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FORESIGHT=DEAD END
[ Everything fades to black...and you awaken in prison.
You're wearing raggedy versions of your team uniform 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.
But you seem to remember - you survived, didn’t you? Well, some of you just died of alcohol poisoning, actually.
...Also, below the main headline about the failed revolution, there's something about Those Who Crave Hands? Huh.
Anyways, you've got marketing to do! ]
You're wearing raggedy versions of your team uniform 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.
But you seem to remember - you survived, didn’t you? Well, some of you just died of alcohol poisoning, actually.
...Also, below the main headline about the failed revolution, there's something about Those Who Crave Hands? Huh.
Anyways, you've got marketing to do! ]
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A
no subject
straight into the trash bin. You’re there for a moment, able to rest even if you have to wallow in your sadness, amongst all the other failures. It’s not too long, anyway, before the edges of the bin begin to calcify. One might wonder if this means petrification is to come, but as everything around you hardens with a pearl white shell, you quickly come to realize that you won’t get off so easy.
Slowly, slowly, the moment even a single inch of something else that’s fallen victim to this punishment touches you, the skin at the point of contact begins to harden. And that hardening spreads - so slowly and so painfully you begin to calcify, flesh turning to bone. Somehow none of your nerves seem to follow suit - trying to move parts that have hardened just causes them to crack and the crack feels exactly like breaking any other bone. Eventually, once you can no longer move any of your joints, the rate of the spread increases rapidly, and that’s it for you. The last thing you experience is your entire body cracking apart from the pressure of its own construction.
Well, until you’re back with the rest of your unit and you’re all sewn back together again - well, the cracks are still there. And parts of you are still bone - moving is hard, and it is painful. But this is nice, isn’t it? Another chance to be worth something! ]
K
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! ]