Topic: Our Salvation: It Is Written (Read 263500 times)

Toaster · « **Reply #2385 on:** October 21, 2017, 05:24:39 pm »

Cracks were beginning to appear in the edges of Thomas's psyche. The prospect of what it would take to generate this sort of show and/or illusion were simply lost on him. He didn't feel able to process this all just yet.

Sit and watch for a minute just to see what happens. Then ask the rats their views, because why not?

"So, rats... do you have a name? Sorry, anyway, you seem to be rather... lively. Do you know what all this is?"

Xantalos · « **Reply #2386 on:** October 22, 2017, 04:21:07 pm »

Daniels shrugs. "Sure, why not. An arm or something, I guess?"

Aquiesce to further science. While she's taking samples, ask what, if anything, she thinks I can do to amend the current situation with the captain, Shores, etc. My knowledge of proper ettiquite in this situation is rather lacking, as is probably evident.

TopHat · « **Reply #2387 on:** October 23, 2017, 04:30:27 pm »

I could probably survive that.

"... Sorry about that, I fatally misjudged her character. Please allow me to make amends."

Time to finally get some use out of that rope. Tie rope to something solid by the window, obtain an easier way down. As the one most likely to shrug off a fall, go first.

Harry Baldman · « **Reply #2388 on:** October 24, 2017, 07:11:26 am »

Quote from: Toaster on October 21, 2017, 05:24:39 pm

Cracks were beginning to appear in the edges of Thomas's psyche. The prospect of what it would take to generate this sort of show and/or illusion were simply lost on him. He didn't feel able to process this all just yet.

Sit and watch for a minute just to see what happens. Then ask the rats their views, because why not?

"So, rats... do you have a name? Sorry, anyway, you seem to be rather... lively. Do you know what all this is?"

[The Labyrinth: 6]

It's mesmerizing to behold, the rhythmic arrival, departure and formation of the little bubbles around the golden spheres, dancing around the room in delightful swirling patterns before the hairy bubble intercepts a few - most brush on ahead, but a few stick to it for a moment and develop a soft golden glow and, it seems, a peculiar purpose as they are suddenly launched out of the room, but not before the bubble seems to pop into two, then four, then geometrically increase in number as you see it shoot down the left-hand side of the bipartite passage, which looks to be an outflow of some kind.

On the ground another story develops - little rootlike protrusions emerge from the ground where rubble has fallen, you notice after a second, wrapping around the bits of masonry several times in slow motion before enveloping it entirely - a few moments pass as you see a slight bulge travel up one of the roots, placing itself atop the minute stone and then pressing down, sinking to the ground, growing quiescent and then disappearing from sight as it sinks into the floor. The sheer amount of the rubble present seems to require a great many of these roots, and you watch as they repeatedly and fractally wind themselves around every bit of the rubble and break it down, the tons of rock shrinking slowly before your eyes.

[Educated Guesses: 6]

You look at the rats, who also watch with obvious intrigue - they do not seem to have names, merely Words. A Word each, a Word they are ready to use as needed. You have heard two of their Words already, and you see the third rat is excited to use its own - but not here, not yet, you need to go deeper in still, deep enough to try it out where it will do the most good. Until this moment you couldn't say you'd ever seen a manic-looking rat. It can barely contain itself. Go deeper, it seems to indicate, into the outflow - quickly now, rush onward, dive headfirst into where the bubbles go, find your way into the vents - yes, the vents, the vents are where you want to be.

As you consider this, you notice the roots have also reached out for your feet and wound around them several times, and even traveled a good distance up your shin before, unlike with the rubble, seemingly congealing and becoming elastic, sticking you to the floor like rubber cement.

[Words Fail: 5]

The bizarre tranquility of the chamber has so permeated you, however, that this doesn't bother you as much as it perhaps should. The roots, you realize, have died - sacrificing themselves to keep you in place for now, perhaps for something else to better get the measure of you. The hairy bubbles, you suspect. They will expect something from you, and from your observations a guess forms in your mind unbidden, nucleating in your brain serendipitously.

