Chapter Text
Amnesia isn’t quite what they say it is, at least not for Skeppy. It’s less the lack of memories and being a blank slate and more that Skeppy has vague memories with no details.
Skeppy had first woken up in the middle of a field made of heather and wheat. Despite the overwhelming soreness settled deep in his bones, there were no present injuries, only deep red scars over his chest and healed burn scars covering his back. He was at a loss of where he was and how he got there, but there were a few facts he clung to.
The first was simple: His name was Skeppy. If he had a last name of any sort, he didn’t know it, which probably meant it wasn’t as important as his first name.
The second was obvious: Skeppy was lost. There was no one around to help him, nothing in his pockets, and his clothes, while warm, were well worn. The sweater he had on might've been a beautiful, bright blue once, but now it had long since faded into a blueish-white.
But the third was the most confounding and yet, felt no less true: This wasn’t his world.
Skeppy couldn’t quite explain how or why he knew, it was an unshakable feeling deep in his gut. The wind, the sky, the dirt, the field, the air itself- something about it all tipped him off and left a deep seeded feeling of wrong in his gut. He wasn’t just lost, Skeppy was out of place.
Wherever he was, however he got there, Skeppy knew for certain that nothing was familiar in the slightest. None of this was his- he didn’t belong here.
But Skeppy couldn’t think of any sort of way to get back. He didn’t know how he got there in the first place and after thinking hard enough about it, Skeppy silently wondered if he could get back at all, or if he was stuck in this place and left with the innate feeling that he didn’t belong.
The only other thing Skeppy could think to do was… Explore. Live. Survive.
So Skeppy managed to pick himself off the ground and do just that, the best he could.
He was lucky civilization was close. Barely a mile walk out and Skeppy was met with a quaint little town that took one look at him, smiled gently, and welcomed him with open arms. They took him for a vagabond, down on his luck and looking for a place to stay until he could get back on his feet. Even if there were some more important details to his situation, Skeppy didn’t say much more and went with the story. In a way, it fit him perfectly.
Even faded, the brightness of the dye in his sweater had caught the eye of a vendor who offered to take it off his hands in exchange for money. As good as a deal as it was, Skeppy didn’t feel right with parting with it and declined the offer, so the vendor made a different one. Instead of taking it, the vendor offered to improve it so it would last longer if he was traveling, in exchange for Skeppy’s help on a few things around his shop.
Skeppy accepted that offer after a moment of thought.
They were simple jobs at first. Skeppy ran errands, occasionally helped manage the shop when the rest of the employees were busy, and fixed up a few things around the store. He was never great with tools but quickly became accustomed to how to use them and had leaps and bounds of improvement through trial and error.
In return, Skeppy was provided with a room to sleep in and a week and a half later, with a new and improved sweater.
The faded bright blue dye stayed but it was now padded with leather armored plates in the shoulders, forearms, and the front and back. Any tears were neatly sewn up, to the point where Skeppy wouldn't be able to tell they were there in the first place had he not known about it beforehand.
Skeppy looked it over, nodded happily, and slipped it on. It was a bit heavier, but still reasonably comfortable and more protective now. Perfect for traveling an unfamiliar world. Skeppy thanked the vendor, who hesitated before offering him a fulltime job to work with him.
And having no other plans or places to go, Skeppy accepted that offer too.
His new life was quiet at first, but Skeppy’s responsibilities grew over time. It started when the townspeople started to ask him for favors in exchange for credits, discounts, food, and all sorts of goods. It was only things like scaring away minor monsters and fixing whatever was broken in the beginning. The monsters- big, annoyed bats who had settled in barns and the occasional sharp toothed deer- were ease enough. All he really needed to do was scare them off. But as Skeppy proved himself to not only be capable, but exactly who the townspeople needed, more requests came.
Then there were jobs that required a protective escort to go into the deeper, more dangerous parts of the Dark Forest to gather materials and ingredients for food and potions alike. The monsters became bigger- lone wolves terrorizing a flock of sheep and buzzard-like birds swooping down on anyone who carried food. But it was only when Skeppy scared off a traveling thief that it clicked what was going on.
Skeppy was becoming somewhat of a local legend by pure accident.
He was popular now- more than he realized. He had a discount in all the local restaurants and even was offered a few items on the house when he visited. Bachelors and bachelorettes alike shot flirty glances his way and occasionally bought him drinks. He was given some of the finest weapons for his efforts of defending the town. Skeppy was a hero.
And he couldn’t lie, he liked it.
The praise and adoration alone was enough to put him on cloud nine but Skeppy couldn’t deny that the work was… Comfortably familiar to him.
While Skeppy had to learn tools like wrenches and screwdrivers, the art of the blade came as easy to him as breathing. He wasn’t the best of the best but the second he gripped a sword for the first time in an effort to scare off some bats into finding another place to sleep, it had slotted into his hand easily. Fit better than the glove he was given, which was a size too big for him. And when he swung it, graceful and precise, it was obvious to everyone who saw him that Skeppy was experienced with the blade.
