"I, er... Oh, yes, there are at least four of us by my count. Anyway, erm, are there any obvious alternative ways of fulfilling your contract which don't involve killing everyone? Just they seem to be, well, nice people on the whole, so I'd rather that be avoided if possible."
Any alternatives to the eviscerate-then-assimilate thing?
One would assume so, given that it is unlikely that all of the people in this castle are crucial to the ultimate destiny of the nation. However, one is also unqualified to determine which of these particular people would be crucial and how exactly. The queen would be one, at least according to the original intent. But then any one of these folk could become a legendary hero and cause further troubles for his kind and generous clients.
Therefore, one says as one retrieves another guardsman, the third so far, through the ceiling of the gatehouse in a manner best described as physically improbable, emptying their armor of all of its flesh with a vile sucking noise, then casting the suit aside nonchalantly, it stands to reason that the safest option would be total eradication. Frankly, even leaving you to bumble about is something of a dangerous allowance, but one supposes it to be a wise investment into future calls for assistance, given the way you appear to command certain untold magical powers that you will no doubt be able to efficiently deploy in your next meeting with, say, a city garrison with an adjunct speaker who could make the call.
Speaking of, what was that just now? One couldn't help but notice your eyes going slightly glassy. And your skin seemed to lose texture a little. A very curious thing. Oh, and- ah, wait, one is being observed again. One begs your pardon as one goes about- aha, it's him again. The creature greets a nearby murder-hole, on the opposite side of which is the unmistakable shadow of Mr. Minstep, strangely recognizable despite being about 95% covered.
"Look, you state a vague request, you get a vague response. I'll be back momentarily with some sacrificial guy."
Go head back to the slave servant quarters and drag one of them along with me back to the shrine. Do my best not to be distracted by whatever realitywarping shenanigans are undoubtedly going on at the moment.
[Dinner For One: 4]
You don't even need to go that far, really, given the general commotion inside the keep. Tensions are running high. Servants are scurrying about with unclear instructions, the majordomo still bellowing something about an incoming festival. Guardsmen seem unconcerned, and are gathering materials for what seem to be barricades. You suppose this would be a good opportunity.
[A Fortuitous Grab: 2+1 vs. 3]
A passing short-haired servant finds herself the recipient of a stern grab on the shoulder. She looks at you rather irritably. Aren't you that naked idjit from before? Yes, you say as you gingerly lift her off the ground by the shoulder. Yes you are. You begin to carry her out of the keep, and this is about as far as you get as her confusion about this physically unlikely happening transforms into naked rage.
Unhand her, you filthy naked idjit! Her resistance begins in earnest at this point.
"Yes. This I can do."
Head back up. Is it the grey stout fellow? Indicate as such to the guard. Maybe even ask him what he wants!
[A Complete Picture: 4]
You head on over to the guardhouse, which seems oddly empty given the time of day, and take a gander out the conveniently placed murder holes, which afford you a rather fine view of Mr. Wilde and that gray stout person standing out by the gate expectantly, the gray person currently finishing up the process of eating the previous guardsman to look through the holes like some sort of metal-clad oyster. The way the formerly inhabited suit of armor joins about three other sets on the ground around it make you wonder if you've just made a terrible mistake.
One bids you hello, good sir. The gray figure appears to see you quite well. Would you happen to be a guardsman? You appear to be of a different flesh.
Oh fucking fuck, I'm so fucked... Deep breaths, Leif, deep breaths. You are descendant of man who found America, child of vikings, son of cold North. There's nothing I cannot do if I put my mind into it! I will find way out or I will take everything to hell with me!. Maybe... maybe if I coax him into finding the exit? Make him think about his home? And the door that leads out? That would literally lead me out of his mind. Hmm...
Resolution.
[Tumbling Deeper Down: 3]
Well, it's not that grim, you suppose. Getting back into the view of the stoatman and maybe tapping him on the shoulder or giving him a stern call is enough to put you back into focus, which brings a certain sense of relief even as it invariably makes the exit that much more distant from you.
You suppose there ought to be different ways to get out besides the most obvious one. Maybe you could teach this fellow some elementary minding. If stoats could even learn such a thing. He'd no doubt be much more able to direct you out if he had even a smidgen of awareness about how this all works.
"That's the spirit! Follow me." I lead the girl to Claire's place.
The spirit of defeat. The second best kind of spirit in your book. You head on over to Claire's place, eager to get to whatever occult business is going on in there. The door seems to be open, so you head right in.
As expected, Claire is still in, though she currently appears to be in bed, sipping from a cup of wine with a look of wonder as she regards a grubby young woman draped in a bedsheet and little else, who appears to be in the middle of a spirited lecture on something that probably wouldn't make that much more sense with full context. Something about the borders of El and the nineteen accords of 244. She half-paces, half-dances around the bed, her mind taking her on a journey no doubt assisted by quite a lot of alcohol, and both of them start laughing at something called the Great Insult of Far Horizon.
You begin to get the slight sense that you're interrupting something when Claire, wiping a tear from her eye, looks over at you. Hey! You're back! It's been a while. She sounds like she is certainly on the far side of tipsy. The other woman, leaning on a bedpost to keep her balance, looks your way as well. Welcome, she says in a mildly hoarse tone! You've missed a lot. She grabs a half-full mug on one particular end table, causing an empty glass bottle to clink to the floor with a careless movement, and downs it in one go. This gets pretty hard on the voice after a while, she comments after getting her bearings and standing the bottle up next to the bed. They both look at each other, then over to you. The girl you brought along gives you a very dubious look.
