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Author Topic: The Lonely Prince: He Who Shall Serve  (Read 193087 times)

Lenglon

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Re: The Lonely Prince, Day Five: Death and the Virgin
« Reply #1005 on: October 14, 2013, 05:23:55 pm »

I'm not mad about you trying to lynch me, I'm mad at you for the way you're communicating.
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((I don't think heating something that is right above us to a ridiculous degree is very smart. Worst case scenario we become +metal statues+. This is a finely crafted metal statue. It is encrusted with sharkmist and HMRC. On the item is an image of HMRC and Pancaek. Pancaek is laughing. The HMRC is melting. The artwork relates to the encasing of the HMRC in metal by Pancaek during the Mission of Many People.))

Vector

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"The question of the usefulness of poetry arises only in periods of its decline, while in periods of its flowering, no one doubts its total uselessness." - Boris Pasternak

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Vector

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Re: The Lonely Prince, Day Five: Death and the Virgin
« Reply #1007 on: October 14, 2013, 10:15:43 pm »

Warn the Prince of what the peasants think. Meaning what Horatio thinks--and..and then tell him what Horatio told me one evening under the light of the moon.

"Prince," you begin.  "S-Sigfred.  Horatio told me something you should know."

"Horatio sticks his crooked nose a great many places it isn't wanted," Sigfred mutters, drunk on bitterness to the dregs.

"Please, just listen," you say.  "This is no time for quarrels!  Both you and Horatio are in grave danger."

And you tell him the truth of what transpired that day, if not the details.  Sigfred sits quietly and listens, betraying nothing beyond his grave fatigue.  By the end you are crying with guilt, venting, at long last, your poisoned humors.  Though the Prince does not reach out to touch you, he leans forward a little and slowly traces nonsense patterns on the table with his fingertips, now closer, now farther away; and in this you appreciate, as intended, the simulation of gentleness.

At last he leans back, and says: "Alas, Horatio!  I knew thee well. . .

"What a shame, that all our best--our most brilliant ideals and highest sentiments should come to this.  I am sorry that you have seen this thus.  I am sore ashamed."

"But there's more," you say.  "He told me a secret."

"Enough of his secrets.  You have related far too many this evening."  He sighs.  "I am to die--or if not to die, to be crowned.  What use have I for secrets and stories?"

"He says," you say, "That you are too young for all of this."

"The gall!  He is only three years older than I!"

"He says that you have not decided who you are to become."

"King," Sigfred huffs, turning a little bit green as he says it.

"But what does that mean?"

Sigfred is silent.

"And--and he says that though he knows it's selfish, he doesn't want to give you up yet."

"And as always, he presumes too much."

"But all he means is for you to be well," you say, "just like all the rest of us you gathered here.  You can't count his love as lesser just because it is constant.  And it's not greater because it's enduring, either.  It's just itself.  Love's just love, no matter how long or short.  It doesn't need an aim or purpose.

"He has no demands on you.  He doesn't think of himself very often. . . I don't think he would have even said anything, if he hadn't been shocked by your anger today and thought to bring you some sort of happiness.

"That--that's what he doesn't want to lose you to.  It's that anger, and everything that might cause it.  War, and your obligations, and assassinations, and every dark thing you can think of!"

"I know you have the right of it," says Sigfred, "but I wish you did not.  I have used him abominably ill."

"Then apologize," you say, "And make up!  It's not too late.  I know it's not too late--to save that, if nothing else."

"You," says Sigfred, "are the wisest duck I have ever had the pleasure of meeting, if also the most idealistic."

At that moment a knock sounds at the door.
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"The question of the usefulness of poetry arises only in periods of its decline, while in periods of its flowering, no one doubts its total uselessness." - Boris Pasternak

nonbinary/genderfluid/genderqueer renegade mathematician and mafia subforum limpet. please avoid quoting me.

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Vector

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Re: The Lonely Prince: He Who Shall Serve
« Reply #1008 on: October 15, 2013, 03:18:20 am »

"Enter," says the Prince, and the iron-shod girl hobbles in, clang by clang.

"Um. . . excuse me for bothering you," she says.  She does not pick her eyes up from the floor, and curtseys periodically.  "I'm sorry about intruding.  It looks like you were in the middle of something.  But we've found the last of them.  Or so we think. . . I think. . ."

