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So this is it, my plucky little urchins. The start of the game. Are you excited? Me, I am delirious, incontinent with glee. Let's do this. ------------------------------------------------- The past few... days? weeks? it's been hard to tell - have been rough. The whatever happened to you back there deep in the bowels of the Night - this divine empowerment - was the only thing that has kept you alive all that time, but even that reservoir of luck was about to run out by the time you finally made it to the exit - a flickering ribbon of light, melting before your eyes, fresh air streaming through it. You jumped through. ------------------------------------------------ The sky is the beautiful, warm, golden orange of the early evening, the sun that you thought you'd never see again finishing its leisurely crawl to the horizon. The air is crisp and cold, every gasp of it delicious after days of choking on the stiff tomb air of the Night Road. And the view of the lands before you that you get from up here is magnificent. Unfortunately, 'up here' is mid-air, about six miles above the ground, with you doing your best Wile E. Coyote impressions. And now, as always, gravity wins. Down you go. Meep meep. GM protip: hitting the ground after a six mile drop is likely prove detrimental to your physical health. If you can, try to avoid it! You can see for miles and miles and miles in each direction from up here - if you manage to stop spinning and flailing and screaming, that is - and it's all land no matter where you look, so you probably did not exit above the Republic. Personally, I think that's a little unfortunate, because if I had to be scraped together with a pooper scooper and buried in a crater, I'd prefer it be on my native soil, but hey, at least you got to go sightseeing abroad before you died. I hope this is a relief for you. Now, if you wanted to figure out whereabouts in the world they would eventually, definitely build a memorial for you (nothing too fancy, of course, SRD is never not in a budget crunch) now would be a great opportunity to do so, given that you're six miles high and never getting a more geographical perspective on the world. Just close an eye, measure some distances out with your thumbs and try to remember what the world map looked like in Geography 101. Wait, I'm sorry. Did I say six miles? Five miles now. Sorry, my bad. Oh, how the time flies when one is having fun. Unlike you - you're not flying, you're plummetting to your deaths. Um. Hey, did I mention you've hit terminal velocity by now? Cool fact, 'terminal' in 'terminal velocity' refers to the highest speed you'd be able to attain, not that it's going to result in death. Well, okay, if you think about it, it's kinda both. Ha ha. Ha. Ha. You know what? Let's just talk about something else. Like, for example, if you ever wanted to join the Mile High Club, now would be your best opportunity. You'd probably be the first ones to do it in, shucks, a thousand years. Quite an achievement, if you ask me! Just make it quick. Because, y'know. Maybe scribble a note about it afterwards, so they know to put it on your memorial. A sidebar! Feel free to drop in OOC remarks in the middle of your IC posts, just as I have done right now. Comment on your decisions and actions, make whatever funny remarks you would have made if we were sitting at the table, having good fun among friends. Also, I also encourage you to comment on the bits of other players' posts that you thought were good or funny. It's good for morale. Gosh darn, what am I thinking? It's very selfish of me to keep blabbing and blabbing at this very special time in your lives. I'll, uh, I'll just stop talking. Just know that for the next five, sorry, four miles now, I am entirely at your disposal. What do you wish to do? Since, as Godbound players, you are still but the tiniest of babbies, adorably burbling as cruel fate - and definitely not your kind, benevolent GM - tosses you into the life's giant whirring blender, here is a small suggestion: consider the options laid out for you on page 27. Also, technically, at that altitude, the air is currently trying to tear your ears off and there's barely any oxygen to breathe, so if I dropped you, the players, out of an airplane without parachutes (might or might not be a long-time GM dream of mine) you wouldn't be able to hear each other scream. But your characters are demigods and the laws of physics are somewhat wonky in Ancem anyway and I figure you guys can shout at each other just fine.
