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Author Topic: Our Salvation: It Is Written  (Read 262337 times)

Harry Baldman

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Re: Our Salvation: Leaps of Faith
« Reply #2040 on: February 24, 2017, 02:43:26 pm »

Thomas was a bit wary of any idea involving getting involved with the clan around here, but these people didn't seem too dangerous.  Might as well play along for now.  "Well, I do have a fair actuarial knowledge..."

Go into boring detail of insurance management and sales expertise.

[Talking Shop: 2+1]

They speak of danger, and deal in safety - you can tell. You start to explain to them the system, the great network of bets and investments that keeps the insurance business afloat. You bring up mortality, and they're immediately interested. Mortality happens to be a great passion of theirs and, as it happens, a lifelong consideration as well. The bearded fellow gapes as you bring up the tables of mortality - data from millions upon millions of men and women gathered year by year and accumulated to produce probabilities. Not certainties by any means, but safe enough assumptions to make.

You bet on human lives, the girl says as she taps the stick against the ground, this is your livelihood?

Not at all, you say, human lives are but where it begins. You bet on every kind of harm there is, from illness to tornadoes, and several that there really are not, armed with the sort of inevitable foreknowledge that marks any safe bet. Has she considered getting terrorism insurance, on an entirely unrelated note?

So what you're saying, the mud-caked woman says thoughtfully, is that you give bad omens and people pay you for it?

No, you say, quite the opposite! Sureness Assurance gives a guarantee of safety, and protection from the ravages of a vast and uncaring world. In fact, you bet that bad things will not happen to a person, and should they ever do exactly that, Sureness Assurance is prepared to provide a generous payout to cover the costs incurred and, depending on your plan, then some. It is a win-win of sorts - you are either well or well taken care of!

The bearded man draws a little closer. Can you avail him of your mystical knowledge, stranger? Is his life in terrible danger, or do you expect him to live through the year?

You look him over - unhygienic, it's true, but in reasonably good physical shape and not at all old. Why yes, you'd say, barring any preexisting conditions you dare say you would wager that he should live a long time yet!

He seems genuinely relieved for a moment. He has your sureness then, and your assurance?

Daniels nods sagely.

"The soul in my secret garden is unfortunately too valuable at present to be damaged so. I am, however, pleased at my disciple's willingness to unravel it so, and I shall endeavour to capture another soon. Perhaps the minder herself. And of course, I shall assist you with the matter. I don't doubt your prowess, but it perturbs me that a minder is able to infiltrate our sanctum so easily. Give me but a moment to center myself and you will have your silence, First Brother."

Make my way to my inner sanctum/meditation room and prepare myself for the casting of the silence.

It is nice, traveling through your monastery again. You watch the students spar with splintered limbs and sharpened thoughts, and all too many teeth to go around. A spirited day of training has commenced at your presence, the strength of your image reinvigorating the fighters. Cracks disappear in the walls as you pass and passages straighten out minutely in your presence as you make your way through training spaces strategically placed on the way to your inner sanctum with ascending circles of mastery placed in them. Electric lights buzz to life as generators are cranked, filament bulbs swinging as the archaic power grid kicks into gear. The First Brother shadows you all the way to the room before taking the spot right outside the door, where he sits down terribly still and closes his eyes, the sound of his will swatting motes of dust accompanying to the door as a stillness comes over the antechamber.

[Anticipating the Silence: 3]

You sit down on your bed. It reminds you of an increasingly unreal sort of home, an echo of a now unreachable, once very common sensation. The comforts are here, notionally, but already what you may have once been has faded, not in appearance but rather in spirit.

As you contemplate the monastery in its entirety, you feel that something fundamental is missing from it already, a bit of human experience your mind reaches for but fails to find any purchase. It lingers at the edge of perception, tantalizing.

You sense the mountain. You can encompass its entirety, or at least an abstraction of its entirety. You wonder what the Word would even do here, bouncing against the walls of your inner self.

