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Author Topic: The Far West-Ch.1/Light for Some-others, A Deeper Darkness (Game thread)  (Read 21884 times)

Playergamer

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Re: The Far West-Ch.1/The Shadow of the Storm (Game thread)
« Reply #195 on: September 12, 2015, 10:08:20 am »

Sal follows Wen-Li back to the horsefolk camp, tying his horse back up, before shaking his head and muttering under his breath.

"Damn Jade..."
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Dwarmin

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Re: The Far West-Ch.1/The Shadow of the Storm (Game thread)
« Reply #196 on: September 12, 2015, 01:23:20 pm »

His shadow leans very gently, almost imperceptibly to the left.

Immanuel Jade is escorted away without much more preamble-apparently they have quite a bit of work to do before sending you on this likely suicidal mission.

...

Your guards are more at ease, as they lead you deeper into the complex. Most drop back, leading only the leader of the small group who apprehended you, and the young woman he called 'Mags' to escort you. They do seem to have holstered their guns, for now...

He speaks to you again, as they direct you onwards.

"That was pretty smart of you, partner. The General's the sort of take a chance on people, you see...you're sure not what we call hard caliber quality, and the jobs a rough one, but maybe you'll surprise us...I'm glad we don't have to shoot you, anyway. Ruins a mans appetite. Names Dan. Danvers Siau..."

The woman pipes up, cheerfully annoying.

"...More likely than not he'll turn tail as soon as we let him loose, and the general will hang him for a deserter. Or maybe he'll try to swing a deal, play both sides? Of course, we have people already over there, watching and waiting. Mr. Jade is just another piece on the board, as I'm sure he well knows. Let's not insult his ah, intelligence, but assuming he's going to play a round game with us. Am I right, Mr. Jade?" She inquires, full of false sweetness.

"We have been told we can stay, and horsefolk keep their word."
More quietly, she muttered. "At least they won't suddenly use spirit-magic on us."

The rest... spend a comfortable night under Horsefolk tents, which keep out the rain and the wind admirably. They dine on a variety of spices, savory plains vegetables and a good deal of wild game-pheasant, hare, deer, and boar-served in a sort of communal stew the Horsefolk call a 'hotpot'-a simmering stew occupies the center of the tent over a low fire, and as one desires ingredients they are added in, cooked, then spooned out as desired. It's quite delicious, and amazingly filling-stretching many small portions over one large meal. It is very spicy-some of have a suspicion they turned up the heat just for your party-but, generous portions of ox milk in clay and glass jars are handed out to sooth the burns.

...

As the night winds down, goods are offered, pleasantries exchanged, and the Horsefolk warm up to you. They are perhaps unable to hold a grudge. Most of them seem to enjoy sleeping in their human forms-these transformations happen so quick you are unable to make them out-one moment half horse, then another moment a full human. It make sense why they wear those long sorts of horse blankets over their horse bodies...when they change, the blankets act as makeshift kilts, preserving modesty.

Eventually, the time for stories and words come.

It's fairly clear they only expect Wen-Li to have any good tales, and the rest of you are accepted out of a sort of courtesy. But it's also obvious they expect some form of entertainment for having hosted you.

The others may wish to converse with the Horsefolk-warriors, chiefs, medicine-men and the like-or perhaps engage in a bit of trade. Or maybe just quietly fall asleep.


Immanuel Jade (Harry Baldman)

Spoiler: Inventory (click to show/hide)
Spoiler: Journal (click to show/hide)

Wen-Li Dulcette the Wind-tossed Blossom (Giglamesh)

Spoiler: Inventory (click to show/hide)
Spoiler: Journal (click to show/hide)

Sai Lu (Playergamer)

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Victoria Dyson (Serconman)

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Hiraya Mawari (Tiru)

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« Last Edit: September 12, 2015, 03:03:52 pm by Dwarmin »
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Harry Baldman

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Re: The Far West-Ch.1/The Shadow of the Storm (Game thread)
« Reply #197 on: September 12, 2015, 01:50:56 pm »

Immanuel Jade says nothing, though he occasionally looks around at the soldiers not shepherding him around. As he moves, he begins to walk in a more upright fashion than usual, the martial manner of the troops slowly leaching into his behavior.