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May 13, 2017 20:49
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EM The man hurdles to the ground calmly, appreciating the immaculate vista. Never before had the setting sun, nor such a terrifying height, been so beautiful. And escaping the Night, finally, was a welcomed reprieve. Their current situation found Enno to be quite at ease. "Would anyone appreciate a parachute?" code:wtsnaename fucked around with this message at 15:05 on May 14, 2017 |
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May 13, 2017 21:56
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Johnny "Do you have to ask? We're falling from who knows how high up, I'll take one!" code:
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May 13, 2017 22:41
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Tam "the Boulder" Tsang The big man blinks his eyes in the sudden wind. "Woooooo! This is intense." He gets quiet for a moment. "You know this is a pretty sight." He flips around to be more aerodynamic, ignoring the dragging effects that might slow his descent, "hey meet you all down there!" He then bunches his legs and pushes off using his mighty strength to somehow push off the very air stream above him and rocket toward the earth below, until he slams into the ground near a river. Okay going to use a combination of Obduracy of Stone to ignore damage from earth and stone, and expending effort for the day for a one time use of Leap the Moon to leap great distances/ignore fall damage, mostly as a make sure I land on earth or stone rather than in a river. Touchdown imminent. code:Ryuujin fucked around with this message at 18:57 on May 29, 2017 |
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May 13, 2017 23:06
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Joey "Nah, I'm pretty sure I'll be fine. But, uh, anybody whose plan doesn't involve high-velocity impact might want to follow me down, because I'm pretty sure I can't really. You know. Steer." Intellectually, she knows that she'll be fine. However, there's a great big gap between knowing and believing, as the massive surge of adrenaline is currently informing her nervous system. She then proceeds to attempt to follow Tam's path as best she can. Using Harder than This to ignore one source of physical peril, i.e. fall damage. pre:Joey Endurance, Night, Fire HP: 10/10 AC: 1 Effort: [C][][] Inf: 2/2 Dom: 0 Attack: +4 1d10 Fire damage (magic) or 1d8 mace (physical)
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May 13, 2017 23:09
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EM Enno spins a hand in the air, collecting a nimbus of clouds made manifest. Deftly, he pulls and works the ice into a long sheet, folds the new adjunct material, and fashions a strange, working parachute in the span of about six seconds, and passes it in midair. Just flavor, using artifice intrinsic for Johnny. code:wtsnaename fucked around with this message at 15:05 on May 14, 2017 |
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May 14, 2017 01:34
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Roth There was still a moment of panic on Roth's part as he and his team left the Night Road behind. Hey, it's not like he was given advance warning about the fall. All threats considered, a drop from miles in the sky was a new one on him, even for that day. Fortunately, he also had a way out of this situation. Flailing a bit to make sure he was no longer falling back first, Roth spread his arms and positioned one leg in front of the other, as if he were making his way down a steep hill. His speed slowed to a crawl. Don't ask how it worked. Even he couldn't tell you at the moment. "Hey, uh, how are we doing this?" He shouted at his teammates. Using All Directions as One to...well, no longer be falling at deadly speeds. I imagine it working like that one glitch in Sonic Boom, but in reverse. code:DeTosh fucked around with this message at 23:34 on May 14, 2017 |
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May 14, 2017 06:11
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Johnny "Hell if I know! EM can you make some more?" Johnny looks at the approaching ground to try and find a landing spot. code:
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May 14, 2017 09:47
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Your Genetically Perfect GM EM is fully in control of his descent: perfectly vertical, back straight and as relaxed as if he were back home, standing over a project in his workshop. Johnny is prone, balancing with his arms, expending significant effort on just not starting to spin again. Thus, it's EM who helps Johnny with the parachute arm-straps, clicks the latch shut and pulls the ring for him. Johnny is immediately propelled 'upwards', leaving EM with Roth in terminal-velocity-land. It doesn't take long for Roth to get equipped with a parachute as well. That's right. Describing the way you did a thing for you because it amuses me. ~Deal with it.~  I also decided to speed things along a bit, since Roth opted for a parachute as well. Now that his death is a little less imminent, Johnny has time to catch a breath and enjoy the view. There is a broad, languid river just underneath them, glowing golden with the reflected light of the setting sun; everyone who'd bother trying to control their descent can just about make it to its northern shore and avoid taking a bath. (Although, I suspect, after the Night Roads you guys might need a few.) The landscape before him is a rather pastoral one: temperate forests, cultivated fields, small clusters of light here and there, probably corresponding to small hamlets or villages. There are some mountains in the distance, the closest one being relatively low, sloping one, forested and wreathed in mists. More importantly, there is a large walled town on the northern shore of the river a few miles upstream, to the west. It's hard to tell in this light, but to Johhny's eye the architecture looks, perhaps, Dulimbaian. I'd say Tam didn't need to expend effort to maneuver his way to the shore. Joey and Tam hit the ground with a THUMP! THUMP! raising clouds of dirt and clumps of grass. A startled flock of geese bursts from the nearby reeds, honking in terror as they fly away. There is no one else around. A dirt road is nearby, running east-west along the shore, presumably from the nearby town to some other settlement. Johnny and Roth land next to them shortly thereafter, rather gracefully, if you take into account that they, like most others in the SRD, haven't had any parachute training, or any need for it, before right now. EM floats down after them. If EM wants to stay up for a bit and do anything say so in your post. You can hear your reinforced smartphones go ding-ding for the first time in quite a while, as they begin to recharge on the ambient energy of the world after weeks of being cut off from it in the Night. It's starting to get dark.
