Cast From Hitpoints

 Prompt 22: Create a Mortal you have shaped since birth. [Created Kenric the Mortal, lost the Lute resource. Experience added to Memory 2] We fled and fled. Eventually we gave up fleeing. Assumed we had fled far enough. We found a small village, Cwenhild settled in and I put down roots in a nearby woods (so to speak). She wanted to stay with me, "for my own good" as if I can't look after myself.  I promised I'd stay by awhile, as if meaning to leave her there for HER own good within a week. I never did.  She settled in easily.  Just another poor woman fleeing Danish raiders or whoever. No one gave her a second look. She got herself a family, someone with a good job as cover during the day, and came to see me when she could. Gave me news, looked after me how she could. In return I hunted her the occasional animal, kept brigands and the like away by dealing with the ones unfortunate to get close to the village. I passed their belongings on to her mostly. Made sure she ...

 Prompt 16: Well armed mortals have banded together to hunt you. [Created Erol the Mortal Hunter based on the wood carving, and checked off Smell the weather on the wind. Experience added to Memory 3.] I continued like this awhile. This half existence hiding like a feral beast in my old family home, praying on local livestock and the occasional fool that Cwenhild brought to my door. She has calmed down since, much of that initial fear gone I think since realizing that I, Godwin, am still inside this beastly mess. Bless her but she still wants to help her friend and I appreciate that more than I could describe. I try not to think about what it says that she's willing to sacrifice her neighbours to me. I find my old knife amongst the things at some point. Start carving again to occupy my time. I feel like my hands move with a much improved grace, even without the light, like my eyes can see every small fleck and grain in the wood. I carve small toys and figures. Some of the people I ...

 Prompt 13: Generations of the same family serve you. This line starts from any mortal character/descendants of a dead one.  [Flock of Sheep resource lost, and gained Servitors of the Lineage resource. Experience added to Memory 2] My actions have not gone unnoticed.  I buried what was left of my father out in the woods, in an unmarked grave. God forgive me. I wanted to do more but I couldn't risk him being stumbled upon.  I left the house less and less after that night. Found I couldn't leave. At least not during the day. It started out that only the mid day sun would keep me inside, but that fast became all but the low light of the evening. The suns glare is unpleasant, beating upon me like God's anger that the priests would warn us about for sinning.  My absence also does not go unnoticed. You can't really see to a flock of sheep in the middle of the night. Worse, since eating my own good old father I've been getting hungry like the Winter of the bad harvest....

 Prompt 5: Kill someone you love to stop them from exposing you. (I checked off the woodcarving skill). Added to Memory 1. I try acting like nothing happened. A lot of people went missing that night, only some were found but fewer still were still alive. I hide my torso and wrap a sack of hay under my clothes to make me look...normal. It works for awhile. The skin healed but my insides won't come back. What I can't hide is my hunger. God but I am hungry all the time. Nothing I eat fills me. It's not till I find myself elbow deep in sheep gore one night that I realize what I need to eat. This fills me for awhile. My Father is carving with me one evening and slips. Cuts himself. Blood comes out of his hand. It's not the first time it's happened, but something is different this time. I can't stop staring at the wound. My mouth waters. Before I can stop myself I'm licking what spilt up off of the floor like an animal. Panic in his eyes. Panic in the air. I smell...

  Mortals  Ethelred, my father and owner of our flock of sheep and home Cwenhild, a friend from my childhood, daughter of the blacksmith and my love Harold, a local farmer and my childhood bully. Immortals Bjarne, a Norse raider, leader of men and monster of the night. Mark My stomach was torn open, my organs were eaten. Now my stomach cavity is an empty hole. Skills Ear for Music Smell the weather on the wind Carving wood is fun Resources The family flock of sheep My lute, carved myself A knife given to me by my father Memory 1- My Life My name is Godric, son of Ethelred, a Saxon shepherd in the 9th century of Our Lord in the village of Kent. Memory 2-Music like Laughter I play my lute for Cwenhild, enjoying entertaining my friend. Memory 3- A craft and hobby, inherited My Father presents to me a carving knife one year, the same his father gave him as a boy, and I quickly take to whittling in the long evenings of winter. Memory 4- Enjoying the misfortune of another I know the...

August 1st, 1776 My name is Eli Parish. The stress of my work in the city was getting to me recently, taking the form of the most terrible dreams and sleepless nights, and a fellow I’m closely acquainted with offered me a stay in his rural home for a while to help calm my nerves. I gladly tuck him on his offer, and made my way out here for some rest. My friend, who I shall address here as Abram, suggested I try writing about the dreams that plague me, to see if acknowledging them would solve my plight. I’m not given to flights of fancy like this, but I dare say i’m at my wits end as to other solutions and I suppose it can’t hurt. I spied this journal for sale in the town before I left for my coach trip to the cottage, and thought to document my stay in the countryside. Boarding the coach, I thought to catch up on my rest and tried to sleep during the trip, but the dream that struck me was much like the ones I had previously been having the misfortune to enjoy.  I sit here now, sti...