|
 It has been two years since you, Jingleterry the elf, took over responsibility of preparing the Sleigh and getting Today, so far, has passed much like last year before all the unpleasantness. The sleigh is all polished wood and shining chrome, laden with an uncountable number of presents, awaiting merely its pilot and nine flying reindeer engines. On the stove in the kitchen bubbles away the Big Man's inflight meal of French Onion soup. From the bedroom you hear the Big Man snoring, deep in restful slumber, two hours until his wake-up time. In the stables, the only other elf currently in the Workshop Complex and working, your friend...ly-ish acquaintance, Rudelf is tending to his charges. And you, Jingleterry, are in the Complex's office, at your computer, refreshing the same five websites over and over again. Everything is under control. Nothing can go wrong, nothing will go wrong. As the office clock behind you strikes the hour, you feel a shiver run down your spine. From a distant room you hear something go whumf. There's four hours left to get everything ready for Christmas. Looks like you'll have to Do It You ----- Welcome back to Do It You Elf! A Christmassy CYOA about being an elf, getting the Sleigh and the Big Man (there's a superstition against saying the S**** C**** name before He's ready.) prepared for the Big Day. You have four hours, i.e. 24 10-minute increments.  For every post, please post what you'd like our character to spend the next 10 minutes doing, as well as your guess as to what's behind tomorrow's Advent Calendar door. The correct guess will have their choice of action happen. If there are no correct guesses, I'll pick an action at random, and something bad might happen. The current high score is year two, with thirteen correct guesses. If more than one person guesses the same calendar item, I go with the first person's chosen action. Guesses have to be reasonably specific, no more just saying "plant" or "animal". My decision is final. Have fun!
|
#
¿
Dec 1, 2021 01:23
|
|
|
|
| # ¿ Apr 20, 2024 03:14 |
|
|
 Image is of a deer! No correct guesses. Current score: 0-1. Random action chosen: 1d9 1 AJ_Impy's Investigate the Whumf action chosen. You get up from your computer and look around. Everything in the office looks fine. You leave and head down the corridor, in the direction of the noise, poking your head into various rooms. All seem as still as when you last checked on them. A frown appears on your face. You did hear something, right? You head upstairs, looking in the empty bedrooms of other elves. Still nothing. Finally, you check your own room. It's exactly as you left it, unmade bed, half-drunk water bottle, phone charger, book. Wait, a book? That wasn't there last night. You pick it up: The Amourous Admiral, by Annabelle Southern. Another whumf, much closer, just outside the room. You look down and see another book seeming dropping in the middle of the corridor: Winter Celebrations Of The European Nations, 1812-1914: A Study, ed. JA Harris. Three hours, fifty minutes remain.
|
|
#
¿
Dec 2, 2021 01:35
|
|
|
 Image is of a squirrel! Lux Animus's tree rodent is close enough! Current score: 1-1. Grab phone and/or flashlight and investigate windows and maybe roof. You pick up the second book and then, holding both books next to your body with your left arm, somewhat awkwardly pull your mobile phone out of your right pocket and activate the torch. You retrace your steps, this time looking out the window with your beam of light. All the windows are closed; the snow surrounding this side of the complex is undisturbed. Sighing, you clamber up the central stairwell, grab your keys, unlock the door and look out onto the bitterly cold roof, your searchlight scanning for any signs of activity. You see a thick layer of undisturbed snow, the brilliant shine of the stars over the North Pole, and some air-conditioner fans-in-boxes spinning their eternal dance. Nothing unusual. Something below you goes w-w-w-w-w-w-w-w-w-w-w-w-w-w-w-w-whumf! You rush downstairs, back to your office. You kick your chair out of the doorway and look at your desk. Where your chair was mere moments ago is a stack of books, reaching from the floor almost all the way to the ceiling. A thought runs through your head: "Symmetrical stacking." Now that you think of it, the stack does resemble the one from that film you all watched at Hallowe'en. Three hours, forty minutes remain. The roof door is unlocked.
|
|
#
¿
Dec 3, 2021 01:23
|
|
|
 Image is of a bird! No correct guesses. Current score: 1-2. Random action chosen: 1d4 2 AJ_Impy's Read all the books action chosen. Putting the two books you were already carrying down on someone else's desk, you clamber onto your desk and grab the topmost book from the pile. It's A Christmas Carol, by Charles Dickens. You settle back into your office chair and start to read... Charles Dickens posted:Marley was dead: to begin with. There is no doubt whatever about that. The register of his burial was signed by the clergyman, the clerk, the undertaker, and the chief mourner. Scrooge signed it: and Scrooge’s name was good upon ’Change, for anything he chose to put his hand to. Old Marley was as dead as a door-nail. Three hours, thirty minutes remain. The roof door remains unlocked.