She waits there, quietly, in the way of someone who is long accustomed to being ignored and disbelieved.

Sigfred remembers.  He is too familiar with that look.

"Really!"  He rises and clasps her clammy hand.  "How did you know?"

"Well," she says, unable to look any higher than his collarbone with her hesitant smile, "Let me draw you a picture. . ."



Once upon a time, there was a young man named Sigfred.  Though he was not the wisest man of his kingdom, nor the kindest, nor the most loyal, he was to be crowned king.  And so despite his fear and misgivings he set aside the provisions demanded by the rituals of his culture: armfuls of blossoms, a musician and dancers, and magnificent birds for his feast.

(He was to be married as well, but his chief retainer had a mind like a steel sieve when it came to that)

One day, Sigfred was visited by a God.

She came to his castle and awaited an audience, but it was many days before he could see her, being busy with the business of his coronation and his other visitors.  So she slept there, and infected his dreams with wonders.  She could sense his fear and pain, and loneliness, and feelings of doubt.  She could feel his raw edge.  She was dismayed at his nightmares: of days long ago, of days soon to come.  And so she, being powerful and kind, dreamed of more comforting things with all her strength.  And so she, unconscious of her own nature and whimsical as every other deity, accidentally transformed the material adornments of his impending sacrifice to friends, who would all love him in their own way.  It was as it should be, in the order of things.  A good man ought to be blessed with kind companions.

He was charmed by the arts of a veiled musician and at last opened his drafty halls to seek a bride.  Those assembled saw him fall asleep, from time to time--then jerk awake, and, with a sweetly dazed smile, make a selection.  In this way, he chose thirteen beauties, some innocent, some passionate, some wise; some who would protect his surfeit of gentleness, some who would demand he grow strong enough to protect himself--and stronger--but all of whom adored him.

The Dreamer may have brought doom upon him, but that was not her aim.  It was, as her followers would have said, "beyond the scope of the question."  She had wished friends upon him, not moralists.

What would happen next?  She did not know, or have the fortitude to force a future.  She did not even notice that she was attended by her own companions, who loved her more than life itself, and from whom she drew her strength--and that it was from their great love of her that they derived their own powers.  She did not know that her dreams had become, in a word, well-ordered--as was their wish of her in a cruel and insensate world.

But as for the God herself, she was too busy dreaming. . .

So deep was her sleep that she did not know, even, that she had inspired the wrath of a Goddess far more jealous than she.



They gather in the Great Hall: a prince, a rose, a woman wearing black shoes, a small brown duck.  A servant, waiting and silent.  The focus of their attention is a pale slip of a girl, sitting on a bench and dangling her legs.  She has a blank, round face, yellow-green eyes, blond hair so ashy it looks almost white.

"So you were a lily, fair funeral-flower."

Sigfred draws his sword.

"Did you?" he asks.  "Did you slaughter them?  Why?  What made you think it was worth it?"

"i loved your beauty in simple black," she tells him.

"But surely it was not worth their suffering," he says through his tears.  "Surely you would not condemn innocents to Death--for that.  I--"

He levels the point of his sword at the hollow of her throat and she stares back blankly, uncomprehending, with a smile for his attention.

"prince though we do eat your dead, slaughtering her is not in the interests of the ROSE CLAN," another girl hastens to say.  The lily rolls her eyes.  "diversification of investments is the essence of a good reproductive strategy.  women will tire of wearing only roses before long."

"What?" says Sigfred, but he is interrupted by the duck, which quacks loudly and at great length.

"Perhaps," Sigfred replies.  "That was quite well said.  Thank you for your input."

"Sigfred, i-it isn't my place to say this, but I think. . . I--I think that you're being very stupid.  If the entirety of your argument is that she should not have killed innocents, then I would add as c-counterpoint that there is n-nothing more innocent than her.  Probably.  Do you think she knew what she was doing?"

"yes," the lily says.  "i am mistress of myself i was not born yesterday"

Albeit taken aback at being undermined by the very woman she was trying to defend, the girl in iron shoes presses on.

