Topic: Our Salvation: It Is Written (Read 258974 times)

penguinofhonor · « **Reply #870 on:** March 30, 2016, 07:57:12 am »

This is probably not the wisest decision, but cooperating with these guys seems like the best way out that I have. I push the lid off the marked sarcophagus.

Toaster · « **Reply #871 on:** March 30, 2016, 09:12:13 am »

"I see that you're not going to be helpful, even after all I've done for you. Very well; call Sureness Assurance and ask for Thomas Minstep if you need any further insurance matters dealt with."

Depart. Maybe roam the halls a bit.

Xantalos · « **Reply #872 on:** March 30, 2016, 11:52:12 am »

"Oh for - I'm fulfilling prophecy and shit! Wasn't that what you wanted to do with the other guy with the sun and stuff? Calm down you baby, I'll try helping you glue the other one back together."

Knock on the door.

"Oh blacksmithy! I've got your priceless object! Hopefully you can fit it into this place, or don't need to. Cmon out and see it!"

((Oh my that's hilarious. I'm going to pretend I'm best friends with this guy now and nothing he can do will change that.))

TopHat · « **Reply #873 on:** March 30, 2016, 11:52:37 am »

"The guards? Shouldn't they be, you know, on guard, rather than wasting the castle's last supplies? What if there's an attack?"
Outrage and annoyance time. Let's hope the servants think the same way.

AoshimaMichio · « **Reply #874 on:** March 30, 2016, 01:53:26 pm »

No angry mob? No awesome concert? Bah, I have to get closer.

INEVITABLY find out safe way over to stoats, preferrably one that doesn't involve me becoming arrow cushion.

Harry Baldman · « **Reply #875 on:** March 31, 2016, 07:12:22 am »

Quote from: penguinofhonor on March 30, 2016, 07:57:12 am

This is probably not the wisest decision, but cooperating with these guys seems like the best way out that I have. I push the lid off the marked sarcophagus.

While the lid is exceedingly heavy, that's not a problem you can't solve merely by putting your back into it. It stubbornly holds in place, but enough effort gets it off easily enough. You push it halfway off and let gravity do the rest of the work. You then take a look inside the sarcophagus itself, and are promptly surprised when you manage to see something in the darkness.

[The Nameless Queen: 6]

Two murkily shining points, filthy gemstones in the darkened box. They seem to be staring out at you from a mound of metal and rags bent and twisted into unfamiliar shapes, the rags lining the stone coffin like fragile spiderwebs, threads connecting spires of unnaturally shaped iron. A buzz fills your ears as your fingers run along one, a pleasant shiver going through your bones as strange electricity courses through you. Conch-like formations of stone pop up every now and again along the inside surface, poking into the silky membranes of ancient fabric with multitudinous spikes.

What you definitely do not find in here, however, is any trace of a corpse.

Quote from: Toaster on March 30, 2016, 09:12:13 am

"I see that you're not going to be helpful, even after all I've done for you. Very well; call Sureness Assurance and ask for Thomas Minstep if you need any further insurance matters dealt with."

Depart. Maybe roam the halls a bit.

The girl breathes a sigh of relief as you leave and walk along the halls of the keep. The castle seems to be getting a little livelier now as you approach the foyer, two drunken guards reveling in song and nonexistent drink. You pass them casually as you climb downstairs and wonder where you could possibly go next.

[Wondering Again: 3]

Perhaps you could speak to the queen again. You did after all perform the task of getting the minders in a more accessible location. And though the red-haired guard has no doubt provided his own report, perhaps she'd have some other productive suggestions on what to do with your time.

Alternatively there is the majordomo. While his daughter did prove to be a handful, you don't think he means you any particular malice by any means. Or maybe you could look around the courtyard. Not everyone around here lives in the keep itself if you understand correctly. Most do, but not all.

Quote from: Xantalos on March 30, 2016, 11:52:12 am

"Oh for - I'm fulfilling prophecy and shit! Wasn't that what you wanted to do with the other guy with the sun and stuff? Calm down you baby, I'll try helping you glue the other one back together."

Knock on the door.

"Oh blacksmithy! I've got your priceless object! Hopefully you can fit it into this place, or don't need to. Cmon out and see it!"

((Oh my that's hilarious. I'm going to pretend I'm best friends with this guy now and nothing he can do will change that.))

