Hours To Give

The Clock Is Ticking

The clock is ticking.

Lightning lights up the sky to mark the players that may never come back. They are remembered by the survivors. The threat of death looms over them all.

Eyes are everywhere. Hundreds of eyes crawling over the lands, the mountains, the bridges and the sea. They see it all. They smile and watch in quiet amusement as players perish. Those that watch know that they will succeed. After all, who can defy a game like this, with these rules, with no loopholes? For once, the players must play to perfection. There is no other option.

Bloodlust hit the players. Waves upon waves of the urge to kill. Hands itching for weapons. Bows and crossbows craving an arrow to fire. Blood pulsing through their veins, bubbling under their skin. The newfound reality of permanently dying only provides incentive. No one wants to die just yet.

Alliances fall apart. The so-called "Bad Boys" have been destroyed. Only one of them remains. And now they have joined a new group. So the name Bad Boys is no more than a memory that time has robbed of them.

The end cannot be prevented. No matter how much blood is shed. No matter how hard the players may try. They will die regardless of any efforts to thwart it.

Scott was taken by the sea, now belonging to its domain. The ocean was his and none could take it from him.

Martyn watched the sand of his hourglass. He knew time was running out and he would protect those he cared for until the end.

Grian lost them. Jimmy and Joel were dead. And now they were gone, and he joined the Nosy Neighbours, he couldn't help but curse those that watch for doing this to him.

Cleo feared for her family. She had not only her own time to take care of, but her boys' time too. There was a duty she'd taken up to protect them. And she refused to shirk it now.

TIES had lost Skizz. Now they were just TIE. Deaths were inevitable here, but the loss of their friend hit them. Skizz, who, despite losing over two hours in the first session, despite those that had killed him and despite the revenge that others would've taken, had chosen to instead be kind to the players. He'd made it his duty to complement and assure the others.

The clock was ticking.

For all of them.

Lauren had new friends.

It was nice, to be honest. Finally, she had two friends who cared for her and actually helped her! And she had tons of fun, too! Scott gave her a staff and three spells, and Eloise taught her what friendship actually meant and was her first real friend.

That is, if she excluded Joey from the list.

Because did Joey count as a friend? Lauren didn't think so...but he did say friends betrayed each other and stole from each other. Then Eloise said that was wrong. And so did Scott. So that made Joey her not-friend. Enemy? That didn't feel right. Joey hadn't actively gone around hurting her or belittling her or anything. Then again, didn't he become her friend just because she seemed to be strong? Lauren had to think.

As she stood in her tower, she sat on the spiral staircase, somewhere in the middle, and tapped her fingers against her knees. Her mind began to wander off topic for a second, but she was quick to correct its course.

Joey wasn't a friend.

He was a not-friend. That felt better than calling him an enemy, and easier than saying he was a stranger. Because he was, in a way. How much did Lauren really know about him? He never really told her about himself.

No matter what, as Lauren stood up from the stairs, and slowly walked up to the top of her tower, and approached the railing stopping people from falling off, she leant against it and removed her hat, she knew Joey wasn't a friend. Scott and Eloise were.

It hurt to think that. Joey and her had fun. Messed about, made memories in that first dungeon. Calling him a not-friend didn't make sense. Friend, not-friend, stranger, enemy. Four options. But not a single one of them felt right.

Lauren watched the sun dip below the horizon line. Its gold light crept downwards, seeping out and revealing the overbearing blackness of night and the twinkling stars.

Maybe Joey didn't matter right now.

Lauren had new friends. And she was happy with that.

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The Illusion Of Love

Pris had messed up.

She'd managed to go on a date with Eloise - beautiful, wonderful Eloise whose smile could light up a room. Okay, maybe that wasn't completely true, but Pris felt like it was. Every word that came out of the Illusionary Witch's mouth was melodious and entertaining.