Leif Erikson, Miner
- A Word: INEVITABLE
- Clanlands Tonic (1 vial)
- Body Count: 1
- Wounds: 3
- 4 large red berries
- Damp and moldy fuel
- The Queen's Guard: A Roaring Good Time
- Reappropriated, Clean Skirt
- Inscribed Wooden Stylus
- Iron Spearhead
- 1.03 gp
- Anglefork Castle: A Free Man
- The Box: ?
- Tower of the Mind: Convenient Relocation
- Induced Inebriation: Comfortably Drunk
- Induced Lucidity: A Concert For The Gods
- Elongated Affairs: Cheerio!
- Compatibility: Minding
- Tricks of the Mind: Cormick's Condescending Riddle
- Tricks of the Mind: Perceptual Rebuke
- Tricks of the Mind: Erikson's Inexplicable Grapefruit
- Tricks of the Mind: Speak With The Mob
- Tricks of the Mind: Headfirst Dive
- Party in the Courtyard: Celebration in Earnest
- Never In: Swallowed By The Pit
- Gods of the Underground: Did You Just What
- Labyrinths of Anglefork: Tunnel-Literate
- The Voracious Dark: Two Deals Made
- The Voracious Dark: The Promised Sixth
- Moth's Flight: A Stop In The Danger Zone
- Troubles In Anglefork Town: Nothing To See Here
- The Secret Life of Stoats: Traps of the Mind
Eileen Minett, Vinyl Collector
- Wounds: 2
- Traces of Mischief: A Bubbling Scar
- Reclaimed Hooded Robe (worn, torn)
- Giant White Mushroom
- A Word: SEA
- A Word: HUNGER
- A Word: CHAOS
- A Weapon: Explosive Cysts
- Rat Pantheon: Disliked
- Origins: Witness to Dissolution
- Tower of the Mind: There's Something To Remember
- The New Queen: And Something To Forget
- The Queen's Guard: Bringer of Doom
- Touch of Flame: the Secrets of Flammability
- The Voracious Dark: Three Connections Given
- The Voracious Dark: A Special Offer, Limited Time Only
- Stone's Glory: An Uncivil Disagreement
- Body Count: 1
- Never In: Change of Priority
- Labyrinths of Anglefork: Tunnel-Literate
- The Flip Side: Giving Up
- The Impromptu Prophecy: ?
- Sweet Little Children: Fond Farewell
- The One They Fear: Sneaking a Peek
Jack Daniels, Karate Man
- Naked
- 1 servant (alive, restraint: 0)
- Temples of the True Gods: an Implicit Request
- Dusty Wooden Speaking-Trumpet
- Crossbow Bolt (in throat)
- A Word: REND
- A Word: SILENCE
- A Weapon: Murder-Thought
- Traces of Mischief: A Bisected Left Kidney
- Traces of Mischief: Ruined Left Hand
- Uncoupled: Strength
- Wooden Door (held)
- The Majordomo: ?
- The Winding Path of Inspiration: the Armor of God
- The Winding Path of Inspiration: A Master's In Chemistry
- The Winding Path of Inspiration: A Sliver of Perfection!
- The Winding Path of Inspiration: The Beauty of the Material
- Tower of the Mind: Endless Well of Mystery
- Induced Lucidity: A Garden Well-Tended
- Elongated Affairs: Enemy of the New State
- Doomstones: ?
- A Place In History: Vastly Unreliable
- Anglefork Castle: the Great Serpent
- The Obsolete Class: Suggested Victims
- 2 rats, crushed
- 1 rat, strangled
- 1 rat, live
- Touch of Flame: the Second Degree
- Travels In The Fourth Dimension: Sunday ± 2 Days
- The Impromptu Prophecy: There's A Mountain Higher Than We Knew
- The Voracious Dark: Three Connections Given
- The Good Doctor: A Recommendation
- Labyrinths of Anglefork: Suspended Above
- Body Count: 3
- Wounds: 2
Thomas Minstep, Insurance Agent
- A Word: ABSENCE
- Traces of Mischief: Nausea's Depths
- A Bowl, Black and Knobby
- Anglefork Castle: From Another Time, Another Land
- Gross Incandescence: Partly Illuminated
- Tight Leather Pants (worn, wet)
- Incredibly Tight Blue Dress (worn, mutilated, mildly provocative)
- Travels In The Fourth Dimension: Saturday, July 24th, 409 S.D.
- The Majordomo: Busy Morning
- The Good Doctor: House Call
- The Queen's Guard: Space Among The Ranks
- Make A Man Out Of You: a Test of Worth and Skill
- The New Queen: Strategic Meeting
- Tower of the Mind: Advice Given
- The Obsolete Class: Let Them Be
- Cruelty-Free Foods: Treats Survived
- The One They Fear: Polite Greetings
- Body Count: 2
Oscar Wilde, Chemistry Teacher
- The Mind, It Goes A-Wandering: 1
- A Word: REVELATION
- Wounds: 2
- 1 rat, skinless and smoked
- 6 gp
- Poor Misshapen Dice
- Lock of Hair (unidentified)
- Iron nail, unused
- An Inauspicious Key
- Burlap Foot Wrappings (worn)
- Burlap Hand Wrappings (worn)
- Moth-Eaten Hat (worn)
- Respectable Brown Skirt (worn)
- Old Brown Waistcoat (worn)
- Bright Yellow Tunic (worn)
- Blue Shards of a Probable Bottle
- Blue Glass Shiv
- A Wealth of Burlap Ribbons
- An Obsolete Class: Trustworthy Individual
- The Flip Side: A Strange Day In The Making
- The Doom Guard: the Inquisition
- Tower of the Mind: An Interruption
- A Frightening Door: An Understanding
- The Voracious Dark: Backed Away
- The Winding Path of Inspiration: The Measure
- The One They Fear: a Laid-Back Quest