"Yeah, apparently they had party last night too, so they too seem to be mostly passed out. Igor isn't part of the pantheon, but he threw wicked parties at the mines. There was other Igor too, but he wasn't such life of the party. Nice guys. By the way, did Lee deliver her report? I mean I got some traveling still to do and she was nice company to have."

Oh yeah, the lamplighter says, did that a good long while ago actually. She was feeling really bad about having left you back there in the canyon too, so you can imagine she was damn glad to see you made it back... mostly safely would be the way to put it.

Hell of a story, by the way. You blew up the southern notch to hear her tell it. Must have killed like a million people with that.

She doesn't seem very bothered by that, you say after a moment.

Well, she takes a moment to consider her words, don't get her wrong. Loss of innocent life and all that. But you probably mostly got Storks, Dragons and maybe some of the Monkeys with that, and with all due respect, fuck all of those guys. Less of them shitting up the clansmeet the better.

You were going to Elizabeth as well, she says as she pops another cracker in her mouth, a good amount of crumbs landing on her robe as she talks with her mouth full. At least that's what Lee said - something about some weirdo alchemist who gave you a box and a quest?

"I think I can unblock it faster. You might want to take a couple steps back."

I imagine the cave floor swallowing up the stones, take a firm step forward, and unleash the earth's HUNGER.

The doctor clutches your waist in anticipatory dread. She gets the feeling this is about to get interesting, but doesn't seem to have enough faith in her knees to get to any safer position. Oggie pauses at first, her still-shining eyes catching yours in the dark. Something about your look strikes her suddenly, and you think her hairs bristle as an unfathomable instinct takes hold and she disappears down the tunnel at breakneck pace, not so much running as pulling herself well out of reasonable range. You get a sense of the orientation of the boulders and speak the Word, the buildup of tension resolving into a ravenous

HUNGER

[Word: 2]

The boulders ring suddenly, as do the walls, filled with a deep and resonant voracity as rock begins to eat rock, layers nibbling at each other as the nearby geology becomes animate and fiercely cannibalistic. Teeth of quartz form spontaneously and gnash heavily, spilling streams of gypsum-saturated water. The walls and blockage turn into something as much a food chain as a Mohs scale, hunting for itself at all levels of organization, devouring and being devoured in turn. Even the geochemistry takes on a savage, rapacious nature as the hardest and sharpest deposits fall prey to quickened decrepitude.

Within moments it's all become a wall-to-wall ouroboros of ravenous minerals, groaning terribly as it eats at itself furiously and utterly fruitlessly. You nearly touch it before a mere whiff of a chrysoberyl fang almost slices open your hand.

"Rituals? You use some sort of magic to summon the bugs? Where do they come from?
Wait, did you say whales?"


Oh no, not magic at all. Rituals, the alderman says! Anyone can do a good old ritual! All it takes is supplies and conviction, and also a fine appreciation for the magic of magical thinking. If it works, excellent! And if it doesn't, clearly you've done something wrong. An excellent activity for obsessives in particular, the feticheur a prime example. She's not quite lucid enough to be a public servant, you see, but certainly has the drive to be a wonderful volunteer! This will be a great step forward for her, he's sure of that much.

And yes, whales! They jump over the sandbars sometimes, coming in from the endless ocean when their time arrives. If they make it in their old age, that's how you know they'll be trouble. If they've got more than two harpoons in them on top of that, that's a priority whale right off the bat. Sometimes they pair up if they're particularly clever, and then there's the Great One - he and his four wives guard the palace. Didn't used to be a palace before the Great One showed up... some thousand years ago, was it now? Before his time, in any case!

That does remind him, since you are rather new here: if you're going to see the King, you will need a gift for the Great One to let you pass, and one for each of the Four Winds at that. He gets right cross if you don't bring gifts (part of the compact, you see), and it probably need not be said what happens then.

