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Author Topic: Our Salvation: It Is Written  (Read 263466 times)

Xantalos

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Re: Our Salvation: Tearing the Stitches of Reality
« Reply #1785 on: November 08, 2016, 03:52:18 pm »

"No no no you misunderstand me, I'm not gonna be killing them I just need to ... store one of them for a bit in case I find another ... well, you wouldn't understand. They'll be safe, no need to worry, I can even redeposit them in the world afterwards if need be. It's just safekeeping for both me and you."

Try to look convincing and not like ... the Xantalos archetype. If I do convince him, go put as many prisoners as he allows me into source storage space. At max 3 sources, I think it was.
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Sig! Onol
Quote from: BFEL
XANTALOS, THE KARATEBOMINATION
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((The Xantalos Die: [1, 1, 1, 6, 6, 6]))

Toaster

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Re: Our Salvation: Tearing the Stitches of Reality
« Reply #1786 on: November 08, 2016, 08:54:25 pm »

Well, that's a start, certainly.  "Ah, hello there!  I think you remember me, Thomas Minstep?  From the castle?  Yes, yes, good to see you too.  I'm passing through on my way northward; do you know what all those craters are?  Looks like this place is pretty damaged, you know."

Converse.
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HMR stands for Hazardous Materials Requisition, not Horrible Massive Ruination, though I can understand how one could get confused.
God help us if we have to agree on pizza toppings at some point. There will be no survivors.

AoshimaMichio

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Re: Our Salvation: Tearing the Stitches of Reality
« Reply #1787 on: November 09, 2016, 03:59:10 am »

"Don't you go accusing me of stealing shit too! Rose gave this to me, said they salvaged it from Moth who died despite of their efforts to save his life, and frankly I need clothes more than dead do."

All these baseless accusations annoy me. Fix it with alcohol.
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TopHat

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Re: Our Salvation: Tearing the Stitches of Reality
« Reply #1788 on: November 09, 2016, 12:45:06 pm »

"Hello there! What brings you travelling at this time of night?"
Address whatever this thing is and pray it's friendly.
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I would ask why fire can burn two men to death without getting hot enough to burn a book, but then I read "INEXTINGUISHABLE RUNNING KAMIKAZE RADIOACTIVE FLAMING ZOMBIE" and realized that logic, reason, and physics are all occupied with crying in the corner right now.

penguinofhonor

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Re: Our Salvation: Tearing the Stitches of Reality
« Reply #1789 on: November 09, 2016, 11:06:36 pm »

"Hello," I say, waving to the group. "Have any of you looted an extra pair of clothes? I and my friend are each looking for some."
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Harry Baldman

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Re: Our Salvation: Tearing the Stitches of Reality
« Reply #1790 on: November 10, 2016, 02:05:45 pm »

"No no no you misunderstand me, I'm not gonna be killing them I just need to ... store one of them for a bit in case I find another ... well, you wouldn't understand. They'll be safe, no need to worry, I can even redeposit them in the world afterwards if need be. It's just safekeeping for both me and you."

Try to look convincing and not like ... the Xantalos archetype. If I do convince him, go put as many prisoners as he allows me into source storage space. At max 3 sources, I think it was.

[You Cannot Grasp The True Form: 1]

What, the female guard says, you're gonna eat them like you did the prisoner back at the castle? Nuh uh, no way. No, you say! Haha! No, you're not going to eat them quite like you did the prisoner! For one, they won't die even after you do it. At least you don't think. And you can totally vomit them out later, none the worse for wear!

That does sound endearingly perverse, the guard replies, but maybe after they don't need them anymore. Depends on what the queen and the captain say on the matter. And how well-behaved they are, she adds as she pokes a spear into the back of a fidgeting stoatman who whimpers into the bag over her head.

Well, that's a start, certainly.  "Ah, hello there!  I think you remember me, Thomas Minstep?  From the castle?  Yes, yes, good to see you too.  I'm passing through on my way northward; do you know what all those craters are?  Looks like this place is pretty damaged, you know."

Converse.

The woman is the first to respond, stepping out from behind the other two. Hello, Thomas, she says. The turnkey glances at her, then at you, then taps the elderly guard, who pauses in his regard of the surroundings to look squarely at you - the turnkey blinks in recognition, and the guard nods.

You do seem vaguely familiar, he remarks, though not altogether remarkable apart from your strange choice of wardrobe. Ambivalent greetings. As for your question, he continues, the land has been struck by both an earthquake of an extreme magnitude and what looked like naval vessels and miscellaneous objects raining from the sky, exploding violently upon impact. He looks you over a little longer. He does begin to recall you - you were hit by one such object, were you not? Would you happen to have any impressions you could share? Perhaps a guess as to why it failed to explode upon hitting you?

