Heroes of hammerwatch ethereal wraiths
Fixed waypoint text issues. Fixed layout issue in dungeon settings menu. Lowered drop rates of items from mini-bosses. Multiplayer menu can now select levels above level 80 if you have any such characters. Added chance of bronze chests spawning in chambers treasure rooms. Archives now have less breakables. Archives teleports now only teleport players to a single destination. This destination now has an icon on the minimap. Removed healing bannermen.
Skill points no longer overlap with the key count in the UI. Balance[] Crimson Death now damages 2. If you are having new problems with the game please try updating your graphics card drivers. Added Tailor[] A new NPC has been added to the guild hall where you can change the appearance and names of your characters.
Each class now has a number of equipment color slots with different materials that you can change the color of, you will also find more colors in the dungeon. This change made it so previous characters now look different, in order to fix this the first visit to the tailor is free. You should feel the effects of leaving a skill unleveled.
These changes to classes should promote more active gameplay, and also allow for some new multiplayer class interactions. We have given every character a free retrain to try out new skills. Paladin[] Lay on Hands is now an active skill that will buff the Paladin and all allies in an area around the Paladin.
Flames of Devotion replaces Juggernaut. Hitting a target with primary attack builds up stacks of magical damage to all Paladin's skills. Aura of Purification is now an active skill that will provide an aura around the priest that both effects allies and enemies. Celestial Orbs will now fire at the same target as Holy Light which can increase their range. Ranger[] Flurry of Arrows moved to secondary skill.
Not a word. Damn yourself, why do you care? Silence, still. Steady breaths. You begin to wonder if he fell asleep the second his back sunk onto the mattress. But then you hear the lightest sigh. You just… grew so used to it. This version of Hoseok is too human. The tension is blaringly loud in the air, almost a physical pressure pushing up against you, goading you to do something. Turn around and face him. Let him feed on you to replenish. Your collar still feels sore.
Find another vampire and ask them to cure him. But at this time of day, where the sun is already almost completely uncovered, they should all be asleep. Then at least talk to him, something, before he resumes back to his normal self that you have to cower from. Was that too much to ask?
Too personal? And honestly, do you actually want to know the truth to your question or would you sleep much sounder without it? Instant regret. Of course it would be a sensitive topic. What else could explain the literal scars on his back that have failed to heal even with his supernatural abilities? There is a line drawn between you and Hoseok. There are boundaries, though some particularly vague and hazy, between you and each vampire, but the line is especially distinct with him.
None of them are your friends, really. Hoseok, one of the least of all. Curiosity did kill the cat afterall. Ma- You know, the opposite of sadism. Hoseok is a masochist? He enjoys pain inflicted onto him? If it were even possible for your blood to go colder, you feel a chill spear through your veins. Fuck, these vampires are dark. You vaguely understand Yoongi, how he lashes out due to self hatred.
But with Hoseok, you cannot fathom how or why he enjoys pain. How could anyone? There is an inexplicable weight, an intensity bestowed. You hear him rustle around to get comfortable, or maybe to inch closer to you.
Life begins to get rather insipid, nothing really Yeah, fight with demons, get wasted on werewolf blood, sure, pretty fun. You get his inertia, the lack of anything exciting him about life. But I am. You know that feeling when your skin gets cut, that rush of cold that infiltrates you? Before we found you. If it happens, it happens. He just wants to feel something. Like you. Food tastes blander, colours duller, sense of self starts to ebb away. Hoseok had been a cheerful man before becoming a vampire, one requiring extravaganza in his life, flamboyance, because his life was a show, the embodiment of entertainment.
How long did that take to crumble? For him to grow out of parties and parades because he realised that they could no longer fill that void? The fall from a life of exhilaration to one where you were only passing time is tragic. He has kept this in for a while, you can guess. And finally, you turn. In this darkness, you hardly see a thing more than the shadows cast around him. What throws you off is the heat emitted from his body. Vampires are cold creatures, warmth absent in their touch.
You try not to think about the werewolf blood still coursing through his veins to keep him warm, how it makes it feel as though a human lays beside you rather than the monster in actuality. As your vision adjusts to the pitch black, you are hyper aware of the stillness of the night that encases you. So silent you can hear the thrumming of your chest.