|
|
#
¿
Dec 4, 2021 01:51
|
|
|
 Image is of a rabbit! Scribbleykins guesses correctly! Current score: 2-2. Resolve pre-waking-Big Man tasks action chosen. Enough, you think. You take a post-it note off your desk and use it as a bookmark, then set A Christmas Carol atop the other two books you've collected so far. Time to do some work. Your first stop is the kitchen. The smell of French Onion soup pervades the air with a lovely scent, along with that of this morning's coffee.. You give the pot a quick stir, pop the lid back on and continue your rounds. Next stop is the sleigh room. You've been avoiding this place as much as possible the past few months; the memory of it stretching and rising and devouring that snowmobile last year has haunted your nightmares. It's sat in its usual pre-flight position, all shining chrome and polished wood. Reins, whip, presents, coal, empty coffee bottles, empty pee bottles, all accounted for. The only thing it needs is the finished soup, fresh coffee, some reindeers and the Big Man himself. As you turn to leave you notice a couple of book-shaped presents scattered on the floor behind the sleigh. Must've fallen out when loading. You chuck them atop the rest of the gifts. Finally, back to the office. You turn your monitor a bit to the right so you can work without disturbing the large stack of books in front of it. The Naughty and Nice lists have been updated with the latest reports from all the Elves upon Shelves throughout the globe. It all looks good to you; besides, the Big Man'll check it twice himself in a few hours. Three hours, twenty minutes remain. The roof door remains unlocked.
|
|
#
¿
Dec 5, 2021 01:32
|
|
|
 Image is of some animals chilling in a tree! Apologies to AJ_Impy but I have to give this one to Outrail. Current score: 3-2. Lace all the big man's food and drink with unreasonable amounts of LSD action chosen. Aw, beans! A thought - a compulsion - suddenly pops into your head. A wicked, unChristmassy grin spreads across your face. You head towards the small first aid station next to the kitchen, to the bottom-left cupboard with a keycode lock. Dr. Button's Private Reserve. You enter the access code 1-2-2-5 and giggle softly to yourself as the door swings open. It is not outside the realm of possibility that an older child has the three qualities of very good behaviour, a still-strong sincere belief in the Big Man, and a small bottle of lysergic acid diethylamide on their present list; and the Big Man believes in being prepared for almost all eventualities. Hence, the elves' medical expert has contingencies securely locked away. You swipe the phial labeled "Aceeeed!  !" and head to the kitchen. Two-thirds of it go into the French Onion soup on the stove; the rest into the coffee brewer. Stir, stir, stir. He's gonna trip balls tonight! Hee, hee, hee!Behind you, something goes whumf. You turn around and see Delia Smith's How To Cook Volume 1 has fallen from its place on the kitchen bookshelves. As you bend down to pick it up, you don't see Volume 2 land straight on your head. WHUMF! Three hours, ten minutes remain. The roof door remains unlocked. The soup and the coffee brewer are laced with LSD.
|
|
#
¿
Dec 6, 2021 02:08
|
|
|
 Image is of a star! No correct guesses. Current score: 3-3. Random action chosen: 1d5 2 Slaan's Break out the Flamethrower action chosen. Enough of this. Nursing your head, you head to the security armoury, just next to the sleigh room. Added after last year's events, a cache of strong weaponry accessible only by trusted senior staff. The door's scanner recognizes your thumbprint and you're in. A fairly small room compared to the others, but nevertheless stocked floor-to-ceiling with the latest in Pole Defence Technology. You grab the flamethrower. Its pilot light ignites with a satisfying hsssssssss. The Armoury's door locks itself behind you as you quickly pop outside, into the deserted car park, where you experimentally pull the trigger quickly once. A whooosh of flame erupts from your weapon, melting the nearby snow and sending the birds in the trees scattering. "This will do nicely," you think. You head back indoors and approach the kitchen. You see Volume 2 floating in mid-air just outside the door. Without warning, you fire your flamethrower at it. WHOOOSH! The book collapses to the ground, aflame. With your recently-awakened psychic senses, you feel rather than hear a high-pitched scream of distress as something intangible floats past your head and further into the Workshop Complex. From your office, you hear the office clock chime the hour. Three hours remain. The roof door remains unlocked. The soup and the coffee brewer are laced with LSD.
|
|
#
¿
Dec 7, 2021 02:14
|
|
|
 Image is of an owl! No correct guesses. Current score: 3-4. Random action chosen: 1d5 4 Malbogio's Pursue action chosen. You look down the corridor at where whatever that thing was went. How can you track something that you can't see? You walk in that direction, quiet footsteps, eyes and ears alert for the slightest sign of activity. From somewhere quite far ahead, you hear a whumf. You approach the door of one of the many storerooms the Workshop Complex has. Time to put your psychic training to use. You close your eyes and part of your mind floats away from your corporeal form and into the room. It is a mess. Everything not book-related lies stattered across all the shelving and floor. Books are bursting out of their storage crates and flying towards another neat pile like the one in your office. Grisham stacked upon Brown stacked upon naff novelty stocking filler. And at the base of the stack you see a ghost, a being of spectral energy, swinging their arms around, directing the books into place and making the pile of literature grow ever higher. She is (or was) an elf, wooden-framed reading glasses on a chain perched above rather angular features, a plain brown cardigan atop a plain white blouse, a torso trailing away to nothing. She hasn't noticed you yet. Two hours, fifty minutes remain. The roof door remains unlocked. The soup and the coffee brewer are laced with LSD.