The blacksmith pops his head out of the workshop, looking like he's had a particularly manic last few hours. He seems displeased at the distraction right up until he notices the window, complete with screaming priest. He looks at it for a good minute, completely transfixed.

It's... it's beautiful, he says. How did you- no! Do not tell him! He resumes staring at the window. Or maybe the priest - you're not sure which seems to interest him more, honestly. Yes, he says. Yes! Indeed! You see inspiration twinkling in his eyes as he looks on for a little longer.

So, you say, that should be everything he- yes! Yes! Speak no more, speak no more. The door opens a little wider, giving you a good look into the complete darkness inside. Seems like he's done a little work on the workshop itself, as it were. You suppose he's had some time to think. You see the shape of the boy rest upon the door as it opens wider, allowing you passage as he continues to stare at your latest offering. Not one to decline such an invitation, you squeeze inside, walking barefoot along tools, broken bolts and a whole lot of other "treasures" left in the wake of a creative rampage. Or perhaps a pre-rampage, even.

The blacksmith lingers a little more, then slams the door shut. He slinks along the darkened room, only detectable by the sound of upset junk. You hear a hammer being lifted. Bellows are pressed down on the other side of the room, a furnace coming to life from a bright point of light in one corner. The boy laughs, lit up by slight firelight. A hammer rings out on an anvil incongruously. A piece of iron flies past your head, batted according to some unusual smithing technique. A perplexing din builds up.

Come here, you are implored after a moment! Quick! You waste no time and step forth. The boy titters with delight. It is nearly complete. Or nearly begun? Place your hand on the anvil! You look down for a moment. You think you can vaguely discern the anvil in the dark.

Quote from: TopHat on March 30, 2016, 11:52:37 am

"The guards? Shouldn't they be, you know, on guard, rather than wasting the castle's last supplies? What if there's an attack?"
Outrage and annoyance time. Let's hope the servants think the same way.

[Those Useless Bastards: 4]

She's no tactician. Or in any particular position to argue with the royal guard, largely useless as they may be. She mostly just contents herself with dragging their drunken carcasses to the barracks. And maybe helping herself to some of their stuff when they're completely passed out. They have some good things on them every now and then. And they hardly ever spot if any of them go missing, worthless yobs that they are. In that sense everyone wins.

Of course, they're all going to die nevertheless, but she likes to take whatever victories she can. The alternative is a much less productive form of madness.

Quote from: AoshimaMichio on March 30, 2016, 01:53:26 pm

No angry mob? No awesome concert? Bah, I have to get closer.

INEVITABLY find out safe way over to stoats, preferrably one that doesn't involve me becoming arrow cushion.

Shouldn't be too difficult. You're a tough sort, and these stoats strike you as probably not terribly threatening. The details do not concern you, really. You just need to get there. You figure your arrival can only be

INEVITABLE

[Word: 6]

You dive off the wall, your body splitting into fireworks of probability, playing fast and loose with the laws of causality as you rain down upon the field outside, plummeting into the moat, rolling down the earthworks, exploring a wide variety of bone-shattering meetings with the earth, and many which fail to break bones at all. Distant improbabilities draw you most, and you swim through gross unlikelihood to the back of the front line of crossbowstoats, not so much arriving as appearing behind the commander, and putting a hand on his shoulder. His torso twists about in surprise, eyes wide.

Son, you say, you two are overdue for a conversation.

Spoiler: Status (click to show/hide)

penguinofhonor · « **Reply #876 on:** March 31, 2016, 08:32:02 am »

I check to see if the gems are attached to this metal device or if they're just sitting in the box with it. Even if they're unattached, I don't take them yet.

Xantalos · « **Reply #877 on:** March 31, 2016, 09:52:19 am »

"Righty-o, then. This better turn out well, but I trust you mostly. I wouldn't have had to go to such lengths if there wasn't a good reward for it. Does it matter which hand?"

Hand on anvil! If it doesn't matter which, my left - while I arbitrarily declare myself to be ambidextrous, if he's gonna mangle my hand my right one's gonna be more useful.

TopHat · « **Reply #878 on:** March 31, 2016, 10:51:20 am »

"That's ... something to think about, I guess. In any case, it sounds like they're asleep now, do you want a hand?"
Offer to assist in the cleanup.

AoshimaMichio · « **Reply #879 on:** March 31, 2016, 11:34:27 am »

Hmm, I didn't quite plan this far. This is little closer than I expected. Well, let's try alternative approach.

