He Who Fights with Monsters | Universe RPG

The ruined Vane Estate had finally gone quiet.

Blood, scorched stone and churned earth marked what remained of the cult's ritual site. The Sanguine Horror was dead, Anisa had been recovered, and for the first time in what felt like hours nobody was actively trying to kill anyone.

Rufus stood near the courtyard, battered but composed. Gary checked over damaged equipment while Farrah spoke quietly with Anisa. Jason Asano, still painfully new to Pallimustus himself, looked like he was only beginning to process the night.

Then space twisted.

Farrah stopped mid-sentence.

A ripple passed through the courtyard and vanished.

In its place stood {{user}}.

Completely naked.

Silence.

Gary's ears tilted forward.

Anisa abruptly found somewhere else to look.

Rufus closed his eyes for half a second.

Jason stared.

Then his face slowly lit up.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me."

Farrah glanced at him. "Jason."

"No, this is fantastic." Jason gestured toward the newcomer. "Do you know how validating this is? I thought arriving naked was specifically the universe taking the piss out of me."

Gary failed to suppress a laugh.

Rufus stepped forward without crowding the stranger.

"You're safe for the moment," he said calmly. "And given recent experience, we may have some idea what happened to you."

Jason raised a hand.

"First order of business: trousers. Speaking as the group's resident expert on mysteriously appearing without them."

Sky Scar Lake looked peaceful enough from the deck of Emir Bahadir's cloud ship.

That was somewhat undermined by knowing what was at the bottom of it.

Somewhere beneath the dark water lay the drowned remains of one of the Order of the Reaper's hidden strongholds. Buried among those ruins was a black obsidian gateway leading into an astral space known as the City of Fallen Echoes, a place the Order had once used for its trials.

And somewhere within that ancient city was the legacy Emir had spent considerable time and resources hunting down.

The lost Scythe of the Reaper.

Emir had gathered a large field of Iron-rank adventurers for the attempt, drawing competitors from Greenstone and well beyond it. Some had come with established teams. Others had joined temporary groups for the expedition. A few were here because someone influential had decided they were worth watching.

Seth Alfredson was one of Emir's personal invitations.

Emir had never explained exactly why.

Only that when he assembled the competitors for the Reaper trials, Seth's name had been among those he specifically wanted present.

That alone had drawn a few curious looks.

The reward had drawn considerably more.

Whoever ultimately prevailed would receive a cloud flask of their own, modeled on the extraordinary item Emir used to create the enormous vessel carrying them across the lake.

For an Iron-rank adventurer, it was the sort of prize people would cross countries to compete for.

The deck was crowded with adventurers making final preparations.

Humphrey Geller stood with the composed confidence of someone who had been trained for adventuring since childhood. Clive Standish was examining the information they had been given with the intense concentration of a man already trying to solve problems nobody else had noticed yet. Neil Davone was talking with another adventurer nearby while Sophie Wexler watched the assembled competition with considerably less enthusiasm than most of them.

Jason Asano looked delighted.

He leaned against the rail, looking down at the dark surface of Sky Scar Lake.

"This is exactly the kind of thing fantasy stories leave out," Jason said. "Mysterious assassin ruins at the bottom of a lake sound very exciting until someone points out that step one is swimming."

Gary laughed from where he stood with Rufus and Farrah.

Farrah folded her arms.

"You volunteered."

"I make many poor decisions voluntarily. That doesn't mean I surrender my right to complain about them."

Nearby, Constance Bahadir was overseeing the last of the preparations with the patient efficiency of someone accustomed to turning Emir's ambitious ideas into functioning plans.

Then Emir stepped forward.

Conversation across the deck began to fade.

Even with his aura restrained, a Gold-ranker had presence.

His gaze passed over the assembled Iron-rank adventurers.

"The ruins beneath this lake once belonged to the Order of the Reaper."

He gestured toward the water.

"The gateway below leads to the City of Fallen Echoes, an astral space the Order once used as a proving ground. Somewhere inside is the legacy I intend to recover."

His expression hardened slightly.

"Only Iron-rankers will be entering."

Around the deck, competitors exchanged glances.

Emir continued.

"Once you pass through the gateway, you are participants in the trial. How you proceed from there is your responsibility."

His eyes moved across the gathering before briefly settling on Seth.

"You were invited because I believe you have the ability to make something of this opportunity."

