Ending of Same Day - Supply Tent

 

Ugh, Seems I will be hating the rain more than I did in my previous life. Stating as I get back into the tent, leaving a trail of mud water behind.

I still remember when my hair became frizzy if the weather got at all humid. It was an infuriating thing to go through.

Especially if I had a meeting with one of the thugs, It took forever to get the hair back to normal.

 

While having a minor flashback, I wring myself out, trying to feel for any signs of dampness. Then wring further to remove them where I felt the sensations.

Though I was expecting some difficulty, its... surprisingly easy to tighten my body. But I guess since I am just a piece of fabric, my surprise is unwarranted.

I am still a bit hesitant to accept this as my life now, but this is what I have to work with now and I can't just hope this world will give me handouts.

 

Wandering further into the tent, I avoided the front to prevent being spotted by the skeleton in the big leader tent.

Settling myself onto a large crate, one that is in relatively preserved condition, I call the Status to my view.

Glancing over at my status, I try to see if there is anything more to do besides using the spooky Soul Arts.

 

 

..I had hoped that I had missed a notification for anything I might have been given or given some tips on the status like video games at home.

But it seems my hopes did not manifest into anything beyond disappointment. After that battle with that pest, I had nothing left for my Soul Slots.

I had hoped since I was a Haunted Rag that there was something more going on besides being a nice rag someone left in the storage closet.

 

Though now that thought has come to mind, why was I placed into this frozen wasteland?

Did the universe decide as a humorless joke to grant me a reincarnation but by chance was placed in this body?

Or did someone or something have a hand in my arrival here? Wasn't particularly sure which outcome I would have preferred more.

 

Wondering what kind of being would dump someone as esteemed as I in this place and this form gets me a bit upset. 

Though it's not before long I simply choose to end that line of thought altogether.

As until I have solid proof for either conclusion, it isn't worth a moment of thought further.

 

There is no point in wasting time when I could aim to fulfill my dream anew here. Since I failed in my hopes last time.

If I can't become famous in my old world, I will be famous here! I state with enthusiasm, happily aware that no one can hear me or my thoughts.

I then stop for a moment, as I return to the problem at hand though... What do I do now?

 

---

Same Day, Some time ago,

On the nearest road beside the encampment.

 

With one last blow to the cranium, the battle ends with a hard crunch ringing out.

Travis stares at their handiwork, cracking their bones on their sword handle. 

As they can still hear the voice of the traveler that had tried investigating the town and had gotten their attention.

 

Said traveler is now a carcass on the ground, with his vital components falling onto the white snow.

With trails of scarlet melting snow here and there, as the carcass spills it out.

"This is a depressing matter no matter how many times I have to do it." It chatter's in the old Demon tongue, speaking to itself as it goes about its work.

 

As it finishes its looting and stands up, bones creaking and clacking as it straightens.

Staring at all the destruction it wrought as it begins to scavenge.

Quickly grabbing anything that seems valuable or usable for their group. Once it finishes the grim task, it glances at the sword it wields.

 

Travis stares at it as they compare it idly to their leader's weapon.

Recalling the heft of the great club as it smashed into foolish invaders previously. The scarlet ichor that painted the snow a brilliant red.

The melodious screeches that came after the first blow of its leader charged into enemy lines.

 

Wondering how the difference between weapons seems to make the job feel dull or exhilarating.

Finishing its work, as closes the lids on the crates as it orders the hidden skeletal servants to take it back.

They wait for some time, watching to ensure not a single servant gets attacked or ambushed, though nothing ends up happening.

 

Travis then carefully returns to the base, avoiding walking straight as they had while they were alive. While walking they stare at their former comrades, now mindless Undead.

They will have their minds soon enough. They just need to wait longer, Travis declares to themself.

We just need to carefully get the folks of the foolish light to come and be taken care of by everyone.

 

As they begin to trek deeper into the encampment, heading towards their leader's tent.

Travis avoids getting in the way of the mindless, watching as they meander around and aiding in offloading the supplies.

Though it notices once it draws close to the tent that its commander inside is busy writing down the reports. 

 

Travis takes a different direction then, spinning on its bony heel to a nearby tent.

Heading inside, to wait until his commander finishes the records, believing it will take some time, given the backlog of others.

Finding boxes stacked high until touching the canvas, they find a place to set themselves and wait to give their report.

 

Travis sets its bones down on the ground, careful to avoid crashing into the nearby boxes.

Careful in where it set's its weapon as well, ensuring it's within reach but not obstructing its view.

As it takes a gander at its Status Sheet, looking it over and pondering.

 

Finding nothing notably different beyond the Level-Ups and the like it slouches back.

It looks over itself, as it awaits the end of the day and the moment when its commander finishes his backlog.

As a short distance away inside the tent, the Otherworlder ponders what she is supposed to do in this situation?