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« Last Edit: February 24, 2017, 02:47:07 pm by Harry Baldman »
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Re: Our Salvation: Leaps of Faith
« Reply #2041 on: February 24, 2017, 03:05:46 pm »

It occurred to Thomas that he did not know if Sureness Assurance was licensed to work in Australia.  Canada, yes, but that's not the same.  "Well, I can assure you to the best of my abilities that we want to provide our guarantees to all.  That said, if you call my office at 248-434-5508 and ask for my... mate Daniel, he'll be sure to tell you if we are authorized to work in this area.  Tell him Thomas Minstep worked with you and gave his blessing.  But as for me, personally, I do believe we can do business."


Assure while leaving himself a small out.  Got to make sure the proper licensing is in place.
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HMR stands for Hazardous Materials Requisition, not Horrible Massive Ruination, though I can understand how one could get confused.
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AoshimaMichio

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Re: Our Salvation: Leaps of Faith
« Reply #2042 on: February 24, 2017, 03:48:09 pm »

"I wouldn't say a million. Stork clan that was nearby took brunt of the blast, but who knows what the flying raiders did.

Yeah, Elizabeth. That's was my original goal until Lee suggested we should drop by here on the way. I have to bury a box in some grave in Elizabeth as a payment for the alchemist guy I inevitabled into existance. Got a guy to heal for Lee, and he wouldn't do it free. I'm pretty sure Lee should still have the box.

So, the clansmeet. I keep hearing about it every now and then. What's it about?"
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Xantalos

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Re: Our Salvation: Leaps of Faith
« Reply #2043 on: February 24, 2017, 06:21:37 pm »

Daniels chuckles internally at the question he posed to himself.

Best find out.

SILENCE
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Re: Our Salvation: Leaps of Faith
« Reply #2044 on: February 25, 2017, 01:33:17 pm »

"Now that is interesting. Do you know what sort of gifts would be considered preferable? I personally haven't the foggiest idea what a whale would want. Is it appropriate to bring one for his majesty, as well?"
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Harry Baldman

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Re: Our Salvation: Leaps of Faith
« Reply #2045 on: February 27, 2017, 11:32:06 am »

It occurred to Thomas that he did not know if Sureness Assurance was licensed to work in Australia.  Canada, yes, but that's not the same.  "Well, I can assure you to the best of my abilities that we want to provide our guarantees to all.  That said, if you call my office at 248-434-5508 and ask for my... mate Daniel, he'll be sure to tell you if we are authorized to work in this area.  Tell him Thomas Minstep worked with you and gave his blessing.  But as for me, personally, I do believe we can do business."


Assure while leaving himself a small out.  Got to make sure the proper licensing is in place.

[Sureness Assurance: 6+1]

A blessing! Thank you, the bearded man says! Thank you very much! He will call immediately! Hold right there, Thomas Minstep of Sureness Assurance! He proceeds to run off behind a nearby tree, and you hear him kneel down on a squelching bed of bracken. Fierce muttering is heard, and a string of numbers.

The woman places her hands on your shoulders, do you think she could, er, get that same kind of deal? Perhaps, you say demurely, she does look young and highly insurable. As does the lovely girl with the cane (pre-existing conditions don't benefit from most coverage, you mutter discreetly). There isn't any particularly compelling reason, potential licensing issues aside, that you couldn't insure the lot of them. Individually, presumably.

Of course it'll have to be individually, the child retorts. That's how this sort of thing ought to work. Now give her your assurance first, then to Helen over there, she nods toward the camouflaged woman. Ah, you say, but she does look a little young. Does she have some kind of legal guardian you could arrange this with? Like a parent, for instance?

She blinks. She doesn't have parents, she taps her cane a little bitterly. Doesn't need them. Deal with her. Emancipated, you ask with a raised eyebrow? Yeah, she responds, something like that. Now does she have your blessing as well?

You don't think your job has ever been this easy. You see two more faces pop out from behind the trees, a very similar-looking young man and woman, the woman having something of a blotchy, reddened complexion while the man has a rather sizable purple birthmark on the side of his head. And next to them is a remarkably short, incredibly muscular dark-skinned young man holding an axe in a way that suggests he's not entirely sure on how to use it. Silver looks very interested in this whole assurance business himself, but also very content in letting the others have their turn first. He is a junior clansman, after all.