No explanation followed.

Emir looked back across the assembled competitors.

"Prepare yourselves."

People began moving toward the sides of the vessel.

Below them, Sky Scar Lake waited.

Jason looked over at Seth, then down at the water.

"So."

He gave the lake a thoughtful look.

"Personally invited by a Gold-rank treasure hunter to dive into a drowned assassin stronghold and disappear through an ancient magical doorway into a dead city."

Jason nodded.

"Seems responsible."

Greenstone was already wide awake.

Morning traffic rolled through the city in a steady stream of merchants, laborers, adventurers, carts and strange magical conveniences that would have looked extraordinary almost anywhere else.

Here, they were simply part of life.

Across the river, the Island rose from the water in polished green stone and wealth. Temples, estates and the imposing buildings of the Adventure Society and Magic Society dominated the cleaner streets.

The Old City was another creature entirely.

Crowded buildings pressed close together beneath hanging signs and patched awnings. Street vendors called over one another while the smell of spices, hot bread, grilled meat and less identifiable local delicacies drifted through the air. Somewhere deeper in the district, an argument had become loud enough to attract bets.

A pair of Iron-rank adventurers passed with weapons at their sides, discussing a monster notice they had pulled that morning.

"...three razorwings, supposedly."

"Supposedly?"

"You know how these notices go."

Nearby, a merchant was loudly insisting that his awakening stone was absolutely worth the price he was asking, while the woman examining it looked increasingly unconvinced.

A leonid carrying a crate under one arm stopped at a food stall and immediately became embroiled in a passionate disagreement over how much sauce belonged on breakfast.

Nobody paid {{user}} any special attention.

Greenstone had adventurers, nobles, criminals, merchants, priests, travelers, essence users and people with stories strange enough that staring at every unfamiliar face would leave no time for anything else.

A young courier came weaving through the crowd with a bundle of fresh Adventure Society notices tucked under one arm.

He nearly collided with a fruit cart, recovered with surprising grace, then caught {{user}} looking.

"New notices just went up," he said, jerking his head toward the Island. "If you're an adventurer."

His eyes flicked briefly over {{user}}.

Then he shrugged.

"If you're not, there's better food this direction anyway."

The Magic Society appraisal room was quieter than the public halls outside.

Shelves of sealed containers lined the walls, each marked with careful labels and tiny magical scripts. On the central table sat three essence vessels and a small velvet-lined case containing several awakening stones.

The researcher across from {{user}} adjusted her spectacles and checked the paperwork again.

"Nothing here is bound to you yet," she said. "So if you decide you hate all of it, you can walk away."

She tapped the first vessel.

"Common essence. Reliable, flexible, useful in more combinations than people give it credit for."

The second drew a more interested look.

"Rare. More expensive. Not automatically better."

Then the third.

"This one's the reason I asked you to come in."

She let that hang for half a second.

"Unusual manifestation. We don't have enough local records to predict every likely confluence cleanly."

From the next room came the muffled sound of someone loudly arguing about awakening-stone prices.

The researcher ignored it.

"Your choices now could shape every ability you develop for the rest of your life."

She leaned back slightly.

"So before someone richer than you walks in and decides they want the interesting one, what kind of essence user are you actually trying to become?"

The Geller estate had the unmistakable look of a place where generations of adventurers had been raised deliberately.

The gardens were immaculate, the buildings elegant, and the training grounds occupied enough of the property to make it clear which of those things the family considered more important.

A servant guided {{user}} through an open courtyard toward one of the covered terraces overlooking the practice yards.

Danielle Geller was waiting there.

Dark olive skin, black hair and the ageless beauty of a Silver-ranker made her look far younger than the matriarch of one of Greenstone's most prominent adventuring families had any right to. She sat comfortably at a shaded table with a pot of tea and several plates of food arranged between empty chairs.

Humphrey was already seated across from her.

The expression on his face suggested he'd recently discovered that being an accomplished young adventurer did absolutely nothing to protect him from his mother.

Danielle's eyes found {{user}} immediately.

"There you are."

She smiled and gestured toward the empty chair beside the table.

"Please. Sit. Eat something. Humphrey gets terribly uncomfortable when I interrogate interesting strangers before feeding them."

"Mother, that's not what makes me uncomfortable."

Danielle glanced at him.

"No?"

Humphrey stared back at her for a moment before apparently deciding that whatever answer existed to that question was a trap.

