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File: Novigrad (Karol Bem).png (1.26 MB, 992x1424)
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It was a dark and stormy night, not that you knew or cared about the weather. You were too busy having been reborn from your past life as a

[ ] teenage McDonalds worker
[ ] mid-twenties office peon
[ ] middle-aged Hollywood star
[ ] retired garbage collector
[ ] write in

And now, here you were - a wrinkly newborn, born into what you would come to know as a peasant family straight out of a fantasy world. Expect, if you were living a fantasy, you wouldn't be placing yourself in it as a peasant.

Oh, well.

Where does your family live, anyway?

[ ] On a farm in the middle of nowhere.
[ ] In a village not all that distant from a city.
[ ] In the city slums.
[ ] write in
>>
>>6175573
>[ ] In a village not all that distant from a city.
>>
>A homeless 30something former retail worker.

>In the cramped home of a leatherworker in a small city.
>>
>>6175592
+1
>>
>>6175573
[ ] middle-aged Hollywood star
[ ] In the city slums.
From riches to rags.
>>
>A homeless 30something former retail worker.

>In the cramped home of a leatherworker in a small city.

Of course, at first, you know nothing of what's happened. Your senses are numbed, your mind confused, your body weak.

Still, it doesn't take too long for you to realise you've been reborn. The language is strange, but you quickly grow to recognise the voice of your parents and the babble of what must be your older siblings, even if their faces are still blurry.

After two months of slow improvement, you feel

+ Confident and excited for your future! A new start!
+ Furious that you were unfairly snatched away from your old life, no matter how shitty it was.
+ Calm and calculating. You'll be patient and see what this new life is like...
+ Ready to cry at every opportunity. What's this strange language?! Who are these people?! You want to go back!
+ write in

(ALSO, ROLL 1D100, BEST OF 3)
>>
Rolled 36 (1d100)

>>6175608
>Confident and excited for your future! A new start!
>>
Rolled 79 (1d100)

>>6175608
+ Calm and calculating. You'll be patient and see what this new life is like...
>>
Rolled 5 (1d100)

>>6175608
>Ready to cry at every opportunity. What's this strange language?! Who are these people?! You want to go back!
>>
Taking 79 for roll, waiting for tiebreak personality vote.
>>
>>6175608
>+ Confident and excited for your future! A new start!
>>
>Confident and excited for your future! A new start!

The months drag on as you slowly acclimatise to this strange new place. You're able to pick out a few words that you're sure can recognize now, mostly names, and you're not sleeping quite so much any more. While you can't properly control your limbs yet, they do feel a bit stronger.

Your father's gone most of the day - at work? - but your mother takes good care of you and the smaller, blurry figures that must be your siblings. Your swaddling cloths are clean, if a little scratchy, and your body seems as healthy as a helpless infant can be. All in all, you congratulate yourself on what looks like the beginning of a much better life than before!

>(79)

The only slightly worrying issue is that every now and then, you feel a slight tingle

> at the back of your head.
> in your hands.
> across your skin.
> through your eyes.
> write in

(Going to sleep, update tomorrow.)
>>
>>6175669
>in your hands.
>>
>>6175669
> across your skin.
We’re gonna be disabled, ain’t we?
>>
>>6175669
>in your hands
>>
>>6175669
>in your hands.
>>
>in your hands.

The tingling in your hands is small but noticeable, happening once a week or so. Still, it isn't painful, and you seem to have all the requisite number of fingers and thumbs, so you put it out of mind. Besides, you're far more focused on learning the language and controlling your limbs.

And bowels. Controlling your bowels would be great.

By about four months, things have improved significantly. Your eyesight is clearer, better able to see the cramped but clean set of rooms your family lives in, and your family themselves - yur parents, an older brother and older sister. Your mother keeps you close by her as she industriously sews various lengths and sizes of cloth, your siblings vanishing outside for most of the day. Much like the furniture, everyone's clothes are clean but worn and well-mended, likely hand-me-downs.

More importantly, they all look hand-made, from wool or cotton, rather than nylon blends picked up from a mall.

You're... starting to think you didn't just get reincarnated into some poor village in Europe or Asia.

Oh, well!

At about seven months, something interesting finally happens. Your whole family is together, scrubbed down and dressed in what you suspect to be their best clothing, more bright colours and less darning on them, as your mother picks you up, cooing at you.

Finally, they take you outside.