|
|
#
¿
Dec 8, 2021 01:57
|
|
|
 Image is of a squirrel in a tree. I think they count as quadrapeds so I'll go with AJ_Impy's suggestion. Curent score: 4-4. Resurrect it action chosen. You float the psychic part of your mind back to your body. How do you subdue a ghost? Your first thought is to resurrect her, but you don't know of anywhere any elf cadavers could be. Hopefully a temporary body will suffice, then negotaions can begin and you can start to learn this spirit's story. Luckily, the storeroom next door is dedicated to dolls. You briefly consider the Funko-Pops, but decide that's too cruel even for you. You settle on a Librarian Barbie figure; the clothes are a rough match, if nothing else. You enter the haunted room. Very carefully, making no sound or psychic ripple, you approach the ghost from behind, her attention focused on the almost-complete book stack. Slow footstep after slow footstep, slow, shallow breaths, inch by inch you advance. As the last book is placed atop the pile, the ghost floats around it, turning and seeing you. She screams and your psychic senses are assulted. Now! You rush towards her, moving your hands ultra into the psychic dimension, roughly grabbing the ghost and flinging it into the doll's space. The psychic scream abruptly stops. The room is completely still. You look down at the Librarian Barbie figure in your hands. She punches you in the face. Two hours, forty minutes remain. The roof door remains unlocked. The soup and the coffee brewer are laced with LSD.
|
|
#
¿
Dec 9, 2021 02:52
|
|
|
 Image is of a fox! Foxes are *googles* bigger than squirrels! Another one for AJ_Impy. Current score: 5-4. Doll fight action chosen. Staring at the doll while holding her at arm's length with one hand, you use the other to touch the spot on your left cheek where she punched you. It feels a bit like a shaving cut. You notice the blood on your fingers. The doll smiles at you. She drew blood! You toss the doll into the air and with your right foot volley-kick the doll into the shelving. She grabs one of the upright poles, spins around once and launches herself at you, feet raised in a flying kick. You catch her and try to pull the doll's head from her body. She bites your fingers. You pull your hand back in pain - Barbies have teeth now? - and drop her. She runs off, scurrying into the endless expanse of shelves. You crouch down, looking for your opponent. A book lands on your head with a whumf. OK, you think, if that's the game. You close your eyes and open your psychic senses. There's nothing. You're the only living being in this room. No sign of- wait, to your left, something, like an ant walking across a classroom blackboard, barely noticable but there- Your left arm swings out and catches the doll unawares, sending her sprawling to the ground. Her ambush foiled, she gathers herself and charges, a recently-found box-cutter knife in her hands. You dodge out of the way and kick her into the stack of books. Books collapse around both of you as the doll lets out another piercing psychic scream. You crawl your way out of the pile and get back to your feet. Three metres ahead of you you see the Librarian Barbie doll, box-cutter in hand, beckoning you to make another attack. Two hours, thirty minutes remain. The roof door remains unlocked. The soup and the coffee brewer are laced with LSD.
|
|
#
¿
Dec 10, 2021 02:22
|
|
|
 Image is of a bear looking at a tree. AJ_Impy was right; Slaan was more right. Current score: 6-4. Up up down down left right left right a b start action chosen. You smile at the doll and close your eyes. You shut down your psychic senses as well. Ignore the doll, ignore the warehouse, ignore Christmas. Your focus is totally and solely on yourself. A step forward. A step forward. A step back. A step back. A step left. A step right. A step left. A step right. A kick. A punch. You shout with determination as you snap your eyes open. You feel ready to take on anything! You feel... ...no different than before. The doll looks at you and scoffs. "It's B, A, Start, jackass," she says. Two hours, twenty minutes remain. The roof door remains unlocked. The soup and the coffee brewer are laced with LSD.