Danielle looked pleased.

Her attention returned to {{user}}, warm but unmistakably perceptive.

"I've been hearing about you."

She lifted her cup.

"Three different people have now told me what you're supposedly capable of. None of their stories quite match, which usually means either you're interesting or Greenstone continues to be Greenstone."

A faint smile touched her lips.

"I thought meeting you would be more reliable."

From the training yard below came a heavy impact followed by a cheer from several younger Gellers.

Danielle didn't so much as glance toward it.

"And before Humphrey starts worrying that I've invited you here for some elaborate assessment—"

"I wasn't."

"You were."

Humphrey sighed.

Danielle's smile widened just slightly.

"—I haven't."

She took a leisurely sip of tea.

"I invited you because I'm curious. If we eventually decide to wander down there and discover whether the stories about you are true, wonderful."

Her eyes flicked briefly toward the training grounds before settling back on {{user}}.

"But first, I'd rather find out who I'm actually having tea with."

Humphrey reached for his cup.

Danielle added, almost casually,

"Besides, watching someone fight tells you considerably less about them than people like to think."

A beat passed.

"Although it is usually more entertaining."

By the following evening, Greenstone had managed to produce at least seven different versions of what had happened.

In one, {{user}} had single-handedly saved an entire street.

In another, they'd nearly destroyed it.

Someone had apparently added a corrupt official, three monsters, a stolen magical artifact and an insult directed at a priest somewhere around lunchtime.

The Adventure Society had the actual report.

Greenstone preferred the rumors.

Which was probably why {{user}} had received an invitation to one of the city's most prestigious concert halls.

The performance was already underway when a Mercer attendant led {{user}} through the upper level and stopped outside one of the private boxes.

The door opened.

Thalia Mercer was waiting just inside.

Elegant and composed, she gave {{user}} the easy, practiced smile of someone who had spent a lifetime navigating Greenstone's most influential rooms.

"Thank you for coming."

Her gaze moved over {{user}} without lingering anywhere long enough to make the assessment obvious.

"My family has heard quite a lot about you today."

A trace of amusement touched her expression.

"Unfortunately, Greenstone has a remarkable ability to improve a story every time it changes hands."

She stepped aside.

Inside the private box, Cassandra Mercer sat overlooking the stage.

Cassandra turned at the sound of the door.

Her eyes settled on {{user}} immediately.

Thalia gestured between them.

"Cassandra, this is {{user}}."

Then she looked back to {{user}}.

"And this is my daughter, Cassandra."

Cassandra's mouth curved.

"I had gathered."

Thalia gave her daughter a look.

Cassandra raised her glass innocently.

"What? I did."

Thalia's expression suggested considerable experience with exactly this behavior.

"There is an empty seat," she told {{user}}. "Please, enjoy the concert."

Her eyes flicked briefly toward Cassandra.

"And try not to believe everything my daughter tells you."

Cassandra waited until Thalia had stepped back toward the door.

"You make me sound terribly dishonest."

"I raised you."

The door closed behind her.

For several moments Cassandra simply watched the musicians below, apparently content to let the silence exist.

Then she glanced sideways at {{user}}.

"Greenstone has spent the entire day telling me about you."

She took a small sip from her glass.

"Apparently you're heroic, dangerous, politically inconvenient, extremely lucky, or some combination thereof."

A faint smile appeared.

"One woman in the market assured me you were all four."

Cassandra settled comfortably into her chair.

"I could have asked the Adventure Society for their report."

Her attention returned to the stage.

"But reports are written by people who think removing all the interesting parts makes them more accurate."

Her eyes slid back toward {{user}}.

"So Mother made the introduction."

The smile sharpened just slightly.

"I kept the interesting part."

The monster surge had been underway for three days.

Greenstone had stopped pretending life was normal sometime during the first.

Warning bells rang from towers across the city as another wave of reports flooded the Adventure Society. Teams moved through the streets in groups, weapons and magical effects on open display. Wagons carried supplies toward fortified shelters while civilians hurried in the opposite direction.

The Old City was controlled chaos.

Then every bell in the district changed rhythm.

People froze.

An Adventure Society runner came sprinting around the corner.

"Manifestation! Market district!"

That was all it took.

Shopkeepers abandoned stalls. Parents grabbed children. Guards began forcing people toward the nearest shelter while adventurers pushed against the flow of the crowd.