The street is dingy and smells faintly of various foods - no horseshit, luckily. The buildings themselves are a mix of wood or stone and plaster, shutters rather than glass windows, the streets cobbled. The people manning and buying from the stalls lining the road are dressed like your parents, which only confirms it; you're some kind of medieval peasant now. Yay.

Everything is so loud and bright out here - and you don't normally hear so much noise from the street, is something happening today? - you barely pay attention as your parents take you through winding streets to what seems to be a great church-like building, made of thick stone blocks and carved with elaborate frescos.

You look up at your parents to see their excited expressions, and around at the other people, many also with babes in arms.

Your siblings have vanished off to a stall somewhere at the back of the crowd, more interested in whatever food it was selling, but your parents are focused on you as a man steps out of the church-like building, dressed in long, silver robes and a tall, silver hat. There's a lot of gold braid, too.

Yep, it's religion.

>Roll 1d100 best of 3 to follow what's going on

ALSO Professor Oaks wants to know, are you

>A BOY
or
>A GIRL
>>
Rolled 11 (1d100)

>>6175883
>A BOY
>>
Rolled 80 (1d100)

>>6175883
>Boy
>>
Rolled 4 (1d100)

>>6175883
>Girl
>>
>>6175883
>A GIRL
>>
Back from work.

>80, bonus to future event
>Tied for boy and girl
>Your gender is concealed by the FOG OF ~MYSTERY~ or something

Mr Priest Guy, raising his arms for silence, begins his speech. It's loud and basic enough that you follow a decent art of it - what seems to be a simple greeting to the crowd, followed by some reference to the babies, judging by how all the parents hold up their swaddled burdens like showing off a particularly fine catch from a fishing trip.

Your parents seem excited and proud, if not a little nervous, as Medieval Priest Man holds up what appears to a short rod of carved white wood, topped with a thick length of wire intricately folded into a bizarre shape. It looks like a modern art sculptor tried to make a hyper-detailed Clippy like drunk.

It this is what passes for religious aesthetic aound these parts, you'll stick to secularism.

According to what you can understand, each baby is going to be touched with the 'Link of (something)' and be 'gifted with knowledge' and be 'something with the world'. This sounds kind of culty to you.

Still, the parents cheer, shuffling forwards in what they clearly hope will get them to the front of the non-existent queue.

One by one, name are called, and someone holding a baby pushes forward to the Priest, waits while he presses the wire to the baby's forehead - at which point the wire almost seems to shiver - and the baby immediately starts crying as the parent steps back into the crowd. Great. Above the sounds of multiple babies screaming, you can hear faint sounds of distant yelling, but too far to make out. Besides, everything here is almost overwhelming after your months of quiet.

You're clutching at your swaddling, wondering how much this will hurt, when your name is called;

>Mildred Corium (female)
>Theodrick Corium (male)
>Latigo Corium (your gender is ADVENTURE)
>write in
>>
>>6176167
>write in
Mauve Corium (intersex/hermaphrodite)
>>
>>6176167
Theodrick Corium (male)
>>
>>6176167

>Theodrick Corium (male)
>>
>>6176167
>>Theodrick Corium (male)
2j2x
>>
>>6176167
>>Theodrick Corium (male)
>>
>Theodrick Corium

Finally, the name you recognize as your own is called, and your mother steps forward, pushing through the crowd while your father proudly appauds with the rest of the waiting parents.

Bumping slightly in her arms as she climbs the steps, you squint at the priest as he gets closer. Like almost everyone you've seen so far, he seems European, and up close you can see his white hair and wrinkles as he confirms your name and lifts his Stick of Religious Significance to touch your forehead -

And a sharp pain burns through your head as you suddenly know all the things about your body that you hadn't before.
------
NAME: THEODRICK CORIUM
LV. 1
STR: 0
CON:
PER:
AGI: 0
DEX: 1
MAG: 2

HP: 5/5
MP: 0
------

> You have 1 free point to spend. Use now? If so, where?

You try to blink the stabbing pain away, head throbbing as you clench your toothless mouth shut, and above the priest's head, a flock of birds - no. Those are too big to be birds.

Squinting, you stare up at the flying things diving down on the crowd, yells of horror now emerging from the adults.

Not good.