He has it, you hear a sudden triumphant shout from behind the tree, the bearded man rolling out from behind it. He has permission! Let sureness rain, and assurance, he screams to the heavens! The other clansmen look to each other, then to you. Silver raises his arms. Sureness, he yells! Assurance!

The others follow suit, converging on you for sound advice on how to proceed with the process of being properly insured. You inquire as to whether they have any stationery on hand (they do have leather, reasonably parched). There will be some papers that need to be written up, you explain patiently. Oh, they say, can they use blood to pen them? Don't have any ink, Silver says, and they say blood's just as good. The bearded man assents - the Daniel has spoken to him and revealed that any contracts that are to be made should be written in blood! And they shall be written by this Thomas Minstep, for sureness and assurance!

"I wouldn't say a million. Stork clan that was nearby took brunt of the blast, but who knows what the flying raiders did.

Yeah, Elizabeth. That's was my original goal until Lee suggested we should drop by here on the way. I have to bury a box in some grave in Elizabeth as a payment for the alchemist guy I inevitabled into existance. Got a guy to heal for Lee, and he wouldn't do it free. I'm pretty sure Lee should still have the box.

So, the clansmeet. I keep hearing about it every now and then. What's it about?"


The lamplighter's never seen an alchemist, but she's heard they're cryptic bastards to a man and occasional woman. Wouldn't be surprised if the damn thing just exploded or something after you planted. Surprising it hasn't done that yet, she'll be honest. That's what alchemists do mostly, she gestures pointedly with her fifth cracker of the day, just blow shit up.

As for the clansmeet, she thinks a second in order to put it into words, it's exactly what it says. The clans meet, you know. Over in Elizabeth. Something about the fake kingdom getting screwed over to the south. You know- well, actually you don't, she laughs, it's probably going to be something along the lines of Dragons'll want to convince the others to go with them on a super deep raid to pad out their numbers (woe betide the dumb bastards who take them up on it), you know, take advantage of the whole chaos thing. Storks'll go for it, they'll need extra folk after this, probably Monkeys as well. Maybe the Shrikes or even the Dogs, if they've got nothing better to do and they probably don't.

Of course, that's just the boring political shit. Mere pretext, she assures you. The fun part is what most of the clans go there for, which is the seven days of deliberation after the motions are made. All the boring old assholes are off talking in their big tent, so everybody else just gets to have fun. Pro tip: get in good with the Snarks. They have the good shit (way better than the Moths) and are always up for a party. And they take none of it seriously.

This is actually looking to be a pretty awesome clansmeet, since it'll happen in Elizabeth. She's a fun old girl, Elizabeth.

Anyway, the lamplighter says, you going to be okay on your own? Looks like the worst of the hangover's going, and she does have a couple lamps that still need lighting. Catch you later, eh?

Daniels chuckles internally at the question he posed to himself.

Best find out.

SILENCE

You sit up in bed first, then rise to your feet when this does not appear to be enough. You spread your arms wide and feel the edges of your mindscape, and then you speak.

SILENCE

[Word: 6, 3]

You encompass the sound within the span of your arms as the Word permeates the inside of your mind, snaking through every notion planted in this elaborate mindscape as you let it swell and fill out the entirety of your thoughts. Everything stops, the whole of your mind becoming still and static as not even the dust on the floor dares move at all. You catch the sound of developing thoughts and collect them in a generous, concentrated handful.

And then you crush them into nothingness, leaving but an all-encompassing, alarmingly predatory stillness where it once was. For a moment you feel spectacularly tense. You should not be here much longer.

You let the mindscape fade, Peaks Ever-Crumbling and her drape-filled labyrinth of an alchemist's workshop swimming back into your view. It takes you a few moments to ascertain a certain numbness in your mind, not unlike the sensation of having your thoughts progressively eaten. Colder somehow, you think. As if memories are not so much eaten as they are sti-

... hm. What was it you were thinking about? The minder, you'd suppose. The alchemist seems to be paying no more attention to you than an occasional cursory glance to make sure you haven't collapsed on any nearby equipment. The latest glance in this series detects a kind of change, but something about your eyes makes her hesitate in going so far as to ascribe any lucidity to it.

