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"I'm not going to lie, there are worse status quos to attain, but this is still pretty fucking low."

"I dunno Salt, I think you're new look suits you." Knife says with a grin.

"Gee, maybe if this sugar coated fuckery gave my my eyesight back, I could give a proper opinion."

"Hah, now that would be a mirical." Knife says, before looking at me. "So, rocking the robo-leg now are we?"
"Yea, I guess."
"Fair enough, not that I can mind you emulating me a little, it's a little strange, but I don't mind."
"I, wait, what?"
"With the leg." Knife says, pulling up the cuff of is jeans to reveal his own robotic leg.
", god DAMN it Trilby!" I yell, furiously hopping on one leg as I unscrew the robotic prosthetic before throwning it in Trilby's directions before storming off.
"Fuck, what's got his knickers in a twist?" Knife asks, watching me hop to a distant store.

"Other Knife, should I be glad that I can't see this rainbow-filled, seizure-fest hell?"

I fall over due to being hit in the face by a metal leg.
"Y'know, Knifes, you two seem to have a really bad habit of losing limbs. You should really do something about that."

"Eh, it happens. Besides, if I had an actual hand could I do this?" Knife says, snapping his metallic fingers and causing a flame to appear above his thumb. "And Salt it's not that bad, as long as you avoid looking up or at Nega Sigma."

"Sis, how many times a day do you regret the company you decide to keep? Experiences such as this heighten that feeling tenfold. Maybe twentyfold."

"Show off."
I point Knife's leg at Knife, then fire the in-built shotgun.

"Make that thirty."

Paddy the Second:
"I'm just a random guy some wizards sent over here to deliver this staff."

I sure hope this doesn't turn out to be like the opening to Final Fantasy 4.

Not necessarily.

"I see..."

More townsfolk arrive and crowd around, trying to console the girl. The man leads you away, trying to give her space.

"We sent one of our men to speak with the warlocks. Her husband. The staff was an offering of peace. If they have returned it, then they will come to our town by dawn."

"Sis, how many times a day do you regret the company you decide to keep? Experiences such as this heighten that feeling tenfold. Maybe twentyfold."

"Make that thirty."

"Why must you hurt me in this way?"

"Welp. Fear not good sir, for I am a mall fighter, famed across the galaxies for my heroism, when it goes right, and I will protect your town!" I wish the others were here.

I float past Salt, throwing rainbow sprinkles at his face.
"Caem ooon, cher oop ye groupmeh bastayrd"

"Salt, I'm armed. With a leg." I warn. "So, don't-"
I stop talking when I hear Nega Sig's presumably Scottish, definitely bad, accent.
"What's with the accent?"

"Ay for sure, 'tis the accent of my forefathers, young laddie"

"Gee, smooth Salt." Knife says, before bleeding out, respawning and snatching the leg from Trilby. "Don't do that, ok?" He says, bonking him on the head before comparing it to his current prothstetic.

"Because the subtle irony of this trickster shit making me depressed cuts deeper than any sword."

"Hey, I made that leg. And Knife gave it back, so that makes it mine, probably." I yell, rubbing my head.

I begin idly carving a stake by the corner.

"Trilby. Read up to the RW. You know what I mean. I'm not sure how to recover from the trauma."

"Eh whatever, it's to small anyway." Knife says, throwing the leg back. "Good craftmanship though, I'll give you that."

My tulpa is a blinding mass of clashing colours and deafening noise. "I guess dream forms don't handle this well."

"Sigma, is a fear of weddings rational?"

"If you've ever gone within five miles of a ASOIAF book, then yes."

I point to the braille copy of A Storm of Swords next to me.

A single tear tracks down my cheek.
"Salt why you do this. That scar had barely healed."
I set fire to a nearby Wedding and sit down to cry.

"I didn't...Robb, he...and then the Freys...Anyways I need you to do some...evaluating on something I picked up."

"..sniff..-sob-...what is it? -sob-"
I behead the groom as he runs past, trailing fire form his head.

"Given a certain holiday coming up I sort of decided to...acquire a card for somebody. I just need you for quality assurance. The guy who sold it to me said it'd work fine."

I hand Sigma the card.


I take the card and look at it.
"-sniff- Ummm don't you think she might be a bit weirded out by the Stalker thing?"
NSC slaps me.
I stab NSC in the face.

"...W-Wait, what the fuck does that card actually say?"

I make myself an Angel Wing and Children smoothie.
"Uuuh it says 'Stalker is such a strong word.' Then inside it says 'I prefer Valentine.'"

"Well, scrap that idea. Scrap the notion altogether, I'll just read more of this depressing novel instead."

"Nah don't give up hope. Write one in braille."

"...One second."

"Hey uh...Sis. By any chance can you read braille?"

I hold up a large spike made out of Anti-ghost metal.
"We could stab her eyes out. Then she'd have to learn braille."

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