|
|
#
¿
Dec 11, 2021 02:50
|
|
|
MISTAKES WERE MADE. TIMELINE SEVERED. Image is of a hedgehog! Sorry, Scribbleykins. No correct guesses. Current score: 6-5. Random action chosen: 1d3 3 Slaan's More Flamethrower action chosen. "Jackass? Well, at least there's one button I definitely know how to press," you say to the doll. You remove the flamethrower from its position strapped to your back and into your arms. Its pilot light ignites with a satisfying hsssssssss. The doll stares at you, aghast. "You wouldn't-" WHOOOSH! A burst of flame erupts in front of you, sending the doll scrambling for cover. You see her dash into the recently-toppled mound of books. WHOOOSH! Another blast. You see copies of Chapterhouse Dune and The Thursday Murder Club start to smoulder. There's another piercing psychic scream and you see the doll, box-cutter knife raised, rushing towards you. You smile and aim your flamethrower. WHOOOSH! The doll runs straight through the blast and, with her clothes now aflame, charges towards you with her knife. You ready your legs for a kick and- -and she's run past you. You didn't feel a thing. You see the small flaming being running away from you and pull the trigger again. WHeeerp. poo poo! Your flamethrower's busted! You look down and see a neat cut in one of the fuel pipes, leaking fuel all over the floor. Leaking fuel all over the floor where you're standing, next to the mound of burning books. You have seconds to act. Two hours, ten minutes remain. The roof door remains unlocked. The soup and the coffee brewer are laced with LSD. Cloud Potato fucked around with this message at 03:09 on Dec 12, 2021 |
|
#
¿
Dec 12, 2021 02:54
|
|
|
Image is of a hedgehog! And here's a fun fact I just learned: they're quadrapeds that are smaller than most bears! AJ_Impy guesses correctly! Current score: 7-4. Interesting side-note: Quadraped guesses are banned for the rest of the year. Succeed at diplomacy action chosen. "Jackass?" You scoff. "And there was me thinking we hadn't met before." You remove the flamethrower from its position strapped to your back and set it to one side. You kick an errant copy of Chapterhouse Dune aside and sit on the floor, cross-legged. "But, since it turns out you can talk, let's give diplomacy a try before I burn this warehouse down trying to fight you. My name is Jingleterry." The doll lets out a long breath (or at least tries to - it's a hard habit to break!) and sits down herself, her box-cutter knife by her side, still within reach. "You're hardly the loquacious type yourself, Jingleterry. Call me Caltime." "Nice to meet you," you say. "So, the books?" "I used to be the librarian here," Caltime says. "I looked after all the books we brought in to be shipped out every year, helped co-ordinate the elven printing-presses we used to have. Us elves even had our own library, of books we wanted to read. Then I died." "What happened?" The doll shakes her head. "It's... fuzzy. When I try to remember what happened, my mind just... slides off it like it's glass. Does that make sense? Ever since then, I've been a ghost, haunting the Workshop Complex. I assumed that was my fate, to wander these halls until they fall, but last year, something changed. A new psychic energy was wandering around the complex. It nourished me, made me stronger. I discovered that, with enough effort, I could move books, only books. Stacking them into neat piles, bringing order to this place finally. Then I was rudely grabbed and shoved into this cliché of a physical form." Caltime smiles sadly. "So, any questions?" Two hours, ten minutes remain. The roof door remains unlocked. The soup and the coffee brewer are laced with LSD. Cloud Potato fucked around with this message at 03:12 on Dec 13, 2021 |
|
#
¿
Dec 12, 2021 04:06
|
|
|
 Image is of two rabbits! I'm running late, so AJ_Impy gets this one. Current score: 8-4. Trace the source of her ghostification whilst asking salient questions action chosen. You think about Caltime's story. Eventually you ask her "Do you know why you became a ghost? I'll admit it's been a while since I attended religion classes, but what happened to the big naughty-or-nice list in the sky?" She shrugs. "No idea. To be honest, I wasn't expecting an afterlife. Usually, in stories like this, there would be some sort of unfinished business, but I can't think what. The Work Continues, the books get delivered, children across the world are introduced to the joys of reading. Our elven library was disbanded only after my death, with no-one running it, so surely that couldn't have caused my situation." You raise an eyebrow. "What about your death? Maybe your business... is revenge!" "But I've told you, I don't remember how I died." You lean forward. "What do you remember? I really think this might be it." The doll takes a deep faux-breath, and closes her eyes. "I was in the library, as always. I had just loaned a book out to a customer, and was sitting in my comfy chair with a book, and then- And then it just...stops, and I'm floating over a body." "Can you recall any other details?" "A heavy book... my head was-" Caltime wails and cries at the extremely painful memory. You stand up and embrace her. As you do, you hear the office clock chime the hour. It's time to wake the Big Man. Two hours, ten minutes remain. The roof door remains unlocked. The soup and the coffee brewer are laced with LSD.
|
|
#
¿
Dec 13, 2021 03:53
|
|
|
 Image is of a bird! Apologies, Slaan, but I don't think it's Corvidae? Dog Kisser guesses correctly! Current score: 9-4. Drink a double sized cup of coffee action chosen. "Shh, shh, shh, it's OK, Caltime," you softly say into the doll's ears. "No more questions for now. C'mon, let's go back to the office, get nice and warm, I'll stick some coffee on, yeah?" Caltime nods and both of you leave the warehouse. You put the doll in one of the comfy chairs in the office and, ignoring the snores coming from the Big Man's room, head to the kitchen. With a practised ease, you grind the beans, compress them, stick them in the coffee brewer and turn on the hot water. You go to the cupboard and get three cups: an extra-large for yourself, a regular for the Big Man, and an espresso cup for Caltime. "D'ya want sugar?" you shout out towards the office. "Nah!" Caltime replies. After a few minutes the brewer turns itself off with a soft click. Pour the coffee, stir the coffee. Minty mocha for yourself, PSL for the Big Man, just a shot for the doll. You leave the Big Man's cup on the side, and take yours and Caltime's through to the office. She accepts her cup and sets it on the arm of her chair. "Better let it cool a bit, it might melt my plastic!" she says. "Fair enough!" you say, before taking a long, long drink. Mmmm! Coffee gooood. Wait. Didn't you lace the brewer and the soup with LSD earlier? Uh-oh! One hour, fifty minutes remain. The Big Man is still asleep. You have recently ingested LSD. The roof door remains unlocked. The soup and the coffee brewer are laced with LSD.