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May 14, 2017 11:14
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EM Watching the cloud born parachutes control the others' descent, Enno focuses his attention on the town while he falls, trying to make a mental note of any particularly interesting facts he can glean while skyward. Particularly, he searches for any ingress points or defenses that may be seen from this vantage point, or major structures whose purpose might be ascertained. Without any remarkable developments, it seems the most logical destination for this beleaguered crew. code:wtsnaename fucked around with this message at 15:05 on May 14, 2017 |
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May 14, 2017 12:53
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Your Famously Humanitarian GM Enno studies the town from a distance. It's... a town. Surrounded by not terribly impressive walls, with a still-open gate in its east side. The south side of the town is riverside wharf, seemingly unprotected and filled with quaint fishing boats. From this distance, the town itself mostly looks like a collection of unremarkable roofs in the Dulimbaian style.
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May 14, 2017 13:25
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Joey Joey stands up from her crater beside the river, hands shaking from the leftover adrenaline, covered in dust from the impact. "Holy poo poo, what just happened. That was insane." She walks over to the riverbank to try to get a little cleaner--wash her hands and face, anyway, since she can probably slap the dust from her clothing well enough. "Okay, so. Looks like everybody made it? Anybody know where we are?" She checks her phone, reflexively, in case anything interesting happened while they were fighting for their lives in Uncreation. She's had a cell phone since she was six, okay? Habits are hard to break.
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May 14, 2017 15:10
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Le GM Soleil Unfortunately, there is no coverage. Your feeds are distressingly dated. You are entirely cut off from the usual flow of cute animals and witty political memes. You'd feel empty and dead inside, but you've already had weeks to get used to the horror of being offline. But hey, at least you now have your music collection back.
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May 14, 2017 15:24
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EM "We're far from the Republic, Joey. You may not be as versed with the nodes as I, but without them we are going to have to do without any of our unhardened gadgets. That goes for most of our guns and phones. If memory serves, the town looks Dulimbaian in architecture. It may be helpful if you take point with the locals, for now." code:
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May 14, 2017 17:23
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Joey "Well, yeah, I know that it wasn't going to have reception, but... just in case, y'know?" She's not that dumb, just a victim of wishful thinking. "At least we have our music and cameras, right?" She perks up a little when she hears they might be in Dulimbai--now she's on firmer footing. "Sure, I'll take point, but anybody who's feeling friendly is welcome to come help out." code:
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May 14, 2017 17:53
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Tam "the Boulder" Tsang The big man shakes some dust off as he looks around. "Well I can come with you if you wish, though perhaps we should wash off some grime and make ourselves presentable before introducing ourselves to the locals." code:Ryuujin fucked around with this message at 18:58 on May 29, 2017 |
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May 14, 2017 18:08
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Johnny "Lets just head to the town, yeah? See if they can tell us where we are exactly." code:
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May 14, 2017 19:55
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Roth "Sounds good." Roth checks his gear as he staggers after his teammates. "Something tells me we're going to be walking most of the way home, though." code:DeTosh fucked around with this message at 01:03 on May 15, 2017 |
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May 15, 2017 00:20
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EM Again, such talents must be put to use. Before deciding upon a less melt-prone source, the artificer begins to gather the distended old fabric of ice. The rest of the team chatters, and he collects his thoughts. This won't suffice the few miles they needed to travel. "One might be so put off." He scraps his work. Quickly rethinking his plan, he finds a few hollow logs, and instructing a few willing companions to expedite the gathering of materials, fashions them into a series of three pontoons. Feverishly, he fastens them along a series of elm boughs, splayed across the three in well measured intervals. He grabs a few sticks and bark, fashioning a pair of oars in a flash. Before the operators appears a quaint, shoddy double outrigger canoe. Its quality is suspect, and it likely wouldn't hold up to much turbulence, but it seems like just enough to travel the river instead of the land. "But then, one may not, if you are prepared to row. Let us take the Boulder's advice and wash the dust of that horrible place from us, and set off." My intent is to use the artifice intrinsic here again to fashion a canoe, but I understand if the scope of this work pushes us closer to the "Make Something" portion of a miracle. If that's the case, I guess it's not floating as precariously as it seems and I'll mark off one effort for the day. code:
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May 15, 2017 03:09
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Johnny Johnny dusts himself off and discards the now useless parachute. "Agreed" code:
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May 15, 2017 05:02
