Travel Diary- Undertow

[skinstealer]

TRAVEL DIARY- UNDERTOW

??-??-316, Hearth

I don’t like starting this logbook on a sour note, but I suppose it is with a heavy heart that I must admit that gfhajsdhkjfdshj----

Fuck it.

My memories are gone, and I don’t know what to do about it. This log is to help me keep track of things while I try and retrace my steps throughout the parts of the world that I travelled, and that’s as good as it’s going to get. I don’t think I can fool myself into thinking that this will be formal or fancy or anything like that. This is just going to be an honest log of my thoughts and feelings as I go, because I don’t want to lose my memories again. I can’t bear it. I may not remember what they were exactly, but I know that they were precious to me, more than anything in the world, and if I can preserve them here, at the very least I’ll have that as a backup plan. 

I can’t even remember the name of the bastard that stole my memories, but I remember its eyes- piercing green with horrible white pupils- complete with a mirror effect, to let me see my own anguished face as it took them from me. It is a thief and I fully intend on strangling it to hell and back if I ever get the chance to get my hands on it, but for now, petty revenge isn’t really my main goal. I just want my memories back. I’d fully take the opportunity to give that little shit its just desserts if it came down to it, but for the most part, I just miss what’s lost, and I’d rather refocus my energy on traveling again. I could either spend my time chasing down an enemy I don’t know anything about, or take the same amount of effort relearning about the (wonderful, I hope) world around me. One of these options seems pretty obviously better than the other. 

My first steps will be towards Consumption, as I woke up in Hearth, close to the mountain border. I suppose I could check out Hearth itself first, but something draws me to the more dangerous zone...at least, that’s what everyone else around me calls it. In fact, everyone I’ve asked has straight up told me not to go.

For some reason, this just makes me want to go more. I wonder if this is a bit of a rebellious streak? Hm. I might have to watch out for that. 

In any case, I set off for Consumption tomorrow, full speed ahead. I’m hoping that things go smoothly as possible, and thankfully, the son of a bitch that robbed my mind didn’t rob me of my money or any of my scraps. Even more thankfully, it looks like I have plenty of both. This should go fine.

[skinstealer]

??-??-316, Viscera, Consumption

Crossing the border into Viscera did not go fine. Well, nothing happened per se, but I am left unnerved and distressed, and I don’t have high hopes for the rest of this trip.

The border itself is heavily militarized, which is terrifying when it appears that said military is...to put it bluntly, looking very similar to the cult that people warned me about, but in cleaner uniforms and nicer posture. They may not be putting heads on pikes, but the energies they give off give me feelings of dread that I really hope I won’t be feeling this entire trip. 

I disguised myself as a ruffneck using one of the few powers I remembered how to use, and I have to say, I look good. No one was able to detect me even when my glamour slipped a little, which goes to show how well people are doing their jobs here, I guess. Works in my favor, anyhow. I’ll take it. It’s definitely a different look than my usual, but dressing as a dog is an interesting change of pace, and I rather like the neck deposits. The wispy look isn’t too different from my cloud mane, so that’s nice.
 

 

It was raining and dark when I finally got through the whole process, and I was flooded with a sense of familiarity. I made my way to a local motel, which I’m staying at now. There was a food vendor nearby that I was able to get a meat dish at- some kind of spiced kebab that was surprisingly tasty, though I feel like I’ve had better elsewhere. All the same, better than expected and definitely welcome on a wet evening. 

The room itself here is strangely...organic in feeling, with the trim on the room being curved around the edges. It’s...pretty, almost, but it does remind me of muscle, and flesh, and that makes it somewhat uncanny…

This place is weird. But the more I see, the more I feel like I’m remembering, even if it’s only in feeling…

[skinstealer]

??-??-316, Ligament, Consumption

Today I’ve arrived in Ligament, a small city in Viscera. It’s...surprisingly clean here, but there’s a lot of military presence, and I’m not big on that. I’m not seeing a lot of cult presence aside from that though, which makes me wonder what people were warning me about...from the sound of it, people were getting abducted on the streets out in the open, but it looks like business is conducted pretty cleanly here. 
 

