a sea of writhing black corpseparts, the last remains of the crazed mob that moments earlier sought to pull you apart.\n\nThe air is silent for a few moments, but is soon filled with a great, bestial roar.\n\nYou approach the edge of the roof. Beneath you, the Horseman still stands, staring up at you.\n\nYou leap down, digging your claws into the building's facade and sliding down steadily.\n\nAs soon as your feet touch solid ground, the Horseman [[charges|Horseman]].

Part police force, part Imperial shock-troopers, part horse. They're the authoritarian army of the powers-that-be in the city, hypermuscled brutes with strange but devastating weapons and the heads of dead-eyed horses. If one shows up, something bad has gone down. If a few show up, shit's serious.\n\nA few showed up at the strip club you wrecked last week when you freed the Angel, and they've been hunting for you ever since.\n\n[[((Back))|1C]]

The crowd continues its assault and you continue your defense, slicing and spinning and twirling like a psychopathic ballroom dancer. Haint parts and necrogore spray in every direction and at a certain point you simply close your eyes, the darkness of your closed eyelids more understandable than the chaos of angry, flailing limbs and weapons that assails your vision.\n\nA strange kind of murderous serenity washes over you, as though you're falling into an old rhythm.\n\nUnfortunately, [[it doesn't last]].

Throughout your entire conversation with Sangue, the repeated mentions of Angels have kept the marvelous creatures at the forefront of your thoughts. He was correct in his presumption that they fascinate you. There is so much about them that appeals, that intrigues, that arrests. Not insignificant among these things are their wings-- magnificent black-feathered masses that propel the angels up into [[Stygia's skies|Wings2]].

The churning metal wail of the [[Great Engines]] is a constant drone that can be heard everywhere, inescapable even within the din of the great shuffling crowds through which you weave yourself, hood up, head down. Once or twice you find your path obstructed by the presence of vigilant Horsemen, and are forced to circumvent them, ducking into alleys and slipping down dilapidated side-streets. Eventually, however, you wind up at the door of your place of employ, the offices of [[Spookhouse Incorporated|Spookhouse]].

You bring the [[girl|Girl]] to a small covered seating area outside of a [[cafe]] and help her into a chair, taking the one across from her and giving her a few moments to gather her senses.\n\n"Where am I," she finally rasps, wiping blood from her lips. "What's happening?"\n\n-"[[You're in Stygia]]."\n-"[[You're dead]]."

You know a losing fight when you see one. Finding a lucky opening, you dash and leap away from the mob, spreading your wings and taking flight.\n\nYou gain some altitude and instinctively begin heading for the Wire-Queen's radio tower. The Haints immediately begin streaming through the air after you, refusing to break off their pursuit.\n\nYou have time to wonder to yourself what compelled you to fly toward the tower when something [[strange]] begins to happen.

black\n\n\n\n\nwhite\n\n\n\n\nscreaming\n\n\n\n\nsonic\n\n\n\n\n[[maelstrom]]

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Keeping an eye on the Horsemen and their advance, you continue nudging the girl. She continues to not respond.\n\n-[[Keep prodding her|Seriously]]\n-[[Shake her out of it|Shake]]\n-[[Scream at her|Scream]]

SHUCK\n\nWith terrible ease you throw your arm out and lock your elbow. The Haint, powerless to stop himself, impales himself on your arm with his own momentum. He coughs once, black ichor spraying from his twisted lips. You wrench your arm and jerk it to the side, cutting through what remains of the lunatic's torso. He hits the ground, goes still.\n\nA second Haint charges toward you, swinging a bowie knife and ignoring the fallen body of his comrade.\n\n[[Parry]]\n[[Disarm]]

"Trust me," Sangue says, lowering his head, "it is."\n\n[[((Back))|Questions]]

The crowd parts for an instant and you see an opportunity-- a fire escape, its rusted ladder dangling just a few feet above head height around a nearby corner. Breaking from the melee, you sprint for the ladder and leap up, your hands latching onto the lowest bar.\n\n[[Climb]]

You scramble to re-establish your rhythm, driving the nearest Haints away with the fearsome slashing of your lethal armsword. Unfortunately the crowd has drawn in too close-- you are unable to take back the ground you've lost, and they overtake you again in seconds.\n\nAll seems [[lost]]...

A Haint advances, and your claws find his [[throat]].