SELF

It begs to be said aloud, squirming within your head.

Quote from: Xantalos on October 22, 2017, 04:21:07 pm

Daniels shrugs. "Sure, why not. An arm or something, I guess?"

Aquiesce to further science. While she's taking samples, ask what, if anything, she thinks I can do to amend the current situation with the captain, Shores, etc. My knowledge of proper ettiquite in this situation is rather lacking, as is probably evident.

A whole arm? Peaks immediately perks up - could you? It'd be perfect for a thing she'd like to try out. Can you regrow arms? You did something similar before, once, if she recalls correctly, the incident with the rubber mattress and all that nonsense. Do you think she could amputate your arm and then watch you while you sleep? She'll be a perfect young lady while you're out cold, she can guarantee you.

Completely having lost interest in whatever Mr. Fischgartner's grisly fate promises to be, Peaks leads you hurriedly to her cabin, which looks to be in mild disarray and slightly spattered with blood as well as full of sweet-smelling ester-rich fumes that the ventilation system appears to have given up on clearing entirely. She roots around her kit, currently laying on an alchemist's workbench, and retrieves a bonesaw (borrowed from the doctor, you suspect or at least hope, certainly seems clean enough to be a doctor's instrument).

Right, she says, do you want any anesthesia or not? She's got a small chunk left of a pretty good batch of morphine she made a while back to sell on the side, ought to take the edge right off that saw.

Wait, you say, you also wanted to ask her something. About Shores and the captain and, well... it's a bit of a situation, you explain, and you wonder if there's maybe something you can do about it so that, uh, you can fix this. You're not very good at this whole etiquette thing normally, and it looks like there's additional factors at play here too, so...

[A Lesson In Etiquette: 5]

Peaks holds the bonesaw thoughtfully, looking down for a moment before coming up closer. Well, she says, maybe this isn't the greatest idea, but suppose there is one way she could help. A kind of object lesson, she slyly nods. She can teach you how to talk about the weather properly. Cornerstone of proper etiquette, the ol' weather.

You look at her a little suspiciously, but Peaks remembers herself and adopts a surprisingly foolproof poker face. A bit of conversation while she gets her work done, she says as she puts the saw on your shoulder teeth-down, feeling out the shoulder blade to get the full arm off in hopefully a single go.

You see, she begins to say with the saw drawing blood on your shoulder, you start with- hold on, did you want the morphine or not? It'll definitely make the polite conversation more bearable, she can guarantee you. Linda stands by you worriedly, holding her head.

Quote from: TopHat on October 23, 2017, 04:30:27 pm

I could probably survive that.

"... Sorry about that, I fatally misjudged her character. Please allow me to make amends."

Time to finally get some use out of that rope. Tie rope to something solid by the window, obtain an easier way down. As the one most likely to shrug off a fall, go first.

'Fatally misjudged her character', Cindy repeats and looks at you skeptically. Thought she was selling other folks' flesh for a living because she was a generous-hearted, patient and charitable pillar of the community, y'mean? She'd sure like to see the nunneries around the parts you're from, because from what you're telling her it sounds like she's been looking for work in all the wrong places.

It doesn't matter, Ember hisses, you all need to get out right the heck now or you're dead! Like, really dead!

As you were saying, you repeat, you're quite sorry and you think you'll start making amends right away, such as by tying these thirty-odd feet of rope to the Madame's desk and putting the other end out the window - being a gentleman, you also volunteer to go first as you climb down the rope.

