There is a place for you among the legends of your people, and you have only to claim it. One day, they will tell stories of you, and your name will be a byword for valor.
(set: $purpose to "valor")
[[ go fight | fight 1]]
You were too young to defend them. They sent you out to gather roots and tubers, food was scarce that winter. When you returned, you found your village a smoking ruin, and your family lying in pools of their own blood.
The king's soldiers arrived too late. They found you, the only survivor, and took you in. Decades have passed since then, but you have never forgotten those who took your family from you - you will have your revenge.
(set: $purpose to "revenge")
[[ fight | fight 1]]
You are one of the common folk, but years of dedication have turned you into a soldier. You would give anything to protect your people, and your way of life.
(set: $purpose to "loyalty")
[[ fight | fight 1]]
You fight for $purpose, and nothing may stand in your path.
In the bloody chaos of battle, you find an opponent. He is dressed in the colors of your enemy, and brandishes a sword.
He weaves through the melee, and charges you.
[[ I raise my shield, and block the incoming blow | block1 ]]
[[ I strike him down | kill1 ]]
[[ I call for him to halt - surely there is no need for this | peace1 ]]
Your blade sings through the air, and cleaves him in two.
[[ continue onwards | fight2 ]]
Back into the fray. Bloody, bold, and resolute.
Another opponent finds their way into your path. They scream a battle cry, for their god or country you do not know - their tongue is unfamiliar to you, and charge.
[[ strike | kill2]]
[[ block | block2]]
You raise your shield, and your opponent's blow clangs off the metal. Your arm goes numb for a moment at the force of it, but you are unharmed.
Your opponent reels back, but recovers quickly and steps forwards to attack you.
[[ Strike | kill1 ]]
You hold a hand out, your sword still sheathed.
"Peace, my friend," you call out to the oncoming soldier. "Surely there is no need to fight, we might- "
Searing pain. The hot gush of blood from your chest, your mouth, your nose. Your knees give out, and you crumple to the ground.
Dark takes you, and you know nothing more.
[[ But my purpose! I would still fight for $purpose, if I could | heal1 ]]
The darkness fades away from the edges of your vision. You become aware of the battlefield again, the sounds of war and screaming slowly coming back to you.
A hand, a presence over you. One of the army's healers. Golden energy courses from their hand, into your body, mending your wounds.
"Back into the fight, soldier," he encourages you.
[[ A second chance! | fight2 ]]
Your blade sings through the air once again. You're becoming accustomed to the sound. How the sword keens as it slices through air, then flesh.
A thud as your enemy falls before you.
A victory! But that was only a soldier, and an army stands before you.
[[ fight | fight3]]
You raise your shield, and circle your opponent warily, looking for an opening.
He strikes, and you raise your shield. There, his side is unprotected! You attack - but it was only a feint on his part.
[[ Darkness | heal2]]
Back into the fray.
An enemy charges you. You know what to do.
[[ strike | strike3]]
[[ block | block3]]
[[ dodge | dodge3]]
A golden light fills your vision. Something hums through your bones, healing you.
You're tired. Your body aches. Nothing bleeds, nothing stings, but everything hurts.
[[Back into the fight, soldier! | fight3]]
You raise your shield to block.
Something hisses through the air. You look down at your shoulder - an arrow sprouting from between the chinks in your armor.
Your vision fades into darkness.
[[ I am so tired | heal3]]
You leap to the side, missing the blow entirely. But the churned mud beneath your feet is slippery.
As you hit the ground, your enemy finishes you off with a single blow.
[[ darkness | heal3]]
You leap forwards to strike him down, but the churned mud beneath your feet is slippery with blood and offal.
You slide to the ground, and he plunges his blade into your neck.
[[ I am so tired | heal3]]
Who is he, you wonder?
Does he fight for $purpose too?
[[ strike | death]]
[[ dodge | death]]
[[ block | death]]
Darkness. Finally. You're so tired, all you want to do is rest.
A blinding light, burning your eyes.
Hands on your shoulders.
"You're okay! We've healed your wounds. Back into the fight, soldier!"
[[ press on | fight4]]
Please, let it be over.
That light again, golden and blinding.
Someone tugs you back up on your feet. Every inch of your body aches, but you're not wounded - there is no excuse not to keep fighting.
The battle rages around you.
[[ return | fight5 ]]
Your opponent easily weaves his way through the melee, and slices through your defenses.
He leaves you bleeding out on the ground, as he charges back into the fight.
[[ peace, at last | heal4]]
Someone's brother, or father, or son.
[[ cut them down | fight6]]
They die. A meaningless, pointless death.
Another challenges you.
[[ slay them | fight7]]
[[ run | run]]
He falls, like wheat before the scythe.
$purpose, you remind yourself. That is what you are fighting for.
Does it still mean something?
[[ yes | fight8]]
[[ no | run]]
$purpose be damned.
You are tired. Exhaustion seeps deep into your bones. Everywhere around you, the dying scream and fall, only to rise again.
Over and over and over.
You turn, and see one of your healers bending over a dying man.
[[ flee | wipe2]]
[[ kill them | wipe]]
The next man to cross you is young. So young. Barely old enough to lift a sword. There is fear in his eyes as you stalk towards him.
You have to keep reminding yourself of that.
There are tears streaming down his face. He knows he will come back, maybe to face you again.
You're both caught in the cycle.
[[ break it | run]]
You rush the healer, and your sword slices through their unprotected body.
You stand over the two corpses. The salvation of one, and the doom of the other.
[[ turn away | wipe2_2]]
You drop your sword, and run.
If you run fast enough, they may not catch you, may not even see you. The battlefield is utter chaos, and one soldier wouldn't be missed.
Something slams into your chest, and the breath rushes out of you. The ground rises to meet you, and you lie still for a few moments, struggling to pull air into your lungs.
[[ look up | wipe2_2]]
A soldier wearing the same uniform looks down at you, his boot against your neck. His armor is decorated, glinting in the fading sunlight, and festooned with medallions.
A snap of his fingers summons a healer, who kneels beside you.
"Wipe them," says the richly armored man, and he presses a sword into your empty hands.
[[ breathe | again ]]
Everything goes white. Memories fade.
[[ open your eyes | Enter]]
You are a warrior.
The land has been engulfed in war for generations. Your king has raised an army to defend the lands of your birth, and you march among them.
What do you fight for?
[[ Glory!| glory ]]
[[ Revenge | revenge ]]
[[ King and Country |Loyalty]]