"Three, six, four." Leif says to the commander. "Let's retire into your tent and have a chat. How's Vali?" While still holding him, let him and only him see the prison stone for a moment.

Toaster · « **Reply #880 on:** March 31, 2016, 05:11:10 pm »

Hmm... yes, Mrs. Queen did want me to find a place for them. Best report in.

Report to Mrs. Queen.

Harry Baldman · « **Reply #881 on:** April 01, 2016, 06:53:35 am »

Quote from: penguinofhonor on March 31, 2016, 08:32:02 am

I check to see if the gems are attached to this metal device or if they're just sitting in the box with it. Even if they're unattached, I don't take them yet.

The gems bulge from lidded sockets. The stones appear much smaller than their likely actual size, obscured by the material they're set in - stone, perhaps? You are not sure. Possibly the stones are as large as your fist. More likely they're even larger.

[Unknown Landscapes: 4]

An errant touch on the left gemstone fills your ears with incomprehensible song, thoughts of surreal landscapes coming unbidden to your mind. The gemstones blink at you, first the left, then the right. A set of alien features twist around them, intrigued by your investigation. Something pokes into your side gently - a blunt, four-jointed finger of twisted metal that makes your intestines twitch.

Underneath the buzz you sense a consuming curiosity. Who is this? Who walks in the court of the manifold lords?

Quote from: Xantalos on March 31, 2016, 09:52:19 am

"Righty-o, then. This better turn out well, but I trust you mostly. I wouldn't have had to go to such lengths if there wasn't a good reward for it. Does it matter which hand?"

Hand on anvil! If it doesn't matter which, my left - while I arbitrarily declare myself to be ambidextrous, if he's gonna mangle my hand my right one's gonna be more useful.

You place your left hand on the anvil and close your eyes. He's going to hit it with the hammer. He's going to mangle your hand. Yeah, you hear the little fucker giggle. He's gonna love this. You make yourself as ready as possible. The blacksmith locks a set of tongs around it.

Despite this, it still goddamn hurts as the hammer breaks skin and splits bone. The hand is likely the most sensitive area of your body, did you know that? You think you knew that. You keep still. The blacksmith begins to shout and holler wildly of pain. What's sharper than steel, what heralds glorious death? Pain, friend! Pain is the answer!

The hammer falls on your hand again with a sickening crack. You fall to your knees and let loose a string of expletives. The blacksmith meets them with vicious blasphemies. What is the greatest mistake of every creator? It is translation! What hand can match the glory of a dream?

Metal cracks over your fingers. There is no room for screaming in your nervous system anymore. Your voice grows hoarse, your language becomes repetitive as you struggle to come up with words to encompass your state. What is the answer? How does one forge a blade to match an idea? The answer is simple!

Another strike. The pain boils over, pouring over your nerves, quenching all feeling, spilling everywhere. Bloated with feeling as you are, numbness begins to set in. How does one fashion destiny itself into a weapon, what artifice can meet the needs that fate advances? One does not, you see! One fashions ideas instead!

Once more the hammer impacts your hand, the last of the pain going out as your left hand is ruined beyond recognition. It feels unnatural here in the dark. All feeling lost, it is as if you feel the air around your hand. It feels like a furnace. Your flesh burns from its caress. How does one fashion an idea? In the absence of light! The dark is a place of infinite possibility!

Miraculously, the last blow hurts more than all the previous combined. The metal strikes the final nerve, your body clenching in response, thoughts turning to animalistic murder, agony crystallizing into superhuman sharpness. The blacksmith's screaming turns to laughter, the tongs releasing their grip. You keep it on the anvil. The air has turned from unbearably hot to icy cold. You hear the blacksmith fall backward, still alternatively laughing and muttering.

[Embrace the Madness: 6]

You stand up, your breathing controlled to perfection. The non-thought of killing lingers in the air. You wait for the red, impotent rage to set in, but it does not come. The tension remains, and at its core is the razor-sharp lingering thought. You look at it as if from outside, an alien kernel you imagine hanging in the dark where you recall your left hand being. Your thoughts washed clean with blood, you turn to the door.

REND

You hear it all too clearly, the thought sweeping around you, winding twice around the workshop and cutting an inch-deep gash in the walls. You raise your left hand and it comes back as if called. Blades are known to sing as they cleave the air - the thought screams in your head, drowning out the noise. So much noise. You twitch. Why the noise? The furnace crackles. It irritates you now. You look at the glowing embers. There is a scream, and the fire goes out. Ah.