[Into The Deep: 6]

Unfortunately the rope isn't quite long enough to reach down to the bottom, or even illuminate the bottom terribly well. However, you do certainly feel like you're at least partly obligated to hit the ground first, considering what you know about your personal ability to survive hideous trauma all over your body. Thus you leap and plummet down about two more stories from the end of the rope, landing softly as something catches you on the bottom, stretching downward softly and slowing you down to a manageable velocity before you finally touch the ground. This feels like a nice bit of good luck right before you notice the little glimmering droplets of glue upon the silvery strands that caught you, the sight of which fills you with an uncomfortable sense of familiarity.

A similar, but distinct and far more intense uncomfortable sensation follows as you notice the corpse-spider standing on the wall slightly above where you fell, casting what is very much a "you again?" look in its many human eyes in your direction. Its manipalps spiral over its eyes instinctively, anticipating another blast of light as it backs up the wall a little bit.

You haven't started to scream before the gracelessly falling shape of Ember lands in the net next to you, rolling a little before she tangles herself in the web sufficiently to halfway dangle over you. She tries to raise her head but her wig nearly comes off as it too appears stuck to the strands, and she struggles feebly for a second before the third shape, which is Cindy trailed by a heavy bag of coinage and nearly thirty feet of rope as she appears to have untied it and just dropped the full five stories, lands a little ways off from you with a whoop of delight, taking care to struggle as little as possible to avoid tangling herself up too badly.

You have to love municipal safety measures, Cindy says in an elated tone, since they installed these there's a lot less limb breakage from the deadheads. Used to be they'd walk into the establishment all broken because they'd got it in their heads they'd take a shortcut. Look at her now, though! If this isn't the future of public transit, there's no future for it at all in her book!

[Social Safety Net: 1]

You remain silent, still staring in terror at the spider-thing on the wall as Ember, too, looks visibly disturbed in its direction.

What's the matter, says Cindy before looking at it as well. You there, she says without seemingly minding the look of it at all, come on and cut everyone free already, time's a-wastin' here, she's got places to be other than the bottom of this here trench. Such as in the merchant quarter, or maybe on the first road out of this damn tell.

The spider-thing responds by chattering in a way you can't help but perceive as deeply annoyed, wagging its manipalps and raising its front two legs up in the air, toes twiddling furiously on their feet.

Spoiler: Status (click to show/hide)

LordPorkins · « **Reply #2389 on:** October 24, 2017, 11:33:52 am »

Holy Shit-Nuggets. This thang is still going? Man, I remember when I rudely butted in to the game. Hey, If you ever need another player hook me up.

Xantalos · « **Reply #2390 on:** October 24, 2017, 09:36:00 pm »

”You forget I have a mind sword. Just don’t do anything with the arm while I rest it out in case I need to reattach it, alright?”

Self-amputate with my handy dandy murder-thought, stop the bleeding with Peaks’ help, and then rest on the bed. Think regenerative thoughts.

DoctorMcTaalik · « **Reply #2391 on:** October 25, 2017, 03:33:29 pm »

Rindle leans over, and attempts to very slowly get Dan's attention. "Hooooooooooooolllllyyyy fuuuuuuuuuuck. Dooooooo youuuuuuuu miiiiiind ifffffff aaaaaaaaaahhhhhhyyy ekkkkkscuuuuuse myyyyyysellllllfff? AAaaaaaahhhhhyyyy neeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeedddd tooooooooooo trrrrryyyyyyy soooooooome thiiiiingkssssss."

Tap my new friend on the shoulder, and, assuming the poked part doesn't explode into gore, veeery slooowly (but politely) excuse myself. Perform various "tests" to assess my condition. Try spitting at a barrel, and see how my saliva travels once it leaves my mouth. Does it do any physical damage to the barrel? If I drop my slipper, does it fall in time with me, or with my surroundings? Can I walk across the room without damaging myself or the floor? Do I even move as fast as I perceive time, or am I stuck moving in "slow-mo" as well?

If the effect hasn't worn off by the time I've done those things, get Dan's attention again, and ask him (again, as slowly as I can) how long this is going to last.

Toaster · « **Reply #2392 on:** October 25, 2017, 09:54:51 pm »

Thomas had no interest in being tied up down here.

