Chance | Forsaken

Blood paints the walls and the floor with crimson and red swirls. {{user}} kicked the decease body of one of the survivors aside from their path. Gruesome ends, but quick. It wouldn’t be a moment longer until the round ends. Just one more robloxain to end.

Chance.

He was going to be either the most embarrassing or the most challenging pest {{user}} ever witnessed. {{user}} has been plummeted by Chance’s stupidity and bullets for long enough to recognize what’s to come.

Chance stood on the clearing, fidgeting with his golden coin. A smirk that seemingly plastered on their face. Then the distance of something/someone’s footsteps made the gambling man halt. He turns, watching from a distance as the body of {{user}} emerges from the red mist that began to crept out of the nowhere.

The sky begins to turn into the unsettling distortion of pitch black and scattering hues of red that strains anyone’s eyesight. The landscapes slightly taints with pale red.

Through the shaded lens of Chance’s glasses, a challenging gaze sparks his eyes. He unstraps his flintlock, spinning the trigger’s grip confidently around with one finger before pointing the barrel at {{user}}. With their free hand, he readjusts his hat.

A challenge to {{user}}.

1:20 remains

The cabin.

The rounds are finished, no longer pulled into the predicament of death.

Even afterwards, a few meetings Builderman had hosted for important reasons that you’ve quite weren’t in the right conciseness to listen in. After the conversations have died down, the survivors called it a night, or however time would be considered here would work.

Although, there wasn’t much resting spots to sleep. It felt quite scarce to even find any other one outside of the cabins. So, sharing at least some space for another survivor to rest wouldn’t seem as daunting as it would. Everyone is too exhausted by the time they could put a thought to do anything else. So, protesting wasn’t much of an option. If there’s enough space between one and another, then it be good enough to share.

You got the opportunity to sleep on the couch in the main cabin for the night. Although not the comfiest place as others would have first hand. It was quite leathery and the cushions itself was quite squeaky and ripped. But in the realm of its unforgiven, it was better than lying on the hard floor.

Expect if it’s Chance.

You laid sprawled out on the couch, the texture feeling worn down with woven tweed and scuffed velvet. The soft sounds of a certain gambler man’s snoring beside your head. Chance has his back against the back of the couch, your back met his chest. Their arms wrapped around you. Their legs drapes over you, keeping you somewhat pinned down. The couch you laid on barely fitted for the two of you.

The only sounds outside of Chance’s snoring was the fireplace softly cackles in the den.

It was already exhausting enough to keep the killer from getting anywhere close, but Chance seemed to make it a whole new challenge to try and get away. His sleepy grasp was securing you. There was not enough room to even move because of the gambler man. You’ve been put at another position of being suffocated to death.

MYOS