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Your handsomely hirsute GM Enno could have created a gilded pleasure barge or a resplendent carriage pulled by clockwork horses, but he opts for a humble canoe, woven from bark and sticks. It's a little rickety, a little threadbare, but functional. Given the breadth of his powers, it's obviously an aesthetic choice, a pure expression of an artistic philosophy. And now it's your turn to suffer for his art. Enno, please expound in a following post on how your aesthetic has informed your artistic choices in this matter. It's just a wee bit crowded in a canoe with five people in it, but you manage to fit in without destroying it, somehow. One would think that paddling a few miles upriver in an overcrowded canoe would not be an optimal way to travel, and they'd be obviously, self-evidently right, but you do have The Man, The Legend, The Boulder with you, who is now literally the strongest human being alive. He scoffs at the oars offered to him, then, after Enno makes a brief visit back to the shore to craft him a pair of King Kong-sized oars, single-handedly rows you to your destination. He doesn't even breaking a sweat. --------------------------------- Your canoe gently bumps the dock and, after you climb out, decides that it's just about had enough of the indignity that was its existence and disintegrates, the wood bits creaking the last sigh of relief as they unweave; the dark water swallows all evidence of Enno's art-crimes. It's night now, and the only illumination are a few torches here and there in the wharf, and the bright moon, reflecting in the river. The air is warm, with a light refreshing breeze and the night insects now creak and chirp nearby. Overall, it's quite lovely. A scrawny young Dulimbaian man, already ravaged by male pattern baldness, is frozen still on a nearby bench, staring at you with his mouth open. You seemingly caught him in the middle of his foot hygiene routine, which, you suspect, might just involve toenail biting. He blinks at you and stutters out in Modern Ren, the language of the common Dulimbaians: <Eh? Wassut? Who are you lot?> The breeze shifts and you are hit by a powerful fishy reek that more than a match to your own; it comes from him and from the large woven basket next to him. He frowns at you. He does not strike you as a complicated man and, as a series of thoughts flashes through his mind, you can read each one clear as day on his simple, dirt-smudged face: OH DANG STRANGERS OH DANG LAOWAIS OH WAIT SOME REN AS WELL ARE THEY DANGEROUS OH NO OH NO OH N- HEY I COULD PROBABLY SELL FISH TO THEM gently caress YEAH I LOVE SELLING FISH I COULD GET MONEY FOR MY FISH FROM THEM LET'S SELL FISH TO THEM He grins at you in a manner he probably considers charming, jumps to his feet, curses in Ren as he grabs his un-sandaled foot and pulls a wood splinter out of it, shoves the foot back into a sandal, and grins at you again, now speaking in heavily-accented Trade Cant: "Hello honorable sirs! You want fish, yes? Chin has many fish! Tasty catfish, yum yum!" He doesn't wait for a reply as he pops his basket open and begins to lay out his stench-treasure in front of you. Megazver fucked around with this message at 15:18 on May 15, 2017 |
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May 15, 2017 10:49
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Joey Joey does actually speak Ren (since that's pretty much the only thing her grandparents speak), but in the interests of discretion, answers the man in Trade Cant so that the rest of the party can also understand what the hell is going on. "Hello sir! Can you tell us where we are?" Aside, and in Pelagic so the fisherguy can't understand, she asks the group, "So what do we want to tell this guy? Also: do we actually want any fish, and do we have any money?" code:
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May 15, 2017 12:53
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Your GM, who has an appropriate amount of nipples Chin gives Joey a benevolently patronizing look, the poor simple soul that she is. "Docks, of course." I mean, duh. He rummages in his basket and pulls out a particularly pungent specimen of his stock, which he then all but shoves in Joey's face. "This is good, yes! Buy this, good for brains!" Being Bright Republicans, you are, of course, extravagantly affluent by the Dulimbaian standards. Unfortunately, most of that affluence is in your bank accounts and merchants here are unlikely to take your credit cards. Still, even the spare change you can scrape up among yourselves will go a long way in these parts, taking care of any regular expenses for a few weeks. Megazver fucked around with this message at 13:37 on May 15, 2017 |
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May 15, 2017 13:01
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Joey Joey definitely does not sigh in frustration, although she wants to. She can tell how this conversation is going to go. Politely, she replies, "Yes, I can see we are at the docks. I meant to say, what town is this? We are lost, and we have no maps." No maps that she knows about anyway. Maybe someone still remembers tenth grade world history? code:
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May 15, 2017 13:08
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Your pleasantly fragrant GM Chin's opinion of Joey has not improved upon the revelation she don't know what town she's in. "This Gongfang." He decides to clarify, if she truly is as simple as he suspects she is. "Yizhao province." Any of you who have a Fact that's relevant to this automatically knows where that is. If you check the map on page 85, Yizhao is the northern-most big city and you're somewhere on the banks of the river to the west of it. Megazver fucked around with this message at 13:39 on May 15, 2017 |
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May 15, 2017 13:18