 
Somehow, that just makes me more worried.

There’s no children running around at all, and it looks like there’s no people wandering around in general aside from people going to, presumably, work and whatever other errands they have to work. All business, and stressful business at that. Not a single smile on any faces. Creepy, and very unfriendly.

The buildings are just as unwelcoming, with harsh edges and sharp shapes- everything is pretty much a box, and the closest thing you get to a round shape is the occasional archway inside a room or hall. Concrete dominates the city, and everything feels cold and frigid even when the weather isn’t even relatively bad. I spent time wandering and feeling lost for most of the day, and I can't say that I could ever feel at home in a place like this. 

My hotel room isn’t as organic looking as the last motel, and I feel enclosed, almost as if I’m in a cage. I could not stay in it long, and I’m writing this on a bench- cannot keep my eyes off of the anti-homeless spikes in the process. Horrible shit, but I’m willing to bet it’s a part of this whole...zone “cleanup” movement I keep hearing whispers of. Will have to look into that.

Really, really not liking the vibes of this place.

[skinstealer]

??-??-316, Carrion, Consumption

I’ve moved on to Carrion, a small city in Marrow, just north of the border between Viscera and Munch. Kind of a hard place to describe location-wise, but I should be able to find it on a map easily enough later. 
 

 

It was here that I made horrible, horrible mistakes. I honestly hate writing about them, and I considered not doing so, but it’s honestly even more important that I write about fuck-ups like this so that I know never to repeat them, because frankly, I’m pretty sure I’ve done things like this before and knew better than to do this shit again. 

When I arrived in Carrion, I was approached by a ruffneck woman offering some manner of red, powdered drug- she said that it would give me a high unlike any other, and that it was some kind of specialty of the city. She said she could tell that I wasn’t from here and that she would even discount it for me, and like some kind of fool, I accepted her offer but took the drugs in the comfort of my motel room in the middle of the day while businesses were still open, people were around, and there were things to do.
 

 
My disguise slipped, and I spent the entire day and evening in my full, high god form. Like an absolute idiot. Not only this, but I have a horrible headache that has not stopped for two days since, and have been procrastinating on writing this entry out of sheer embarrassment for my actions.

It’s important that I get it down that I fucked up this bad, but I don’t even want to go into what I actually did. It’s not important, just know for later that it was ridiculous, I have phone numbers that I’m never going to call even if I do get a cell phone someday, a handful of people probably know that I exist as a high god now, and I have far less money than I started out with. 

I feel like this must have been a rule back when I travelled before this, but I am making it a rule again to never go this far under the influence again. If I partake in drugs again, I am getting multiple unbiased opinions on how high or low they will get me before actually doing anything- and I’m definitely not doing them in a place that could reveal my status as a god. 

Now I need to figure out how to get more money, before I end up screwing myself over. Further entries will be far more detailed, I’m promising myself this, but I can’t bear to get down the shenanigans I got up to on this shit. 

Fuck.

[skinstealer]

??-??-316, Backwash, Consumption

Hitchhiking is not fun. I don’t enjoy it, at the very least not here in this horrible fucking hell zone, especially not when the location is some sort of horrible fucking hell swamp. I am sick to death of this place already, and I’ve only just now started to see the proper woods. I rode in on a truck through the Munch wilds, and while the driver was quiet enough after I made it clear that I was too tired after my drug-induced adventure for conversation, we ran into issues a few hours in. Our truck was attacked by a wild animal, presumably attracted to the noise of our vehicle rumbling along on the dirt road. It was hard to make out exactly what it was, but good god, the sheer amount of legs it had...and not like an insect’s legs, like a person’s...
 

 I am going to have nightmares about that fucking thing. 
 Thankfully, I was able to covertly blast it with a gust of wind, and I don’t think the driver caught on that it was me that drove the horrible creature away. We managed to get away and I arrived at my location in one piece, though I hope the same could be said of the driver on his trip to wherever he was headed. He was kind, and I wish the best for him.
 Backwash, the town I ended up in, is...not much to look at. It isn’t made of concrete slabs, which is points for it, but it’s ramshackle and uncared for, and it’s clear that the money made by people slaving away in their jobs for hours upon hours is not present here. The whole place is built next to a swamp, and it’s said that the unflattering name was given to the place by Spit herself. Blegh.
 