That damn demon had to ruin it. The demon in her head possessed her at the worst moment. Why did she have to be the one who had a demon? Scott would have been better. A necromancer who dabbled in the dark magic no one would touch. He was a perfect fit. Possession would work incredibly well with his motif. Or maybe Cleo. Lauren? Maybe she could have made a deal with a demon to become a Sand Witch? Or Cleo could have bargained for...something! Anything.

And in that split second the date had fallen apart. Her heart had shattered just as much as the words of that demon that came from her mouth, in her voice that shattered the spirit of Eloise. Pris couldn't bear it. Not the tension. The silence. The agony that tore her apart with every passing second. Now it was awkward between them. The suffocating silence. The unspoken words that begged to be said but neither could muster the courage to do so.

Now she watched from her tower. Pris stared down below at the small congregation of witches gathered at Spawn.

Scott and Joey were walking together, with Scott bright red in the face whilst Joey laughed and laid his head on Scott's shoulder. That could have been Pris and Eloise. They could have been the duo walking together and showing affection in kisses and hand-holding.

She shook her head. Now was not the time for that. Not the right time for jealousy.

Cleo and Lauren were trading with Bertha. The two were laughing together at a joke Pris couldn't hear from all the way up in her tower. But there was genuine companionship written on their faces. She hadn't known they were friends, but Lauren's peculiarity often made people like her. Because the Sand Witch was so unafraid to be herself. Pris envied that. If she'd been proud of her demon from the very start, Eloise could have forgiven her faster and maybe they'd be together. Or at the very least they would have taken longer to go on a date but it would've been successful.

Damn it. Not again.

There was a crack of thunder. Pris hadn't seen the lightning bolt, but rather saw the flaming cluster of trees. Shubble and Tiff were frantically trying to put out the fire. Tiff was yelling in an erratic frenzy while Shubble apologised every few seconds.

And there she was. Perfect Eloise. The Illusionary Witch laughed at their efforts. And how her laugh echoed in Pris's ears. She found herself leaning further forward. If only just to hear Eloise better.

"You okay?" Joey and Scott were behind her. How'd they get there so fast? She would've been able to hear them.

"Y-yeah! Wh-why wouldn't I be?" Her hands were clammy and her heart hammered in her chest. Scott took one look between Joey and her and shrugged.

"You wanna handle this?" He asked Joey. The Fire-Frost Witch nodded and stood on their tip-toes to playfully swat Scott's forehead. The Necromantic Witch giggled for a second and walked down the staircase. "I'll be down here. Scream if you need me."

"So...how are you?"

"F-fine." Pris mumbled, folding her arms over her chest.

"No you're not. What's going on?" Joey asked with a small tilt of his head.

"It's...nothing. Nothing important." She was adamant on this. Pris didn't want Joey knowing how...humiliated she felt. Humiliated because of her damn demon. Because she and Eloise could no longer talk as freely as before.

"Okay. I won't pry. Buuuut, if it's to do with love-" he gave her a knowing look, "-then I can listen. And maybe contribute a solution?"

"Ju-just don't laugh," She hugged her arms tighter. And slowly, she began to explain it all. Joey was uncharacteristically quiet throughout it. If anything it made her more self-conscious. He was only trying not to laugh at her. That was all. He was trying to be polite.

"W-wow. Okay, uhh..." Joey scratched the back of his neck. "I guess, if this helps at all, then she's probably just as upset about it as you are. Try and talk to her about it. Verbally. Tell her everything, maybe give her a gift and ask for forgiveness."

"You think that's not my first thought?"

"Have you tried it?"

"I mean, I left a chest. And signs. And rose bushes in the chest. But there's been nothing." Pris sighed.

"Then just talk to her. Forget the other stuff I said. Talk about it. It may sound dumb coming from me, but talking helps." Joey said. Pris could hear Scott coming back up.

"I-if you don't mind, then can I just say something quickly?" Scott asked. But there was something weird about the way he talked. It was different. Not as deep or intimidating. More light-hearted. Melodious. Upbeat.