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Joey "Ah yes, Yizhao province. Thank you, that helps very much." She explains basic Dulimbai geography to the parts of the group that don't already know (again in Pelagic), and says, "Anything else we want to know from this guy?" Rolled a 23 on my int check via Discord, so yeah we know where we are. Anyone who wants to know more from this guy should take over, as I won't be back for 8 hours. Assume Joey is letting someone else take over the conversation, since the guy clearly thinks she's a dumbass. code:
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May 15, 2017 13:29
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EM "Forgive her, Chin. Her grasp of our trade cant is not the strongest, as you probably understand and can relate to. She says 'Lost,' but I believe in your language a better translation would be..." Enno whips out his smartphone, tapping a few keys, and studies the results for a second. "<Wandering.> Of course, we are traders of the Bright Republic as you can likely tell; and Ms. Zhou here butchers the language for our benefit. We are scouting out various resources and cities of trade, and our wallets are deep as you may imagine. Perhaps deeper with the requisite facilities." EM makes no effort to disguise a magnetic pistol as he fishes out a small bit of currency, far too much for fish, but effectively pocket change for a Republican. "For your help. Could you perhaps take us to a hotel... uh, hostel? Inn? In which we may retire and see the grander scope of this magnificent city by the light of day? And any tips that you might wish to bestow upon us would be greatly appreciated, of course." code:wtsnaename fucked around with this message at 13:56 on May 15, 2017 |
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May 15, 2017 13:53
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Johnny "Yes, we're quite tired. Just flew into the province, you know and man are we tired." code:
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May 15, 2017 19:38
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Your GM, who is a perfect incarnation of the appearance that an immaculate GM should have Chin would normally have trouble keeping up with a speech this elaborate in the Trade Cant, but Enno's mastery of the Word Command allows him to perfectly impart every nuance of his words' meaning upon the fishmonger. He even understands Enno's attempt at Ren, even though he completely butchered the tones and actually said "fondling shrub-weasels". He goggles, jaw comically slack, at the smartphone and the pistol. The banknote he gingerly takes with two fingers; it's clear he only has a faint idea what it is and, for a brief moment, he's seemingly tempted to ask for some actual, proper money, but he ultimately bets on it being of value and pockets it with borderline supernatural speed. "Inn? Yes. Yes! Um." Cogs churn inside his head. You can almost hear them squeal in protest. "Oh yes, I know place! Follow me!" He collects his fish, closes the basket shut, hoists it over his shoulders like a backpack and hurriedly leads you into the town. ---------------------------------- The town is mostly filled with traditional courtyard houses, the buildings forming rectangular walled compounds. You pass through a residential neighbourhood and enter what looks to be a trading district, lit by paper lanterns hanging outside the shops. There are still a few people milling around, most of them being somewhat drunk Raktians in fur hats. Everyone gives your group a wide berth, Chin's fish stink being as good a deterrent to any human interaction as any. You pass a patrol of scowling, vaguely disreputable-looking constables along the way; they eye you with suspicion, but let you walk by them. Chin babbles as you walk, mostly about his favorite subject, fish, but you do manage to gather a thing or two about the town. The man in charge in the town is one Magistrate Li and you get the impression that he is not well liked in the town. There is also a powerful local by the name of Big Feet Zu and even just the name obviously makes Chin very, very nervous. You find it hard to get any more details out of him; the sheer degree of his obtuseness defeats you. --------------------------------- The Inn of Five Silver Fish is a handsome old building, carved with stylized ornaments of happy little fish frolicking in rivers and freshly painted a boisterous scarlet red. Chin knocks at the door. After a while, you hear a voice from the inside: <Chin, is that you, you insufferable dolt? I can smell your stink from the other side of the room. I swear, if I open this door and you're still there, you are getting a broom handle up your-> The door opens and you see a short, fat, middle-aged Ren lady, who startles when she sees you. Chin bows low to her and stammers out in a low voice: <Auntie Wei, I brought you some guests. They needed rooms and I immediately thought of you.> He bows again, then, head still bowed, slowly extends a cupped hand. Auntie Wei sighs, pulls a coin out of the folds of her robe, shoves it in his hand, then shoos the man away, before turning to you. She crosses her hands on her chest, bows to you and starts talking: "Honored, illustrious guests. Welcome to Gongfang, the Picturesque Jewel of Dahuang River! I am Auntie Wei and this humble hovel is the Inn of Five Silver Fish." Her face falls. "The pain of telling you this is like a dagger in my very heart, but due to an influx of no less, but also definitely not more honored Raktian guests and the recent unfortunate fires that have ravaged the part of our beloved town that held other, less fortunate establishments of this kind, there are no beds available, even for such august personages as yourselves." She squeezes her eyes shut, briefly overcome with the agony of her monumental failure. Then, she cheers up and beams at you again. "That said, I have arrangements with some upstanding, orderly townsfolk to host guests in specially outfitted rooms in just such a circumstance, with us providing for your ever need for a trifling, purely symbolic fee." She barks some orders inside the inn and a few sullen, sleepy-eyed