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sensitIV
[ Everything fades to black...and you awaken in a run-down one-room shack
You're wearing raggedy/a regular/fancy versions of your uniform/servant uniforms, and a newspaper informs you that you are currently in %COUNTRYNAME%, in the year %CONTEMPORARY%+1. The newspaper is otherwise actually fairly unhelpful, aside from something detailing the results of a recent attempt at revolt in a city in %COUNTRYNAME%: worker’s success at managing a nearby gold mine led to dreams of every man being a king - the revolutionaries may have been successful had it not been for a concurrent jailbreak and mass slaughter putting local authorities on alert, buying time for military intervention - the town was nearly levelled to the ground, with few survivors.
...Also, below the main headline about the failed revolution, there's something about Those Who Crave Hands? Huh. Don't you remember something about that, actually?
Anyways, you've got marketing to do! ]
You're wearing raggedy/a regular/fancy versions of your uniform/servant uniforms, and a newspaper informs you that you are currently in %COUNTRYNAME%, in the year %CONTEMPORARY%+1. The newspaper is otherwise actually fairly unhelpful, aside from something detailing the results of a recent attempt at revolt in a city in %COUNTRYNAME%: worker’s success at managing a nearby gold mine led to dreams of every man being a king - the revolutionaries may have been successful had it not been for a concurrent jailbreak and mass slaughter putting local authorities on alert, buying time for military intervention - the town was nearly levelled to the ground, with few survivors.
...Also, below the main headline about the failed revolution, there's something about Those Who Crave Hands? Huh. Don't you remember something about that, actually?
Anyways, you've got marketing to do! ]
no subject
straight into the trash bin.
And then something comes in with you. Something dark yet gold, shining with a halo of brilliant and divine light. It raises its sword high, and the radiance nearly burns your eyes out - it’s painful to even look at, yet you can’t look away. You can’t move, you can’t run. You know - you know what it has come for, and you know there is no escape.
The blade falls, and your hands fall with it into the mass of garbage you’ve been thrown into - your wrists now bloody stumps. The golden thing sinks down into the mound, and you can hear it feasting upon its hard-earned prize.
At least once you’re back with the rest of your unit, you’re all sewn back together again - well, minus your hands. But the wounds have sealed themselves, so that’s good! And you can’t help but tell everyone you know - everyone you see, about those...who crave hands. And you tremble in fear, every time you see those who have hands, because you know what is to come.
And you know it is inescapable.
But this is nice, isn’t it? Another chance to be worth something! ]