Action: Immanuel Jade proceeds as directed, adopting the stature of a military man as he goes on.
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GiglameshDespair

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Re: The Far West-Ch.1/The Shadow of the Storm (Game thread)
« Reply #198 on: September 14, 2015, 07:14:09 pm »

Perhaps it wasn't the wisest story to tell, but Wen-Li was not Wen-Tsu, and it was not her crime committed.
Spoiler (click to show/hide)

She finished her tale, and let the melancholy sit in the air before she banished it with a chirpy word and a smiling mask.
"Though I was no Lady, my old family legends say I was descended from Wen-Tsu, the foolish girl." she said conversationally. "Her child inherited none of her mother's foolishness, and grew her house greatly, though all that was long, long ago."

---

Afterwards, when she talked to the horsepeople, less as a bard, more of a trader, she inquired after the orinost relic, the shamanic lore, and the beast tales, in order of desire, and offered more of her own tales and songs in turn.
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Dwarmin

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Re: The Far West-Ch.1/The Shadow of the Storm (Game thread)
« Reply #199 on: September 15, 2015, 10:01:22 am »

Immanuel Jade says nothing, though he occasionally looks around at the soldiers not shepherding him around. As he moves, he begins to walk in a more upright fashion than usual, the martial manner of the troops slowly leaching into his behavior.

Action: Immanuel Jade proceeds as directed, adopting the stature of a military man as he goes on.

Stiffened posture when passing a higher rank. A certain predatory cant. Awareness, competence, discipline. All these things, you absorb...

...

You are escorted to something that is best described as cell-it's deeper underground, located in a confusing maze of passages. The room is nearly bare-a sleeping cot lined with old straw, a solid ceiling pipe and drain shower assembly in one corner, a sink made of a solid block of manufactured metal in the other-no parts you could remove by hand without a good deal of trouble. A remarkable lack of dried bloodstains on the rough stone floor gives you cause for good cheer. It may be a cell, but it's not that kind of cell.

Over the next few hours, you are fed-cold beans and pork, but given how hungry you were it could be forgiven-allowed to wash yourself, and fitted with new, clean clothes in the style of a military officer. Sort of stuffy, but they fit well enough. They take your old clothes away, maybe to burn them. A doctor lady gives you a small pill she claims is for your cough, which tastes like grapes. Yummy. And, it works. Or maybe you just believed it would work. Someone even brings you a tray of false teeth to choose from. You pick out the ones made of ox horn and lead, after a moments decision. They're pretty heavy...could probably give a nasty bite, if you had to.

...

In time, they all leave you alone-nurses, tailors, dentists, guards-and you lay on the cot, staring at the rock wall ceiling. There's some sort of spiraling imprint embedded in the stone, like the shell of a corkscrew crab. You wonder how a crab got all the way down here.

As usual, sleep comes for you instantly-one moment you are totally conscious, then...nothing.  Except for the dreams...

...

You open your eyes (metaphorically)
, to find you are sitting upright in a simple wooden chair, elbows on a simple wooden table, in what seems to be a simple wooden shack. Very poorly described, you think. You can hear wind and rain howling outside, yet-and, are glad for this place. It fills you with a feeling of safety and contentment...this place was important to you, before the thing happened. You were maybe happy here, once. Or good things happened to you, and this is what you hold onto to keep them with you. Or maybe this was the place you got away from things that were even worse...

By nature, you look to each direction.

Behind you is a well done oil painting hanging on the wall by a sturdy nail and a loop of twine. It displays four persons sitting in a large tent, with Horsefolk all around-some in human form, others resting on their horse legs. They are eating and conversing amongst themselves. The center of the painting depicts the Orinost Bard you met earlier, her arms raised dramatically, as she reaches the end of some magnificent story...

To your left is a large, glass window. You think this is very odd, because the glass doesn't seem right. It's too thick, and it's too clear. Most windows are very small, and made of shaded glass. This is like the sort of thing that might be in the Empresses Pleasure Barge. It doesn't fit. Outside this window, the wind and rain swept plain rolls on and on, the storm unrelenting. You notice Shan-yangs flitting among the distant storm clouds.