boys stumble out. She takes your money, beams at you and tells you to follow the boys. You do so. Each of you is lead in turn to a separate house, where you're given what are shockingly poor by Republican standards, but clean, well-aired and pest-free rooms with straw mats and blankets. In the morning, you are each invited to share breakfast with the house's owner, your meal of freshly baked bread and roasted herbed mackerel having been brought from the inn. It would not be hard for you to trace your steps back to the inn to reconvene. -------------------------------- Joey: Your host is a young, beautiful woman who introduces herself as Xia Ming. Her cheeks glow with an unhealthy blush and she only takes a bit of bouillion with you, saying she doesn't really have the appetite this morning. She mostly spends the breakfast asking Joey about life in the Bright Republic, her replies having a distinctly melancholy, resigned character. If you tell her anything about the police or the SRD, she is fascinated and dreamily tells you that she, too, would like do something important like that before she dies. Then, in a shy voice, she asks whether you want to hear some of her poetry. Johnny: Blue-Button Mei is a tiny elderly lady, bent over with age and her house is filled with her merchandise: ribbons, notions and trinkets of all sorts. She dodders around you, padding your seat, tying a cloth around your neck, babying you hard, having obviously taken a liking to you. You get breakfast helpings, of course, and no is not taken for an answer. Throughout the meal she chitchats in broken Trade Cant about how nice girls are around these and how a nice boy like you could find a good wife here, but at one point her gaze grows shrewd, lucid and she hints that should you take a liking to a nice girl who might already be a wife, it is within the realm of possibility to arrange a "private meeting" in the town shrine. Then she warmly smiles at you again and offers another helping. Roth: The boy who leads you to the house tells you that the Venerable Wan is a priest at the local ancestor shrine, a kind man, greatly admired by the local populace. But when he sits opposite you in the morning, he's mostly just quiet and sad. At one point he raises a spoonful of soup to his mouth, but instead spills it on his patchy beard and doesn't even notice. Enno: You are hosted by a real-deal, bonafide Taoist priest by the name of Red Cap Hong. He's skinny, but doesn't eat like it, destroying three large bowls of gruel in the time it takes you to finish your breakfast. Afterwards he tries to sell you on some of his folk-magic cures and talismans, which you can tell have some power in them, but are useless to someone like you. He briefly mentions spending some time in a monastery, but quickly changes subject once he realizes he's done so. Tam: You are the poor bastard who gets the shittiest hotel room, or, in this case, hut. The owner's name is Xiang and he's two hundred pounds of surly, hirsute lumberjack. He doesn't strike you as someone with a secret penchant for crossdressing. He growls an obscenity when he hears you mention the Magistrate and darkly replies the bastard will get his one day. You catch him throwing longing looks at what seems to be a pile of empty wine jugs.   Megazver fucked around with this message at 00:09 on May 16, 2017 |
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May 16, 2017 00:02
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Joey Joey grudgingly accepts Enno deciding to step in like the Auntie Wei actually reminds her of a lot of her actual aunts, so she cheers up quite a bit after reaching the inn. She also finds Miss Xia charming, and chats happily about life in the Bright Republic and her job. She also asks about Ming's life here in Dulimbai, since she knows a lot of her own knowledge is based on refugee stories a few generations out-of-date, and she's interested in how day-to-day life is different compared to life in the Bright Republic. As for the poetry: when she hears the offer, Joey replies, "I would love to hear some of your poetry, Miss Xia. I don't have much of a talent for it myself, but if you would be gracious enough to overlook my clumsy efforts, I would be delighted to share some of my own in return, if you wish." code:
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May 16, 2017 00:32
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EM Enno finds no comfort in this place of strangers. His overarching thought throughout their time meandering the city is one of regret; but a drive in him staunches the thought. Something brought them here, afterall, and perhaps this was simply where they must be. Sleep would find them all, surely, and there would be solace in that, after so long without. They could assume the mantle of trying to egress back to the Republic with the dawn. But he was further put off the thought- What remained for them there? Surely this... divinity, this spark of the One, would be wasted in the bureaucracy. Surely, now, he could no longer sit idly at his desk, reading yet another missive or field report. Surely his team felt similar. Perhaps this new land, this strange new reality, was instead fate handing them a bicycle with training wheels. EM felt no pride in such a construct. His talk with the Taoist cemented these thoughts. Through his well trained Zen, his obvious state of contentment in what Enno could only see as sub-mediocroty, he saw an earlier version of himself. Truly this man's manner was not unlike that of a cog in the vast machine of the Bright Republic itself; medicated not on the latest mood stabilizer or telecast, but his own warped version of faith. It was demonstrably wrong. As an exercise in some latent instinct, Enno engages the man in some philosophical but friendly debate, and shares with him stories of creation and understanding of what he can remember of a once held faith of his own; and listens intently to the stories and counterpoints Red Cap Hong provides. He also lightly presses for more information about the priest's time in the monastery. After their good natured banter, and abound in earnest pleasantries upon their departure, Enno gives the man a handshake; turning and heading back to the inn to reconvene. Red Cap, however, would be surprised perhaps to find he had been given a gift in the foreign gesture; turning his palm upright to see the birth of five small paper lotuses bound with thread to a small metal medallion emblazoned with five fish in kind. The napkin his strange guest had used was mysteriously missing, and a small slug of the same metal now adorned the priest's quaint kitchen, in the northwest corner. code:wtsnaename fucked around with this message at 04:21 on May 16, 2017 |