"Now that is interesting. Do you know what sort of gifts would be considered preferable? I personally haven't the foggiest idea what a whale would want. Is it appropriate to bring one for his majesty, as well?"


[What Whales Want: 1]

He hasn't the foggiest either, the alderman regrets to tell you. Presumably something large. And most people who manage to reach the King don't tend to go around talking about what they saw or gave away to get there. The protocol, of course, would imply that it's quite enough to give gifts to the whales. That's what gifts are for, showing that you come with good and, more importantly, serious intentions. Wouldn't want to let in someone who'd waste the King's time, after all, only so much of that to go around.

On the other hand, it does seem like it'd be terribly remiss of you to give something to all these great whales and then come before the King empty-handed. Would his complexity enjoy gifts as such? He could give you his latest edict if that would help, though it will take a little time to copy it down properly. Perhaps it would shed light on his mood?

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Re: Our Salvation: Leaps of Faith
« Reply #2046 on: February 27, 2017, 12:36:42 pm »

Thomas totally failed to realize here that he was in over his head.  But he said he spoke with Daniel, didn't he?  Must be okay.

"Well, typically the forms come preprinted from the company, but it is not uncommon for temporary forms to be handed out before the official ones are processed.  They're usually typed as well, but if handwritten is what must be done, then so be it.  But blood?  That's a bit... unhygenic.  Is there... like... berries or something to write with?"


Look for berry juice or something to write with.  Failing that, blood will do if there's no other option.
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HMR stands for Hazardous Materials Requisition, not Horrible Massive Ruination, though I can understand how one could get confused.
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Xantalos

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Re: Our Salvation: Leaps of Faith
« Reply #2047 on: February 27, 2017, 04:26:39 pm »

Hmm. Perhaps this was not a wholly good idea, but then again what is?

Make sure I didn't accidentally lobotomize myself or erase my own memories or anything, then bid the nice alchemist farewell and go ... ah yes. Go find Rainbow, on the guise of having forgotten where the captain's quarters were.
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Re: Our Salvation: Leaps of Faith
« Reply #2048 on: February 28, 2017, 12:39:50 pm »

"Point me in direction of emptied drink reserves. You said reserves got broken into, so I'll see if I can fix the situation."

Locate empty barrels of tasty tasty alcohol.
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Re: Our Salvation: Leaps of Faith
« Reply #2049 on: February 28, 2017, 05:15:58 pm »

"That's a kind offer, thank you, but I'm sure you're busy enough running the town. Speaking of which, what can you tell me about it? I'm afraid I don't even know this place's name."
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Harry Baldman

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Re: Our Salvation: Sureness Permanent Assurance
« Reply #2050 on: March 03, 2017, 12:46:57 pm »

Thomas totally failed to realize here that he was in over his head.  But he said he spoke with Daniel, didn't he?  Must be okay.

"Well, typically the forms come preprinted from the company, but it is not uncommon for temporary forms to be handed out before the official ones are processed.  They're usually typed as well, but if handwritten is what must be done, then so be it.  But blood?  That's a bit... unhygenic.  Is there... like... berries or something to write with?"


Look for berry juice or something to write with.  Failing that, blood will do if there's no other option.

[Contract Work: 6+1]

The small group gathers around you as leather is gathered - or, rather, what seem to be for the most part leaves dried and somehow worked to assume a state not unlike leather, along with long pieces of cured tree bark. A family secret, the muscled fellow relates, passed down many generations.

Generations of what? Ah, he says, generations of Trees Be Bound. Is that his last name, you ask as you start to figure out what to put in his contract. No no, he says, that's just his dynastic identifier. It's an El thing. His name is Nobody Cares, actually. Is that his birth name, you raise your eyes from the first draft springing slowly on a patch of leathery leaf. No, he says, they gave him that one after he was disowned, it's something of a tale...