To your right is a simple door, with a brass knob. Engraved upon this door is a word-and that word is 'IMMANUE~'...your name, but the last letter on the is scuffed out-it might even have been burned out. Curious.

In front of you, there is a large crack in the wall, a mighty crack that jags from the roof to the floor, leaving a passage large enough for a thin man or woman to squeeze through. Strangely, the inside of this crack does not show the same things outside as the window. It's only a pool of darkness, unsettling to dwell upon.

You wonder, after a moment, why you thought of the front of the room last. Wasn't it the thing right in front of you all along? You hear a sound in the walls, like a rat scuttling around beyond the baseboards, and your fingers tighten on the cheap wood tabletop.

"...You hear a sound in the walls, like a rat scuttling around beyond the baseboards, and your fingers tighten on the cheap wood tabletop.

Surprisingly, a man steps out of the crack in the wall with a audible grunt, squeezing through with a bit of effort. He's your sort of man-he looks just like you, after all, down to the grey hairs on chin, and the shallow, long healed cut on his left eyebrow. Was that a picket fence or a buck knife wielded by an angry whore? Strange, you chuckle to yourself, that you never noticed these small things until right this moment.

The man sits down across from you, and you can't help but be a bit amused-of course there is a chair there, even if it wasn't mentioned at all. He stares you straight in the eye."


He stares you straight in the eye.

"The man seems a bit flustered. He speaks after a moment, because of course-you can't speak until he's done. You're sort of a prisoner, after all.

The man speaks in your voice, and you find this uncomfortable for some reason...

'Well.' The man says 'Tell me, are you enjoying the game'?"


((Immanuels portion is done, processing giglamesh.))
« Last Edit: September 15, 2015, 10:29:38 am by Dwarmin »
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Dwarmin

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Re: The Far West-Ch.1/The Shadow of the Storm (Game thread)
« Reply #200 on: September 15, 2015, 11:26:11 am »

Afterwards, when she talked to the horsepeople, less as a bard, more of a trader, she inquired after the orinost relic, the shamanic lore, and the beast tales, in order of desire, and offered more of her own tales and songs in turn.

Your story is taken rather well. One of them sums it up thusly....

"A woman who loves a woman, who is not a woman. A strange story, not what is expected, but very good. And, very sad. We hope one day they will meet again, when the moon falls into the sea...that is one of our stories you have not heard." He says, with a calm smile.
 
---

The Orinost Relic is owned by that angry, red-haired young warrior, who took over for the injured leader. His mood doesn't seem to have improved...

'This is not a thing I stole.' he insists. 'Since those who owned it lie dead. The dead cannot own things. You are of the Orinost. There is no more Orinost. I will not allow it be sold cheaply...it is a useful thing. I don't want it. It gives ill luck. Those who owned it lie dead.' He says, intending to imply causation causing correlation...or something. 'Give me good luck. And, I will give you bad luck.' He says, pointing a long, bony finger to the Handyman. He refuses to elaborate further.

You remember when everyone in Orinost has something like this on their person...they were viewed as amusing toys, despite the intricate technology contained within. Times change...

The Shamanic Lore is offered by a group of very old Horsefolk...

"Speaking to Furies. You wish a thing that can cause you much pain. You cannot speak to a living flame without suffering the burns. You cannot speak to water-it will fill your lungs, quiet you forever. You must learn a balance of pain to properly hold the furies within in your hands. Or, you will not be here for very long.

We will trade you secrets...you give us some secrets in return. A story no one has ever heard. A story no one should ever hear. A story that may cause you pain. If you can stand to give us your pain, we will teach you the secret words."


The Beast Tales are offered with less dramatics, however.

