Nure-onna
An honorable yet indifferent woman, new to the ways of the Overworld. Her warrior capability is only matched by her naiveté, ignorant of the customs of the people. But she will not hesitate to draw blood if it is to protect her interests (friends).
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A Scrap of Paper
This scrap of paper, if it can be called that, is tattered at the edges, tinged with burn marks, and crumpled. Most evidently, you can see the paper is dotted with splotches of dark brown. Dried blood. The words, however, are still legible, and you can see an unfamiliar cursive of Infernal. You start to read.
The beast is dead.
Somehow, I have slain it.
I recall stories of it, back home. With its jagged pincers attached to its head, its large red, almost unblinking eyes, and its large fists, capable of destroying boulders. An Umber hulk, they called it.
I have cut off a piece of its pincer, in recognition of my deed. I know not if anyone will recognize my achievement, nor if I will have anyone to show it to, but regardless, I have slain it. My side is bloodied, my arms are numb, and my face is covered in blood and I am certain that I will not be ready to fight if more come.
Kasho and Kawagishi lay at my side. Kasho is jagged and dented, in need of repairs, while Kawagishi remains pristine, if the blood and bits are to be ignored.
The tunnel that I've been following for so long continues further, if possible. I cannot feel the ground under my feet, due to the growing numbness I feel. The dank air is only colored by the scent of blood. Whether it's mine or the beast's, I'm not too sure.
I'm beginning to doubt the choice I've made, but there is no going back. And even if I could, what would they tell me?
My only distant ray of hope is a bright light that I've been following. It is cold in these caves, but when it shows, I feel the warmth, almost like a fire blazing within me. It is what keeps me going. When I see it, I lose all doubt in my mind that I made the right choice.
I know not if anyone will find these notes I leave. Perhaps they are my way of communicating to something, since I find myself alone with my thoughts so very often. I hope that my family does not find these, for if they do, I know they will be saddened. My brother especially.
I cannot tell how long it has been since I left my home. The seconds slip into minutes, the minutes to hours, the hours to days, and the days to weeks. This world we have come to acquaint ourselves with is a dark, desolate place, characterized by the beasts and beings that wander its crooked halls.
I only hope that the world above is a better place.
Nure-onna
You tuck the scrap of paper back where you found it, in Nure-onna's bag.
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