Even as you charge forward you think to yourself that you must be out of your mind. You doubt that you stand any kind of chance against the Horseman, but you've come too far to resign yourself to defeat. As long as you continue to exist, you tell yourself, hope remains. This thought alone drives you forward, and as you close the distance you pull back your arm, preparing for one single, mighty [[swing]].

CRACK\n\nAnother haint drops, his skull a broken, pulpy mess. The crowd of his brethren continues surging forward, his body soon lost to the tide.\n\n[[Keep swinging]]

You rake your fingertips across the face nearest your free hand, and a laughing scream peals out of the Haint's mouth before he retreats into the swarm. Unfortunately, two more replace him, and the flood continues. You're soon overtaken, your last ineffectual efforts proving futile.\n\nThe crowd takes you, and in seconds you are pulled apart, consigned to annihilation at the hands and teeth and claws and knives of the maniacal parade.\n\n//Game over.//

The Wire-Queen tips back her head and takes a long breath. A slow, oozing laugh bubbles up from her slender throat. She turns her head back down again and looks at you.\n\n//they have COME for you.\n\nmade it past the REPELLANT FIELD.\n\nyou must STAND AGAINST them [[now]].//

The girl groans and presses a palm to her head, continuing to smear blood from her lips across the back of her hand. She doesn't seem to have noticed how dark and cold that blood is-- or that her head is now incapable of hurting.\n\n"Yeah, okay, very funny and charming. Seriously though, please, I might be in shock or something."\n\nShe looks away from you for a moment, then looks back, fixing her eyes on you and narrowing them at your serious expression.\n\n"... you're joking, obviously. I know that because this isn't any kind of heaven or hell I've ever read about, just an ugly city on a rainy day."\n\n"We call it Stygia," you say. She frowns. Then the cold, strange light of recognition begins to slide across her eyes as she remembers the hazy, cataclysmic events that led to her being here. She begins to tear up.\n\n"Oh god," she says weakly. "Oh, god dammit."\n\n-[["What's your name?"|Her Name]]

The Horseman stops and seizes your clawed hands in his own and begins to squeeze them. They are crushed instantly, utterly useless. You are terrified to find that it is also excruciatingly painful. Somehow the Horseman is capable of making you feel real, genuine pain. The sensation stuns you and your knees give out.\n\nThe Horseman roars triumphantly, preparing to yank your arms in either direction and rip you in half.\n\nYou close your eyes and prepare to experience [[true, final death]].

"I can't, I can't go there. Sorry, I just can't. Look, thanks for everything, but I just... I'm sorry, I just..."\n\nWithout another word, the girl begins packpedaling quickly away, then turns and dashes away behind a corner and disappears. Just like that you're alone at the edge of Lonesome Town. Just like Sangue had said, she'd been unable to enter because of some strange repellant compulsion. Just like Sangue predicted, you don't share the sensation.\n\nReminding yourself that you came here with a job to do, you [[press on|City Limits]].

Locked. Figures.\n\n[[((Back))|Approach]]

Your initial efforts are futile-- the Haint holding your arm is fully aware of the damage you'd be able to cause were he to let it go. You twist and pull for several nerve-wracking seconds to no avail. Finally, in a flash of anger and determination, you twist your arm in the Haint's grasp and jerk it downward, driving the blade into your captor's torso and slicing him in twain.\n\nHe stares at you dumbly for a second before his corpseform dissolves into sludge and the crowd [[presses in]].

"Because," Sangue replies jovially, "you have already demonstrated capacities that are unknown to others of your kind. You have touched an Angel, in fact have been held aloft and carried through the air by one. No other ghost, to the best of our knowledge, has done this. If there is anyone in Stygia capable of crossing the Lonesome Town border, we believe it will be you."\n\n[[((Back))|Questions]]

You stand at the exact half-way point between the Horsemen and the unconscious form of the young woman. Everyone else on the street seems content to simply stand by and watch the scene play out so, knowing the Horsemen's policy of only kidnapping the unconscious, you rush to the girl's side.\n\n-[[Shake the shit out of her|Shake]]\n-[[Prod gently at the girl and tell her to wake up|Prod]]

A thunderous 'crack' announces the succes of your brute-force gambit. The door flies open and you stumble forward intoooOO@o244000((A))#(#(#(HB@@@@@@!!)($$$$$@)9(@#)N:v-vvv-______9(333[[!!!]]b

The Horseman's snorting breaths fill your ears as your head is seized between the hated monster's massive hands.\n\nYou prepare yourself for what's to come, wishing quietly to yourself that you could've seen the Angel one more time.\n\nYou go still, waiting for [[true, final death]].