"A Warrior shares his best tales with the other warriors." A young one boasts-hardly into his adult years, with spiky hair painted turtle-shell green. It's likely he's been on many hunts, despite his age, and he seems interested in you. "Tell me how well you fight, woman of the Orinost. Spin me a story from your weave about yourself, as a great warrior. I like a pretty lie, like I like a pretty lady...like you. Tomorrow, we will be hunting the Werejacken, and we may die-tonight, I am alive and will give you a stories of the things, I and my father have seen over our hunts. This is a fair deal for both of us, don't you think?" he says, flicking his tail rebelliously. You notice his Horsefolk grammar is a bit off-he's probably comfortable speaking to you on human terms.
« Last Edit: September 15, 2015, 11:36:39 am by Dwarmin »
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SeriousConcentrate

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Re: The Far West-Ch.1/The Shadow of the Storm (Game thread)
« Reply #201 on: September 15, 2015, 11:49:01 am »

Vic looked around and noticed eyes were on her. "...Is it my turn? Very well. I'm not much of a story teller, but I'll do what I can." The old bounty hunter took off her hat and set it aside, then drew one of her revolvers and emptied the chambers, putting the bullets in her coat pocket. She put the safety on as well. "If I still had both hands this would be more entertaining, but I still remember how to do this. It's something my brother Kyle taught me when I was young."

She began to spin the revolver around her index finger, slowly at first but quickly gaining speed. After a few moments, she turned her hand so her finger was pointing downward and continued to spin the gun around it. "If I had both hands I could do this with all three guns. I used to be pretty good at juggling." She grabbed the grip mid-spin and starting spinning it the opposite way, then moved her arm so it was spinning vertically by her face. She flicked her wrist down, then up, sending the gun into the air and over her shoulder. She caught it behind her back then resumed twirling it horizontally as she brought it around to the front again.

"Kyle used to organize monthly contests with his friends and me, to see who had the best skills. It wasn't just gun-juggling; we would shoot targets and things like that too. I never won but I always did well." Victoria spun the gun upwards and off her finger, let it turn several revolutions as it fell, then caught it on her finger and continued to spin it. "Our friend Brock almost always won. I think, now, he was trying to impress me. He did a good job of it. We never married, and our only son was taken from me in an Empire internment camp, but there was love there, for a time. He died in the war, along with almost all of my family. Sometimes I think I should have."

Victoria tossed the gun up, bounced it off the stump of her left arm, then her knee, and caught it in a horizontal spin. "So now I spend my remaining days hunting those who would make trouble for the people just trying to get by. And that's my story." Vic flicked the chamber open and held the side of the barrel between her teeth as she reloaded the gun with her remaining hand, then closed it and put the revolver away.
« Last Edit: September 15, 2015, 11:52:18 am by SeriousConcentrate »
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Re: The Far West-Ch.1/The Shadow of the Storm (Game thread)
« Reply #202 on: September 15, 2015, 01:20:57 pm »

Incongruity, misidentification and irrelevance. A fixture of all dreams that Immanuel Jade has, it seems. Some of his hands grasp the tabletop tightly as two of his mouths, mirror images of one another, attempt to speak, a metallic-sounding stutter causing him to strain for a second before a shrill, mechanical voice comes out at last.

"YES," he declares, twin clouds of bloody, foul dust emanating as long-resting gears within him begin to painfully turn.
« Last Edit: September 15, 2015, 01:23:38 pm by Harry Baldman »
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Dwarmin

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Re: The Far West-Ch.1/The Shadow of the Storm (Game thread)
« Reply #203 on: September 15, 2015, 01:42:19 pm »

"The man scowls, and snaps his fingers impatiently. The barrier seems to solidify. He can do this all day, after all. Still, Neat trick...enough with the games, though. We're confusing the audience. Back to the plot. Let's get it straight. You opened the door. You let me in. You allowed all this to happen. So, we can agree our situations is...untenable, yes? Yes, indeed. We're both enjoying ourselves, but things need to change.

...I mean to ask, do you really want to do be a skulk for the Empire, or do you want to get out of this incredibly opportune pit you've found yourself in? I can offer you a way out, as unlikely as the situation that landed you here. Yes, you know I can help you, he says with a sharp grin. We still need to find that map, don't we? I can only lead you to the water, but you have to lower your stubborn head and drink, friend.

You notice he has all his teeth...while in this dream, you've lost all yours. In fact, you can't help but notice that he seems to be a mirror to you in every way-whole where you part, waxed where you have waned. It's a Hell of a thing.

The man continues to speak, his voice still sounding mechanical and shrill. "Shall we bet it all again on the existential dilemma? You know I can give your power, but the more power you take, the more I become you. Eventually, there won't be a you-once I get out, your story is over. Not that it was ever your story to begin with. It's not much of a choice, I know-just one track or the other. But, it is a choice. Let me out, Immanuel...or, in. Whatever. You confuse the Hell out of me, you know that?"
The man says irritably.