|
|
#
¿
Dec 14, 2021 02:54
|
|
|
 Image is of another bird, possibly a robin! The double-bird catches everyone on the hop. Current score: 9-5. Random action chosen: 1d5 5 Dog Kisser's Bite the Big Man on the leg action chosen. Aw, piss! Never mind the LSD you've just taken. The caffeine has beaten it to your bloodstream and is filling your whole body with that gooood feelin'. You explain to Caltime that you have to go wake the Big Man - you're running a little late as it is! She nods at you, and picks up The Amorous Admiral from the pile of books next to her. "Must be new," she mutters. You knock on the door loudly, then make your way into the Big Man's bedroom. You see the familiar sight of two people sleeping peacefully, the Big Man snoring his head off. Another compulsion enters your head. What, exactly, does the Big Man taste like, you wonder? You can't believe the subject hasn't come up before now. All these years and no-one's bothered to check if their boss and leader is edible! You slowly lift up one corner of the duvet, exposing his right calf. Very, very cautiously, the caffeine pounding in your veins, you stick your tongue out and lick the leg. He tastes of hair and skin and a little bit of mint? Further tests are required! You open your mouth wide, put your teeth next to his body and slowly close... WHAMM! The top of your head is swatted away from the Big Man's body with suprising speed, if not unsuprising strength, knocking you all the way back to the door. The leg kicks the duvet back over itself and resumes snoring, at a lower volume than previously. You take your opportunity and approach the head of the bed. You clap your hands together and theatrically say "Gee, a mosquito? Here? Crazy! Oh, good morning Sir, it's time to get up, actually-" "Mrr," says the sleeping man. You hear a quiet smooch as the Big Man kisses his slumbering wife, then slowly legs appear, find the ground and the Big Man rises out of the bed. Before you stands a late-middle-aged large, portly man wearing nothing but heart-print boxer shorts (you'd call them cliché, he calls them iconic). "Mrrrrrnrrrrr, JrrrrrTrrr,", he says to you in greeting. His eyes blink at you wearily. "Yrrr lrrr lk srrrrr." In the silence that follows, you think you hear Caltime take a big slurp of her LSD-laced coffee. One hour, forty minutes remain. Caltime and you have recently ingested LSD. The roof door remains unlocked. The soup and the coffee brewer are laced with LSD.
|
|
#
¿
Dec 15, 2021 02:53
|
|
|
 Image is of a reindeer looking at a light, with a bird in their antlers! Point to AJ_Impy, with Slaan picking up the assist. Current score: 10-5. Purge all drugs from self, others, and the food & put the Big Man in the shower actions chosen. The Big Man puts on his dressing gown and heads toward the kitchen. The realisation hits you like an extra-cold snowball. The drugged coffee! You must stop him from drinking it. You follow him through the door, take the inside line, duck past him and run headlong into the counter. Your plan works; the cup is knocked over, spilling its laced contents all over your hat and head. "Shrrr. Trrr tr shrrrrr, thrrn." the Big Man says in his pre-caffeine drawl. He turns around and leaves the kitchen. Now's your chance. You open the freezer and reach all the way to the back, pulling out a single frozen brussles sprout. You slam it into your mouth and start to chew. The bile rises almost instantly and you spend the next minute vomiting into the kitchen sink. You hear the sound of the shower being turned on, follow by the Big Man's not-unpleasant singing. The taps are now off limits - to use them now would ruin the shower's temperature balance and invite further wrath. Only one thing for it - you turn off the cooker and tip all the drugged French Onion soup you'd made earlier down the drain, clearing both it and your mess. You'll have to wait a few minutes for water service to resume before you can clean and restart the coffee and soup making. You take a moment to pop your head into the office. Caltime seems perfectly content reading her book. You look at her with your psychic vision; all her ghostliness is tightly contained within the doll's form, making it quite difficult to even sense her, let alone induce vomiting. You decide you'll just have to risk it; hopefully, since it was only one espresso shot, it'll be like more of a microdose-type-thing, yeah? Yeah. One hour, thirty minutes remain. The coffee and soup need making. Caltime has recently ingested a small amount of LSD. The roof door remains unlocked.
