First Host

Chosen - Call again for the Crow.

 Roll - 100 (CRIT), required 20

(what the fuck this is literally the first roll. Also, do you want to see the rolls as they happen or should I put them as an author note at the end of the chap?)

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Quickly, you pulse again, and the crow stops circling, freezing mid-air before it suddenly dives downward like a black comet. It streaks through the desert sky, and you catch a glimpse of it as it lands on the sand a few feet away from you.

 It's the biggest crow you've ever seen—almost as large as a dog, with patches of bare skin where feathers should be and one eye missing. Its remaining eye glints in the moonlight, a deep, reflective black. It feels like greed, hunger, and pain all rolled into one.

It stares down at you, tilting its head, and you feel the intensity of its gaze. This crow is worn and battered, yet determined—an echo of something primal and fierce that has endured long beyond its prime.

With a caw that almost sounds like a raspy laugh, the crow reaches down, its beak closing around the ring. It lifts you up, and without hesitation, swallows you whole.

What the—?! You think, amused despite yourself. Not even Gollum was this desperate. You almost laugh, still invisible, not showing yourself to the bird… yet.

Suddenly, everything shifts. The world changes around you. It's not like moving or gaining new sight; it's like someone flipped the colors of the desert. The pale sands turn darker, the moonlight seems to glow with a strange, silvery intensity, and the cacti look sharper, their spines casting shadows that seem to stretch unnaturally. The crow's presence floods your awareness.

Whispers creep into your mind, tangled and confusing. Feelings that aren't your own mingle with yours, becoming a chaotic rush of thoughts.

(Shiny, mine, must find food, must find water…)

(Nest… safe… hungry…)

The thoughts overlap, murky and jumbled. You sense the crow's exhaustion, its parched thirst. When you look through its eyes, the world feels different. The sand, the dunes—they shimmer with heat, and every shadow seems like a hiding place for something unseen. The crow is driven, but it's on the edge of collapse. The hunger claws at it.

Flying, the crow drifts higher, and through its eyes, you catch a vast expanse of the desert lit by moonlight. The sight impresses you—an endless sea of shifting dunes and jagged rocks, like waves frozen in time. But it's less grand than when you first saw it, spinning through the sky not long ago.

The crow continues its flight, wings straining, until it reaches its nest—a small hole burrowed into the side of a towering cactus. It was likely made by another animal before the crow claimed it.

You can't help but be impressed. The height gives a perfect vantage point to spot threats, and the cactus's natural coolness, its water stored within, would keep eggs safe from the scorching sun. The spines act as defenses, deterring anything that might try to climb up.

But there are no eggs in the nest—only shiny trinkets the crow has gathered, small fragments of metal, glass, and other treasures it found. You feel a wave of loss and anger surge from the crow before it shudders and buries its head under its wing, the feelings fading as it settles into sleep.

Suddenly, the world shifts again. The sand, the nest, the cactus—all of it fades, and you find yourself in a swirling mist. The fog is dense, clinging to you, trying to drag you down. You push against it, and the world around you clears, leaving you outside a bubble.

Inside, you see a vision—vivid and nostalgic. The crow dreams of a time when her nest was full of eggs, a feeling of warmth and pride filling the air as one of her chicks pecks its way through a shell. She watches, eagerly anticipating the moment of life, and feels joy as the chick breaks free, its tiny beak and feathers emerging.

The image tugs at you, pulling you into her memories. You sense the happiness she once felt, the simplicity of her existence when the only thing that mattered was her nest, her family. But now, the emptiness of the nest and the absence of her chicks gnaw at her. The crow stirs, and the dream wavers, leaving you with the sense that you could change it.

You feel a subtle power, a connection. You could alter the dream, nudging it in a different direction.

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Change the dream:

- To shiny trinkets (If the crow finds these from humans, humans must be nearby.)

- To food (The crow needs to eat, or it might collapse, leaving you stranded in a corpse… in the desert.)

- To vengeance (The crow's eggs were lost, stolen, devoured...and the culprit shall pay - Gives access to fighting task)

-To something else (write in comments)