"Okay..." Pris made eye contact with Scott. Only to notice they weren't the usual murky green colour. No, his eyes were green and blue. Like-

"I forgive you." And Scott 's appearance shimmered and the illusion melted to reveal Eloise standing there. "B-but...can we take it slow?" Pris might have died then and there. She was forgiven. And Eloise actually wanted to give them a try! Even if they did have to go slow, it was something!

And Pris nodded all too eagerly, practically throwing herself into Eloise's arms, who hugged her back with just as much enthusiasm.

Maybe they could work out.

Woes Of A Thieving Parent

The child just wouldn't sleep.

Scott had awoken from his slumber for the umpteenth time that night to the sound of a wailing goblin baby. He threw the covers back and his feet slipped onto the cold floor of his manor. Shuffling forwards, he reached for his trusty jacket hung up nearby and his signature fedora. Now he was dressed (well enough), Scott left the confines of his room.

He had given the kid its own room. The point of this was to have it be somewhere else so he wouldn't have to hear it screaming constantly. But that plan had flopped almost immediately. Now pretty much the entirety of Chromia could hear the small goblin child cry out in the midst of the night.

Scott was not parenting material.

Why couldn't fWhip deal with his own population burst? Scott found himself cursing Goblands under his breath as he gently nudged open the door to the child's room.

The goblin child had its arms and legs waving in the air, kicking and reaching out for hands that would never hold them. Its ears were tilted downwards as opposed to the usual upward point of most goblin ears.

He drowsily approached the child's crib and picked up the baby. How was he meant to hold a baby again? Scott had been to many places in the past and stayed with many people. At least one time he had lived temporarily with newly-made parents and a young baby. He barely recalled the way that both parents had cradled their baby and rocked it back and forth.

Maybe he could try that?

Scott gingerly shifted the baby's position in his arms to something reminiscent of what he had seen during his days of travelling. The baby's wails were still ear-splittingly loud, but slightly more bearable. He rocked the baby back and forth gently. What else had those parents done when he lived with them? Sing it a lullaby?

Oh. Oh they did do that.

Scott's dignity was going to die tonight, wasn't it?

Hesitant, Scott began to mumble a lullaby under his breath. It was one he somewhat remembered. One from his childhood. He couldn't recall who exactly it had been to sing it to him, but the voice sang alongside his own as he repeated it to this child.

At least the child's screaming was quieter. Now instead of screaming and crying at the top of their lungs, the goblin child babbled faintly. They made grabby hands and poked Scott's cheeks as he sang. Resisting the urge to pull away, he kept singing.

It took him a moment to realise the child had stopped screaming.

The child had nuzzled their head into Scott's chest and was babbling jovially. Eventually the young goblin's head dipped down further as slumber finally overtook them.

He did it. Scott got the child to sleep.

With a silent cheer, Scott placed the goblin child back in its crib. The child's breath hitched from the sudden loss of warmth. Its tiny green body shivered.

Scott sighed in defeat as he took off his jacket and wrapped it around the goblin child. Was the term swaddled?

If he had ever thought of handing the goblin child off to his people, he certainly wouldn't be able to go through with it. The child's hands gripped his jacket tightly and its ears were finally tilted up in the usual sign of contentment. Even more, the goblin child almost seemed similar to Scott, despite the difference in species. The goblin baby's eyes had taken on a mild teal hue, with one eye ever so slightly yellow around its pupils.

Damn it. This was his kid now, wasn't it?

Scott never thought he could be a parent. The option was never really available. Not when he was constantly on the move. Constantly running, whether it be from the consequences of his actions or even the law. Back then, he only ever wanted to travel and 'collect' things from everywhere.

Love never crossed his mind. Mainly because he knew he'd screw up. Betray them, cheat on them, steal from or scam them, run out on them in the dead of night. Or he would abandon them at the smallest hint of misfortune. There had been many instances from the past when Scott had left behind a multitude of lovers because of his desire for adventure and his cowardice.