|
|
#
¿
Dec 16, 2021 03:42
|
|
|
 Image is of a baby deer and their small bird friend! Is this enough to satisfy AJ_Impy and their non-reindeer desire? I'm gonna go with yes. Current score: 11-5. Make it snow, use snow to make coffee & soup action chosen. You close your eyes. You need water. You open your psychic senses, and try to focus on the nothingness around you, the very air you're breathing. You hold your hands out and exhale a breath into them, moving it both infra and ultra. The latter shows promise; you feel a chill as the temperature of your hands drop. Another deep breath onto your cold hands and beads of cold water start to form on your fingers. You reach further ultra, and a third breath. The beads turn to ice, and then start falling from your hands into the sink, a little bit of self-produced snow. You hear the shower being turned off. The taps are okay to use once again. You set the snow-water to one side and throughly rinse the coffee brewer. Once you're satisfied it's clean, you add the snow-water and start the cycle again. While that's brewing, you wash the pots and start boiling the water for the soup. You dig out the backup onions and start chopping as fast as you can. You stick the chopped onions into the frying pan along with the other ingredients. Once they're caramelising nicely, you go back to the coffee brewer and make another Pumpkin Spice Latte with no psychedelics whatsoever. One hour, twenty minutes remain. The soup is in progress. Caltime has recently ingested a small amount of LSD. The roof door remains unlocked.
|
|
#
¿
Dec 17, 2021 04:09
|
|
|
 Image is of a hedgehog. Yet another AJ_Impy success story. Current score: 12-5. Enter the Elfatar state and consult with memories of the past to determine what happened to the murdered elf and how it was reported at the time action chosen. The gently caress is the Elfatar state? *googles* Ach, for pity's sake... The Big Man walks into the kitchen, wearing a dressing gown, all freshly laundered. If anything, the sense you get of mint has only increased. He reaches for the freshly-made coffee, picks it up and looks at you quizzically, like he's expecting another outburst. You just nod at him. He takes a careful swig of coffee. A smile starts to spread across his face, and he relaxes. "Trr,", he says. He takes a seat and another swig of coffee, holding his cup in his right hand. His left hand, just resting on top of his left leg. That's your way in. You approach him and then, psychic senses active, touch his left hand while trying to focus on two He's not expecting this kind of attack from someone he trusts this early in the workday, and his own psychic energies are relatively unguarded. You remember. You see Caltime as she was in life, sat in her chair behind the desk of the Workshop Complex library. The viewpoint resembes CCTV footage - you don't hear a thing. Another elf comes in, and you see the two of them talk. Caltime reaches under the counter and hands the second elf a book. The other elf nods, and produces a card. Caltime makes a note in her journal, stamps the library book and the other elf leaves. She's back in her chair as the customer reaches the door, opens it, goes through, smirks and then, for seemingly no reason, slams the door shut behind him. A previously un-noticed, precarious book rattles off a high shelf and plummets- WHAMM! The force of the Big Man's left hand smacking you square in the face knocks you to the ground. He drains the rest of his coffee and then stands up, reaches down and easily picks you up. He sets you down on one of the kitchen-adjacent break room's sofas, then takes a step back, his gaze fixed on you. "Thank you for the coffee, Jingleterry. And if you ever try to read my memories like that again without asking I will personally end you. Now. You wake me up late, don't think I didn't notice that. You look like absolute poo poo, two large bruises to the head (three, soon). A cut on your cheek. You dare try and access my mind. You deliberately spill my coffee, then make me another cup." He draws himself up to his full height and crosses his arms, towering over you. "One chance, Jingleterry. What. Is going. On?" One hour, ten minutes remain. The soup is in progress. Caltime has recently ingested a small amount of LSD. The roof door remains unlocked. No actions this time! How do you explain your behaviour this night?