"Don't you go accusing me of stealing shit too! Rose gave this to me, said they salvaged it from Moth who died despite of their efforts to save his life, and frankly I need clothes more than dead do."

All these baseless accusations annoy me. Fix it with alcohol.

[Compelled To Explain: 3]

The colors are stolen - they belong to the wearer even after death. They are to be burnt, Lee explains. Hand them over. She walks until she is right in front of you, looking very much serious about the demand. You sigh and take a moment to water your brain by squeezing a grapefruit of vodka over it, a pleasing warmth going through your skull and spreading through your spine as you get very rapidly brain-drunk. This does not at all help with coming up with a response.

"Hello there! What brings you travelling at this time of night?"
Address whatever this thing is and pray it's friendly.

[Voice in the Darkness: 2]

You shout after the creature running off in the distance. You see it turn vaguely, its shape indistinct, shifting. Oh, it says in a woman's voice! Oh, don't look! Don't look, she warns before starting to run away even faster, getting down on all fours (although for all you can see, she could have any number of limbs, and even considering the matter makes your head hurt a little). Oddly enough this sounds like peculiarly good advice, some element of your worse nature almost compelling you to look away as she takes off at a rapid pace. Of course, she is still moving in mostly a straight line, so if you felt like following her, it seems inevitable you'd catch up with her eventually when she feels like stopping.

"Hello," I say, waving to the group. "Have any of you looted an extra pair of clothes? I and my friend are each looking for some."

[Lean Times In Anglefork Town: 6]

Looted, the beaten man next to the guard rises from the cart. Why, the nerve. The sheer nerve! To be accused of looting in his own home! Is long-sought freedom to be but another indignity to suffer through! Is it not enough that he had to slay the foul servant who had usurped his homemaker's mantle, now naked strangers must wander in and accuse him of being some sort of vagabond? He'll have you know this was all liberated from the stoatman oppressors. All of his and his wife's stuff, if you must know. Plus interest, the guardswoman adds. Plus damages, the man furiously corrects, a vein pulsing gently at his temple.

That's all very troubling and all, the good doctor mentions, but that does not really help with the nakedness and such. Don't suppose he'd have something to spare for two women on the road without a penny to their names, having come into such good fortune as of late?

Aha, he says, when you put it that way, perhaps he would. You could dig around the old farmhouse, the guardwoman suggests, she recalls having at least one dress that she's unlikely to fit into anymore. As long as it doesn't collapse on you it should be perfectly fine. The husband nods. He supposes you could at that! And perhaps retrieve anything else that looks valuable, because he'll be damned if he's risking his newfound liberty at the hands of his father-in-law's shoddy architecture.

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AoshimaMichio

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Re: Our Salvation: Tearing the Stitches of Reality
« Reply #1791 on: November 10, 2016, 03:31:09 pm »

Ah, alcohol is indeed a solution! Innuendo!

"You wanted to see me naked so badly? Well, you should have told me so! Behold!"

Undress slowly, gauging her reaction.
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I told you to test with colors! But nooo, you just had to go clone mega-Satan or whatever.
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Xantalos

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Re: Our Salvation: Tearing the Stitches of Reality
« Reply #1792 on: November 10, 2016, 04:48:24 pm »

"Kay, I really just need the one honestly. Hey captain! Guard captain or whatever! Gimme one of the disposable prisoners for me to store!
...
Please!"


Try a completely novel tactic and be polite.
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XANTALOS, THE KARATEBOMINATION
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Toaster

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Re: Our Salvation: Tearing the Stitches of Reality
« Reply #1793 on: November 10, 2016, 09:45:58 pm »

Thomas shrugged.  "Well, I'm no sailor, but I have seen a few boating accidents; at least the aftermath of them.  Boat insurance is one of the many products we offer at Sureness Assurance, you know.  Anyway, it is my understanding that boats typically do not explode when they run into things.  It felt quite reasonably solid and non-exploding.  Perhaps the exploding ones were actually meteorites?  I'm not sure what time of year Australia is subject to meteor showers."

Converse.  Understanding space debris is not one of Thomas's strong points, except how it pertains to insurance.  If it hits your car, you better have comprehensive.