"Sh-sh-she knows enough to love b-b-beauty and i-it's said that a-aesthetics are the c-cornerstone of morals," she says, "So couldn't some-one teach her how to be a human being?  We have spoken together a great deal these past days.  S-she is not evil, just misguided.  I know the darker side of life far too well. . . t-trust me. . ."

The duck quacks some more, with great enthusiasm.

"B-be quiet you.  Th-the dead are dead and wh-what is past is past.  I-it's sad and my heart aches dreadfully to think of it, but it's true.  All the b-bodies are b-b-b-buried.  Let's move on.  I know too well that you could persist in this moment forever."

Sigfred sighs, and drops his blade with a clatter.

"This will not look well to the Guard," he says.

"Sigfred," Horatio says gently, "do you really mean you still aim to please them?  I have not seen you do anything that pleased anyone but your own self, these past days."

"You say I am to be framed for assassination of Mo--of that woman found in my bed, and that you yourself are to be condemned for, ah, other crimes!  What can we do but try please them?"

"give them roses, they'll calm soon enough"

"pull them up by the roots"

"QUACK!!"

"Th-they would kill you on mere speculation," says the girl in iron shoes.  "Because they are bored and brutal.  They have no interest in the facts.  Disband the King's Guard and offer them a portion of your treasury.  You are not using it."

"You were not here while Claudius ruled," says Horatio, "but he had an adviser who said something wise--if only once.  'This above all: to thine own self be true.'  Liege, do as you would and I shall follow."





"You knew I was a duck all along?"

"Yes.  It was not difficult to discern.  You are a prime example of a duck."

"D-does that mean that y-you would have married me?!"

". . . No, I'm afraid not--but I couldn't mention it and send you away.  I didn't want to embarrass you before all the other ladies."

The Prince is just as considerate as you had always imagined!

"Please keep Horatio company while I am gone, as you have been.  And don't go searching through his things again.  That was unwise."

You nod.

"And be sure he bars the door while he is sleeping, and does not forget to eat, and does not get wrapped up in one of his melancholic fits or do anything stupid as he so often does."

Horatio has more sense than Sigfred. . . you aren't sure where this is coming from all of a sudden.

"Be sure that the Queen uses him better than I have, and that you keep her in high spirits.  Even a duck has responsibilities."



Sigfred guides the two flower-girls to the armory.

"your family received this suit of armor from the ROSE CLAN as a gift back in the days when you respected the crops you grew"

"those days did not happen according to the LILY CLAN records"

"you are mistaken it is known in our roots.  thorns guarded castles and soldiers guarded gardens.  lilies adorned caskets once a lifetime"

"the LILY CLAN did not receive favor

"they gave that suit of armor as a gift

"a gift with no hopes tied to it"

"then why does it have roses stenciled on it"

"your colonialist attitude and smug superiority have permanently stained the LILY CLAN's cultural expression"

"now you find your words"

"i have words for what i know"

"Guard the Queen with your lives, you who do not bleed, who grow again from slivers of yourselves," says Sigfred.  "She will keep both your gardens blooming bright, and more.  I will make her promise to till the soil and water your grounds herself once a year, as a gesture of tribute.  I will ask her to adorn visitors' rooms with bouquets of flowers, and encourage them to take plants with them to their homelands.

"If you seek husbands, she will help you find them.  Your obligations are to her now.  Swear your fealty and live by it, and your clans shall be well cared for."

"the ROSE CLAN did us ill"

"the LILY CLAN does not know when to quit"

"We will give you all you need and more," says Sigfred.  "For both of you, it shall be days of plenty forever.  And a great number of lessons in elocution and ethics.  I cannot say I envy you."

He grins cheekily, and takes his leave.



"Sir," says the pageboy, dirty, ragged, and carrying an enormous bird.  "I have returned from the hunt."

"What's this?" says Sigfred.

"A wild goose, sir," says the pageboy, holding it out.

Sigfred clasps him to his chest.

"So there was one who was faithful after all," he says.  "To think you would return, even after three days of chasing wild geese."

They feast well that twilight, and offer every ounce of leftover to the hungry guards, who are somewhat mollified.



"My dear," says Sigfred, "though it pains me to announce it after all this time, I cannot marry thee."

They are sitting side by side on a bench in the castle gardens, near the White Swan's final resting place.  The night air is cool and sweet.