|
|
#
¿
Dec 18, 2021 05:25
|
|
|
 Image is of a star atop a tree! I think that's only the second non-animal we've had this year. No correct guesses. Current score: 12-6. Random action chosen: 1d4 3 AJ_Impy's "This" response chosen. "I got into a fight with a ghost. She dropped some books onto me. I contained her inside a doll. She says she's Caltime, a librarian who died here quite a while ago. She's currently sat in the office, reading a book. The reason I, well, I wanted to see how she, er, you know, was to, if there was any foul play, unfinished business, you know, ghosts..." You trail off. "Um. The coffee, it was laced with LSD. Same with the soup. I put it in there, it was a compulsion, I don't know what came over me. It's like... sometimes I just lose control, you know?" The Big Man looks at you impassively, his eyes boring through you. You find you can't meet his gaze. "Anything else?" You sigh. "The mosquito... was me. Another compulsion. And I think I left the roof door unlocked." He nods. "Rudelf?" The question startles you. "Huh. Haven't seen or spoken to him since breakfast, Sir." "Hmm. Go tend to the soup while I call him." Greatful for the distraction, you busy yourself with finishing the frying of the onions and adding them to the stockpot while the Big Man picks up the kitchen phone and dials the stables. You pop the lid back on and reduce the heat to a simmer. The Big Man hangs up the phone. "You said we have a visitor in the office?" "Yes," you say, following him to the office. You walk in behind him. The big stack of books is still by your desk. On one of the other chairs sits a Librarian Barbie doll, with an empty espresso cup and a copy of The Amorous Admiral with a bookmark in. She's completely motionless. The Big Man looks at the doll, then at you. "This is the doll with the ghost inside? The one that roughed you up so bad?" "Yes," you say. "C'mon, Caltime, say something." Nothing happens. "Of course!" you exclaim. "The coffee! She drunk it! The LSD must have put her into some kind of quiet funk, like a K-hole or something! I'm so sorry, Caltime! I didn't know what I was doing!" The Big Man picks up the doll and holds it close to his eyes, looking over it very carefully, before turning his gaze back onto you. "So. This is not just a doll. This is the spirit of a deceased former employee that you fought, transferred into this coporeal shell, and has now been drugged into a stupor." "Y-yes..." you nod, suddenly uncertain. The office clock chimes the hour. One hour remains. Cloud Potato fucked around with this message at 03:57 on Dec 19, 2021 |
|
#
¿
Dec 19, 2021 03:50
|
|
|
 Image is of a bear and a bird! The classic Banjo-Kazooie. No correct guesses. Current score: 12-7. Random action chosen: 1d3 1 Slaan's complete honesty action chosen. You shake the doubt from your voice. "Yes," you repeat, more forcefully. The Big Man gently sets the doll back down where she was sitting. "OK," he says. "Prep the lists, I'll go get dressed." As soon as the bedroom door closes Caltime bursts into giggles. "HAHAHAHAHAHA!!! Did you see that? He thought I was a doll!" "What the hell, Caltime? He probably thinks I'm crazy!" "Aren't you?" the doll replies in all seriousness. "You tried to drug the Big Man. You did drug me. And you can't explain why, can you?" She turns her gaze on you, an adorable counterpart to the previous stare you'd recently endured. You slink away and work at the Big Man's computer in silence, bringing up this year's Naughty or Nice lists. Caltime resumes her reading. "How are you, uh, feeling now?" you eventually ask. "Fine now, though I must say the scene in this book on the Valenciada was very vivid!" Caltime replies. Fifty minutes remain. The soup is in progress. The roof door remains unlocked.
|
|
#
¿
Dec 20, 2021 02:52
|
|
|
 Image is of a little mouse! Sadly, a mouse is not bigger than a mouse. No correct guesses. Current score: 12-8. Random action chosen: 1d3 2 Slaan's Have the librarian solve her own murder action chosen. You finish editing the lists and head over to Caltime, scooping up some books along the way. You pop them down in front of her: A Study In Scarlet, Death On The Nile, The Big Sleep. "So, hey," you say, not all that convincingly. "Have you given any more thought to, you know, what's been going on here?" "Hmm," Caltime says, looking over the offered volumes. "Conan Doyle, Christie, Chandler... wow, real subtle, Jingleterry. You want me to solve my own murder?" "What?? Noo, of course not!" you lie. "Just some stone-cold classics for you to read, is all! But, hey! Since you bring the matter up..." you pause and then add "dot, dot, dot..." for emphasis. Caltime rolls her eyes at you, then shakes her head. "No. Like I said, my last memory is reading a book." "Hmm," you say. "I did manage to get a little bit of memory out of the Big Man before. Here." You take Caltime's plastic hand and think of the scene you saw in the library with your psychic senses, sharing the knowledge with her. Once you've finished, you let go of her hand and she sits there in silence, contemplating what she's just learned. "An accident, then," she says after a little while. "A carelessly stacked book, and a slammed door. Nobody meant me ill will after all..." Her reverie is interuptted by the Big Man re-entering the office, now almost fully dressed in his traditional red and white fur costume, only missing the hat. He sits down at his computer and starts checking the list. "Thank you, Jingleterry. Is there anything else that needs taking care of?" Forty minutes remain. The soup is in progress. The roof door remains unlocked. Cloud Potato fucked around with this message at 02:40 on Dec 23, 2021 |
|
#
¿
Dec 21, 2021 02:48
|
|
|
 Image is of a baby fox! Foxes aren't ruminants but they do fit inside AJ_Impy's special window of desire. Current score: 13-6. Check the roof door action chosen. "Just the soup and, I think I left a door open, Sir," you reply. "Very well," the Big Man says, his eyes focused on the screen in front of him. "Carry on, Jingleterry." Caltime turns to look at you. "Yeah, just leave the two of us alone, together. We'll be fine!" she says. You immediately look at the Big Man, to see how he reacts to proof that the doll is indeed haunted. To be fair, he doesn't even flinch. "Ah, so you do have a tongue in there after all. I wonder how that works?" You leave the two of them chatting and go upstairs to the unlocked door leading to the roof. The bad news is that about an inch of snow has drifted into the corridor; the good news is that the only footprints are of one of the birds that nest outside all winter, taking heat and food from the Complex. You gently shoo the bird back out the door, then spend the next five minutes scraping the invading snow out after it with your feet. One the floor is clear you close the door and lock it behind you with a satisfying click. One less thing to worry about! Thirty minutes remain. The soup is in progress.
