>>390
You cannot play as Rupert; you can only play as members of your current party.
You stomp around in the undergrowth, taking out your frustrations on the defenceless weeds at your feet. You feel slightly better for it.
>>391
You are now playing as Jack Aaronova. The events of last night have left quite an impression on you, and you feel unable to deal with the endless torrent of existence flowing through you just now. More than anything you'd like a good night's sleep, but you know full well your nightmares were bad enough even before they started bleeding into reality.
You currently possess only the tattered seifuku you are wearing and the bloodied stone dagger in your hand. You have level 7 ailuromancy, and thereby have access to the following skills:
In addition to this, you have two unspent skillpoints - left over from christmas, the night before last - and 210 mana.
>>392
The Pentagon 1024SL can't help you. Nobody can help you now.
>>393
You find yourself in desperate need of some moral support. Ariadne is very dear and all, but she's a little socially inept, and, frankly, you don't really trust her awfully much.
You tilt back your head, look up to the sky and call out for someone to come save you - some perfect paragon of justice, integrity and truth; of everything that's right with the world. As if on cue, there is a rustling in the undergrowth to the west, in the direction you came from. You and Ariadne stare in silence, breath held. C-could it be?
No, never mind, it's just the reanimated bits of grunt, which, displaying abominable tenacity, have followed you all the way here. There are various limbs, partial corpses, disembodied heads and such, crawling or rolling towards you in a way equal parts disturbing and comical.