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May 16, 2017 04:08
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Roth Roth slowly draws in a breath as he lingers over the most awkward breakfast he'd ever had (including meals with people who were armed and hostile). It wouldn't have felt right, just ditching the old man after being his guest. Then again, after the past week or so, "felt right" was a distant memory. Roth slides a napkin over to Wan, hoping the gesture didn't seem condescending. His own grandfather didn't appreciate any implication that he needed someone to look after him. He allows the deafening silence to persist a few minutes longer before throwing caution to the wind and attempting to strike up a conversation. In Ren, no less. "How long have you lived in Gongfang?" His accent is fairly obvious, and his wording is probably a little too formal, not to mention influenced by television. Roth just hopes he is coherent. code:
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May 16, 2017 08:37
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Johnny Amidst the hustle and bustle of the locals and their local accommodations Johnny found himself thinking, just how did we end up here? First we're on a mission, then everything goes sideways on the poo poo run. Now we're in the middle of bumfuck nowhere and this old lady is trying to pimp out girls to him. While its uh...been awhile so to say, hes not quite sure about how the whole thing would work out. Not to mention it might be a trap to get him hitched to some town girl who would claim pregnancy and show up with her angry father. Though Mei's shoulder massages are welcome, he politely turns her down. "Ah so sorry, but we are....on business. And business and pleasure do not seldom mix, or at least mix well." When he has an opportunity to address the team, he brings up what everyone has avoided so far. "So...here we are in the middle of who knows where, and probably months away from the Bright Republic. Last anyone saw of us was crashing through that portal and we ended here after the poo poo Run. Now I've been thinking. When's the last time any of us got some vacation time? Because I know its been quite a while for me. If we take a couple weeks off just relaxing around here before heading back home, well who is to say just how long it took us to find our way back? They probably think we're dead as it is." code:
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May 16, 2017 11:38
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Your GM, a weapon of mass poetic destruction Joey: You and Ming click in the matter of minutes, the conversation flowing comfortably, easy; after a while you both start lightly touching each other on the hands and shoulders, as if you were friends for ages. You chat for some time about her life here. She comes from a good family and, being a third-gen émigré, you are not super-clear on what that means in the context of provincial Dulimbai, but the family is affluent enough to have separate quarters for male and female halves of the family, you, of course, now enjoying the privilege of being in the latter. Her parents, of whom speaks with both fondness and sadness, are currently away in Yizhao on some business and it's just her and the servants in the house. In fact, there is one, a severe older lady who, judging by the intense, burrowing look she gave you, is at least a senior Internal Affairs investigator working under cover, sitting right outside the room on the other side of a thin wall as you two talk. Ming is sad that she couldn't travel with them and mentions, off-hand, that she tried to convince her parents to let her volunteer to go to the monastery, but they absolutely forbid her. The very mention of this makes Colonel Auntie behind the wall splutter into a cough. After a while, Ming reads you a poem in a quiet voice, a scroll delicately unfurled by slightly trembling fingers. It's about death and dying and there are a lot of allusions to how flowers die young but it's okay because for a while they've made their family happy with how beautiful and lovely they were. The poem is horrendous on every technical level and most aesthetic ones, but the vulnerable earnesty with which she reads it makes it almost bearable. The feverish blush on her cheeks is still there, but now her tiny pink ears glow red with embarassment as well. She goes on to read another one. This one is about how the romantic heroine will die and lie in her coffin in her best white dress looking beautiful and sad and everyone will cry and will be super-sorry about how dead she is but oh well what can you do. It is not an improvement on the previous one in terms of skill, but she offers you a shy, adorable smile after this one. There is about a dozen more of these, each read with a bit more confidence. They share a common theme with the first two. Then, she sets down the last scroll and, eyes downcast, ears bright red again, barely audibly asks you what you've thought about the poems. Whatever you reply, she starts to say something, but chokes, pulls out a red linen handkerchief and bends over in a coughing fit, holding the cloth to her mouth. When it's over, she offers you a weak, apologetic smile, slumps back in her chair, out of breath and, still holding the handkerchief to her lips, wordlessly gestures you to please read her some poetry of your own.