Children were new to him. The prospect of now having a child to raise, on his own no less, was alien to him. He had always turned away at the prospect of kids. The best he could do was tell tales of his adventures to the children of whichever village or town he resided in.

The child's eyes fluttered open for a milisecond, and they smiled at him with a naivety and joyful innocence only a kid could have.

Scott hesitated. Then before he could second-guess himself, he pressed a small kiss to the goblin child's forehead.

He wanted to leave the room. To go back to bed.

But just in case the child woke up again, Scott wanted to be nearby.

So he slept on the floor. For the sake of his child. Not because he wanted to ensure it was safe throughout the night.

Scott got comfy on the cold floor and removed his fedora, clutching it tight against his chest.

He would figure out the whole parenting thing eventually.

He still hadn't given the child a name, had he?

Bertha Theory/Character Study (?)

So I saw the video Bertha had, and this came to my mind.

To start with, at the end of the video, Bertha mentioned something their sister did to them. Now I immediately thought that Bertha's sister sabotaged them and became the Supreme Witch. But then why does Bertha bother hosting a competition for the role of Supreme Witch when they had been told their whole lives that they were worthy of the role? So now, I present to you...

What if Bertha is cursed? Cursed to be everywhere and nowhere, and never be fully present in the world? They commune with the animals, can instantly see their lives, apparently sold their soul to Scott (which kinda confused me for a sec - can't tell if that was a joke or not) and they don't seem to talk much to the other witches outside of the Dungeons. Even Pris touched on that in the video! So what if Bertha is cursed to forever remain semi-present in the world?

I think of it as the Curse Of The Entity. Because Bertha did mention that they were an Entity. So what if this curse basically turns anyone into an Entity? The doors that alone could open is unbelievable: Scott could use it to bring someone back, Tiff could fulfill Mother Nature's orders with it, Joey could prove himself to the frost mages, and so much more!

So yeah. Bertha has a curse placed on them by their sister to forever be an Entity, never fully able to live their own life and enjoy themself.

How's that?

Gaia's Curse

The vines dug into his skin sometimes. An unhelpful reminder of what he had lost.

They were like chains, in a way.

He tried not to think about it. Tried not to think about how his hair changed; from a bright cyan to a pale ivory tainted with blotches of red.

Every time he passed a body of water and gazed at his reflection, he couldn't help but think he looked familiar. He remembered fangs, long and pointed and sometimes uncomfortable in his mouth. He recalled how similar his cloud jump was to abilities he'd long forgotten; sometimes he'd jump up into the air and think about switching places with an angel.

But, as far as he knew, no one on the server was an angel. No one he knew closely.

Sometimes he would feel hungry. Phantom-hunger, if you will. Because he didn't need to eat anymore. But he'd still wish he could eat.

He'd probably kill to be able to enjoy the taste of cabbage rolls or pumpkin soup.

Would probably kill himself in order to get it.

As he sat on the balcony of his house, staring at the starry sky, he remembered.

He didn't remember anything specific; all the memories were murky, and most of the faces were blurred to the point where they couldn't be recognised. But he took note of other details. Like cod, cats called Norman, fields of poppies. Kingdoms of snow and golden antlers. Of rat tails, attics and giant feline catastrophes. Of necromancy, loneliness and dances with time.

They all mixed together in a strange cocktail of memories that both were and weren't his.

Scott clutched at an ache in his chest; a yearning for knowledge.

He sighed and looked up at the sky. Running his tongue along his teeth, he could almost imagine feeling fangs. But they weren't there. Because he was a fungal mage.

His hands itched. The pain of hurting a mob - he couldn't be bothered to remember which one - pulsed through his veins. Gaia had cursed him in that moment. He'd hurt someone, betrayed being a 'peace keeper' and paid the price for it.

How many people had he upset in the past?