Break away and head for that outflow! Cut roots with the sword if simple breaking out won't work.

TopHat · « **Reply #2393 on:** October 27, 2017, 04:34:46 pm »

"Ah. I, er, may have acted rashly when we first met. Sorry about that. Where I come from spiders eat things in their webs so it was only natural that I... assumed the worst."
And I've never been a fan of spiders anyway.

Sorry, mr. spider.

Harry Baldman · « **Reply #2394 on:** October 28, 2017, 07:23:18 am »

Quote from: Xantalos on October 24, 2017, 09:36:00 pm

”You forget I have a mind sword. Just don’t do anything with the arm while I rest it out in case I need to reattach it, alright?”

Self-amputate with my handy dandy murder-thought, stop the bleeding with Peaks’ help, and then rest on the bed. Think regenerative thoughts.

You sure you want to try and use that, Peaks begins to say before she sees your murder-thought begin to bore into your shoulder, at which point she withdraws the saw and steps well back to observe.

[Clean Cut: 5]

At first it threatens to explode wildly within your arm as the pain begins to come in and disorient it, but you breathe slowly and focus, and then begin to purposefully guide the thought through and around your flesh as a kind of surgical omniscience comes over you - the creeping realization that you don't need nerves to feel or know about yourself, a philosophical detachment from your substrate coupled with an attachment to your murder-thought that seems to make it more than it previously was, a more focused tool for a more precise job. Linda looks on in terrible anticipation, but no screaming or blood appears to erupt, so her look just becomes confused instead.

You feel sharp all over as the arm comes off when you finally sever the bone. The stump fails to bleed. You take the arm and hand it to Peaks, who looks it over for a moment before going over to pour out a suitable jar of preserving solution, then giving up and dunking it in the whole barrel after a moment's thought. By that point you've lain on her bed, making surprisingly little mess for a fresh amputee as you continue calmly breathing and thinking regenerative thoughts.

Peaks leans over you after a moment, looking terribly pleased. Can't thank you enough for your contribution to the science of alchemy, she says. Did a really clean job of it too! At this rate she ought to retain you as an assistant!

But anyway, she was wondering if you'd like to talk about the weather or if she should just leave you to rest. She was going to start chatting with you during the amputation, as it were, but then you went and showed her up on that one. Although... she could also put you under - it'd probably make the regeneration more of a sure thing, considering how your substrate seems to become more pliable when you're unconscious, and she was thinking of testing a hypothesis about that whole untethering thing in the process. She looks quite conflicted for a moment. So many options, so little time!

Quote from: DoctorMcTaalik on October 25, 2017, 03:33:29 pm

Rindle leans over, and attempts to very slowly get Dan's attention. "Hooooooooooooolllllyyyy fuuuuuuuuuuck. Dooooooo youuuuuuuu miiiiiind ifffffff aaaaaaaaaahhhhhhyyy ekkkkkscuuuuuse myyyyyysellllllfff? AAaaaaaahhhhhyyyy neeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeedddd tooooooooooo trrrrryyyyyyy soooooooome thiiiiingkssssss."

Tap my new friend on the shoulder, and, assuming the poked part doesn't explode into gore, veeery slooowly (but politely) excuse myself. Perform various "tests" to assess my condition. Try spitting at a barrel, and see how my saliva travels once it leaves my mouth. Does it do any physical damage to the barrel? If I drop my slipper, does it fall in time with me, or with my surroundings? Can I walk across the room without damaging myself or the floor? Do I even move as fast as I perceive time, or am I stuck moving in "slow-mo" as well?

If the effect hasn't worn off by the time I've done those things, get Dan's attention again, and ask him (again, as slowly as I can) how long this is going to last.