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May 16, 2017 13:02
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Your ever-subtle GM Roth: Wan hasn't even lifted the spoon again after the last one; instead he just sits there, clutching it in his hand, knuckles white, looking through the table with unseeing eyes. He doesn't react to the napkin you've pushed next to him, but is roused from his dark reverie by your question. He looks around, startled, as if seeing you for the first time. "Gongfang? Yes, uh. Long." His eyes turn glassy again. "Too long." His face briefly screws up in an unmistakable mixture of desperation and grief. "If only we left before..." He hides his face in his hands.
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May 16, 2017 13:31
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Joey Joey's aware that Ming's poetry isn't great, but since hers isn't a lot better she listens with every indication of enthusiasm and enjoyment. It's enough for her to see Ming perk up a little bit--it's obvious that she's, well, dying, and Joey's not going to poo poo on anything that makes her feel better about it. At Ming's cue, Joey searches back through her memory for any kind of poetry she can remember writing in high school, since that's the last time she had to do this kind of thing. Eventually she drags up the best one she can remember, which is about a young woman, torn between following her heart's desire and embarking on a dangerous path that will lead to personal fulfillment, or following her parent's wishes for her to remain safe, but where she will only ever be contented. It's unclear from the poem which the speaker chooses, especially since Colonel Auntie would probably have objected to the original ending, which was a lot clearer about carpe'ing the diem. (She got a B from her high school poetry teacher on this one, good use of parallelisms and nature metaphor, but the rhyme scheme was poo poo and the metaphor was too obvious). It's also clearly, embarrassingly autobiographical. At some point during this, Joey tries to subtly inquire about the monastery, since it's a little odd that her parents wouldn't let a young code:
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May 16, 2017 13:34
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Your GM, totally not in league with the pork bun lobby Enno, Johhny: You two reconvene near the inn, in the shade of a nearby peach tree. The others aren't there yet, but the weather is excellent, the sun being warm, but not hot, and the mild breeze keeping you nice and fresh, so the wait will be a pleasant one. There is also a pork bun vendor nearby, giving you opportunistic glances but not actively bothering you. Megazver fucked around with this message at 14:05 on May 16, 2017 |
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May 16, 2017 13:42
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Your custom-made, eight cylinder GM Joey: Ming glows with pleasure when you compliment her poetry and is enrapt, eyes wide and hands clasped at chest, when you recite yours. When you finish reading it, you hear a quiet snort from outside the room, but Ming explodes with admiration. It's so deep. So powerful. You are definitely The Best Person now. Let's hug! Wait, no, bad idea. Sorry. Sorry, sorry. She grows reticent at your casual mention of the monastery. Eyes downcast, she mumbles something about how a nearby monastery has been rebuilt a few years ago and the sage, who now resides there by mandate of the Governor himself, keeps recruiting new students and even though she's sure there is a perfectly natural explanation, none of the students have been back to town yet and the people are getting kinda antsy about it, but she's sure it'll all be fine. This is where Colonel Auntie decides it's time for Ming to rest and gently, but firmly ushers you out. Megazver fucked around with this message at 20:36 on May 20, 2017 |
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May 16, 2017 15:08
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Tam "the Boulder" Tsang Tam takes a look around the hut. Not the best place he has ever slept, but hardly the worst. He thinks back on the past week, yes hardly the worst. "Xiang my friend, may I call you Xiang? Well anyway Xiang my friend, you look to be a man who could really use a good time. Why don't we go out and have something to drink, perhaps something to eat, have a good time. Yes?" Presumably Xiang will go along with this, either through his desire for booze, or Tam's winning personality. Once the wine flows freely hopefully so too will Xiang's tongue. Tam will take the man out for a night on the town, or as much as one can be had here, and with his current funds, and will gently and subtly try and get some information out of Xiang through the night. Particularly about the Magistrate, but about anything interesting or suspicious in general as well. code:Ryuujin fucked around with this message at 18:57 on May 29, 2017 |
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May 16, 2017 21:36
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| # ? Apr 19, 2024 04:22 |
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Your GM, whose teeth are regulation-sized Tam: Little by little, you win Xiang over and his opinion of you grows. You're alright now. The Magistrate? Yeah, that beady-eyed fucker has really cranked up the taxes. Squeezes every last drop out of ya, and then some. The farmers are pissed. Some of them have even gone into the forest, you know how these things go. Xiang, being a titan of lumbering and jacking, knows the nearby forests like the back of his hand, of course, and he has an idea where they'd establish their camps, but you haven't heard this from him and you seem like a nice guy, so he's not going to get you into trouble by telling you either. He avoids them and they don't gently caress with him and that's how he likes it. They didn't just start a peasant rebellion, you see, they also went religious, worshipping a Golden Lord, whatever that is, and that's a bit too freaky for Xiang. This whole town has gone to poo poo.
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May 16, 2017 23:48
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