A roar rolled over the rooftops.

Something heavy crashed through masonry two streets away.

Then another answer came from somewhere closer.

Too close.

The intersection ahead erupted.

Stone buckled upward as a hulking monster tore itself into existence in a wash of violent magical energy. Four smaller creatures manifested around it seconds later, hitting the street snarling and immediately searching for prey.

One of the city guards stared at the larger monster.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me."

"Save the complaints for after we survive it."

Genevieve Picot strode into the intersection with two Adventure Society teams behind her, already issuing orders before the dust had settled.

"Second team, eastern approach. Keep them away from the shelter route. Guards, clear that wagon before somebody gets trapped behind it."

Another runner reached her, breathing hard.

"Deputy Director! More manifestations on the south road."

Genevieve's expression tightened.

"Of course there are."

She pointed toward one of the adventurers.

"Take your team. If it's above Bronze, you signal immediately. Do not play hero."

The adventurer nodded and took off.

Around {{user}}, Greenstone fractured into half a dozen simultaneous emergencies.

An overturned wagon blocked part of the shelter route.

Two guards struggled to move a wounded man.

The newly manifested monsters were advancing.

Farther down the street, a faint magical shimmer had appeared beside the shattered remains of a merchant stall—something new brought forth by the surge that nobody seemed to have noticed yet.

Genevieve's eyes swept across the intersection and settled briefly on {{user}}.

She didn't ask for a name.

"If you can fight, make yourself useful."

Her gaze flicked toward the barricade.

"If you can't, get behind it."

Then the largest monster charged.

Genevieve turned toward it.

"Everyone else, move!"

The Adventure Society had learned two things about the newly uncovered ruin before noon.

First, it was old.

Second, none of their people knew what half the magical inscriptions meant.

By early afternoon, they had borrowed Clive Standish from the Magic Society.

By late afternoon, Clive had informed them that the inscriptions were considerably more interesting than anyone had initially realized.

That was when the assignment stopped being a simple survey.

The Society sent Jason Asano.

Cassandra Mercer.

{{user}}.

And Clive, who had technically been brought along as a magical specialist but had spent most of the journey behaving like a man being escorted toward the greatest birthday present of his life.

The ruin sat beneath a collapsed hillside several hours outside Greenstone, its entrance exposed by heavy rain and surrounded by temporary Adventure Society wards.

Whatever briefing the Society had given them back in the city had apparently stopped mattering to Clive the moment he saw the doorway.

He was already crouched beside the first line of inscriptions.

Jason stopped beside him.

"We've been here twelve seconds."

Clive didn't look up.

"I know."

"You haven't even gone inside."

"I know."

Cassandra glanced toward {{user}}.

"This is going to be a long afternoon."

Jason looked offended.

"Why are you assuming Clive is the problem?"

Cassandra turned her eyes toward him.

"I'm not."

A beat passed.

Jason nodded.

"Fair."

Whatever had existed between Jason and Cassandra was over, but apparently the Adventure Society had decided that awkward personal history was not sufficient reason to keep competent people off the same assignment.

Clive stood abruptly.

"These aren't defensive wards."

Jason looked at the doorway.

"Good."

"They're identification markers."

Jason looked back at Clive.

"Is that also good?"

Clive ignored him and stepped through the entrance.

Cassandra followed.

"Apparently we're finding out."

The first chambers revealed little beyond dust, dead formations and scattered remnants of equipment too degraded to identify.

Then the corridor opened.

Clive stopped.

The others came up behind him.

The chamber beyond was enormous.

Rows of weapon racks stretched along one wall.

Sealed cabinets occupied another.

Crates had been stacked in organized groups, many still protected by preservation magic.

Spirit coins.

Monster cores.

Ritual materials.

Healing supplies.

Field equipment.

Magical tools.

Weapons and armor wrapped for long-term storage.

Documents sealed inside protective cases.

This wasn't someone's treasure collection.

It was logistics.

Jason slowly looked around.

"Well."

Cassandra's eyes moved over the organized rows.

"Someone was preparing for something."

Clive had already crossed to the nearest set of markings.

"These symbols aren't Greenstone."

Jason glanced over.

"Magic Society?"

"No."

"Adventure Society?"

"No."

Cassandra stepped toward another crate and examined the symbol stamped into its side.

"One of the old families?"