"Oh," says the girl in iron shoes.  "I--"

She doesn't say anything more, nor does she cry.  She is too accustomed to disappointment.  She looks at her nail-bitten hands, which worry her black dress.  Sigfred cannot look at her either.

"I hear you are frightened for your prospects," says Sigfred, "and I know that you are clever, wise, and even-tempered.  I would not have you go wanting while I save myself.  Tell me, what do you know of Death?"

"Only that it is dark and fearsome, and that no two men believe the same of it."

"And--how much do you believe in the Gods?"

"This may shock and displease you," says the girl in iron shoes, "but I do not offer them belief at all, for in a just world I would not be shod thus.  In a just world I would have been forgiven.  Punishment without reprieve is also a death, and I would refuse this."

"Must the Gods be just?"

"They need not be just; but I need not be faithful either."

"I will not disabuse you of that notion," says Sigfred, shuddering, "nor may I offer you a wedding ring, nor can I offer you a just world, though you deserve it."

She blushes, from bodice to forehead.

"There is something, however, that I can offer."

Sigfred falls to his knees beside her and wrests the signet from his finger.  Shaking from head to foot, he presses it into her hand.

"Take it.  Please.  Rule this land.  Be gentle and discerning, and wise, and faithful to your subjects.  Show them--show them that their sovereign can be trusted, and that they need not live in fear of evil, nor fall to evil themselves.  Show them, if you will forgive the expression, that there is more to life than iron fists and sacrificial lambs."

"I shall do that and more," says the girl, and slides it onto her finger.  It is a monstrosity in ruby, onyx, and bone, but somehow, she thinks, it suits.

"Also," says Sigfred, rising and dusting some of the dirt from his trousers, "there is the matter of the royal gardens. . ."



"I have used you ill," says Sigfred, "been abominable and disloyal, insulted you and treated you worse than a dog.  And now, I ask you to serve the new Queen with as much tenderness as you have me."

Horatio swallows, but continues to saddle his master's horse without saying a word.

"Won't you say something?"

"It is all as you have said," says Horatio, "And yet, you--Sigfred, you are wan."

"Stop thinking of me for a moment and speak your mind," Sigfred mutters.  "You have tended me for far too long."

"Have you no other orders, liege?"

"I am useless without you," Sigfred begins, "And that is why I must depart alone."

"I see," says Horatio.

"And I shall forever be followed by Death.  I know that now.  Yes, this very mor--" Sigfred retches, presses his hands to his mouth, holds fast.  "I cannot speak of it.  How is it that I cannot speak of it?  I trust you more than any other man alive, and I cannot speak of it!"

"Peace, Sigfred.  It will come in time."

"How can I be at peace when--"

And again, his breath comes too quick, and he is overcome with shakes.  Horatio abandons the horse and sits beside him, carefully, in the hay.

"Won't you give me your hand, Sigfred?  . . . There.  See, it's warm."

"And. . . scarred.  Where did that come from?"

"Ah yes," says Horatio.  He looks away, but his face does not close, and he does not retract his hand from Sigfred's shaking palm.  "I fell down."

"One of these days, I shall. . . disabuse you of all your lies."

"That will happen only if we should meet again, liege."

"Stop calling me that.  I will never bear the weight of the crown."

"I await your final orders.  Once you have given them, then I shall leave off your title--and you shall leave."

Sigfred rests against the straw, pretending to think, but instead taking in the stable where he spent so much of his boyhood, its manure, its rough-hewn rafters, the corner of the kennel where his father had kept hunting dogs, the well-oiled tack carefully stowed--the sure sign of Horatio's work on anything that did not actually belong to him.  Having carved much bitterness into his memory over the past days, he struggles, at least for a moment, to cling to something sweet.

"Once the Queen is well-settled," he says, dropping each syllable as though from a great tower, "Once she is duly crowned and you know that the border is held, and that she is happy with her lot and well-respected, and she gives you leave, Horatio, come and find me."

Horatio beams at him.

"With pleasure."



