Our SalvationYou are in a bath, naked, surrounded by warmth and fully submerged. You do not see anything, but you do feel warmth. You feel squirming. You feel scratching and
nibbling.
You sit up sharply as if awakening from a dramatic nightmare, and the dozens of rats you share this bath with flow around you, their squeaks rising to a cacophony as the disturbance ripples through them, the collective smell of their stirring nearly overpowering your senses. You emerge above rat-level and gasp for breath, trying to free yourself of the clutches of this strange trap. Your hands go for the rough wooden edges and you push yourself out of the rat-filled tub, landing on cold stone and spilled rodent in equal measure, crushing some of the latter with a sickening squelch as each and every bone of their bodies breaks in one fell swoop.
You feel disgustingly filthy, perhaps mildly diseased, but your eyes go around the darkened dungeon that you appear to have shown up in. This fails to assuage your concerns.
In a circle around the lit center of the room where a ceiling grate casts a gridlike shadow on a small circle of light stands a man in a sack cloth robe, and around him on the floor are splayed out two similarly-robed corpses, their heads missing and their necks horrifically mangled, still discharging large amounts of blood. The man himself looks scarcely better, with blood trickling out his ears and tear ducts, his pupils dilated to the point where his eyes look solid black, the fingers on his hands twisted and broken into infinitesimal pieces. And yet his face shows a grim sort of satisfaction, his breathing shallow and incredibly quick.
Around him, in the less lit parts of this place (which you would feel confident calling a particularly dinghy inner sanctum) are five tubs arranged in what would make the basis of a perfect pentagram if anybody could have been bothered to draw one. One was yours, but there are four others here, too - people like you. Regular, mostly clean people like yourself, minutely scratched and just as naked and confused. The corners of the room you cannot see, but as your eyes start to adapt you think you can make out that it really isn't much larger than the circle - looks squarish, about 7 or 8 meters to a side.
"OUR SALVATION!" shouts the man, accidentally spitting more blood over his chin as he opens his mouth, raising his arms partially as he twirls around to take a look at each of the five, stopping at you. "I WELCOME YOU TO," he starts to say, but stumbles, the turn having given him a touch of vertigo, "oh, I..."
You expect him to straighten himself out, and he clearly does too. But instead he just lingers lopsidedly for a second, then with a small moan falls on his face on the floor littered with chunks of skull and brain matter. Some of the rats draw closer to the fallen corpses and begin nibbling, not being the sorts to waste any time.
You exchange vague glances with the others, and conclude that they have absolutely no idea either.
Why, this is an RTD. You've probably heard of these before.
If not, let me remind you of the rules. Actions (and consequences of actions such as dodging) get you a d6 roll. A 1 is a critical failure, a 2 is a failure, a 3 is a poor success, a 4 is a mediocre success, a 5 is a smashing success, a 6 is an overshoot. Going with core rules here, so to speak.
If that's your kind of thing, well, go on to the next tab.
It's a simple one, really. You are a modern human being from Earth, at roughly the year 2015, give or take three to five years. A very regular sort of modern human being who would know what a bath is and have a job or at least a hobby of some sort. With this in mind, proceed.
Name: something modern, or maybe just good proof that your parents were twits. Or perhaps something you call yourself. Not like there's any way to prove you wrong until you get back home.
Occupation: what is it you do? It could be your job, or possibly a hobby if you're the sort of person who likes to think their work does not define them.
Description: entirely optional, unless you're the type of person who likes to get properly into character. You could just drop any pretense and play yourself if you want to. Or fill it out later if you skip it now, maybe with some of the heroic deeds you will surely be doing.
The game is first-come-first-served, so promptness is appreciated. Waitlists are a thing as well, however.
penguinofhonor - Eileen Minett, Vinyl Collector
Xantalos - Jack Daniels, Karate Man
Toaster - Thomas Minstep, Insurance Agent
TopHat - Oscar Wilde, Chemistry Teacher
DoctorMcTaalik - Rindle Fischgartner, Evolutionary Biologist
The WaitlistLordBrassroast - Ed MacDougal, Bartender
LordPorkins - P. Diddle Porkinsticks, Insane Hobo
SaberToothTiger - S. D. "Smooth" MacGroove, Disco Person
crazyabe - Alexander Artemis Jones, Architectural Engineer
mcclay - Henrique Jackson, Lumberjack
wipeout1024 - Anna Denderson, Seamstress
TheBiggerFish - Alice Thompson, Writer
The DeadAkumaKasai - Robert Johnson, MLG - dissolution
NAV - Benny Calverly, Barber - dissolution
Dermonster - Eric Codeburn, Computistics Specialist, Child of the Sun and Moon - murdered by his brother-sun
AoshimaMichio - Leif Erikson, Mastermind, Party-Shaman of the Moth Clan - dissolution
Author
Topic: Our Salvation: It Is Written (Read 262229 times)