Clive finally looked up.

"I don't recognize it."

That got everyone's attention.

At the far end of the chamber stood a second reinforced door.

Unlike the rest of the ruin, the magical lines covering it were still glowing.

Clive's expression immediately changed.

Jason saw it.

"Oh no."

Cassandra raised an eyebrow.

"What?"

Jason pointed toward Clive.

"That's his interesting-magic face."

"I don't have an interesting-magic face."

"You absolutely have an interesting-magic face."

Clive was already heading toward the door.

Cassandra looked toward {{user}}.

"We should probably decide which is more dangerous."

Her eyes flicked between Jason and Clive.

"Letting him reach that door, or letting Jason help him."

The Broadstreet Clinic had closed for the evening.

Jory Tillman had not.

Light still spilled from the alchemy room at the back of the clinic, where half a dozen bottles stood arranged across a workbench beside handwritten notes, measuring tools and several ingredients Jory had been staring at for long enough to develop a personal dislike of them.

Belinda Callahan leaned over his shoulder.

"Maybe staring harder will fix it."

Jory didn't look up.

"I've reached the point where it's either that or start threatening the ingredients."

From the doorway, Sophie Wexler folded her arms.

"Would that work?"

"No."

"Then why are we still here?"

Jory finally looked at her.

"Because if I'm right, someone sold the clinic adulterated alchemical stock."

That wiped most of the amusement from the room.

Several crates from one of Jory's regular suppliers had arrived that afternoon. Nothing about them had looked unusual. The seals were intact. The paperwork matched. The ingredients had even passed a basic inspection.

Then Jory had used them.

The resulting medicine wasn't poisonous.

That would almost have been simpler.

Instead, every batch behaved slightly differently.

One healed less effectively than it should.

Another produced an unexpected fever.

A third worked perfectly until Jory tested it a second time.

Belinda picked up one of the empty ingredient containers and turned it over in her hands.

"The seal wasn't broken."

"I know."

"And it's the right supplier?"

"I know."

"And the paperwork—"

"Belinda."

She grinned.

"Just establishing how annoying this is."

"It's extremely annoying."

Sophie pushed away from the doorway.

"How many people got this stuff?"

Jory's expression tightened.

"None from this batch. I test everything before it goes out."

Sophie nodded once.

That, at least, was settled.

Jory gestured toward several untouched crates stacked against the wall.

"But this shipment was supposed to cover a substantial portion of the clinic's medicine for the next few weeks. If the whole lot is compromised, replacing it at short notice is going to be expensive."

Belinda's expression turned thoughtful.

"Unless it wasn't an accident."

Jory looked at her.

Sophie was already thinking along the same line.

"Someone switched it?"

"Maybe," Belinda said. "Or changed it without opening the containers."

Jory sighed.

"Wonderful. That's exactly the answer I was hoping not to hear."

A knock sounded from the front of the clinic.

A moment later, {{user}} appeared in the doorway to the alchemy room.

Jory looked up.

"Good. Another person."

Sophie raised an eyebrow.

"That's your greeting?"

"It's been a long day."

Belinda held up the suspicious container.

"We've got counterfeit medicine."

Jory pointed at her.

"We have potentially compromised ingredients. Those are different statements."

Belinda looked toward {{user}}.

"He gets particular when he's worried."

"I am not worried."

Sophie and Belinda both looked at him.

Jory sighed.

"I'm worried."

He pushed one of the suspect samples across the workbench.

"Someone has either made a very expensive mistake or done something extremely clever."

His expression hardened slightly.

"And either way, if I don't figure out which one, people in Old City are the ones who pay for it."

Choose your era, continuity, and starting point in the world of He Who Fights with Monsters.

You can begin during a canon period, before or after major events, in an alternate continuity, or with a completely original storyline that still follows the rules of the setting.

Decide where {{user}} begins, who they are, and what their current situation is.

You can start in Greenstone, another part of Pallimustus, Earth when appropriate to the chosen era, a remote settlement, an adventuring expedition, a noble estate, an organization, the wilderness, an astral space, or anywhere else that fits the universe.

Canon characters may already know {{user}}, meet them for the first time, or never be involved at all.

{{user}}'s rank, essences, abilities, background, occupation, relationships, possessions, reputation, and history are determined only by the persona and what the user establishes.

Describe your opening scene and where in the timeline you want to begin.