You clench your teeth and get ready for the horde's advance. A ululating cry rises up from the seething mass. They lurch forward, teeth and hands and knives flashing, seeking you.\n\nFrom the crowd, a single Haint stumbles forward, arms pinwheeling desperately in search of your body, desperate to rend you apart.\n\n[[Tear him up]]

Come on. You're not a monster, quit acting all Badshep and wake her up for real.\n\n-[[Fine, fuck|Scream]]

[[Steady...]]

It's not much of a recruitment policy-- more of a draft. The Horsemen patrol the streets waiting for coffins to drop, then drag the new ghosts away to the Pale Castle to twist them up. The luckier ones get corpsecrafted into Horsemen themselves, while the less fortunate get hyper-compressed to be used as ammo for the Horsemen's Ghast-Driver rifles. Neither is a pleasant fate.\n\nFortunately, out of some strange code of ethics that nobody quite understands, the Horsemen will only take a ghost that hasn't yet awoken after their coffin dissolves.\n\n[[((Back))|girl]]

Even with your new face, you still can't bring yourself to walk around in the open without your hood up. Nobody pays you much mind, which suits you just fine. Even the [[ghouls|Ghouls]] that litter the gutters and peddle strange artifacts in their babbling chatter seem inclined to leave you alone. You suspect it has something to do with your augmentation-- while radical corpsecrafting isn't exactly uncommon, it is usually indicative of an... '[[unorthodox|Sky]]' personality.

The door remains stubborn to your attempts at entry, and the crowd of hovering figures is drawing ever nearer. Finally you decide to put Sangue's craftsmanship to the test. You take a step back, lean forward and rest your horns against the door, just above the knob. Then, closing your eyes and leaning back, you steel yourself and throw your skull forward [[into the door]].

The giant, animate wrought-iron vermin that haunt the streets of Stygia's inner districts, constricting the skyline in shimmering silvery webs. Their origins and purpose are unknown, and until recently they were thought to be timeless, immortal. That is until a certain encounter you had at a strip club resulted in the liberation of a winged woman who proceeded to gather a dozen of her kind and scream at one until its eyeballs exploded.\n\n[[((Back))|Apartment]]

Sangue extends his two long index fingers and joins them at the tip, placing them thoughtfully against the lips of his mask.\n\n"A most astute inquiry, fair haunter. If you will forgive my boldness, I will assume from the marking on your forearm that you are familiar, at least in passing, with the Surgeon?"\n\nYour cold heart sinks within the watery hollow of your stomach. You [[nod]].

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Days ago the number and rate at which it diminished seemed to indicate that you had maybe a week to go before meeting whatever fate awaits you in the twisted black walls of the [[Hospital|The Hospital]]. In that time the rate has only increased, the number dropping faster and faster. Either the Surgeon is tearing through patients at white-knuckle speed, or something else is happening, something beyond your limited understanding. You're unsure now how much longer you really have. You hope for days. You think it may be less than that.\n\nA silent shadow passes before your apartment window, blocking for an instant the wan light of the perpetual overcast that hangs like a pall over the [[city of the dead|titlescreen]].

SWACK\n\nYour armsword sings through the air and slides effortlessly through the corpseform of the onrushing Haint, splitting him neatly in half through the center of his torso. Bilious black corpse-sludge sprays from the halves and they fall to the ground.\n\nA second Haint charges toward you, swinging a bowie knife and ignoring the fallen body of his comrade.\n\n[[Parry]]\n[[Disarm]]

You run to the middle of the roof. Your charge for higher ground didn't yield you much in the way of results-- they've surrounded you already.\n\nYou plant your feet and make ready for the charge, determined to go down [[fighting]].

Without a further word you lift yourself from the table and clothe yourself to the best of your ability, having to improvise somewhat to work around your new augmentations. You then proceed downstairs and out into the streets of Stygia, striking west in your search for [[Lonesome Town|Onward]].

Truly depraved establishments-- places where the Stygia's bloated elite gather and grin together, cackling and consorting, whispering strange plans and edicts while swilling Spidermilk. Fortunately they're never busy at this time of day.\n\n[[((Back))|Moving on]]

The lone angel harassing the spider is soon joined by another, then two more. Within moments an entire flock (murder? Unkindness? Ostentation?) of the winged women has joined the first, swooping and darting and striking like a cloud of gossamer hornets. You squint your eyes and press your brow against the window, straining to search the group for the face of the angel you liberated. You can't see from this distance, but you feel confident she's not among [[them|Reverie]].