Three months passed in the blink of an eye, and Skeppy found himself settling the best he could into the town. His memory continued to elude him so Skeppy dodged questions about his past and where he came from as he was barely able to remember himself. And as much as he trusted the townspeople, telling them he wasn’t from this world and never felt right here even when he had tried his hardest to get comfortable was a bit much. He didn’t know what kind of response that would warrant, so Skeppy kept that close to his chest.
There were two things he kept close to the chest, in fact, the other being both literal and metaphorical in that sense. Because Skeppy’s red scars over his chest seemed to grow and sickness overtook him when it did.
The local medic helped where she could. She prescribed him something not only to soothe the pains but something that also managed to help stop the spreading. Neither Skeppy, her, or any other experts they called in to help seemed to know exactly what was going on as it was unlike any other sickness they had ever dealt with before. Their only solution was for Skeppy to drink his medicine once every day until they figured out a more permanent solution.
There were bad days, even with the medication. Burning sensations in his chest that made it hard to work, aches despite no reason for them, even chills sometimes, but Skeppy managed. It wasn’t the worst pain he ever experienced.
Skeppy had dreams sometimes. Of fire engulfing him, swallowing him whole, and tearing him apart mercilessly. Those dreams were the worst to wake up to, phantom pain wracking his body and nothing but memories of deep sorrow hitting him in waves.
That’s what it was. A fragment of a memory buried under something he can’t seem to budge. Skeppy wonders if it’s for the better.
If some things are better left forgotten.
But it’s not like he has a choice in the matter. Three months pass and Skeppy gets next to nothing. At best, he has vague dreams, some painful while others are pleasant enough until Skeppy wakes and feels empty.
Like he’s missing something important.
—
Skeppy doesn’t leave town often on his own.
For odd jobs? Sure, he doesn’t mind it. It’s not that he doesn’t like leaving town, more than he doesn’t really have a reason to. He’s got three months of intact memories, there isn’t a lot of desire to leave the one place that gives him stability in his life.
But, on occasion, Skeppy wanders.
He doesn’t know exactly what he hopes to find. There’s no concrete idea of something he needs, but Skeppy hopes to find something nonetheless.
He doubts there’s anything here for him. This isn’t his world, there isn’t anything he could’ve left behind, but futilely, Skeppy searches and hopes.
And one day as he sweeps the fields he first woke up in, he finds something.
Or rather, someone finds him.
He hears something streaking towards him at an alarming speed, wheat and heather rustling as it approaches, and his shoulders are pulled taut. One hand curls around the sword at his hip, Skeppy turns towards the sound but before he can draw his weapon, it bursts into the small clearing and slams into him, sending both of them to the ground.
The other being groans along with Skeppy but is quicker in recovering, shaking themselves out of the daze and peering at Skeppy with wide, blue eyes.
“Shit- sorry!”
“It’s- I’m okay.” Skeppy assures them, though his voice is strained and not all that convincing. If his sweater didn't have leather armor attached, he's almost certain the collision would've left bruises. His gaze refocuses once he recovers, blinking at the newcomer before him.
They’re… A cat. A Siamese humanoid cat to be exact, with light armor on and dark green clothing underneath it. Two sheathed blades are strapped to their sides, a backpack is snug on their shoulders, a few potions hang on their belt, but what draws Skeppy’s attention the most is something wrapped and hidden under a brown cloth that the cat clutches onto like their life depends on it.
“That’s my bad, I wasn’t watching where I was going.” The cat says hurriedly, then glances behind them. Something about the way they’re acting is undeniably on edge.
Skeppy’s eyebrows furrow. “You good, dude?”
The cat doesn’t answer. They’re on their feet in a flash, tucking whatever’s wrapped up in the cloth under their arm and slowly drawing two curved blades. Skeppy would’ve taken it for a threat had they not kept their gaze firmly on the Dark Forest’s Edge.
There’s a beat of silence. The cat glances at him, “You should get out of-”
He doesn’t get to finish as multiple figures burst from the foliage of the forest, an arrow landing a foot to the left of the cat, and all hell breaks loose.
A fight breaks out near the Dark Forest's Edge but a few figures dive into the wheat, headed straight for Skeppy and the cat. Skeppy scrambles to his feet, finally pulling out his own weapon just as someone enters the clearing and lunges at him. Metal meets metal with a clang and Skeppy’s never been more grateful for his innate combat sense more in his life.
The cat is met with a similar attack from another who looks… Shockingly similar to the one Skeppy is defending himself from. And a second later, his thoughts catch up with him to help him realize they’re both wearing a uniform.
White armor with light blue accents and a simple deep blue mask with a smiling face on it. Something about it is oddly eerie.
