Hmh, well let's find proper light then and re-examine the stone. Ask around if anyone has seen where surviving minders went.
[Seeking True Light: 2]
You're pretty sure that floating, shining boulder is as good a light as you're likely to get in this castle, frustratingly uneven as the light may be. Looking outside for a moment, the rest of the castle looks quite dark. You assume most of the citizens get around by moonlight and general familiarity. Not that there seems to be much of a nightlife. A few guards patrol the battlements of the castle warily, and the pair of door guards you may have seen earlier are making sure the courtyard is clear of any sinister activity.
Seems like if you want better light, you're going to have to make some yourself. Or ask the guy with the magical powers to make more, that works too. His boulder seems to be working on something right now, in fact-
[Extraordinary Dodge: 4]
MOON
- something very radioactive that you are fairly sure you want no part of, and wisely take a step outside to avoid. The way the exterior door takes on a very smoky aroma and warps slightly makes you wonder if you want to go back in there, really.
Reassure moonstone, let it know that I believe in it. Try to get close enough to step off, otherwise jump for it. MOON if it doesn't look like I'll make it, then have rock swing under me to catch my slowly falling ass.
[Stone's Motivation: 1]
You... you believe in it? That's... wow. It's never had someone believe in its abilities. It... forgive it, it doesn't know what's coming over it. It's just
so happy!
[Extraordinary Dodge: 2]
The short pulse of largely restrained celestial fire that flows out of the stone makes you nervous. You don't think you have too many options. It's make-or-break time.
MOON
[Word: 5]
The word coincides with your stone beginning to weep openly in waves of stellar radiation, and you leap into the nearest hole, your nightgown having caught on fire, your hair bursting into flames, the high-energy particles making every inch of your insides itch. You grab onto the edge of the alcove and swing yourself into the rather convenient circular passage it leads into, obtaining adequate cover before you are once again nearly incinerated.
The next few moments are spent rolling about to put out the flames. Your nightgown is only ruined in the back area, fortunately, and you're really only burnt over approximately 30% of your surface area. 40%, tops. On your revised personal scale of pain, the exploration of which can be said to be perpetually ongoing, you'd say this is about a 3/10.
Having sorted that, you take a look around. You seem to be on the equivalent of the third floor now, which has the shape of a circular passage, as mentioned, running all around the vaulted ceiling of the hall below. The outer edge of the passage has staircases leading up between the irregular window-door-whatever holes. It's a bit hard to see, given how dark it is in here, but you think you see a shape scurry up one of the nearby staircases.
What you most definitely also sense is your good friend the stone, seemingly banging up against the hole you entered through to get your attention. Maker? Are you there? Are you all right? Please tell it you're all right. It hopes it didn't hurt you with that outburst. Oh god, you probably hate it forever now, don't you? It is so sorry for letting you down! Again! It won't happen again, ever, it solemnly swears, a corresponding high-energy emotional discharge lighting up your point of entry.
I thank the woman for her hospitality and enter the house. "I'm Eileen," I say after I step inside.
She is very pleased to make your acquaintance, Eileen. Her name is Claire. She gently places a hand on your shoulder as you walk in.
The inside of the home is perhaps not what you'd expect, though what you would expect at this point is up for debate. The house is but a single room, well-made but worn furniture clustered along the edges of it including a double bed, a frankly excessive number of end tables of similar shape and design, a dining table without any chairs, its surface filled with a variety of woodworking tools placed in an orderly manner, and a sizable wardrobe in one corner. It looks minimally inhabited in a sense, like someone's been through here, but hasn't elected to stay. Welcome, Claire tells you. Mind the center panel.
The center panel is, appropriately enough, about a 15 by 15 foot solid wood panel in the center of the room, polished to perfect smoothness over a presumably long period of time. It is subtly different from the rest of the wooden floor - if it hadn't been pointed out to you, you doubt you would have noticed it. Her best work, Claire thinks. Very nice, do you not agree? Would you like something to drink, perhaps?
"Ah! You must be the important manager that I need to speak with! Surely you care for your employees; you want them to be covered in all cases of injury and malady on the job, correct? Let me tell you of the perils of insufficient coverage- and the lawsuits are only the beginning..."
Another sales pitch!
[Lovely Seditious Treason: 4]
You preach the horrors of innocents caught in terrible traps of their own making, the work of the silent killer that is the thoughtless acceptance of personal invincibility. Bad things happen to people all the time, do they not? One of these days they are going to happen to you, to her, to anyone at all. And no man or woman knows the day their doom will come. Eloquently put, the guard captain agrees. Things have been looking a bit down as of late.
