Witch Quest

"Make a contract with me, and I can grant you any one wish."

It had seemed so clear. Such an obvious choice.

"Eh, is that the wish? Alright then."

For years, your family had been growing apart, angrier and full of hatred for one another. It was like war.

"Wh.... what is..."

It had seemed like a dream come true.

"It's forbidden for us to give advice, about what a wish should be."

It had been too good to be reality, though you only understood after it was already too late.

"Did I misunderstand what you asked? Or was it that you didn't think carefully enough about your wish? Are they not at peace, now?"

It was, possibly, the fastest transformation into a Witch that had ever been.

And maybe the quietest as well. Consumed with grief and despair, you did not lash out at the world, but drowned yourself deep beneath the earth, slumbering and gazing up at the world you had rejected.

Until the day came that you were too hungry and pained to continue lying in bed and staring at the ceiling.

And then, having sought a suitable despair to feed upon, you died, and your existence was used to purify one who understood nothing.

And then you lived once more, staring up into the world you had rejected.

And died again, when hunger drove you to rise.

And once more you lived.

The cycle continues.

You have begun to think that something very odd is going on.

No matter what you do, and how you die, will you continue to live?

You're not sure you minded dying that much. If it had just been the once, it would have been one thing...

You are Rochelle. The witch of Regret. A damned huge spider, or something really close to it. You never really liked arachnids, so you kind of regret what you've become in more ways than one...

You are staring up from your 'Bed'.

You've died more than once. But let us call this, for the sake of narration, life number one. The first, at least, that you have begun to think about how you keep dying, and then later, not-being-dead.

---

[ ] Is there anything you want to do?

[X] Weave a web.

Because spiders.

[x] Weave a web and wait for the food to come to you. That's what spiders do right?

[x] Web.

In fact, you have a web.

It's actually your bed.

And also, your false reality, where you would lure people to die if you had ever tried that without immediately being crushed like an insect.

The threads look like normal spidersilk, but they drip slowly into a yawning expanse of nothingness beneath, and if you listen carefully, you can hear sobbing.

It's a little creepy.

But it's a nice bed, all the same.

---

[ ] ???

[х] Stop being a spider. Like a puella turns to normal girl from their magical state.
[х] If it does not work, check sobbing. Do not hurry to eat anything, or kill, or whatever - its nice to have a company, and its not like hunger actually something what matters to you.
...And probably there is nobody to sob, and its just sounds from nowhere, but, duh.

[x] The not-spider.

You try, fervently, to no longer be a giant spider of some sort.

It seems less than successful. You think there's probably more to it than that, if it's even possible.

You bitterly regret your failure.

[x] Sobbing.

You are alone. The sobs are coming from the web itself. It seems to be a byproduct of their having been produced by a giant, magic spider of despair and bitterness.

---

[ ] ???

[x] Look into the world, see what's new, find new friends, give warm hugs to random people.

[X] Transform into a different spider and start playing a song that you once heard.

[х] Regret regretting. Its so regrettable, what you regrets going to negate each other.
Duh.
[х] What can you do, besides creating webs? Anything? Magic? Fire-ball hurling? Soul-eating Anything at all? Dancing, maybe? Or some musical instruments?
...Poker?
[х] Сan you speak somehow?
[х] Do you remember how to write?
[х] Call your familiars. Make tham dance.

No, not going to happen. We are a witch. An object of pure despair. If we try to give hugs to people, do you know what happens? They commit suicide. Magical girls try to kill us on sight. We are a monster.


[X] Create a familiar

[x] Hugs!

Somehow, you hadn't really considered going to the surface when you weren't desperately hungry, before.

Much less leaving your altered Reality behind to do so, instead of luring people in.

But this seems like an okay idea, after no thought whatsoever. You proceed out of the imaginary spiderweb and take a look around.

There's a lot of people who seem to be stunned into silence by a spider as big as a large bus or very small building.