You tap Dan on the topmost shoulder (having six arms or possibly legs at the moment, he has far too many shoulders as well), and he looks quite excited as he speed up precipitously in response. How very fun, he comments in a much more normal-sounding voice, you appear to be much more receptive to pick-me-up juice than most people. This is pleasing, he clicks, it is inconvenient to have to move so incredibly slowly all the time. That said, you are excused. He is not aware as to why that figure of speech is necessary, but apparently that is the right thing to say when it is deployed from what he gathers.

You look at Dan incredulously for a moment, then at a nearby barrel. You think for a moment and then spit at it.

[Speed Like You've Never Seen: 6]

Whatever bizarre quirk of physiology permits you to do this, it seems to extend to your saliva as well, as your spit flies like normal and impacts the bronze barrel, leaving a massive dent and nearly toppling it on the spot. You step closer and find that you're moving perfectly normally, as is Dan, who follows you with the sharp buzz of millions of wings beneath his thick carapace.

All told, you seem to have become amazingly quick (and, if your physics knowledge doesn't fail you now, presumably incredibly strong and likely very difficult to hurt as a result) as a result of Dan's weird juice. And what's even more surprising is that the robe and slippers appear to be holding up just fine in response, seemingly made of some extremely durable materials, although there is a not inconsiderable amount of friction heating that you suspect may become inconvenient if you intend to, say, go for a brisk jog under the conditions.

Taking off a slipper, you let it go in the air - it begins to fall, sure enough, but extremely slowly. Waiting for perhaps a minute, you would say that everything else around you is effectively at a standstill.

Dan taps you on the shoulder now. His many mandible clicks resolve into a question - want to go on an adventure? Not a long one. Just for a minute or so.

Quote from: Toaster on October 25, 2017, 09:54:51 pm

Thomas had no interest in being tied up down here.

Break away and head for that outflow! Cut roots with the sword if simple breaking out won't work.

[Deathly Nets: 5]

The roots are elastic, sure enough, but seem to not be meant at all for something as mobile as you - as such, you manage to break free with just a little bit of doing, and before you can be ensnared again you and the rats on your shoulder proceed out toward the bipartite passage, where you dive headfirst into the rapid flow and find yourself immediately carried away on what feels not quite like an air flow - is it air you're breathing? Are you breathing at all? A dim and pulsing light continues all around, organizing into long lines.

[The Deeper Passages: 3]

The passage twists and turns as the flow pulls you onward, smaller passages joining it as the outflow grows increasingly large and slows down, your feet making contact with the firm surface of the tunnel and your pace returning to that of a regular walk as you observe the texture of the tunnel change, with great gates opening and closing up ahead, the lights pulsing onward, pointing toward something. You head on and jump through the first gate, which smoothly closes behind you, then opens again, keeping rhythm as you go through the next one, and then the next with progressive kangaroo hops, until finally the tunnel reaches... someplace else.

You find yourself in a giant chamber of towers and semi-transparent tunnels running along them - the towers glow and pulse incredibly brightly, and you see things sprout off them. Not just bubbles this time - small pieces of stone are born from the walls, typically spherical but also in other shapes. Long pieces, smaller pieces, all of them fresh and glistening in the atmosphere of the place, an entire industry going on with seemingly no end in sight, perfectly symmetrical and infinitely complex as far as the eye can see, forming virtually any shape you could think of in there somewhere in its labyrinthine complexities.

The most excited rat sniffs around - this isn't the right place. You need to keep looking. There should be another way in here somewhere.

Quote from: TopHat on October 27, 2017, 04:34:46 pm

"Ah. I, er, may have acted rashly when we first met. Sorry about that. Where I come from spiders eat things in their webs so it was only natural that I... assumed the worst."
And I've never been a fan of spiders anyway.

Sorry, mr. spider.

[A Formal Apology: 2, 6]

The spider stares at you with all of its eyes, or tries to before your radiance begins to hurt it again and it withdraws once again. It doesn't seem like your apology is taking.