His hesitancy has a depressive tone to it, it is somehow so genuine, rather than for dramatic effect like one would expect from him. Your ear rings as if deafened by an explosion. Maybe this is a dream. You stare at that shadow harder. No, not you. Shake myself, or my brothers. But yeah, every time I look at you, I just feel so fucking bad, man.
That kind of damage scars you forever. You hate this feeling. But right now, you get it. It makes you sick. Good that he knows. Good that it tears apart his conscience. Then why? You want to ask him. Hell, I would hate me if I were anyone but me. I know it fucking sucks for you here, and I want to make it suck less, you know? You have never thought about it like that. Drunk words, sober thoughts.
Or so the saying goes. All this time, you thought that Hoseok views you as some sort of dancing monkey, forcing you to perform tricks for him, smiling, laughing, stroking his ego. But the truth is, he wants to spark some life back into you. His jokes, his stories, his antics. They have been for you, not him. Your throat trembles. You were living through hell for how many years? All because of us. And I know it makes no sense coming from me. Especially from me, I guess.
You know, I really wish I could control myself. The words just keep tumbling out. Glancing up, you see that his eyes are shut, chest rising heavily, on the brink of sleep. You want him to fall asleep. Because it sickens you knowing that buried under all those masks is an emotionally empathetic person, hardly the maniac you thought him to be.
Because it would be so much easier if he was that, so much easier to hate your tormentor and see him as a monster. He senses your pain, holds remorse for his actions. You hate it. Namjoon would give me hell if he heard me sympathising with the Feed, but I truly mean no malicious intent towards you Words only just more than a slur of syllables.
You lay there, clutching your fists, waiting for it to be over, but only for you to lie awake and ponder this revelation for hours. But I guess you only went through that because of what you are… Hurting you was the only way to protect you But then the last bit sinks in. I went through that shit because of what I am. What do you mean? And hurting me was the only way to protect me.
His sleeve bunches up under your fist, you gently rattle his face. What are you talking about? That spell, the one to keep you safe. Safe from what? What spell? Tell me about the spell, what was it? You need to. What fucking spell to keep you safe? Some twisted magic? You know that car accident with your parents? Then they, the angels I mean, decided to shield your aura, you know, your angel aura. The thing that lets the supernatural know that you have angel blood?
It attracts demons and whatnots and helps them hunt you. So they had to suppress your aura. And the only way to suppress angel aura is to suppress the angel themselves. Make them suffer, endure tremendous pain, dull their virtues, make them lose the will to live, et cetera. So I guess they did some sort of spell, or whatever heavenly magic, on your uncle so that his mind was warped and unconsciously fixated on hurting you To protect you from demons by making you suffer so much that you lose the core of your being.
To destroy you in order to save you from hell and the creatures from it. And you would have thrown up if you had eaten much previously. None of it makes sense. You let Hoseok drift off to sleep, the weight of his body falling limp. You let go of his face. Believe it.
He has made up some story in his head. To shield you. To save you. In what sick universe… You scramble off the bed and rush into the bathroom, ignoring the loud pads of your feet against the cold wooden floor. Your fingers tremble as you turn the light switch on and slam the door behind you with your back. For a moment, all you hear is the ocean of your roaring blood. You want to scream. As your back slides down the door, you want to scream at the top of your lungs. The amalgamation of emotions is tearing you apart, piece by piece.
This is it, the tipping point, the loss of your sanity. His words play over and over again in your head, a drunken confession that he probably did not realise the meaning of in his state. Like a prayer. Panting hysterically, you feel your mind shattering into a million shards.
A fucking spell. The crash. The beatings. The death of your sister. And after crumbling on the bathroom floor, for minutes, maybe hours, you make your decision. You run. The sun is still out. The house had been eerily quiet as you snuck out. And as soon as you stepped foot outside the front door, you had felt it. The incredible weight holding you down. Like the manor itself was shackled to your ankles.
Walking away felt like trudging through mud, dragging this boggling heaviness with you. Every sire bond that has formed was shrieking in your head, wailing, begging for you to stop leaving. It was purely your willpower and determination that gave you the strength to overcome the supernatural ties that tethered you to those vampires.
You had to ignore how much your limbs were aching, how much your heart was straining. You just had to run away. It was melting your brain into a puddle, but your mind had been in ruins anyway. If you ran down one direction, you were bound to meet an end at some point, find civilisation. There is no plan. No plan as you fled the walls of those wretched vampires. Fuck the Heavens and the Hells. Fuck the angels, the demons, the vampires, werewolves, witches, all the damnable fucking supernatural.