You select one, a businessman in a suit, and hug him with your spindly forearms.

"OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD, FUUUUCK!" he yells in response, as people start screaming and running.

[x] Song!

You have trouble vocalizing... anything, really, given that you are a spider.

You try to hum a few bars of what you think was a popular tune when you make your contract.

It comes out "KRIIIII-KIKIKI-RIKKKKKII!"

The salaryman seems to have soiled his suit.

[x] Familiar.

You can create one per person you've killed, you somehow instinctively know, and once they've killed ten people they can become a Witch themselves.

You haven't killed anyone, though.

---

[ ] ???

We must find a convenient can of paint, some large pieces of paper and draw messages on them which we can carry around.

[х] Take the man with us. No killing. We need company.
[х] Take some souvenirs. A light car, or a "Stop!" sign, maybe?
Ah, almost forgot.
[х] Dance with guy. Try not to kill him, he is squishy.

[x] Let's see if we could find people like us. Do this inside our barrier though.
[x] How are our minions doing? Do they even have a name?

[x] Souvenirs!

You have enough trouble just carrying this one guy around with your forelimbs, without squishing him into paste. It's harder to walk on just six than you'd expect.

You regret not having thumbs.

[x] Communication!

You could smear paint on things with a foreleg or something?

You suppose that would work.

You dance your way over to a home improvement store, your new friend screaming all the while, and burst right in through the front doors and a fair section of the front wall.

More screams erupt from the shoppers inside.

---

[ ] ???

[х] Grab the paint with your mouth, walk back to home.
Or...
Produce some spider silk, attach human on our body with it, same with paint.
Whatever seems more comfortable and better to PC.

[x] You legs might not be able to write very well and you lack the ability to hold a brush. Find Kyubey so solve this problem.

[x] Go look for another Witch. Maybe if you kill and eat it, other Witches Puella Magis will believe you are a good Witch.

[x] Homeward?

You amble your way over to the paint aisle, toppling shelves as you go, and sending customers in a riotous mass toward the exit.

Once there, you pick up a can of paint.

Or try to, anyway. Your poisonous fangs aren't exactly the most dextrous appendages available.

You regret not having thumbs, as you bite through more than a few cans before managing to finally loop a fang through the handle.

Then you head home.

"Tiro."

.... or try to, anyway. Where did all of this ribbon come-

-----

Life 2.

You are staring up from your bed, at the world you have reject- wait, no.

That didn't work out well, for some reason.

---

[x] ???

[х] Prepare a hook, a rope, or something from spider silk. Use to carry paint.
[х] Go to that store again. Get some paint.

[x] Go look for another Witch. Maybe if you kill and eat it, other Witches Puella Magis will believe you are a good Witch.

or

[x] Your main problem is communication, head to the paint store immediately this time and grab some paint.

[x] You legs might not be able to write very well and you lack the ability to hold a brush. Find Kyubey so solve this problem.

[x] Your minions have they forgotten you?

Anyway, we always can pick up "Stop!" sign, andwawe it a litlle.
Big Magical Spider who wawes a "Stop!" sign around should sew some confusion.

Don't have minions, never killed a human yet.

[x] Preparations.

A thread of sobbing silk would be more useful, you guess.

Yeah, you think you could thread it through the handle a lot easier than a fang. Especially if you aren't carrying someone.

An attempt shows that this works out pretty darn well. You loop several cans of paint onto the thread, ignoring the once more screaming and fleeing pedestrians and customers, and head home.

Except everything goes gray for a split second.

And suddenly you feel a whole lot more ventilated.

"I didn't think any other Witches moved outside their reality marbles. I guess she was telling the truth." One of the not yet witches says stepping forward and-

Hey. HEY NO. What do you think you're doing with that pipe b-

------

Life 3.

You are... oh geeze, that was fast.

---

[ ] ???

By the way? Is this a 'time-loop style reset' death or 'pick up where you left off' kind of death?