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HMR stands for Hazardous Materials Requisition, not Horrible Massive Ruination, though I can understand how one could get confused.
God help us if we have to agree on pizza toppings at some point. There will be no survivors.

penguinofhonor

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Re: Our Salvation: Tearing the Stitches of Reality
« Reply #1794 on: November 11, 2016, 06:58:04 am »

Rummaging around in a rickety house sounds fun. Or dangerous. Maybe both.
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TopHat

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Re: Our Salvation: Tearing the Stitches of Reality
« Reply #1795 on: November 11, 2016, 02:04:29 pm »

"Bye then."
Strange. Well, I'm sure there's a reason for her behaviour.
Speaking of seeing, how's the Measure doing? Hope it took the Words well...
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I would ask why fire can burn two men to death without getting hot enough to burn a book, but then I read "INEXTINGUISHABLE RUNNING KAMIKAZE RADIOACTIVE FLAMING ZOMBIE" and realized that logic, reason, and physics are all occupied with crying in the corner right now.

Harry Baldman

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Re: Our Salvation: Tearing the Stitches of Reality
« Reply #1796 on: November 12, 2016, 06:30:46 am »

Ah, alcohol is indeed a solution! Innuendo!

"You wanted to see me naked so badly? Well, you should have told me so! Behold!"

Undress slowly, gauging her reaction.

You decide to take off your robe in the manner of a bar fly who's got lucky - slow and a mite wobbly, swimming against a stream of booze in your effort to be even vaguely seductive.

[Behold The Holy Presence: 2]

Lee does not take her eyes off you during the process. Or, to be more specific, she does not take her eyes off the robe, and you seem to be an unfortunate byproduct of the scene. As you wiggle your way out of the thing and lift it up for her enjoyment, she takes it off your hands rather gingerly, and regards it for a few moments to check its overall condition. It takes a few moments, and when she's done, she looks back at you by default. You offer a grin. She glances down briefly, raising an eyebrow, then looks at you again, seemingly very unimpressed. Saying nothing, she walks to the oak and starts gathering up dry twigs, unwilling to entrust the robe to what remains of your white fire.

"Kay, I really just need the one honestly. Hey captain! Guard captain or whatever! Gimme one of the disposable prisoners for me to store!
...
Please!"


Try a completely novel tactic and be polite.

The captain's not around, the guards say after you spend a few moments shouting at nobody in particular, since the . She's at the forward command post, which is to say she's shouting at people by the warehouse. Besides, one of them adds, the point is that these aren't disposable prisoners. There'd be hardly any problem if they were, would there?

Thomas shrugged.  "Well, I'm no sailor, but I have seen a few boating accidents; at least the aftermath of them.  Boat insurance is one of the many products we offer at Sureness Assurance, you know.  Anyway, it is my understanding that boats typically do not explode when they run into things.  It felt quite reasonably solid and non-exploding.  Perhaps the exploding ones were actually meteorites?  I'm not sure what time of year Australia is subject to meteor showers."

Converse.  Understanding space debris is not one of Thomas's strong points, except how it pertains to insurance.  If it hits your car, you better have comprehensive.

[Consideration of Risks: 5]

The elderly fellow gives this some thought. Very reasonable point. Though if he recalls correctly those would be meteors rather than meteorites. A meteorite would imply that there is anything that remains of the impacting meteor. He steps slowly off the foundation, trailed by the turnkey and lovely girl, both of whom keep an eye on you as their leader passes you by, beckoning to follow as you walk through the devastation and the masked people milling about and lamenting their cruel fates.

Indeed, he continues, it is very possible that the exploding ones were not boats at all. Or at least not far enough from boats in concept to explode satisfyingly upon contact with the ground. But similarly they are unlikely to be meteorites in any conventional sense, he says as he leads you up to the edge of a crater, where you see another of those pools of glowing toxic waste. You are about to bring up how standing here might not be the best idea, but the guard goes on - observe the crater. It seems to be filled with some kind of liquid matter with fascinating properties, which may be remains of the meteorite that have melted - this, however, does not satisfactorily explain how the meteors in question maintained apparent solidity on the way down. In fact, they resemble lava to a greater degree, if considerably cooler than he would assume lava to normally be, which would hint at it emanating from the earth below, unable to bubble over due to insufficient pressure from deep below.

This idea, he goes on in a monotone, is supported by the nearby faultline - the northern notch - which seems to have similarly overflowed with matter of an identical nature, except slightly fuzzier and considerably more disturbing to find oneself in the vicinity of. It is difficult to say for sure, but one would strongly suspect that there is a causal link between the happenings there and the shower of so-called meteors coming in from the north. And truthfully, the obviously unusual nature of this event - meteor showers here are a very rare occurrence, particularly ones of northward origin - would point toward all of this being some form of force majeure - unpreventable, unpredictable and absolutely uninsurable.