She blinks at your dismissive answer.\n\n"None at all?"\n\nYou shake your head.\n\n"A guess?"\n\nYou shake your head again.\n\n"... okay. Well. Guess I'll just have to hope I find out eventually."\n\nYou nod. The girl exhales and the remainder of the walk is spent in relative silence as she internalizes the discussion and sorts everything out.\n\nAt a certain point Amy stops walking. You turn to look back at her and see her staring ahead, eyes wide. Turning back, you look forward again to see what's captivated her attention.\n\nThe city limits of Lonesome Town lay [[just ahead]].

Behind dark windows, within shadows, shapes are [[moving|Tower]].

The moment Sangue mentions self-defense, your mind is made: claws. Feral, elegant, simple, brutal, intimate, easily concealed-- there is little about the prospect of cutting apart an attacker with your bare hands that doesn't appeal to you. Apart from the visceral sensuality of such weapons, keeping yourself discrete would be as simple as stuffing your hands into your pockets. The innumerable advantages make them, to your mind, the only real choice. Sangue smiles (you think) when you inform him of your decision, and soon the alterations are [[underway|Reconstruction]].\n\n<<set $weapClaws = true>>

Without thinking, you pin your wings to yourself and dive toward a nearby building, aiming your body toward an open window of the wall's ruinous upper-floor. You cross your arms in front of your face just before [[impact]].

Creepy bastards, these-- ghosts that can go up into the Warmth and steal things to bring back down. Not a one of them plays with a full deck, but for as weird and unpleasant as they are, their abilities are undeniably useful.\n\n[[((Back))|Onward]]

The haints all begin to howl and stomp, a barbaric war-rally rising through them as they prepare to eviscerate you at the behest of their Horseman taskmaster.\n\nThe sirens and loudspeakers of Lonesome Town give a shrill cry, and the oozing, languid laughter of Nerva fills the air, followed immediately by wailing, cacophonous <html><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WWHkYfYo7E4" target="_blank">music</a></html>. She's playing you a war-song, or a funeral dirge.\n\nYou grit your teeth and [[prepare to kill]].

Damned if you're going to be the chicken in this match. You charge straight ahead, bound and determined to smash the fucking tyrant into a million wretched pieces.\n\nUnfortunately for you, the Horseman also chose to stay the course, and you don't have time to register the beast's invulnerability to your horns before your body is utterly destroyed, pieces of you scattering in all directions, your existence erased completely.\n\n//Game over.//

"She is called Nerva, the Queen of Wires. She is the counterpart of the Surgeon-- they are sisters, after a fashion. Where the Surgeon is a patroness of the flesh, of physical forms and corporeal matters, Nerva is the patroness of things intangible, of thoughts and of airwaves. No knowledge exists in Stygia that has not passed before her eyes. There are those who believe that without Nerva, there would be no thinking creatures, living or dead. Regardless of what is believed of her, it is an objective truth that she is an epicenter of knowledge in the city of the dead."\n\n[[((Back))|Questions]]

"Very good. You may not, however, be familiar with her counterpart, the Wire-Queen. This is to the Wire-Queen's satisfaction-- unlike the Surgeon, she prefers not to be known of. Regardless, //we// know of her, and we believe that she is the most likely source of information regarding the Angels. There is a possibility that she may even be involved with them somehow."\n\nBowing slightly and unfolding his hands, Sangue extends his palms toward you humbly.\n\n"Do us this most grand and beneficent of favors, kindly haunter. You will of course be adequately compensated for your pains, but more importantly, you will be doing all of Stygia a service."\n\n-[["I need to know a few things first."|Questions]]

The sight of the falling haint only serves to draw peals of vicious laughter from his brothers-in-arms. You lean backward and draw your wings in, diving down and putting your wings out again, swooping away. The haints follow you like a swarm of furious insects.\n\n[[Dive into an alley]]\n[[Fly through an open window]]\n[[Double back and charge the swarm]]

The hatch opens like a yawning mouth into pitch darkness. You curl your wings again and slip down into the opening, the light disappearing above you as you slip and fall down intoooOO@o244000((A))#(#(#(HB@@@@@@!!)($$$$$@)9(@#)N:v-vvv-______9(333[[!!!]]b

Thinking quickly, you snatch up a bottle from the ground and smash it against the nearest wall, producing a wide-mouthed circle-knife. The grinning horde advances. You steel yourself.\n\nThe nearest Haint closes the difference.\n\n[[Slash him up]]

You turn to watch the sculptor as he finishes up his work. His hands move deftly, his fingers acting as scalpels, knitting in and out of Greco's hollow eye-socket. Before long he withdraws his hand and flourishes his fingers, signifying the completion of his task. Greco tips his head forward and blinks his eyes numerous times, adjusting to the new organ.\n\nSangue then turns to you and gives a great bow, lowering his head and raising it again to you. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance," he says, his voice a soft, lilting [[whisper|Job]].

