I focus upon the fire again, feeling an odd sense of familiarity. If I focus I can feel a sensation of proprioception, the sense of awareness of the position of one’s limbs and body. I feel the smokeless flames lick at the air at the same time I see them. Though my mind itself is still a mess, I vaguely remember a childhood reading character stats in games, and long nights as a young adult curled up with books filled with tales of rebirth.
I focus again on my body. The status reappears, not as a glowing window, but as an organized set of intuitive knowledge suspended within my consciousness. As I think, I find understanding comes almost as naturally as breathing. Pyrokinesis seems self-evident, so I skip directly to the first of my traits.
- The existence of a Will-O’Wisp is as fleeting as it is mesmerizing. Your vitality is slowly consumed as fuel by the ghostly fire that composes your body. Health will deteriorate at an increased rate as your stamina decreases.
My metaphorical eyes widen as I process the implications of this trait.
I’m dying.
I’m …AGAIN!
[FUCK!]
Come on, isn’t this the part of the story where the protagonist gets some cheat-like ability that lets them obtain god-like power?! Isn’t this where I get rewarded for living my shitty life selflessly and dying in a literal blaze of glory. I can still feel those goddamn flames eating away at my skin! Is that this fucking ability?! My flames blaze wildly, as the air around me grows warm.
[]
I swing a fist into a nearby tree, quickly realizing I don’t actually have hands. Still, the flame obliges, as a wave of burning plasma burns a thin line through the bark. I laugh internally as I slowly regain my composure. I’m not quite sure how long I spent throwing a (justifiable) tantrum, but I decide to get back on track. As I pull up my status once again, I notice a slight change.
Name:
Species:
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
Race:
Level:
Experience:
Health:
Stamina:
I curse internally at the unfairness of the situation, but decide to remain calm as I investigate the second of my traits.
- Your body is composed of spiritual essence. You lack the necessity for organs, storing your consciousness in a metaphysical core and don’t require sensory organs to maintain awareness of your surroundings. You suffer decreased damage from physical attacks, and are less affected by fundamental forces, such as gravity.
- You are a Quintessivore, a being that feeds upon the vital essence of other creatures. You gain increased experience from consuming a creature’s spiritual essence.
- Your form is composed of flames. You are resistant to fire, but take increased damage from effects which threaten to extinguish it.
- You are a spirit, and suffer increased damage from effects which target spiritual essence.
- Your form is sustained by mana and essence. You possess a natural aversion to areas where mana is scarce.
- Grants - Pyrokinesis (Minor)
Parsing the ability, I feel a mix of various emotions. It's not objectively bad, unlike a certain other trait. In fact, it may actually be quite powerful, but it’s unclear if the benefits outweigh the drawbacks. If I look at it from a literal perspective, it seems like I might take damage from the rain.
I sigh, only to find that I’m not actually able to exhale, and turn my attention to my surroundings. There’s no way of telling how much time I have, but I have to find a way to restore my health. From what I can see, there don’t appear to be any notable landmarks, but I also can’t see any particular reason to return to this place anyway. Choosing a direction at random, I begin drifting through the woodlands, searching for something I hope exists.
I wander through an unfamiliar environment, floating amongst gnarled trees for what seems like hours. A light mist wafts through the forest, granting a surreal quality to the world around me. Eventually, after drifting amidst the forestry for an indefinite amount of time, something catches my attention. A dull glow announces the presence of something in the distance. As I approach, I catch sight of a sizable clearing surrounding an escarpment. The light seems to emanate from below the ledge of the shallow cliff, hidden beneath the overhang.
Drawing closer to the precipice, I slowly become aware of a quiet noise beneath the rustling of leaves as the wind passes through the greenery. I make out the sound of something softly clicking against the stone, like a dog walking across a marble floor. The sound is quiet and irregular, with long intervals of silence between.
As I finally pass near enough to peer over the ledge, I’m greeted by both heat and light. A pool of molten lava runs the length of a cliff several meters in height. The protruding rock face curves along the edge of the magma, shaping the pool into a jagged crescent. At the far edge of the burning lake, I finally catch sight of the source of the bizarre noise: a small, hunched creature sitting atop a rock towards the edge of a pool of molten lava.
The figure cups its hands, letting the lava drip slowly from its clawed fingers. Orange veins run the length of its arms, pulsing beneath charcoal black skin. A row of sharp teeth grin rapturously between a pair of large, pointed ears and beneath a pair of nubs protruding from its forehead. Its eyes open slowly, solid orbs glowing the same burning orange as the lava at its feet. Its thin tail brushes away soot from the stone behind it as its gaze lands solidly on me.