The Wettened Woods was an area where Participants could comfortably stay up to Tier 1.
But there were secrets that could be fairly attractive for those up to Tier 3 and onwards.
In this place, a handsome young man with sandstone-colored hair casually strolled. When a Husk with pale skin and hollowed eyes walked up to him, his hand merely shifted.
Before the creature was effortlessly crushed.
The young man with sharp eyes and even sharper brows didn't even bother to pick up the loot it dropped. Walking amidst the tall, crooked trees, he went from place to place with silent footsteps.
On the outskirts of the dreary woods lined with skeletal sharps sticking out of the dirt, the AI-Reaper hovered forward as streams of mist jutted out of the ends of its feet.
Placing the stone casket down with a telekinetic gesture, the structure dissipated and was absorbed within the Deadman's Stigma on the plate in the center of the middle trapezius area.
The skeleton woke up with a jolt, bones rattling against each other as it appeared in a completely different area. There wasn't even a glimmer of brilliance to be seen, just gritty woods and solemn cedar trees beneath a reddened sky.
From a seemingly impossible distance, the sandstone-haired man with flowing locks swiveled his head. As he watched the skeleton move this way and that, his blank expression subtly blossomed into one of interest.
The skeleton pulled the cloak around its form once again, about to fiddle with the strings to tie it.
[Please note: There are materials suitable for Limb Construction LV 01 in your inventory. To access objects in the inventory, recall them and will them to appear.]
The skeleton waved its fingers through the panel prompt as if batting it away before bringing its sole hand up to its sockets.
The sheaves of paper and the bristle it retrieved from the dungeon it was in. A white glow was suffused from its fingertips as its sole hand moved amazingly fast, quickly, and dexterously composing a replacement left limb.
=====
Left Arm:
Wrapped First Try LV01
A1 Limb Stability + 75
Grade: Passing
Description: A prosthetist's first try at making a replacement for their left arm. Wrapped in the old paper that had basked in ominous energy, the paper is secured by an elongated pattern of a sharp bristle wrapped in circles.
Additional Effects:
Grimness LV 01
Sharpness LV -01
Coordination LV -01
=====
A material like wood creaked as the paper shuffled. A series of looping bristles bound the paper to the wooden substance, bringing the prosthetic together. The subtle fluctuation of mortisim within the prosthetic worked as both an adhesive and series of joints, allowing full movement with the shoddy arm.
With that, the skeleton almost giddily attempted to tie the string together.
Clack, clack…
It failed on its first, second, and third try. Only on the fourth was the cloak pulled together, and the skeleton stood up as it looked around.
(…Huh. Finally, something interesting about this place….)
.…..
There was a subtle arrow with rainbow light fluctuations pointing underneath the skeleton's sockets. This was an attempt made by Mara to guide him, which she was allowed to do since this was the beginning area.
Although it lacked a quest, there was space to allow concessions. Everything is Bury wasn't an easy game to play, nor was it easy to navigate within. The world of Blendpunk Chthonim was a series of realms and domains that mixed and spilled into each other in some parts and bled into empty spaces that formed places unaligned with any specific underworld in general.
As such, it was easy to get lost. Additionally, without any direction or directive, players were just as likely to arouse the ire of the Reapers because they continuously had to port their bodies within minutes of the Participant's last death.
There were many Reapers that were sick of some people's faces.
Since there wasn't much to do or much Mara could reasonably assign the skeleton who lacked the ability to read, she could only worriedly sigh and direct the little guy to the nearest settlement.
Swillberg. It wasn't a place she wanted her precious child to wind up in, but it was undeniably a place the skeleton could thrive. Especially since it had Traits that facilitated violence…
—Haaa, I'm so worried for your future, my child.
She sighed as she watched the skeleton skimming over the chalky cobblestone path. Every now and then, it stopped picking up a couple of stones and weeds, filling its small casket with almost useless materials that even the newest players would know to ignore.
Thankfully, the skeleton didn't have to worry about stamina at all. Walking about for an indefinite amount of time was entirely possible for the small frame of bones.
Thirty minutes passed.
A place lined with rusty broken fences appeared ever closer. As the cloaked skeleton neared, it could hear the bustling activity occurring.
Carts lined with different-looking salts streamed out from rocky outcroppings that contained a sprawling set of caves. Undead Inhabitants wearing miner hats carried the carts forward, leading into the open spaces in the fences and entering the town.
The skeleton followed the Inhabitants inside and looked surprised as it stopped in its footsteps.
Swillberg was a dingy place lit up by sparse lanterns that radiated cold and decay. Signboards were hoisted atop crooked blackened poles, some bending over or sitting at an oblique angle.
Dilapidated ramshackle buildings fell over onto each other, almost as if they were leaning on each other's shoulders. Rubble and scrap lined the murky colored floors, and the metallic pangs of boots against steel clanked wherever people walked.
The large area was circular, and there was a large empty area. This place was lined with dark orange, rusty railing, and there were wanton heaps of salt scattered all over their surfaces.
The skeleton walked over to the railing with steady steps, wanting to look down and see what was in the significant depression. As it loomed ever closer, a man nearby took notice.
"Young boy, you shouldn't go there! The railings are lined with The King's Scattered Eyes, and that salt is very toxic to us dead! Even the Participants are reluctant to handle it…."
A mature man with a grizzly beard and smoothed back black hair placed a hand on the skeleton's shoulder. As it turned around, the man's eyes widened as he smoothed his hand through his graying hair strands.
"Yeesh, kid. Whoever stole your skin and muscles must've been a disgusting bastard…hm. You can't go around like that, alright? Here, wear this."
Mist fluctuated in the kindly looking man's palms as a simple mask materialized in his hands. Then, with a bright smile, he wiped off the dust with a glove and placed it on the skeleton's face.
"You look good like that. Alright, come on. I'll give you a job…1 Deadman's Splendor an hour. Maybe you'll be able to buy some voice magic so you can speak!"
The man patted the skeleton's back as they entered one of the more sturdy-looking homes.
A couple of minutes later, the skeleton walked out.
Wearing gloves, orange pants, a white shirt with long sleeves, his cloak, and a yellow miner hat, the skeleton was led around by the kind man.
"The name's Mark Dugraff. If anybody in there bothers you, you tell them I sent you, alright? Have a good shift."
The Inhabitant patted the comparatively small skeleton on the back again as it left.
Before the skeleton's sockets, a deep, dark cavern carried a salty breeze that tickled its few exposed bones.