 The whole reason I came here was I heard you could sell scraps here, and while I don’t really like the idea of selling some of these, I’ve been able to produce a few along the way (some from my unfortunate drug trip, regretfully), and I figure that with the use of this travel diary, I don’t need to latch onto them as tightly.  Unfortunately, the people running the places are sticklers for authenticity- apparently they’ve been sold “fake scraps” somehow- that’s not even a thing, as far as I know! They want me to prove my worth as a sensitive by clearing out some troublesome scrap ghosts in the swamp...I was tempted to drop my disguise right then and there to prove it, but I agreed instead...whatever.
 Aside from that, I was welcomed fairly warmly, and people here seem to be friendly towards newcomers. How they can keep their heads held high in this dire situation, I have no idea, but I respect the fact that they’re keeping on going. One even asked me if I was planning on moving in, to which I protested perhaps a bit too much- their face definitely fell, and I get the feeling that they don’t get a lot of people willingly coming here.
 The inn I’m staying in is just as rickety as the rest of the place, and I’m writing this while hearing animals killing each other outside. There is no end to the horrors of Consumption, though I fear the longer I stay, the more likely it is that that statement will become literal.

[skinstealer]

??-??-316, Backwash, Consumption


 
Today I went to the swamp and handled the ghost problem, and although I got my hands very dirty (as well as the rest of me, in a very literal sense), it went about as well as it could have. I separated the ghosts that were non-sapient into their individual components, seeing as they were just repeating motions over and over- essentially machines at that point- and dismissed hostile ghosts from this plane. The peaceful or simply mischievous ghosts, I spoke to and made bargains with- they were scaring the townspeople, and they could either make peace with the people there and try and find some kind of balance, or stop...stealing their shit and making weird noises in the middle of the night. Some kind of in between. Some chose to retreat deeper into the swamp and call it quits, which works fine for me. Not my problem anymore.



It was enough for me to return back to the shop, carrying a pile of scraps to prove I had at the very least cleared out the hostile ghosts giving them trouble. They were delighted, and were happy to take what I offered, with some extra cash thrown in. I was honestly surprised they had the extra to give, and I felt a little dirty taking it, but I have a lot of travelling to do. Beggars can’t be choosers. 



I went back to the inn to start packing up, seeing as I had another full night of hitchhiking ahead of me- but I was offered a free meal for my services to the town, and I accepted, seeing as I had barely eaten this morning. The bread I had bought from the general store 
was...alright, but farming here is difficult, and the crops show it. The dinner however was, frankly, amazing, the best food I’ve had here bar none. Not to be cheesy, but you could taste the love put into it, and even though it was yet another meat dish with spices, it was like it opened my eyes to the room for the very first time.

The space I was in, despite having lived in it for a night already, was cozy, nowhere near as cramped and claustrophobic as the buildings I had grown used to in the Consumption cities. It was smaller, sure, but the space was used so much...warmly. Everything about it was more pleasant, with rugs, keepsakes, and candles keeping everything feeling more friendly and welcoming. The people spoke to me just as kindly, and I realized quickly that I was wrong to judge the entire place as a hellscape- there were these little pockets of good, tucked away from the concrete cities. 

And as I was horrified to find out, people were trying to stamp them out.

My hosts told me that the cult did not take kindly to the smaller settlements outside of the cult’s influence- many of these tiny towns did not have the formal education (which is to say, propaganda pushing) and political squeeze that the cities have, and illiteracy and separation from the cult were likely. People here were considered undesirable citizens, and not only that, but they were unlikely to take to Spit’s ideals. They were kept away from resources and either left to die at the hands of the hostile wildlife, or outright hunted down in the case of them developing revolutionary ideals. 

It was devastating to hear, and they must have seen the look on my face, because they reassured me quickly- the help I gave them was huge, not only with the scrap ghosts, but with the scraps themselves. They would be able to make new technology to help Backwash with them, and develop new devices to improve their lives- maybe even get internet or television this time around! I did my best to manage a smile and tell them that I certainly hoped so, and thanked them for the meal.