Indeed, you say, death and injury comes for us all. And the only way to stay prepared, and to earn the everlasting loyalty of your employees, is to provide sufficient insurance coverage. At this point the captain looks at you in confusion. Come again?
Insurance coverage! Workers' compensation! All manner of financial safety can be granted to those in the perilous profession that is royal guardsmanship or whatever the proper term is. And certain objects in their use, too, if they've got any interesting equipment they'd like to keep in as good an order as possible. Hm, she says. She just so happens to be a royal guardswoman. Are you saying she can obtain more benefits to her esteemed profession through this thing you call 'coverage'?
Yes, you say. This is exactly what you are saying. She seems immediately interested as a result.
"A well, eh? Well - heh - I think I know where I'm going now."
Overwriting my pervious action - go over to the well and try to find a way to safely get down into it.
Fortunately, the well seems to have a perfectly good chain attached to a nearby post to climb down, and you do so.
Unsurprisingly, it is really goddamn dark down in the well, though not sufficiently for you to miss several things of note. Firstly, three corpses, two of them headless, one of them naked, all of them partially eaten and covered in gore, all lying around in the center of the room, a few of them pushed around by the ebb and flow of scavenging rats. Secondly, an upturned tub helpfully placed nearby to allow good access to the chain. Finally, a set of glowing letters on a nearby wall, warning any would-be comers to be staying in away if they know what's good for them - the writing is partially obscured by the shape of a little girl currently pacing next to it, thinking intently.
She seems startled as she notices you, and her shape becomes very indistinct in the dark as she retreats toward the wall. Er, hello! She sees you've, uh, made your way down here! Come over here, will you? She wants to check something. Touch this door over here, she says, pointing you toward a pitch black area of the strange dungeon room.
Anglefork Castle is a hilltop structure located slightly to the north of the large town of Anglefork, the outlying wineries of which were known for producing the most decent wine in the great kingdom of Benzerwald. Stoatmen have since had better ideas on how to utilize their wine presses.
Eric Codeburn, COMPUTISTICS SPECIALIST
- Wounds: 1
- Floral Nightgown (worn, burnt)
- A Word: SUN
- A Word: MOON
- Anglefork Castle: Minister of Moronic Affairs
- The Impromptu Prophecy: Child of the Sun and Moon
- Adherents of the Great House: Enemy of Memory
- Well and Truly Narked Upon: 1
- Friends in Low Places: a Successful Transaction
- Subordinate Shining Stone (2 tons, emotional)
- Army of the New State: 600 Stoatmen
- Army of the New State: !!!!
- The Good Doctor: the Solitary Candidate
Leif Erikson, Miner
- Reappropriated, Clean Skirt
- 1 gp
- Anglefork Castle: A Free Man
- The Box: an Amicable Parting
- Tower of the Mind: Number Two
- Induced Lucidity: An Example Realm
- The Prison Stone
- Elongated Affairs: A Noble Task
- Elongated Affairs: The Numbers of the Stoat
Eileen Minett, Vinyl Collector
- A Word: HUNGER
- A Weapon: Explosive Cysts
- Queenly Garments: the Humble Dress (damaged)
- Sticks: 0.95 (total)
- Rat Pantheon: Disliked
- Traces of Mischief: Mouthful of Blackness
- The New Queen: ?
- Origins: Witness to Dissolution
- Tower of the Mind: There's Something To Remember
- Gross Incandescence: Highly Illuminated
- Inscribed Brick ('Water')
- The Voracious Dark: Two Connections Given
- Body Count: 1
- Army of the New State: !!!!
- Never In: Utmost Hospitality
Jack Daniels, Karate Man
- Wounds: 1
- Voluntarily Naked
- The Winding Path of Inspiration: the Sword of Destiny
- The Winding Path of Inspiration: Something Priceless?
- The Winding Path of Inspiration: Something Purple?
- The Winding Path of Inspiration: A Profane Megalith
- Tower of the Mind: Incidental Abomination
- Doomstones: Efficient Conclusion
- A Place In History: Emergent Abomination
- Anglefork Castle: the Great Serpent
- 2 rats, crushed
- 1 rat, strangled
- 1 rat, live
- Gross Incandescence: Unilluminated
- Travels In The Fourth Dimension: Sunday ± 2 Days
- The Impromptu Prophecy: Sol In Absentia
- Body Count: 1
Thomas Minstep, Insurance Agent
- Anglefork Castle: Deluded Resident
- Traces of Mischief: Sandy Groin
- Gross Incandescence: Partly Illuminated
- Tight Leather Pants
- Travels In The Fourth Dimension: Friday, July 23rd, 409 S.D.
- The Majordomo: Happy to Help
- The Queen's Guard: the Captain's Ear
Author
Topic: Our Salvation: It Is Written (Read 259464 times)