So it was that the last of the three sons left his lands forever, and rode alone into the night.  The kingdom he left behind was better than he had found it, or than he would have ruled it; and the queen upon the throne of Denmark became known in lands particular and distant.  Her halls were filled with music and flowers, and the image of her iron shoes became known among her people as a symbol of both justice and mercy for as long as she ruled.  The hobnails with which they had always soled their boots became fashionable, and chosen for their resonance--so that a particularly enviable pair would be greeted with the exclamation: "Ah!  There's the Queen walking!"

As for Sigfred, he rode that road a long time--lonely, grieving, spent and anxious.

But not always.



"Prince," says Aureliusz Vektor.  "Prince, you haven't finished your story!"

Sigfred groans.  He is sprawled on the bar, drooling on the wood, with Mischka half-lying on his face.  He spits out a bit of her fur.

"It is either late or early," he says, "I cannot remember which, and I do not know if I am alive, dead, or dreaming.  Don't wake me.  Let me just sleep a little bit longer."

"This is not an inn, Prince," says Vektor.

"That is fortunate," says Sigfred, "since I am not a prince."

"Young man, you do not seem an evil sort, but you are not an honest one either; and I do not know what to do with you.  Also, you are soused."

"Help me be honest," says Sigfred.  "Teach me a better way to do things.  I have done ill--you do not know the beginning of it--and I have a longer story to be told than can be related in a single eveninggggsch."

"You can borrow the quilt my wife sewed and sleep in the stables to start," says Vektor, helping him stagger towards the door, "and then in the morning you can draw water from the well and save an old man his aches and pains.  I will not accept your money.  Coin never worked for is no good for a man like you."

"That's fortunate," says Sigfred, "because I haven't any."

"We are agreed, then.  You will help me here until you are useful, and then I will send you on your way richer in sense, if not money."

"Yes," says Sigfred, "Under you, I will gladly serve."



You are Lenglon the Lily.

you used to be a plant in the castle garden until one day you turned into a girl

this is confusing

you wear a white dress and you think you are very pretty

there is a prince here who wears black clothes and you think he is very pretty

a black swan says she will outcompete all the other plants/girls to win the prince's affections by adopting a more intelligent evolutionary strategy

like covering herself in bright colors to get more bees you ask because the LILY CLAN you are part of missed out on that one

no like uprooting the other girls she says

that is a pretty good idea to be honest

your flower wait your head hurts a lot and you want to eat dirt but the black swan keeps stopping you

maybe things will make more sense later?


You are a member of The Black Swan's Cohort.  You have a private chat here.  You win when the girls outside the cohort are dead.

you can follow someone each night to find out where they went
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"The question of the usefulness of poetry arises only in periods of its decline, while in periods of its flowering, no one doubts its total uselessness." - Boris Pasternak

nonbinary/genderfluid/genderqueer renegade mathematician and mafia subforum limpet. please avoid quoting me.

pronouns: prefer neutral ones, others are fine. height: 5'3".

Vector

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Re: The Lonely Prince: He Who Shall Serve
« Reply #1009 on: October 15, 2013, 03:29:58 am »

Cohort Chat
Dead Chat

"Fe"ather Chat
"M"ind Chat
"Fl"ower Chat
"B"ody Chat

Spoiler: Night One Actions (click to show/hide)

Spoiler: Night Two Actions (click to show/hide)

Spoiler: Night Three Actions (click to show/hide)

Spoiler: Night Four Actions (click to show/hide)
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"The question of the usefulness of poetry arises only in periods of its decline, while in periods of its flowering, no one doubts its total uselessness." - Boris Pasternak

nonbinary/genderfluid/genderqueer renegade mathematician and mafia subforum limpet. please avoid quoting me.

pronouns: prefer neutral ones, others are fine. height: 5'3".

Vector

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Re: The Lonely Prince: He Who Shall Serve
« Reply #1010 on: October 15, 2013, 03:32:02 am »

Character PMs, part The First

Spoiler: The Hopeful Prince (click to show/hide)

Spoiler: Duck (click to show/hide)

Spoiler: The White Swan (click to show/hide)

Spoiler: The Black Swan (click to show/hide)

Spoiler: The Gardener (click to show/hide)

Spoiler: Lily (click to show/hide)

Spoiler: Rose (click to show/hide)
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"The question of the usefulness of poetry arises only in periods of its decline, while in periods of its flowering, no one doubts its total uselessness." - Boris Pasternak

nonbinary/genderfluid/genderqueer renegade mathematician and mafia subforum limpet. please avoid quoting me.

pronouns: prefer neutral ones, others are fine. height: 5'3".