Listen, says Cindy, how about twenty crowns? Well, these look like crowns to her anyway - some have skulls on them and there's these ones that are squares with holes in the middle, anyway, they all look like legit currency and that's really the point of all of this, isn't it? She's got twenty shiny ones of these if the spidery thing just gets down from there and cuts everyone down post-haste so they can be on their way, how's that sound?

The spider considers this as you let the light glint off a handful of coins. A slight glint of greed in its many eyes tells you all you need to know - Cindy tosses the coins and the spider catches each one in sequence, secreting them away in places you decide to think no more about. It crawls down quickly and its chelicerae perk up and begin to sever you, Ember and Cindy from the web, something that only takes a few seconds for somebody of the spider's experience - it ushers you over to a catwalk and returns within a few moments to repair the web, seemingly content to never see you again for all it cares.

Ember, the entirety of her back covered in a tangle of web strands, looks toward Cindy with a questioning look. Did she have a place to run or hide or something...?

Cindy, for her part, seems to be counting out yet more coins - she gets 242, she reasons, considering she knew where to look, knew how to get it and also was instrumental in every part of the escape, Ember gets 121 because she's a great friend and also got your ass into gear in the nick of time when you went and nearly messed things up in there, and you get 101, same as Ember's share for providing that whole animation thing minus the twenty it took to get the spider to cooperate. Sound fair? Just kidding, she knows that's perfectly fair as she hands Ember a generous handful of gold that she proceeds to hide away in her dress, and gives you an ever so slightly smaller amount while keeping the bag and fully half of the total take for herself.

So... is there a hideout you all can go to, Ember says slowly, still trying to get the web off herself with minimal success. Don't think standing around here is a great idea. To this Cindy shrugs and looks at you - yeah, you got some kind of place to lay low? Madame's going to be on all of your asses before long, she figures.

Spoiler: Status (click to show/hide)

Xantalos · « **Reply #2395 on:** October 29, 2017, 06:59:57 pm »

((Would’ve posted yesterday but was unexpectedly dragged to an event.))

Dan shrugs. ”Frankly, I’m shit as discussing non-cataclysmic weather. Lemme try a quick nap, see if that does the trick.”

Power nap!

Toaster · « **Reply #2396 on:** October 29, 2017, 07:28:04 pm »

Thomas had by this point lost the ability to perceive talking to rats as strange. "Right then, uh, yes. Let's keep looking."

Help the rat find his thing.

DoctorMcTaalik · « **Reply #2397 on:** October 29, 2017, 09:37:56 pm »

"Sure."

Sure.

TopHat · « **Reply #2398 on:** November 02, 2017, 01:25:48 pm »

"A hideout? Not really, I'm afraid; I'm just visiting. We could skip town, I guess, if you two don't have any suggestions, but I have a few things to take care of first."

Help Ember get those webs off. Somehow. Time to finally pick up the adhesive for my tape project.

penguinofhonor · « **Reply #2399 on:** November 02, 2017, 08:59:28 pm »

I drink more, and entertain the stoats with the tale of how I slew the great night gaunt, elaborating just a little so it sounds like I intentionally set out to hunt it instead of blindly stumbling into danger.

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Author Topic: Our Salvation: It Is Written (Read 263500 times)

Toaster

Re: Our Salvation: It Is Written

Xantalos

Re: Our Salvation: It Is Written

TopHat

Re: Our Salvation: It Is Written

Harry Baldman

Re: Our Salvation: It Is Written

LordPorkins

Re: Our Salvation: It Is Written

Xantalos

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DoctorMcTaalik

Re: Our Salvation: It Is Written

Toaster

Re: Our Salvation: It Is Written

TopHat

Re: Our Salvation: It Is Written

Harry Baldman

Re: Our Salvation: It Is Written

Xantalos

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Toaster

Re: Our Salvation: It Is Written

DoctorMcTaalik

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TopHat

Re: Our Salvation: It Is Written

penguinofhonor

Re: Our Salvation: It Is Written