What does it matter what caused this, the lovely girl asks, and you notice she seems to be standing behind you now. It's a disaster! Shouldn't there be something you all can do about this?

The elderly guard thinks. Why, yes, of course. But before anything at all can and should be done, one should take a moment to appreciate the madness, and look for its appropriate method. How else would one prepare themselves against it happening again? Even if it is an act of god, one shouldn't just lay down and just take such treatment from an indifferent and only possibly existent power. Or, more simply, if a given god is set to make an enemy of you, it's only fair to respond in kind, no?

Rummaging around in a rickety house sounds fun. Or dangerous. Maybe both.

[Occupational Safety: 6]

You head in first - the doctor follows despite her doubts about the idea. The house, considerably larger than you would expect of a country farmstead, creaks and shifts as you struggle to pull open the door that has settled poorly in its crooked frame. You are keenly aware of all the people outside looking on as you do, wondering with mild excitement if you know what a terrible mistake you may have just made. You step over the threshold and the plank floor bends a little. You hear something gently roll along the inclined floor. Quite a few of the furnishings are jostled out of place, and you think one of the walls is very slowly caving in on the far side of the main room. A pot seems to have fallen off the hook over the hearth. Everything is still gently swaying from your entrance. This seems to be the safest room in the house, being merely unnervingly imbalanced rather than actively dangerous at every point. As such it's hardly surprising that it's been clearly liberated of its valuables apart from one corner where the roof seems particularly precarious - there you see a large and rather comfy-looking chair, over which a sumptuously ornamented woolen blanket is draped.

A misshapen doorframe with a curtain gently wafting from the house's constant swaying leads to what looks like a kitchen, and an outwardly bent door blocks the way to what you would guess are bedrooms. There's also a third door of unclear purpose off to the other side of the room from the two others - right in front of this one you see resting a spear-wielding stoatman's body, stabbed in the chest with a spear and left in place when that side of the room no doubt started to bend inwards from him pushing up against the door.

This does not seem very sa- oh, the doctor says as the sound of her voice causes something to fall and shatter in one of the nearby rooms. Looks like a late Interregnum house, she whispers meaningfully, so best tread very carefully. They get like this with age, she's heard, even without earthquakes at work.

"Bye then."
Strange. Well, I'm sure there's a reason for her behaviour.
Speaking of seeing, how's the Measure doing? Hope it took the Words well...

You watch the perplexing woman run off as you stop and take a moment to look over whether the passage of time has given you any extra data.

The measure seems to be very much indecisive about whether it is done or not. You suspect feeding it something that very literally silences revelation may not have been the greatest idea, as now you seem to have absolutely whether it's done or not, and whether it can even possibly be done at all. Hm.

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AoshimaMichio

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Re: Our Salvation: Tearing the Stitches of Reality
« Reply #1797 on: November 12, 2016, 08:05:36 am »

"Hoi Baldr, what I'm doing wrong here?"

As far as funeral rites go, burning the body is fine way. Help and pray original owner of the cloth got taken to Valhalla, Fólkvangr or Gimlé.
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Toaster

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Re: Our Salvation: Tearing the Stitches of Reality
« Reply #1798 on: November 12, 2016, 10:56:06 am »

Thomas's eyes glazed over a bit.  "Um, sure, meteors.  Hey, that sounds like something my sister said once, about shouting against the storm.  I can't remember the context, though.  But, uh, I don't think one can really strike against a force of nature, no?"

Thomas found himself edging away from the crater a bit.

Keep talking.  Also back off a bit.
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HMR stands for Hazardous Materials Requisition, not Horrible Massive Ruination, though I can understand how one could get confused.
God help us if we have to agree on pizza toppings at some point. There will be no survivors.

TopHat

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Re: Our Salvation: Tearing the Stitches of Reality
« Reply #1799 on: November 12, 2016, 02:26:42 pm »

[color]"... I'm an idiot."[/color]
Well, anyway, better get moving. El's to the West, Daniels is heading to El, so East it is.
Find Polaris, head East using that. If the constellations are even the same here, that is. Failing that, make an uneducated guess. Nothing else to do until daylight.
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I would ask why fire can burn two men to death without getting hot enough to burn a book, but then I read "INEXTINGUISHABLE RUNNING KAMIKAZE RADIOACTIVE FLAMING ZOMBIE" and realized that logic, reason, and physics are all occupied with crying in the corner right now.
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