Tiruin

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Re: The Lonely Prince: He Who Shall Serve
« Reply #1011 on: October 15, 2013, 03:32:18 am »

I laud Lenglon's moves in how she worded those words. That was nice aggression! :)

It came off too general to me, but darn did you do well!

Also dat flavor.

*reads the chats*

Edit: Err..I think I interrupted a list of Vector-posts. Oops.

...Toaster, your all non-caps is beautiful.

Quote
Tiruin tracks Horatio (?!)
Loved the flexibility you did.

Edit II: I can't believe it but I'm crying at how happy the ending is--The lily and rose clan reunited and..and well pretty much everything else. That's really beautiful Vector!
« Last Edit: October 15, 2013, 03:40:57 am by Tiruin »
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Vector

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Re: The Lonely Prince: He Who Shall Serve
« Reply #1012 on: October 15, 2013, 03:33:30 am »

Character PMs: Part the Second

Spoiler: The Balalaika Player (click to show/hide)

Spoiler: Black Shoes (click to show/hide)

Spoiler: Red Shoes (click to show/hide)
« Last Edit: October 17, 2013, 10:18:28 pm by Vector »
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"The question of the usefulness of poetry arises only in periods of its decline, while in periods of its flowering, no one doubts its total uselessness." - Boris Pasternak

nonbinary/genderfluid/genderqueer renegade mathematician and mafia subforum limpet. please avoid quoting me.

pronouns: prefer neutral ones, others are fine. height: 5'3".

Vector

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Re: The Lonely Prince: He Who Shall Serve
« Reply #1013 on: October 15, 2013, 03:34:11 am »

Character PMs: Part the Third


Spoiler: Lovelace (click to show/hide)

Spoiler: Hypatia (click to show/hide)
« Last Edit: October 17, 2013, 11:36:38 pm by Vector »
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"The question of the usefulness of poetry arises only in periods of its decline, while in periods of its flowering, no one doubts its total uselessness." - Boris Pasternak

nonbinary/genderfluid/genderqueer renegade mathematician and mafia subforum limpet. please avoid quoting me.

pronouns: prefer neutral ones, others are fine. height: 5'3".

Vector

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Re: The Lonely Prince: He Who Shall Serve
« Reply #1014 on: October 15, 2013, 03:37:57 am »

Folks, you've been lovely, it's 1:30, I kept writing through an earthquake, and now I'm going to bed.

I'll fully explain the seven puzzles (of which you deciphered six!  Good job), various planned and possible endings, a massive text-dump on flavortext and everything else either tomorrow or the next day.  For now, yes, I did hit the character limit three different times.  There's a lot to read if you're feeling romantic and masochistic.
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"The question of the usefulness of poetry arises only in periods of its decline, while in periods of its flowering, no one doubts its total uselessness." - Boris Pasternak

nonbinary/genderfluid/genderqueer renegade mathematician and mafia subforum limpet. please avoid quoting me.

pronouns: prefer neutral ones, others are fine. height: 5'3".

Vector

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Re: The Lonely Prince: He Who Shall Serve
« Reply #1015 on: October 15, 2013, 03:45:20 am »

Edit II: I can't believe it but I'm crying at how happy the ending is--The lily and rose clan reunited and..and well pretty much everything else. That's really beautiful Vector!

YESSSSS AT LONG LAST SOMEONE OTHER THAN THE MOD IS CRYING

*cough DeadChat cough*

Thank you >______________<
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"The question of the usefulness of poetry arises only in periods of its decline, while in periods of its flowering, no one doubts its total uselessness." - Boris Pasternak

nonbinary/genderfluid/genderqueer renegade mathematician and mafia subforum limpet. please avoid quoting me.

pronouns: prefer neutral ones, others are fine. height: 5'3".

Tiruin

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Re: The Lonely Prince: He Who Shall Serve
« Reply #1016 on: October 15, 2013, 03:48:36 am »

Edit II: I can't believe it but I'm crying at how happy the ending is--The lily and rose clan reunited and..and well pretty much everything else. That's really beautiful Vector!