SILENCE

You remain tense and numb, words pulsing in your brain, ebbing as they seek release. The blacksmith seems to have passed out. Perhaps it is for the best.

Quote from: TopHat on March 31, 2016, 10:51:20 am

"That's ... something to think about, I guess. In any case, it sounds like they're asleep now, do you want a hand?"
Offer to assist in the cleanup.

She thought you'd never offer! Lugging these idiots around is hard work, don't you know. She produces a key and opens the cellar right up. Moment of truth!

What you see as you open the door are three guards and one other person. It's not a pretty sight overall. A large, red-faced guard rests with his face on the floor, seemingly fallen off a nearby stool. Another, a gently sleeping woman, lies in a large puddle of wine near a wine barrel that seems to have been busted open with her sword, which lies a little further away. A third, who you would presume is related to the other woman judging by her looks, has curled up in the embrace of a brutalized, unmoving individual on the ground. There are a whole lot of wine barrels in here, by the by.

Well, says the servant girl. Seems like they've had an eventful night. She seems largely unaffected by the sight of the severely beaten man. She steps over to the large guard and starts to go through his possessions with a gentle touch. What are you waiting for, she asks. Get to it, man!

Quote from: AoshimaMichio on March 31, 2016, 11:34:27 am

Hmm, I didn't quite plan this far. This is little closer than I expected. Well, let's try alternative approach.

"Three, six, four." Leif says to the commander. "Let's retire into your tent and have a chat. How's Vali?" While still holding him, let him and only him see the prison stone for a moment.

[Elongated Affairs: 2]

The stoatman lieutenant narrows his eyes as you say the numbers and offer a glimpse of the stone. You can speak right here. The rest of the detachment turns their heads, then their crossbows toward you. The lieutenant does not seem to mind this, merely giving them a slight glance.

What word is there from the heretic? You have her number and you have her stone. Explain yourself. Swiftly.

Quote from: Toaster on March 31, 2016, 05:11:10 pm

Hmm... yes, Mrs. Queen did want me to find a place for them. Best report in.

Report to Mrs. Queen.

[Sleepy Times: 1]

The guard at the door does not seem to feel this is a good time to report to the queen, however. She fell asleep, he believes. And the queen's rest is of paramount importance, especially in these dire times. He already had to turn away a guard with apparently important information, and while he does feel a little bad about this, he feels it would be best to stick to principle in this instance.

Spoiler: Status (click to show/hide)

penguinofhonor · « **Reply #882 on:** April 01, 2016, 07:35:45 am »

What now? A robot?

"I am Eileen, summoned from a distant land by the people of Anglefork. The city is in peril and I am looking for anything that could help us defend it."

AoshimaMichio · « **Reply #883 on:** April 01, 2016, 08:12:21 am »

Her? Heretic? It wasn't a guy? Tread carefully here, buddy.

"Oh, I met her in a prison cell briefly before getting tucked into another cell. She asked me to deliver this to her relatives on this side of the wall. Are you one of her relatives perhaps?"

TopHat · « **Reply #884 on:** April 01, 2016, 04:07:11 pm »

"Right, yes, of course. But who's this poor fellow?"

Ask questions whilst working over one of the guards. Any keys?

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Author Topic: Our Salvation: It Is Written (Read 258974 times)

penguinofhonor

Re: Our Salvation: Tippler's Koans

Toaster

Re: Our Salvation: Tippler's Koans

Xantalos

Re: Our Salvation: Tippler's Koans

TopHat

Re: Our Salvation: Tippler's Koans

AoshimaMichio

Re: Our Salvation: Tippler's Koans

Harry Baldman

Re: Our Salvation: Tippler's Koans

penguinofhonor

Re: Our Salvation: Tippler's Koans

Xantalos

Re: Our Salvation: Tippler's Koans

TopHat

Re: Our Salvation: Tippler's Koans

AoshimaMichio

Re: Our Salvation: Tippler's Koans

Toaster

Re: Our Salvation: Tippler's Koans

Harry Baldman

Re: Our Salvation: the New Shape of Murder

penguinofhonor

Re: Our Salvation: the New Shape of Murder

AoshimaMichio

Re: Our Salvation: the New Shape of Murder

TopHat

Re: Our Salvation: the New Shape of Murder