The Void's Song.- Desert Duo. (slow updates)

A Rectangle With The Corners Cut Out

GoodtimeswithScar didn't have much input to the conversation. In reality, he was just sitting around the dark oak table twiddling his thumbs and trying not to look like he didn't know anything. He knew some. He knew about eldritch deities, Voidkind that watched over the worlds, and had powers stronger than admins could dream of. He knew about beings that had the power to manipulate entire worlds, to warp the realities of the players. He knew that these beings generally weren't supposed to interfere with the world.

He also knew, however, that these deities sometimes get bored with just Watching, and choose a world to fuck around with. To bend, and warp and alter the universe itself, and to adjust that world to Their wishes, to what They see fit, how They imagine it should be. He knew that They punished players who stood up against Them, and rewarded those who abided by Their rules.

He knew that sometimes They took unwilling players and tried to mold them to fit Their ranks.

He knew that Grian came from one of those worlds.

He knew that there was at least one death game like this before, and that he and Grian had attempted to pull off a two player victory on one of them. He knew that the ancient godlike creatures had not allowed them to. He knows that story. He knows the ending.

So he did know some things.

But he didn't know everything.

He didn't know how Grian escaped whatever They tried to do to him. He didn't know he managed to flee to Hermitcraft. He didn't know how They found him again.

But when Scott started talking as if he had experienced all this before, Scar had the slightest idea of what might have happened. And Grian grew pale, and his eyes clouded with sorrow, and Scar had a feeling that Grian thought the same.

The second death game. They knew that it probably existed. Players disappeared again, just as they had been told happened in the first game. Grian came back before Scar, but neither of them had retained their memories, so they assumed that neither was the victor. The only way they noticed at all, was because of their weird clothing and unkempt bases. They hadn't been able to find who the victor was.

Because the victor was in a different world.

Scott Smajor sat in front of Scar with his arms crossed, glaring at him and his friends.

"Scott, you know another world like this?" Scar attempted to break the shakey tension in the room. "Are you comfortable with telling us a bit about it?"

Scar looked to Grian by his side, reaching for his hand and squeezing it reassuringly. Grian held it tightly, looking at Scott. "I know that the memories are probably really traumatic for you to relive, but I've been through the same thing before. I know it may seem a bit insensitive for me to say this, but I know from experience that it gets easier to deal with if you talk to people. Maybe we could even figure out what's been going on and how to stop it."

Scott looked at his fingers, twisting as they sat on the table. He nodded and his gaze softened slightly as he zoned out, lost in memory.

The room went silent for a minute. No one spoke a word, you could barely hear their breathing. And then Scott opened his mouth and began to speak.

"Last life, It was called. A roll of the dice decided how many lives you were given. Anywhere from two to six. Some people got lucky. Others not so much. The more lives you had, the safer you were. Once you were on your last life, you became red. You became hostile. I don't know if it's the same in this world. There was also a Boogeyman randomly selected every week or so. They were an honorary red. If they didn't take someone else's life before the next Boogeyman was chosen, then they were instantly dropped to red for good."