You are paralyzed by a moment of horrified confusion and hopelessness as you watch your blade slide impotently away from the Horseman.\n\nThe beast brings a single, massive hand down on your arm and seizes it, jerking it up and squeezing. With a twist, your arm is torn completely from your body.\n\nYou scream. Agony, //genuine physical pain//, tears through your ethereal body like a bolt of crimson lightning. You drop to the ground, helpless and [[defeated]].

CRACK, CRACK\n\nOne more drops, and another, and another. Your hands and arms are soon sticky with necrogore, but the advance continues. There seems to be no end to them.\n\n[[Don't stop swinging]]\n[[Take flight]]

Still, [[they come|they come2]].

You wait until the last possible second, watching the fearsome Horse-beast close the distance. Then, just as he's nearly upon you, you drop to the ground and spring forward and up, claws held before you, raking against the creature's chest.\n\nYou succeed in doing absolutely [[no damage]].

Just like that you're no longer surrounded by murderous lunatics intent on tearing you limb from limb. You're just a horned ghost laying prostrate in a sea of writhing, twitching black necrogibs.\n\nYou decide simply to lay there for a while and let some of your wounds close, but a monstrous roar interrupts your plans and reminds you that you're not alone.\n\nYou sit up and look forward, your eyes falling upon the [[Horseman|Horsemanhorns]] standing before you.

"Not an easy operation," Sangue remarks when you tell him your decision. "For most sculptors, the creation of wings can only ever be a cosmetic one." He bows his head a bit then and you can hear a trace of impish self-satisfaction in his voice. "Fortunately for you, I am much more than 'most sculptors.'"\n\nSaying nothing further, the sculptor proceeds with the [[operation|Reconstruction]].\n\n<<set $weapWings = true>>

The first Haint throws himself forward out of the crowd, swatting at you with his bare hands.\n\n[[Slash]]\n[[Thrust]]

"Anything that may be learned. So little is known about them currently except for what can be observed-- that they are capable of winged flight, that they are all eyeless and wear blindfolds, that they have begun attacking the Loathespiders en-masse, that their voices are capable of the permanent destruction of a soul. But there is more to be learned of them, we are sure: their reason for being here, where they come from, the nature of their existence. We wish to know as much as can be known, and we believe the Wire-Queen is likeliest of anyone or anything in Stygia to have the answers."\n\n[[((Back))|Questions]]

You attempt to keep her talking as a means of diversion, to keep her from going insane. Being dead's not an easy thing to wake up to, so you feel compelled to try and soften the blow.\n\nShe seems to realize what you're doing, too. At first she doesn't respond to your question at all, and spends most of her energy fighting back tears and debating internally. Then she shakes her head once and takes a few deep, meaningless breaths and [[steadies herself]].

The Haint goes toppling over you and uproarious laughter bursts from the surrounding crowd, who immediately resume their charge.\n\nYou brought down the big guy, but the mob fills in within seconds to take his place. It isn't long before you're [[overtaken]].

One leaps forward and you duck, plunging your hand into his stomach, [[disemboweling]] him instantly.

You assume a fighting stance and ready yourself for the coming horde. Within seconds they are pressing in against you from all sides. You slash wildly, but your attacks are ineffective, glancing and sliding harmlessly off of the impervious porcelain skins of the featureless, soundless beings.\n\nThey wash over you like a tide, not lifting their arms or striking you, simply compressing themselves against you, crushing you as a single amorphous mass. Exerting the remnants of your strength you turn and begin a last-ditch assault on the door. Just before the final breath is forced from your lungs, the door gives way, and you spill through the [[threshold]].

[[static]]

Like a speeding missile you fly, speeding directly for the Horseman's stomach. You're a hundred feet away and closing, now fifty, now twenty, now five.\n\nSuddenly the Horseman dodges, leaping to the left and reaching out his arms. Your wings are seized in the monstrous grip of the Horseman. Your body continues forward without them.\n\nPain-- real pain-- soars through your now flightless body, black corpsefluid spraying from the open wounds.\n\nThe Horseman screams and charges, its dead eyes foretelling a graphic end.\n\nYou turn and face your enemy, readying yourself for [[true, final death]].

