Waves, lapping at the shore. The sound of seabirds, shrieking at each other over scraps of morsels. The sound wasn't quite right; it was the grinding of metal metal, a shrieking cacophony. The water bit and chewed at the shore, which writhed in agony, digging away at the core of the world. Relief came in bits and pieces, in the ebbing of the pain as the waves receded, in the steam whistle of a scream escaping a raw throat.

The pain was a landscape, intricate in details she had never been aware of before. It hurt. But she didn't need it to stop hurting; there wasn't anything but awareness of a pain that transcended suffering; there wasn't any room in her experience for a need for the pain to stop. It was, and she was.

And then it wasn't, and she took a breath, and the air was cool. She opened her eyes, and there was light, and color, and it was beautiful. Madelaine smiled.

Personal quest complete. You have brought justice to those who killed. You've reached class level 6!

Her smile immediately slipped. Right. This. She sat up – her chest was bandaged, and felt … numb. She remembered pain. Then she had some kind of anaesthetic? Status screen.

Madelaine Tegrile

Accursed

Wanderer

Level 6

0 Misfortunes / 3 Fortunes

0 Curses / 0 Blessings

4/41 Health

5/5 Mana

6/6 Stamina

2 Distinctions Available

49 Skill Points Available

35 Customization Points Available

Strength

Constitution

Intelligence

-3

-5

2

-2 Melee Damage Bonus

28 Maximum Health

39 Additional Skill Points

0 Maximum Worn Armor

-4 Damage Reduction

4 Maximum Stamina Points

-2 Deflection *

6 Base Armor

2 Spell Piercing *

Wisdom

Agility

Perception

1

5

1

2 Lores

6 Bonus Targeting

1 Reaction Time

2 Arcane Resistance

6 Evasion

3 Stamina Regeneration

7 Mana *

30 Movement *

2 Missile Range Bonus *

She considered. Closed it again. Okay. Assuming she died at 0 HP, she'd nearly died there. What had happened? Madelaine remembered … remembered … someone had hit her with a sword. A goddamned sword. She'd stabbed … she'd stabbed them with a sword back. Why did … where was … she sat up, breathing heavily. Shit oh shit oh shit she'd killed that guy.

A severe-looking gray-haired woman was looking her way. The woman was dressed in baggy brown clothing, and had a quiver and bow. And like a … a … a highwayman's bandoleer. Madelaine frowned mentally. That wasn't the right word. She was missing words. Later. She'd been hit with a sword. Who was this?

Elijah's voice caught her attention. He'd lived! Flashes of memory, of him struggling with another of the … bandits? The murderers. Struggling over a knife. His expression, when she'd fallen to the ground, feeling confused and a little alarmed about the amount of blood that was suddenly all over her. Her brain jerked back into the present. The ginger boy had moved over to her. He looked terrible; he'd obviously been crying.

“-ake! Madelaine, are you alright?”

She tried to respond, and found her voice cracking; her throat was so dry. And then she was suddenly overwhelmingly thirsty. The gray haired woman must have seen her hands go to her throat, because a moment later a canteen was gurgling, cold cool delicious water flowing over her tongue. It was good.

“Hello, Madelaine. I'm Norris. Is your home on Earth?” A thin gangly man, with a narrow face and pointed nose, and curly brown hair. He looked like a nerd.

“Yes? Of course?” Her voice cracked only a little, but even so, she couldn't stop the sarcasm. She stopped herself from saying something rude, because you were polite to older folk, even odd ones. Where else … what? Where … what? Her home was, her home was … “What?”

“Good. Don't think about it, can you do that for me? You are under the effect of some kind of ongoing magical effect that will erase memories of your home. It may or may not be reversible.” Madelaine froze, staring at the man. What, just don't think about it? And who exactly what that supposed to work for, somebody who just plain didn't think?

“Hello!” Yet another man, younger than most of the rest, except Elijah. Well, he was older than her, but she never really counted herself there. He had shoulder-length brown hair, hanging in ringlets around his face, and was wearing an absolutely ridiculous top and bottom that looked like two comically oversized hair scrunchies. “I'm Thomas. I'm also from home. It'll be alright, okay?”

Madelaine stared at him. He was lying. Not the kind of lying-with-a-tell, although that was always super-obvious even though everybody pretended it wasn't. The other kind, the kind adults always did to children when things definitely were not going to be alright, the kind they said to children because they wished somebody would tell them those lies, because she knew everything wasn't alright.

“Am I going to die?” Her voice was calm and flat.

“No.” This was the older woman, who had a reassuringly severe voice. Older people would tell children the truth. Somehow they remembered being a child better than those who were younger and should remember better. “You'll be okay. Your friend Elijah here says your name is Madelaine?” She nodded, and the woman continued. “Okay. So you aren't in any trouble, but later, I'm going to have to ask some questions about all the dead people. Do you understand why?”

“Make sure I'm not crazy.”

“In one.” The woman winked. Then her face turned serious. “Did you know anybody else here?” Madelaine had looked. She'd snuck in and looked. Then she'd started killing the bad people. It was easy; they were so fragile. Up until it wasn't.

“No.” She hadn't found the face that she couldn't remember. She now knew why she couldn't remember. How did you stop trying to remember?

“Okay. We're going to take you to a place to sleep and rest. You are going to hurt again soon. I'm sorry about that, but it's bad to keep the pain away too long.”