Gaia, goddess of the earth. Mother Nature. She had given birth to the Titans and Giants. A powerful entity that was not to be messed with under any circumstances.

There were others, too. In a past life long ago, he'd killed an angel. And as a result, he was cursed to burn in the sun.

His own patron god, Aeor, and his brother Exor. How long had he been a devoted worshipper of the Stag Gods? How much of his life had he dedicated to following Aeor's wishes, to pleasing him, to keeping people safe, for nothing? Because he did everything in the end. He was the one to seal the demon away at the cost of his own life. And neither of the gods batted an eye.

He'd upset Them, too. Hundreds of pairs of eyes that Watched eternally. They despised him because he refused to play Their games properly. So he was made to constantly outlive his closest allies. Other than one.

Scott was a danger. To himself and to everyone around him.

The vines - nay, chains - dug into his skin.

He deserved them. He deserved the chains, for they were keeping him from hurting others. A criminal, a thief, a killer - all of those titles belonged to him - deserved the chains that kept them contained. That shackled them to their crimes.

He took a glance at the moon, and the stars surrounding it.

The moonlight shone down on him in a warm embrace. As did the stars.

The stars seemed to form a halo around Scott's head.

Scott curled up and allowed his eyes to droop shut.

Gaia's curse, as all the other curses placed upon him, would never leave him.

The Spread

It was spreading. His colony was growing every day. Bit by bit, it was expanding out of the corners he had planted them in and moving out into the daylight.

A smile curled at his lips.

He could feel them all even from the comfort of his home. Tiny tendrons snaking forwards. Miniscule mushrooms bursting out of the ground.

Everything was going according to plan.

---

Gem was the first, that he knew of, to notice.

Mushrooms were just...growing! Behind the house she'd made in her first life!

Really, they shouldn't be growing there. It wasn't the right habitat and there were no other patches of them elsewhere nearby.

Someone must have put them there. Surely.

Although, there was a huge amount of them. How had she not seen them before? It wasn't that well hidden. Not when they peeked out into her line of sight rather prominently.

Perhaps she should get rid of them. Or at least build something to keep them contained.

She didn't want them getting any closer.

---

The others had large patches, too.

Jimmy's patch of mushrooms were a stark contrast to the pinks and whites of his area. The dull grey of the mycellium was obvious against the emerald grass surrounding it, and the mushrooms were rather out of place amongst the flowers.

fWhip had a decent amount as well, perhaps the biggest of all of them. He didn't seem to notice them yet. Good. His area was large enough that they'd probably stay hidden for a while longer.

And Sausage? Obviously there were a couple mushrooms there as well! Hopefully, like fWhip, he wouldn't notice them just yet. The mushrooms there had grown considerably. It'd be a shame if he found them and took them down.

---

Of course if any of them did dare hurt them, Scott would retaliate.

Gaia be damned. She'd appreciate it, really. He was helping!

He sat in his home, taking a bite out of a cabbage roll that he didn't need to eat anymore. The taste was bland, nothing like how it had been in his last life as a transporter. Most food had lost its appeal.

The mushrooms outside his house were slowly beginning to creep down towards the rest of his area.

Perfect.

Writing Prompt #1

The Divide impacted everyone. The earthquakes were relentless, splitting the ground. Smoke descended from the heavens and covered the sky. The sun was gone, turning its back on us all in shame. We'd torn it all apart.

And we didn't regret it.

Siren Song

The Mean Gills were thriving. Martyn focussed on building his hourglass whilst Scott had built them a house. And now that it was done, and Scott was out gathering materials, he took the time to get used to the storage system. It was odd, to say the least. He couldn't make sense of it. Although he did have to admit that the chests were at least somewhat organised. Martyn would never admit that it took him a solid ten minutes to get used to the storage system. In hindsight that didn't seem like a long time, but since everyone had twenty-four hours to live, it was kind of humiliating. It was like having fifty days to live and spending one of them trying to make sense of something simple.