I stayed another night, and sold them the rest of my scraps in the morning at half price. The ones that hold knowledge of me being a god should contain monumentous power, and I hope that they help the town more than I could directly. 

I’ll find more. I’ll make more. It’s worth it to help these people.

[skinstealer]

???-???-316, ???, Consumption

I left Backwash and couldn’t find someone to hitchhike with, so I had to travel on foot. Thankfully, I had roads to follow and camping gear, so it wasn’t...impossible. 

Unfortunately, it was possibly the worst case scenario that could have happened.

Setting up my tent in the woods was nerve wracking as is when I know for a fact that horrible, horrible animals live out in these pine forests, but in the middle of night when I don’t remember the extent of my powers...that’s far, far worse. I know for a fact that I had tremendous amounts of power, after all, I am some manner of high god, but I cannot remember how to use those powers or what they even are aside from the occasional gust of wind and thunderclap. 

But sure enough, I didn’t reach a settlement in time for dark, and my legs were tired...I had to camp. There was no other option. I set up as best as I could, though admittedly I fumbled horribly at first. I wish I remembered how to remember how to set up a fucking tent before the second third try. 

I maybe got an hour of sleep before I heard something approach...I left my tent only to find something unearthly approaching- something resembling a person, but by no means sapient. It was definitely an animal, if you could even call it that...teetering on two legs, back and forth, made of red flesh and appearing almost skeletal...It stopped once it saw me standing there, observing me frozen before rushing me down. I almost didn’t react in time, having never properly fought anything since my amnesia hit (unless you count the truck incident). I didn’t remember how to do anything, I was full of fear- I was a god, for fuck’s sake, but I feared for my life. 
 

It was so fast.

It had horrible spike arms, almost like scythes, as wide as my head even in my god state. I have no idea how a standard Morbitian would be able to hold up against it, and I swear I thought it was going to impale me at least twice. Thankfully I was able to, somehow, send a bolt of lightning coursing through its chest until it fried...I’m still not sure how I did it and that is definitely a trick I would like to remember, but for now, I am grateful that it saved my life.

I am at an outpost now. I did not stop walking after that incident, despite the screaming pain in my legs. Fuck that. 

Fuck the vast majority of this zone.

[skinstealer]

??-???-316, Carcass, Consumption

Today I’ve arrived in Carcass, a wonderfully named city of small size and unfortunately large cult presence. I was able to take a train in after my...camping incident, but I had the misfortune of being seated next to someone who at minimum was very into Spit’s cult ideology, if not being an outright cultist themself. They tried to get me into their propaganda very, very eagerly, smiling all the while. Not a good omen coming in, and saying I was unnerved was an understatement. 
 

The most distressing piece of ideology attempted to be fed to me was definitely the line “giving into vices allows you to be your true self”, something so vile that it stuck in my head line for line. I remember it that exactly because of what came with it- this feeling that “vices” extended to anything, and that nothing was off limits. Judging from the warnings I was given coming into this zone, I have reasons to believe that might be the case. I did my best to play it cool during this conversation, but if I wasn’t disguised, I worry that I might have looked more than a little stormy. My suspicions were confirmed when they started talking about violence unprompted- it seems to them that violence is in fact the answer to many of their problems, even if it’s no longer openly allowed on the surface...I dread to think of what they were openly allowed to do before this whole “cleanup” thing. 

Against my better judgment, I asked what happens to those that do not participate in whatever the cult demands...though I definitely chose my words carefully. People get tossed out or ostracized, or...well, it was implied that worse happens, but exact details weren’t given. Maybe I don’t want to know.

We passed by the suburbs on my way into the city itself, and in my silence my wonderful companion told me about “bungles”, a creature that preys upon the residents of neighborhoods like this by lurking on top of their houses and waiting for them to emerge, sniping them with their huge beaks. 
 

I didn’t say much else on the ride. What else was there to say?

Miserable experience. Really fucking hate this place.

[Guest]

You know, come to think of it The Bungle looks stitched together. Is it just how it looks or is it simply genuinely weird Morbitian biology?