The landscape of pain lit up again. She begged for it to stop, for a little while. Then it became everything, and she was the pain, and to stop the pain would be to stop being, and being was so beautiful in its own way. Lucidity came and went. A nightmare and a wonderful dream, an eternal hellish landscape of fire, waves lapping on the shore of self.

Status.

Madelaine Tegrile

Accursed

Wanderer

Level 6

0 Misfortunes / 3 Fortunes

0 Curses / 0 Blessings

24/49 Health

5/5 Mana

6/6 Stamina

2 Distinctions Available

49 Skill Points Available

35 Customization Points Available

Strength

Constitution

Intelligence

-3

-3

2

-2 Melee Damage Bonus

36 Maximum Health

39 Additional Skill Points

0 Maximum Worn Armor

-2 Damage Reduction

4 Maximum Stamina Points

-2 Deflection *

6 Base Armor

2 Spell Piercing *

Wisdom

Agility

Perception

1

5

1

2 Lores

6 Bonus Targeting

1 Reaction Time

2 Arcane Resistance

6 Evasion

3 Stamina Regeneration

7 Mana *

30 Movement *

2 Missile Range Bonus *

She'd healed a bit. And the Curse was now gone; she'd traded in for three Fortunes and a Curse, figuring getting the wrong thing on a level-up wouldn't be that bad. Maybe that sword stroke hadn't just been bad luck. Oh. Her Constitution had gone up.

You have endured the unendurable. +2 Constitution

Madelaine swiped the message away, which had come up as soon as she'd noticed the change. Whatever. She felt … better. She sat up again, swung her legs off her bed - and stopped, frowning at the clothes she was wearing. These weren't her clothes. They were scratchy and brown and they didn't fit right. Where was … right. Right.

Onwards. The room was dark. And large. Huge, even. Light filtered from a doorway a few feet away from the cot she was sitting on; looking around, she could make out other cots in a row. A primitive hospital, maybe? Her foot brushed something cold and hard, and she leaned down to look. A metal … ah. A chain, and a … ball? It wasn't actually spherical, but it was definitely large. She nudged it with her foot. And heavy.

A fantasy prison, with ball and chain and everything. Like in her favorite … oh. Yeah, that.

The next sight jarred her memory a little bit more. A furry lion-faced man was looking at her. Next to him was the older woman, and the doofy brown-haired guy with the scrunchy clothes. Madelaine looked at the older woman and the doofy guy, then back at the lion man, and asked the first question that came to her mind.

“Are you a king?” The lion-man jerked back, staring at her for a long time, then looked at doofy – Thomas – she found herself mentally correcting herself, and … Madelaine needed to ask the older lady her name.

“I … no. No, I am not a king.” The lion-man looked distinctly uncomfortable. “I am Balier Mersin, and the correct title is mayor.”

“No, you're a king. Lions are kings.”

“I'm … ” again, the lion-man looked at the other two, attention settling on the older woman, who looked somewhat amused. “Anne?” So that was her name.

“Madelaine. We need you to tell us what happened.” Madelaine looked down. “We have the general gist of it from Elijah, there's just a few things we need to clear up. Did you summon skeletons?” Everybody looked very serious at that question.

“Yeah. It was gross.” It had been that. “But I wanted to try to help people, and I got so angry and … and cold. I was so angry and cold and I wanted the bad people to not hurt anyone ever again.”

“Okay. Do you have any other Necromancy spells?”

Madelaine didn't pull up the list. “No.” She hadn't. There were more questions. She gave a mental nudge, to look at her distinctions, reminded of something.

Class Distinction: Accursed

Special: You randomly get one of three available Distinctions for this class on each level. Use of a Fortune permits rerolling; use of a Blessing permits specification.

Class Distinction: Lucky Streak

You begin with 3 Fortunes and 1 Curse; you may gain 3 Fortunes and 1 Curse once per day

Class Distinction: Fate's Hand

Randomly receive two distinctions from the Distinction list

Class Distinction: Flippancy

Opponents striking you get +2 Imprecision, +1 Precision

Class Distinction: Pessimistic

You get -4 maximum MP, and +10 maximum HP

Class Distinction: Fate's Hand

Randomly receive two distinctions from the Distinction list

Class Distinction: Precise

+1 Imprecision, +2 Precision

Class Path Distinction: Free Will

You may reroll for your Distinction once per level

Fated Distinction: Dance of Death

You recover one additional Stamina per turn, and your maximum Stamina is increased by 1

Fated Distinction: Armor Expertise: Heavy

When wearing Heavy Armor, you may spend 1 Stamina to apply your full Deflection Bonus to your AC until the beginning of your next turn; +1 to Strength

Fated Distinction: Weapon Expertise: Rapier

+1 Armor while wielding a rapier, epee, or similar fencing weapon. +1 Precision when attacking with a rapier/epee.

Fated Distinction: Spell School: Necromancy

You may learn and cast spells of the Necromancy school of magic. +2 to Maximum MP

Distinction: Blood Magic

You may expend Health instead of Mana to cast spells; the Health cost is 3x the mana cost of the spell. +3 to Maximum HP.

Blood magic. She'd used a Distinction, when her skeletons had fallen apart, and she'd needed another. It had hurt. It had hurt so badly. But the bad men were gone. Madelaine started kicking into the air, when Anne paused her questions to confer with the other two. The bad men were gone, and she was okay, and Elijah was okay.