>Roll best of 3 for your mother's reflexes
>>
>>6176518
> You have 1 free point to spend. Use now? If so, where?
Agility.
>Roll best of 3 for your mother's reflexes
What are we rolling? D100 again?
>>
>>6176539
Yes, sorry, d100.
>>
Rolled 54 (1d100)

>>6176518
>AGI
>>
Rolled 45 (1d100)

>>6176518
>>6176544
>>
Rolled 37 (1d100)

>>6176518
>>
+1 Agi
>54, minor success

You mother shrieks, face upturned to the descending flyers, and her arms clutch painfully tight around you. It was a moment of haste pushing that point you had into what must be Agility - if video games haven't lied to you - but you do feel like you're able to turn your head easier to watch as she stumbles back, then turns and flees down the steps towards the crowd.

The crowd itself is in an uproar, some grabbing for their partners and children, others breaking from the crowd and fleeing back towards the streets.

You don't understand most of the words they scream, but the noise is too loud for you to make out most of it anyway, let alone with your throbbibf head.

Above you, the beasts become clearer as they approach, and you can't help but stare.as wide as you can.

Skeletons. Bird skeletons, held together who-knows-how, with glowing yellow eyes and a thin sheen of something oily where their wing feathers would be. Each of them big enough to carry the armored person riding on their back, gray helmets covering all but a thin strip for the eyes.

Your mother spins you away from the sight, the crowd growing thick as they panic and try to flee around you both, and she calls for your father and siblings.

You just catch a glimpse of the first couple of skeletons slamming onto the church's stage near the furious priest, one armored figure drawing their sword as they jump off.

The priest raises his shaking ams and starts to yell something, which is rudely interrupted by the sword ripping through his neck, as more of the two dozen or so skeletons start to land.

Suddenly, the earlier yells in the distance make more sense.

You feel
>terrified for yourself. What the hell is this?! Are you going to die again?!
>terrified for everyone else. Is your family going to die? Oh, the humanity!
>furious. These bastards need to be put down. Where are the defenders?
>excited. This is just like your Chinese cartoons!!!!!!
>blank. This is too much. You've emotionally shut down.
>write in

Also, roll another 1d100, best of 3 for your family.
>>
Rolled 81 (1d100)

>>6176590
>furious. These bastards need to be put down. Where are the defenders?
>>
Rolled 79 (1d100)

>>6176590
>>terrified for everyone else. Is your family going to die? Oh, the humanity!
>>
Rolled 11 (1d100)

>>6176590
>furious. These bastards need to be put down. Where are the defenders?
>>
>furious
>81, good success, congrats on not being orphaned already

Your mother shoves her way through the crowd, buffeted this way or that, still screaming names. Everything now is a blur of rushing people and loud cries, but you can just make out your father's voice calling your mother's name, Alma.

Finally, you feel a sharp bump as your parents half slam into each other, your father reaching to roughly grab one of her arms and dragging her along through the crowd. It's slow going as people try to grip their own loved ones while seeking a direction to flee; from what you can tell, the skeletons are dropping down to land in almost every direction, herding the locals like panicked sheep.

At least with your faintly improved Agility, you can twist your head slightly to see your father's other hand is gripping the shoulder of your bawling older brother, whose own hand is latched on to your sister's. Still with the press of the crowd around you, and the panicked look on your father's face as he looks back to check on you all, you don't see any good reason to stay calm.

"QUIET!"

That's a word you recognize, at least. The word is roared again, and the crowd comes to a dazed recognition of the order, some stumbling to a halt as they turn to look.

Your mother adjusts her hold on you as your family turn to look, faces pale, to where one armored figure, a black crest on their helmet, holds up - you feel a wave of disgust run through your burgeoning fury - the severed head of the priest, his hat fallen off to reveal his white hair, neck still dripping steadily.

The next sentence he bellows, you don't understand, but it seems to be an order for attention or obedience, judging by how everyone freezes in place, parents shoving their hands over the mouths of crying children.

More speech follows, though you only pick out a word or two here and there. The other soldiers, mostly still aboard their steeds, ring the crowd, while off in the rest of the city, you can hear more distant yells and crashes. Glancing up, you can see more flyers dotting the skies, some coming in to land in what must be other areas.

+ ??? Language increased to Lv 3

Your body rocks slightly, and you realize how much your mother's shaking as she clings to you.

>Focus on your mother.
>Focus on the enemy soldier.
>Focus on the skeleton... bird... things.
>write in
>>
>>6176637
>Focus on your mother.
>>
>>6176637
>Focus on the enemy soldier.



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