Skeppy steals a glance at the commotion closer to the edge of the Dark Forest. There are others fighting there, five more of the uniformed figures against two others, though Skeppy can’t quite make them out. He wonders if they’re friends of the cat and why these strange guys are after them.
Out of the corner of his eye, the clothed object is knocked out of the cat’s arms. The one they’re fighting attempts to swipe it but the cat puts a hefty gash in their hand when they try and pushes them back, forcing them away from it.
Curiosity gets the better of him, Skeppy’s gaze lingers over to the mysterious, wrapped up object for a little too long. He pays for it as the one who attacked him suddenly pushes abruptly against their sword when they clash and Skeppy loses his balance. He crashes into the ground once again, sharp pain hitting him as his sword is kicked out of his grip and skidding across the clearing.
Their blade swipes at him but Skeppy rolls out of the way before it can hit. Instinctively, he feels around for something he can fight with, then lays a hand on the mystery object and feels a familiar shape under it. A quick peek only confirms his suspicions, the cat was carrying a sword.
And a nice one at that. It’s light blue, sleek, and looks as if it’s made from diamonds yet still remains translucent. The handle is silver with a gold emblem of a diamond in the middle, and when his fingers curl around the handle, something inside of him seems to click with it instantly.
Skeppy doesn’t think on it much, already in the middle of a battle. He takes it and swings just as his attacker does. He misses seeing it spark to life, glowing with power, but not what happens when their blades meet.
A ripple of blue energy crackles and is released in a wave, sending not only his opponent flying, but the cat’s opponent as well. They land closer to the other fights, silence hitting at first with a shrill of ‘Retreat!’ following.
All of the white armored aggressors quickly group up and disappear into the Dark Forest. Skeppy watches them breathlessly, staring down at the sword after a minute and wondering what the hell happened.
The sword glows bright blue for a minute, then dims. Not quite losing its glow but not nearly as bright.
Skeppy pushes himself to his feet, a question on his tongue that dies when he sees the way the cat is looking at him: Utterly bewildered and mouth hanging open.
“How- did you just..?” The cat looks at him like Skeppy has answers and not vise versa. Skeppy shifts his feet.
“Uh. Sorry for using your magic sword. Didn’t have anything else in my range, kinda panicked.”
It has to be a magic sword, Skeppy doesn’t have magic. Three months would’ve revealed it by now if he did, amnesia or not. Though, the cat continuing to sputter for the right thing to say is making him question himself.
The wheat rustles and two more figures pop out into the clearing, undeniably with the cat. Some sort of fuzzy looking demon and fluffy, green centaur-beast, who turns to the cat at first before eyeing Skeppy and the sword.
“Ant?” The demon says, bright, white eyes blinking owlishly. “Did he..?”
“It wasn’t me.” The cat- Ant- says. His tail flicks towards Skeppy. “I don’t know how but… It was him.”
“But that’s-”
“Impossible…” The centaur takes a step towards Skeppy, looking at him as if he is standing among a god. Normally, Skeppy wouldn’t react to an awe inspired crowd with his reputation but this feels… Different.
Doesn’t help that he doesn’t know what he’s done to deserve it. He doubts it’s because whatever he did with the magic sword drove off the uniformed guys. They were handling themselves just fine, they wouldn't be surprised by him winning a fight against them. It has to be what happened to the sword itself but... Thinking about it now is giving him the chills.
Skeppy sucks in a breath. “I don’t know what I did but- here’s your sword back?”
He holds the sword out, figuring one of them will scoop it off his hands but none of them so much as reach for it. It stirs something within him, the sword sparking in response and the only reason Skeppy doesn’t startle is because he’s already putting all his focus into keeping his cool around these people.
Skeppy hopes to hear a lot of things when the demon opens his mouth again, answers namely, but he doesn’t expect to hear, “It chose you...”
“I… What?”
“That sword. It chose you.”
Skeppy waits for a punchline. It never comes.
“I don’t-… What the fuck are you talking about?”
“That sword,” the centaur says, “Cannot be wielded like that unless it bonds to the user. Without bonding, it’s a regular sword, but once someone is chosen, they can use its power to their advantage. We’ve never met anyone who could tap into its power until now.”
Skeppy glances down at the sword. His bemused reflection stares back at him. “So… Uh, are you telling me I have a new sword with cool powers now or..?”
“That sword has two names.” The centaur says, like that explains anything. “One of them is ‘Diamond in the Rough’.”
Skeppy pauses. “O-kay. What’s the other and why are you telling me this?”
Ant speaks up this time.
“It’s more popular name is ‘Godkiller’ and we’ve been looking for a wielder for over a year now.” His eyes narrow. “And if you’re the one it chose, then we have a very serious proposition for you. One that just might save the world as we know it.”
“Does-” Skeppy swallows dryly once it hits him. “Does it include killing a god?”
“Yes.” All three of them answer simultaneously.
Well, Skeppy thinks, shit.