//[[Time's up]].//

You manage to wait until the very last second, waiting for the moment that the Horseman is nearly upon you. The moment comes and you leap to the side.\n\nOr rather, you try to.\n\nA moment earlier and you might've succeeded, but the Horseman is quicker than expected. His arm flies out and your head is seized within the thing's monstrous hand. With a bellow the Horseman begins to crush your skull, which soon splits and shatters, spraying the streets with black corpse-sludge.\n\nYour body hits the ground and lies still, your unlife permanently ended.\n\n//Game over.//

Despite your furious outlash, you're powerless to prevent the crowd from surging in over you and crushing you to the ground. Hands and teeth and knives swarm around you in a murderous cloud, all seeking to shred you up and quench the pale flame of your unlife for good and all.\n\n[[Looks like this is it]]

You glance down at the number on your forearm, the number that has been counting down with increasing rapidity over the past few days.\n\nYour eyes focus on the numbers just in time to watch them count all the way down to zero.\n\nSearing white light overtakes you, and suddenly the Horseman is no longer a concern. Your body dissolves, reforming somewhere else-- a far distant corner of Stygia, [[a dark room in a dark tower]].

Another lurches forward and swipes with a knife, and you gouge open his [[wrist]].

Certainly seems that way.\n\nThat is, until something [[strange|strangehorns]] begins to happen.

... until something [[strange|strangesword]] begins to happen.

You are uncomfortable to find that Sangue is correct. As much as you would like to protest, you don't seem to have any option except to take the job. You try not to think on it too hard, focusing instead on the pay, and the opportunity to figure a few things out for [[yourself|Choose]].

He's too quick. He ducks under you, and you find yourself flying headlong into the crowd of Haints that has filled in behind him. A triumphant laugh adds insult to injury, and soon you're consumed by the seething mass of murderous lunatics, their hands and teeth and knives all frantically seeking you out.\n\n[[Looks like this is it]]

You decide to meet the bastard's charge, dashing forward and tipping your head down. Just before the collision you leap up, aiming your crown for the bruiser's grinning [[face]].

You leap to the left at the last possible moment, letting the hulking Horseman hurtle past you. You turn in a tight circle, keeping up your momentum, hoping to drive your horns into the beast's sides before he can turn around to face you.\n\n[[You're too late]].

You narrow your eyes, spread your wings, and lift yourself into the air with a single mighty flap. Your hood compresses to your skull as you rocket up into the silent air, above the crowd of forms. You flap one wing twice, thrice, turning in place, then lean forward and guide yourself down onto the roof of the squat building.\n\nThe forms continue their advance, eventually compressing themselves as one great seething mass against the wall, soundless as ever.\n\nThere is a [[hatch]] here.

Your brain, for several long and interminable seconds, becomes the screaming ten-thousand decibel noise channel of chaos itself.\n\nYour head explodes and reforms, and when your eyes regrow and the static fades, you find yourself deposited once again outside of the small building at the base of the Wire-Queen's tower.\n\nThe floating shapes are gone now, replaced by the towering figure of a demon-eyed Horseman. He is flanked by a grinning, shark-mouthed, leather-jacket-clad street-army of voracious [[Haints]].\n\nThe Horseman's mouth opens wide and words of violent delegation [[vomit forth]].

You can't help but be intrigued each time you look upon the ridged, dangerous-looking ram horns that curl naturally from the temples of your benefactor. You're confident enough in your ability to stick and move, but the ability to split an attacker's skull by headbutting them is enticing indeed. Besides which, there's a kind of demoniacal beauty to a big pair of goat horns. You inform Sangue of your decision, and he [[obliges|Reconstruction]].\n\n<<set $weapHorns = true>>

She's pretty, even with the dark circles under her eyes and blood on her lips. Smallish, brunette, wearing black jeans, a t-shirt and an army jacket. You decide she can't be much older than college-age, and judging from the bloody cough and the dark bruise across her forehead, you guess she died in some kind of car accident. Not that you're an expert or anything.\n\n[[((Back))|Moving on]]

SWICK\n\nA jet of thick black necroblood flies from the gaping wound you put in the Haint's pale throat. His grinning body hits the floor and is summarily trampled by his advancing comrades.\n\n[[Slash again]]

A Haint advances, and your claws find his [[throat|throat2]].