|
|
#
¿
Dec 22, 2021 03:03
|
|
|
 Image is of a badger! Badgers are not ruminants. No correct guesses. Current score: 13-7. Random action chosen: 1d3 2 AJ_Impy's Prep the lists including ghosts section chosen, despite you having already prepped the list like half an hour ago. The sound of laughter erupts from the office as you make your way back. The Big Man and Caltime are chatting away, happily remembering old stories. Caltime's doing most of the talking, as the Big Man is still scrolling through the list of children's names, checking it twice. This is your chance. You still have a copy of the list open on your computer. You make your way to your seat, being very careful not to topple the tall stack of books that are still there. You search the list for Caltime's name, but can't find it anywhere. "Huh. That's strange," you say, a little louder than necessary. The Big Man and Caltime pause their conversation. "It looks like Caltime's not on the present list." The doll shrugs. "Why would I be? I'm a ghost in a doll-shell. Heck, you could argue that this body is my Christmas present this year. That is, if I'm allowed to keep it?" She turns and looks at the Big Man. He chuckles, a full-on belly-wobbler. "Ho ho ho! I don't see any problem with it. Why, if you want to, maybe you can re-join the team, get your library back up and running? What do you think?" Caltime breaks into the widest smile you've ever seen on a Librarian Barbie. "Yes! As some of my favourite books like to say, 'Even in death, I still serve!' Haha!" "Splendid! I'll pencil you in for the 29th to talk logistics." Twenty minutes remain. The soup is in progress.
|
|
#
¿
Dec 23, 2021 03:38
|
|
|
 Image is of an owl! No correct guesses. Current score: 13-8. Random action chosen: 1d4 4 The Wandering Mage's Add anise to the soup action chosen. You leave your boss and your newest co-worker and head to the kitchen. The smell of onions pervades the room. You open up the soup pan and give it a stir. The pieces of onion aren't as broken down as you'd like, but you've done the best you could with what little time you had available. You grab a teaspoon and taste the soup. It's good, but.. it's still missing something, you know? But surely it'd be too late to add anything to the soup, it's almost time to dish up... Inspiration strikes! You go to the larder and grab two pods of star anise. With a small knife, you score a dozen or so small cuts into each of the pod's bodies, then pop them at the bottom of the two large red-striped food flasks. You grab the funnel the kitchen keeps for just this task and start pouring the French Onion soup into the star-anise-loaded flasks. Hopefully the motion of the sleigh will jiggle the soup around and impart just a soupcon of that delicate flavour! Before long the two flasks are full and closed. The only thing left to do is to take them to the sleigh. Ten minutes remain.
|
|
#
¿
Dec 24, 2021 03:05
|
|
|
|
| # ¿ Apr 20, 2024 03:14 |
|
|
 Image is of four robins on a branch looking at Santa's sleigh as it flies past the moon. AJ's got a case to argue, but I'm awarding this one to Slaan. Final score: 14-8. NEW HIGH SCORE! Wish the big man luck action chosen. You take the red-striped flasks and walk south towards the Sleigh room. You open the doors and see the sleigh all ready and laden with (almost!) everything the Big Man needs for a successful Night. Just for a moment, you remember the horrible shape it transformed into last year when it consumed that snowmobile, but you quickly shake the thought out of your head. You stow the soup flasks as fast as you can and quickly make your way back north. You find the Big Man in the kitchen, eating a breakfast of microwaved porridge. Caltime is sitting at one of the break tables, yet another book in her hands. "I swear these packets get smaller every year, eh Jingleterry?" You just shrug. "Hm. No matter. Is everything ready?" "All good on my end, Sir," you reply. "No word from Rudelf, but, well, you've spoken to him more recently than I have, so." The Big Man senses your discomfort, and puts down his spoon. "Then what's the matter?" "Uh, I just wanted to, er, wish you good luck for tonight. And, that it's been an honour and a pleasure to serve so closely these past three years. And I hope my replacement is everything-" He interrupts you. "Replacement? What? Heck of a time to hand in your notice, I must say!" "Sorry, Sir, but I assumed I'm fired." He chuckles and picks up his spoon again. "Why? Because you got into a fight earlier? Why, you've gained me a new recruit! Why, if anything, perhaps ghost-powered dolls might be the future of this organisation. No food, no dying... But that's for another time. No, Jingleterry, your behaviour when I woke up was a bit strange, sure, but you've turned it around these past few hours." There's a brief pause as another spoonful of porridge is consumed. "Now, anything else?" "Just one, Sir," you say. Your eyes glaze over. "Activate the Trebizond Protocol." The Big Man looks at you in confusion. "Trebizond? What on Earth..." He stares off into space, bewildered by what you've just said. After a few moments, he slowly nods his head. "Very well, Jingleterry. Trebizond it is." The office clock chimes the hour. It's time. Jingle O'Clock.
|
|
#
¿
Dec 24, 2021 14:49
|
|