Angel blood in your veins. A fucking curse. Every bone in your body is starting to hurt, lungs growing weaker every gasping breath. You keep running, ignoring the overbearing ache and faint voices in your head chanting sorrysorrysorry. The sun has set. It is dark. The night is eerie, enveloping you in a fog of oblivion, no perception of anything beyond this forest. Howling can be heard from a distance, or what you hope to be a distance. They would have been searching for you since the daylight began to dwindle.
They are on their way. Because where are you running to? Who is going to believe you when you tell them about the fucking vampires looking for you? Who is going to care about some crazy girl? What is the point in running? Living, even? The whole world is against you. The whole fucking world. Creatures of the Night are hunting you, the angels have abandoned you to a cruel spell, your family is rotting six feet under.
No one is going to fight for you, except yourself. You are a survivor. Energy waning from the lack of food and the sparing gulps of water you had salvaged from a brooke, the only thing fuelling you is your adrenaline. At this time of night, your vision is no more than dark silhouettes of trees and rocks. Your limbs are numb. Keep going. Just keep running.
Where are you? You hear a voice, his voice. You feel his worry, his fear. Where did you go? The pleading makes your heart lurch. You stop, heaving over your knees. Why do you feel guilty for leaving? Seokjin is afraid, panicked, in a frenzy to look for you. Genuine concern. Maybe you should go back.
What are you even doing anyway? Where are you going? It also dawns on you that they will pick up on your scent right away. They somehow found you. They are always going to find you. Maybe you should give up. Just submit to them for the rest of your eternity. Either way, you would be suffering, the angels will see to that. Just give up. Your fists tighten on your knees. Thoughts racing at an uninterpretable speed, your lost purpose becomes blaringly apparent.
Please be okay. Please come back. They kind of care about you, in their own warped sense of what caring is. They almost love you, some of them. I miss you. I love you. In the distance, your outburst scare away a flock of sleeping birds, their wings flapping in synchrony to your heartbeat. Stop making this harder for me.
Shut up. Every fibre of your mind is peeling away, your entity flaking into dust. The cold stings your damp cheeks, trickling down to your neck where you remember so vividly the feeling of their fangs. More birds shriek into the silence of the night, so loud that you hear them clearly despite your covered ears. Are they here? You keep crying, soil eating your crumpled frame.
Which one is it? Slowly, every inch of you trembling, you turn. A shocked man stares at you in wide eyes. Some sort of camper or hiker judging by his attire. Not here. Please help me. The tears fall harder. Are you hurt? What a normal man is supposed to look like. You just need to go now. Let me carry you. Child, no. Someone else, like that faint chanting you occasionally hear. Behind him, you see a pack of black dogs, creeping warily towards you, sniffing.
Not him. Not safe. You know that ice. You know that inhuman lack of body heat. As he hoists you up, you nudge him away and roll back onto the ground. Not human. You glance over at the dogs again. Sleek black coat, long sharp ears, crimson eyes. Where their legs should meet the ground are misty shadows, like ghosts.
Not dogs. Twigs snap beneath your feet as you sprint as fast as your calves allow, away from whatever they are. Your chest aches from fatigue, ankles screaming for you to stop. As you run, you ignore the branches reaching out to scratch your cheek, your arms. You hardly even feel the cuts against the twisting feeling of dread in your gut.
Looking back, you see the man stood rooted where he is. Growls, howls of excitement, absolute beastly noises erupt from left and right. The hounds are running at an astounding speed beside you, their pelts pitch black despite the moonlight that they should reflect.
Jaws open, they pant at you wildly as they hunt you. Zigzagging between the trees to create a misleading path, you try to create as much distance from them as possible. Clever boys. Soon, they are narrowing in on you, until the pack is an arrowhead surrounding you. The closest hound snaps his jaw at your ankle, barely missing you. The loud crunch from the collision of its canines as he shuts his jaw, you know your foot would have been gone if you had been one second slower.
You focus on running ahead, slipping between boulders and following your instinct for directions. You hear Seokjin once again. You try to scream down the bond.
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Heroes of hammerwatch ethereal wraiths op amp investing and non inverting active bandpass
Updated Ore Farming Method (3500+ ore /hr, lvl 25+) -- Heroes of Hammerwatch
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