He'd just put some stuff away when he heard it. In the distance, a tad bit muffled, he could hear something. Singing?

"Drown me underwater, watch as I flounder~" the song was low and quiet, but it's hypnotic melody caused Martyn to drop the wood he'd been holding. Curiosity held him in a vice-like grip and it refused to let go. "I'll gasp for air, for your touch, for your lips and your hair~," The song continued, slowly building in volume. The voice singing was clearly used to it, as each note was perfect and rich.

"H-hello? Anyone there?" Martyn called out. Nothing. No response. But the song kept playing upon his ears and his ears alone.

"As you pull me up and kiss me, water fills my lungs, is this something you'd miss?" The voice was closer now. Or maybe Martyn had subconsciously gotten closer to it. But he felt compelled to find the source. He barely even noticed as he gradually lost land to tread on and began to dip his feet into the water...

"Who's there?" He asked aloud. But before he could hear an answer, Martyn realised that he'd fallen into the water. The warm water was comforting. It warmed his bones and enveloped him in its embrace. He didn't want to leave. Even though his clothes were soaked and he'd lost his sandals despite not having moved, even though the water was filling his lungs-

"And when you release me and hold me down, the water floods my body, flowing down, down, down~," He was closer now. Martyn ignored the rational part of his mind telling him to swim back up and abandon his quest. But he was determined. And that voice was far too tantalising to ignore. "Down into my lungs and I forget how to breathe, but I see your smiling face and I forget how to leave, you keep me here~" And so he swam. Martyn swam down further and further. He was close to the coral. In fact, he was just skimming the sand at the seabed. Still no sign of the voice.

Actually, maybe he was wrong. Martyn saw a faint silhouette of someone not too far from him. He swam towards them. His movements were sluggish, and more and more water filled his lungs. If he didn't resurface he would die soon.

But he made it. Somehow Martyn had managed to reach them. A figure with a human body, but fins on their arms and legs and one ginormous one on their back, along with webbed fingers and toes and gills in their neck. The mop of cyan hair was familiar. So were the patches of colourful coral that clung to their skin. The jacket that had been torn and was loosely tied around their waist. Shimmering teal scales decorated the merfolk's body. They glinted like gemstones in the warped light illuminating the sea. The figure continued to sing, and slowly Martyn began to recognise more and more things. The way they sang sounded familiar. So were the figure's gestures. And when they turned around, Martyn recognised them in an instant.

"Scott?" His own voice was garbled, and water flooded in through his mouth. but he couldn't help but ask. Martyn suddenly felt light-headed. The lack of oxygen was finally catching up to him.

---

Martyn woke up later. He was in his bed with Scott kneeling down besides him, fretting over his still but newly conscious body.

"Damnit, damnit, damnit! Goddamnit, Scott, why did you do that? If you hadn't opened your stupid mouth to sing then he'd be fine!" Scott cursed himself. Martyn groaned, and Scott's attention snapped over to him in an instant. "Martyn! Are you okay? Can you breathe? Oh my god I'm so happy you're alright-" Scott cut himself off by tightly hugging Martyn.

"Whoa, whoa, sl-slow down. G-gimme a sec..." Martyn sat up and rubbed the side of his head. Scott had put on some clothes, but now that he'd seen the gills and the fins, Martyn couldn't un-see it.

"I'm so sorry about that. It was dumb and I should've thought and-"

"Calm down, Scott. It's fine," He grunted mildly in pain and coughed. Water flew out and splattered onto his clothes. "Wh-when were you gonna tell me you were a..." He struggled to find the right word.

"Siren? Merfolk? I was going to tell you later today, but I guess you beat me to it. A-and I am really sorry about this."

"Don't worry. And besides," He paused and locked eyes with Scott, taking on a grin. "You have a nice voice. And the fins really suit you."

"O-oh." Scott's face was bright red with embarrassment. "And I'll warn you if I sing again. I don't want you trying to drown yourself a second time around."

"Sounds good to me."