... they probably don't need fire insurance, you tell the Eke siblings. The sister, Undine, nevertheless insists. She's always been terribly afraid of fire. Could you assure her that she's safe in case anything happens regardless? And do you have lightning assurance, her brother Prosper asks. In a moment, Mr. Eke, you've got a plan exactly for a man like him, you just need a moment to collect your thoughts, and also more ink, a lot more ink...

... you've written up all of Gamble's - that's the bearded fellow's name - insurance papers written in the juice of what they call fuzzy berries. You're assured it will hold - Helen still has some stains on her fingers from several years ago. They don't come out for nothing she's been able to try, she says, shaking her head a bit sadly. Gamble has wasted no time in garbing himself in the contracts like a suit of armor. Thankfully you've kept copied for yourself, you think as he proclaims his invincibility to the forest. There were rather a lot you had to do...

... and being involved in a scientific experiment against your will, y'reckon that there contract will cover it, Helen squints at the fine print. You're not entirely sure she can read, so you dictate the terms to her again - unethical scientific experimentation should fall under life insurance under most mad science methodologies, you repeat in a tone that sounds almost entirely normal. She listens intently and nods feverishly. Make that out to Helen Clampitt, she says at the end, and signs with an X that she takes the time to embellish slightly...

... that just about covers everything, Lily taps her cane as she reads through the contracts again. Excluding something called a force majeure, apparently, and also thermonuclear war. Acts of god, you translate, and if that last thing happens the fulfillment is impossible because New York is a prime target for nuclear strikes and thus they probably won't be able to take your calls at the Albany office for the near future. So like the twilight of the gods, she says. Yes, you say after thinking a moment, a lot like that now that you think about it...

... Silver's a dab hand at this, you noticed somewhere along the third contract when he offered to help with all the writing and such. He used to be a clerk, he explains, filling out paperwork is his only survival skill. And what a survival skill it is, you tap him on the shoulder. Paperwork filled out properly is what makes everything run smoothly. Very right, he laughs! He should think even gods need their forms filled out every now and then. Celestial bureaucracy and all that, you know...

Night has fallen and then abruptly lifted by the time you've made the veritable mountain of paperwork in triplicate required to insure seven whole individuals. There's something of an untapped market here insuring Australian mountain clansmen, you discover. The secret seems to be to phrase things in understandable terms. For instance, they've never heard of a monthly premium, but they do appear to be very ready to sacrifice generously on the 8th day of every month to ensure their safety from every curse known to gods and men in all perpetuity.

Right, you say after all this. The clansmen have been napping in shifts, skipping sleep to watch you work. You were going somewhere. Elizabeth, you turn to Silver, who nods, where all the metal dragons take off and land.

You need not even ask, Gamble proclaims under his protective mountain of leafy parchment, of course they will accompany you! Their holy duties demand it, in fact!

Hmm. Perhaps this was not a wholly good idea, but then again what is?

Make sure I didn't accidentally lobotomize myself or erase my own memories or anything, then bid the nice alchemist farewell and go ... ah yes. Go find Rainbow, on the guise of having forgotten where the captain's quarters were.

You're sure you'll be fine. Your thoughts aren't being eaten, after all, just being kept safe.

Anyway, you look into the window. You've gone up the street and down, and it occurs to you now that you forgot to look around. Did you ask someone for directions? There's a frightened-looking fellow behind the glass. He shuts the drapes in front of you, looking quite terrified. Seems that you did.

You sit on the roof thoughtfully. You were looking for someone. It was... the minder, yes. You're starting to forget. Best get back to it.

[Somewhere Over The Rainbow: 6]

You bump into somebody who looks like they might know. Gray, emaciated, with a long branching bramble of bristly white hair, stalking around the streets and casting hungry glances at onlookers. You tap it on the shoulder. It turns and regards you with a trio of faceted eyes. Its teeth chatter, an overly long spiked tongue dragging along the inside of its mouth.

