Posts from Erthenia Auto-translated

Ah yes. A separate big thanks to Plesu for the abundant brainstorming during the battle. It's a pity that the script turned out to be stronger in the end.

Even Hugen survived?

But he didn't!
It's just that those who weren't resurrected won't receive bonuses if I restart, and the players continue with the same heroes.

Maybe Larte didn't die after all?...

I feel bad for my champion; I just created it, and it was already killed. So, if there's a chance to continue playing with it, I don't care about the bonuses.
But I still won't talk to Heaven and Arandor.

Could it be that Larte didn't die after all?...

Only in an alternate universe.

Aretz, I'm sure there are plenty of living Lartes in Erathia. It's just that Darstrom's Larte isn't among them.

Did you like the character?

Yes, he's really great. I hope he achieves even greater success in life.

Will he get married, have children, and climb the career ladder?

, will build a house and plant a tree. What else could one dream of?

For example, denial won't protect you from sword strikes.

You just need to find a decent weapon that can pierce both physical and magical armor, and one that can overcome evasion.

Kalevritia, Cross Village, twelve years ago

- It's going to leak, Pa. There's a hole here, look, - Jimmy shook the sack in front of his father's face.
- Stop making it dust, pht! Why are you shoving it in my face, you moron? Why are you shoving it? You want me to shove something back? Want me to shove? No, do you want me to shove? - the father snatched the sack from his son's hands and lashed him across the head with it.
- Ow! Get off! - James waved his arms, trying to shield himself from the cursed sack; he stepped back, hit the cart, hissed in pain, and stumbled forward, right toward his enraged father. The father lashed the son with the sack once more, then pushed him. The boy slammed into the cart again; the ancient, rotted structure creaked and collapsed, and all the sacks of prepared grain plummeted into the ditch, their contents spilling into the mud.
- God damn it! - the man howled. - You bastard! Degenerate! What have you done?!
He spat on his fist and delivered a hard blow to his son's solar plexus, causing the boy to break into a wild coughing fit and instantly curl up on the ground.
- A week's work! Scum! Cretin! God knows you cannot be of my seed, what an idiot! Gather it up! - James's father roared, kicking him with the toe of his bast shoe.
Hardly catching his breath and rising from the ground, Jimmy slumped into the ditch and began to scrape the mud with trembling hands, trying to fish out the small grains. Tears streamed down his cheeks.
- Search! Search! Search! Search for the grain, you beast! What are we going to eat? Your mother is dying; what will we buy medicine with? What shall I tell her - "sorry, your degenerate son can't do the simplest thing, so you'll just have to drop dead"? Search for the grain, you maggot!
The boy tried as best he could to sift the mud through his fingers, but the sun had long since set, and they were impossible to see in the dark.
- What? What are you mumbling there, it's too dark for you? Too dark? It's dark? Why didn't you say so right away! I'll light it up for you! - the father shrieked with a manic glint in his eyes. He had always been overly temperamental, but in recent years he had grown truly foul, constantly snapping at his son and wife, throwing objects at them, suffering from insomnia, and forgetting things, which only made him more enraged.
He grabbed the lantern they had been working by and struck his son over the head with it. If Jimmy hadn't ducked at the last moment, the lantern would have split his skull open.
- Well now, is that better?! No? How about this? - the father grabbed a handful of straw, set it alight, and threw it into the ditch, but it went out immediately. - No? Maybe like this?
The father grabbed a huge bundle of straw and hurled it directly onto his son, then threw the lamp on top. The glass shattered and burning kerosene engulfed the entire bundle, under the weight of which James lay sprawled in the mud. Fire licked his clothes, hands, and face; the boy let out wild screams while the father laughed insanely, raising his eyes to the sky and clawing at his own face with unclipped, dirty nails...

Grindania, Fortress Daggernight, present day

- Hrrr... hrrraaaa.... - a scream tried to break from the throat of James Odd, a paladin of the Order of the Black Eclipse and participant in the punitive expedition, but something was blocking it.
The Knight felt nothing but a piercing, terrible pain from head to toe. He tried to move and open his eyes, but he simply could not do so.
- Steady, son. It is all over.
A surprisingly calm yet unnaturally deep and majestic voice resonated as if inside the fallen man's own head.
- Hhhh...
- Do not attempt to speak. You have lost much strength; in your condition, it is impossible.
"I died and ended up in the Abyss," James thought. To his surprise, the voice answered.
- You are mistaken, son. You were a step from the precipice, but your hour has not yet struck.
The Knight tried to remember what had happened, but the same porridge in his head was too thick. The knightly order, endless prayers, the journey to Illinar, claws, croaking...
- You were not the most faithful follower, it is true. You associated with non-humans and did evil deeds. You are a patricide, after all. You deserve the Abyss.
"Father... could it be you?"
- No, but he has long been there. He fulfilled his mission; now you must fulfill yours. Rise then, servant of the Almighty, and see clearly.
And James saw. He did not open his eyes, but he saw a high stone ceiling above him. He did not contract any muscles, but he rose and sat up on the granite floor. He was in a vast hall cluttered with numerous bodies and bones. Signs of destruction and soot were visible everywhere, and a legion of rats, with vile squeaks, gnawed at the corpses.
"I remember. Daggernight"
James did not immediately notice that one of the rats was gnawing on his own hand. Pushing it away, he stared at his wrist - charred bones still had patches of burnt flesh here and there, but nothing more. He examined his body - a torn, burnt gambeson revealed bare ribs and horrific burns. Drawing a short sword from the surviving scabbard, James glanced at the reflection on the polished blade - a nightmare face looked back at him with sunken eyeballs, sparse patches of scorched skin, and exposed teeth.
- You made the right choice, son, - the same voice resonated in his head. - But the matter is not yet finished.
James rose to his feet. Strangely enough, his familiar sword lay nearby, as did his trusted mace. The Knight reclaimed his weapons and walked slowly through the giant hall. In a corner, he noticed a familiar corpse. Rats and maggots had already gnawed the flesh beyond recognition, but Faragar could be identified by his same robe.
- He paid a high price for his audacity, as did many others. But he is only one of a vicious circle. To break it, every single one must be eliminated. Your path lies south, warrior. And may the grace of the Almighty be with you.
The voice fell silent, and James Odd wrapped himself in the charred rags of his cloak and left Fortress Daggernight.

I can play endlessly when I have free time.

Noob.

Autists stand for ten hours over a mountain of corpses in a castle and don't know what to do.

That's all Arandor. I figured it out almost immediately.

And I, and I... I don't talk to Haven and Arandor anymore.

Well, what's wrong...? :(

A hardcore gamer.

No.

[/U]I don't mind taking a break, either after completing the storylines or prematurely ending them. And I definitely wouldn't mind a restart when Revan rests and, if he wants, continues to guide us through the lands of Erathia.

My position is the same.