YESSSSS AT LONG LAST SOMEONE OTHER THAN THE MOD IS CRYING

*cough DeadChat cough*

Thank you >______________<
AS IN, REALLY!

It's so..it's so beautiful. That ending? (Yeah Leafsnail got the major puzzle, I wanted to post a finishing statement but..darn, it felt..too hammer-ish on Lenglon..)

The Iron Shoe. The Queen of the Realm.

AWWWWWWWWW You don't know how darn happy I am with all that writing <3 <3 <3

Folks, you've been lovely, it's 1:30, I kept writing through an earthquake, and now I'm going to bed.

I'll fully explain the seven puzzles (of which you deciphered six!  Good job), various planned and possible endings, a massive text-dump on flavortext and everything else either tomorrow or the next day.  For now, yes, I did hit the character limit three different times.  There's a lot to read if you're feeling romantic and masochistic.
Awaiting it well!

Edit: Phah! I knew everyone else had a quicktopic!

..Also wondered what the Fe was. Firstly thought of Iron xD *shakes fist at chemistry*

Edit II: ...The scum PMs.
They're very moving.
Especially Lenglon's? Wow. It's..it's no wonder she got a good ending too.

...She just wanted to belong.


Also did we get this thing right here?

Edit III: [Emotional overload on reading everything else. Tears, joy and praise.]

Last edit: Flower Chat for best chat. :v

Thank you Solifuge.

Quote from: Deadchat
And his first name is Adolf, why did that not tell you anything
I got the memo right when I was fed red herring. Ok, maybe not then, but really when I read the Capt.'s words. :P
But I figured, hey, let's roll with being simpleminded here! All for the Prince! Hurrah~


>_>
<_<
Is it weird that I somehow like Adolf?!
« Last Edit: October 15, 2013, 04:57:26 am by Tiruin »
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Jim Groovester

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Re: The Lonely Prince: He Who Shall Serve
« Reply #1017 on: October 15, 2013, 04:44:31 am »

That was a fun game. Thanks, Vector.

Especially for changing my wincon at the last minute arghgrumblegrumble.



Quote from: zombie urist's flavor
hints and clues, hints and clues everywhere!

Quote from: Jim Groovester in Mind Chat
Could you explain more fully your N1 and N2 flavor?

*sigh*
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I understood nothing, contributed nothing, but still got to win, so good game everybody else.

Lenglon

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Re: The Lonely Prince: He Who Shall Serve
« Reply #1018 on: October 15, 2013, 04:54:17 am »

One side-issue that I tried to keep somewhat hidden was that for the first three days of the game, up until I got this pm from Vector:
...
I don't see how the cohort can win as a group. our motivations are to be to individual the prince picks, but we can't guarentee that unless everyone, including the other cohort members are dead.
are we really a team? do we really win together?

No, "all the other girls outside the cohort."  Sorry about that, I never meant it to be obscure.  You're a regular three-person scumteam.
I was convinced that I had to be the last scum standing.
after all, with the way I was allowing people to guide and manipulate me in my night pms, I would not win against any of the other scum when the infighting began.

Annnd...
wow @ ending.
that's pretty amazing there Vector.

I... kinda had a pet goal in mind, I wanted me and Tiruin to be the last two left ever since day 1.
Almost managed it too...

that pet project was the real reason i didn't even try to make a case against you Tiruin :P
« Last Edit: October 15, 2013, 04:56:56 am by Lenglon »
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((I don't think heating something that is right above us to a ridiculous degree is very smart. Worst case scenario we become +metal statues+. This is a finely crafted metal statue. It is encrusted with sharkmist and HMRC. On the item is an image of HMRC and Pancaek. Pancaek is laughing. The HMRC is melting. The artwork relates to the encasing of the HMRC in metal by Pancaek during the Mission of Many People.))

Leafsnail

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Re: The Lonely Prince: He Who Shall Serve
« Reply #1019 on: October 15, 2013, 04:56:55 am »

I kindof knew I'd skipped the actual reasoning for the puzzle, but the answer seemed to work.  Also I probably should've realized webadict's weird claim was due to a quicktopic screwup.
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