There is a terrible, sudden noise as a tone tries to steal its way into your mind. MR. DANIELS, it screams suddenly without true awareness of its intrusion, SHE DIDN'T SEE YOU TH-

The thought is not finished before a swarm descends on it, yanking it inward, the immaculate thoughtform unraveling as it is pulled screaming and kicking into your mindscape. The creature looks momentarily frozen in utter confusion. Your murder-thought, thus far occupied with keeping time on any convenient solid object, suddenly springs to your side. You had to do something, you think. A decapitation, was it?

"Point me in direction of emptied drink reserves. You said reserves got broken into, so I'll see if I can fix the situation."

Locate empty barrels of tasty tasty alcohol.

Not broken into, the lamplighter corrects. Technically, that is. She does remember somebody broke a barrel open in frustration at one point. But mostly the reserves were tapped the old-fashioned way. Should be a cask lying around somewhere, she shrugs. She thinks she saw Kava cradling one of the smaller ones back up the passage a little ways? Anyway, take a look around. Should be a simple enough thing to locate with all the debauchery going around. When she's done with her rounds, she'll probably head over to the upper passages. Somewhere with a view today, she thinks.

[A Cask For My Troubles: 4]

You head off and, true enough, a little ways up the nearby passage next to a faintly glowing blue brazier lies a surprisingly slight woman, presumably Kava, her arms and legs very tightly wrapped around an empty cask of what you're fairly sure was some strong liquor, a faintly glistening trail of drool coming down its side as she snores contently and open-mouthedly from atop it, doing an admirably good job of balancing despite being completely unconscious. A few others, you notice, have not been so lucky, men and women of disparate ages all sprawled around the cask as if vanquished by a superior force of drunkenness.

"That's a kind offer, thank you, but I'm sure you're busy enough running the town. Speaking of which, what can you tell me about it? I'm afraid I don't even know this place's name."


Oh, the alderman growls in surprise. How terribly remiss of him to not mention that. He rather thought you knew already, with that impressive entrance and all. He clears his throat and stands to his full height.

This, he sweeps his arms around himself, this is the Tell of the Setting Sun! Westernmost tell of the kingdom at the moment, he's fairly certain unless one of the other ones has made a beeline for the border for whatever reason. It'd be rude of them to do so without giving advance warning, mind you, but it'd also hardly be the first time.

But yes, this may look to be a quaint little crawling citadel on the surface of the bog, but he'll tell you what, he's tuned it to work like a finely tortured machine if he's done anything at all in his long career. It's a hub of commerce! A seat of local industry! A nest of stories so old they predate certain notions of time itself, sometimes. If a thing could ever be said to have happened, taken or enjoyed, you will find it in this tell, he assures you, or at least someone who once had it.

He'd advise taking an unguided tour, personally. They always do put on something of a show when he comes around. Take a walk around town! Take in the sights! Perhaps visit the merchant quarter, the fair should last a few decades yet!

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Toaster

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Re: Our Salvation: Sureness Permanent Assurance
« Reply #2051 on: March 03, 2017, 01:37:15 pm »

The thrill of paperwork still flowing through him, Thomas nodded.  "Yes!  Let's be off right away."

Onward toward Elizabeth!  No time to waste.
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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.

Xantalos

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Re: Our Salvation: Sureness Permanent Assurance
« Reply #2052 on: March 03, 2017, 04:19:45 pm »

((Oh, that is interesting. Not only the fact of how the SILENCE is affecting my mind by locking my thoughts away a few seconds after I have them, and the minder's thought getting dragged screaming into my mind was most satisfying, but the apparent cessation of the illusion she was casting is ... intriguing. Also what manner of creature she is, but this opens up new vistas of possibility for what I might be able to do with other Words.))

Yep, seems like the time to do it. Make sure to save the pithy one-liner for after her head hits the ground.
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XANTALOS, THE KARATEBOMINATION
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Toaster

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Re: Our Salvation: Sureness Permanent Assurance
« Reply #2053 on: March 03, 2017, 06:17:58 pm »

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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.

Harry Baldman

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Re: Our Salvation: Sureness Permanent Assurance
« Reply #2054 on: March 03, 2017, 06:36:01 pm »

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