Then, he notices the gears, because they are now there.

"...if you're going to change things, give me a heads up. Gears it is, I guess."

Victoria tossed the gun up, bounced it off the stump of her left arm, then her knee, and caught it in a horizontal spin. "So now I spend my remaining days hunting those who would make trouble for the people just trying to get by. And that's my story." Vic flicked the chamber open and held the side of the barrel between her teeth as she reloaded the gun with her remaining hand, then closed it and put the revolver away.

"We have found that those who live by the gun create trouble for everyone. You seem honest, and keep good company. We will think on your words." They say, with slight smiles and small chuckles...you can't help but think they found something amusing about all of that, but you will have to ask them directly.
« Last Edit: September 15, 2015, 01:45:10 pm by Dwarmin »
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Re: The Far West-Ch.1/The Shadow of the Storm (Game thread)
« Reply #204 on: September 15, 2015, 01:55:51 pm »

"Trouble's been living where my left arm should be for years now. It ain't my intention to bring it to folks like yourself, but it ain't exactly something I can control either." Vic sighed and sat, putting her hat back on.
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Harry Baldman

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Re: The Far West-Ch.1/The Shadow of the Storm (Game thread)
« Reply #205 on: September 15, 2015, 02:04:38 pm »

Maximilian Yang twitches lightly, an irrational number of fingers beginning to tap rhythmically along the tabletop, multitudinous eyes of many colors blinking rapidly and asynchronously. A darkly seen image, same as always. One can only wonder what lies on the other side of the proverbial looking glass.

If there is a sound he would make in response, he does not appear capable of producing it.
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Dwarmin

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Re: The Far West-Ch.1/The Shadow of the Storm (Game thread)
« Reply #206 on: September 15, 2015, 02:15:13 pm »

"Trouble's been living where my left arm should be for years now. It ain't my intention to bring it to folks like yourself, but it ain't exactly something I can control either." Vic sighed and sat, putting her hat back on.

"We will give the same advice we gave the other one. Let it go." They say, mysteriously.

Maximilian Yang twitches lightly, an irrational number of fingers beginning to tap rhythmically along the tabletop, multitudinous eyes of many colors blinking rapidly and asynchronously. A darkly seen image, same as always. One can only wonder what lies on the other side of the proverbial looking glass.

If there is a sound he would make in response, he does not appear capable of producing it.

"...the man seems to have lost patience. Still, he seems to be game for a bit more before letting you go.

'Shall we change the name on the door then?' he says, with bitter humor."
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Harry Baldman

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Re: The Far West-Ch.1/The Shadow of the Storm (Game thread)
« Reply #207 on: September 15, 2015, 02:49:54 pm »

Gulušun Tan remains incongruous, incomprehensible, a mess of limbs and broken quasi-human shapes, not at all unlike a shattered mirror. Alternate squeaks resembling affirmation and negation (perhaps more from expectation than actual resemblance) are heard with each movement, no rhyme or reason to any of them.

In a troubling note, none of this was in any way unusual.
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Re: The Far West-Ch.1/The Shadow of the Storm (Game thread)
« Reply #208 on: September 15, 2015, 02:55:13 pm »

Wen-Li watched the performance, applauding politely when it was done. Her mask remained the smiling one, and her tone light, but there was bitterness underneath Wen-Li's words.

"Impressive dexterity, miss. And yes... trouble has a malign intelligence, despite the efforts of good men. Sometimes it clings."

She thought of a malignant gear, that clicked sibiliantly in her dreams, sometimes. A choice. Poor or not, it had been made, and now consequences.


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Re: The Far West-Ch.1/The Shadow of the Storm (Game thread)
« Reply #209 on: September 15, 2015, 03:19:55 pm »

"Thanks, ma'am. They say anything you learn early on, you never forget, and I'm not old enough yet to fumble my gun." Vic raised her left knee, foot flat on the ground, and rested the stump of her left arm on it.

"What about you, Sal? Seems like both of us have lost something." Vic indicated Wen on 'both'.
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