03-16-2016, 12:54 AM
Kitchingham.
MissMister.
Pure Prophecy.
Chaste lady.
Clear enemies at the feudal shelter.
Poorly hidden tower.
Arachnid soldier.
Superb tool harness.
Bluff.
Misster Kitchingham, tinker, seeks The Lady of Prophecy, hidden in the ruined tower.
Travel.
I've arrived at the tower, old and falling down. Only a single, broken ring of stonework remains. This time, I have the key to open it - a brooch in the shape of a spider that took me three years to locate and one night to acquire. The pin slides into place in the door's frame, and it swings open with an echoing creak. I step into the darkness beyond. The door swings shut behind me and I light the miniature torch from my tool harness.
I have been preparing for this journey most of my life. I thought I was ready for anything, but the stairs that spiral upwards and downwards in this well maintained room mystify me.
What do I see?
Quaintly / Strong.
The room is solidly made, unworn. Fresh air fills it. The furniture is solid and well made, but fanciful. It looks like a stage set from a fairytale, or an artisan's cottage. What do I see that is important?
What is your next move?
Inquire.
"Hello?" I call. Does anyone answer?
No.
My voice echoes oddly, but no reply comes. This place looks like the owner has only just stepped out though. On a hunch/whim, I turn back to the door I came through. What do I see?
Meaningfully / Cold.
The door is solidly shut, jammed, and the metal of the door handle is icy cold. I look closer at the rim of the door and find frost patterns tracing inwards. It was summer... something is definitely unnatural about this place. Are they getting bigger?
Yes.
Looks like I might be on a time limit then.
Remote event.
I hear something below me. Perhaps there is someone here after all. What do I hear?
Efficiently / Enormous.
A roll of pure noise rolls up from beneath me, tolling through my bones. After it passes, I become aware of a ticking noise - a little off, but still present in the air.
And what action do you take next?
I approach the stairs leading down. They spiral down to the next level at least. My torch beam doesn't penetrate far. I go down the stairs. What do I see on the next level?
Robot posh resort.
It's a laboratory, a clockmaker's dream space. Broken and half-built automata surround me, hanging from the ceiling, tucked into alcoves. The entire place gleams with brass, copper, plush velvet and silk trimmings.
What is your next action now?
Trick.
if only
Honest scholar.
I hear shuffling steps and attempt to hide.
No.
There's no space though - the room is crammed full. A bent old man comes into view, muttering to himself. He sees me and pauses. "Who are you?" he says, beyond surprised.
I bow. "I'm Mister Kitchingham, tinker. And you, sir?"
Jedidiah Amzi Aldithley.
LadyLord.
Is he friendly?
No, but...
He's unhappy to see me, but polite. Through the tone of his conversation, I realise that he is worried I'm going to steal his designs. I sip tea and excuse myself to go down further. What do I see on the next flight?
Angrily / Messy.
Toxin.
Arena pit.
The stairs disappear suddenly into a bubbling pool of greenish muck and the stair I am standing on is slippery. Do I fall in?
Yes.
Immediately, my skin begins to redden and I yell.
Negligible: Nick/Scratch/Bruise.
Minor Damage: Largely superficial; degrades performance, but not disabling.
I scramble out as quickly as possible, dowsing myself with all the water I am carrying. Some of my equipment is burnished and blackened, but I am only reddened. My tool harness is intact, although I have to reinforce the buckle with threads. This is not ideal.
Loudly / Large.
I'm on a stone platform though, in front of a large, iron bound door. This pit may be where the tinker above etches his metal work. He must have known - was he trying to kill me?
Yes.
Hell. Seems likely.
I shake it off. I have to move on. I can hear that ticking in my bones now and have an overwhelming sense that time is disappearing on me.
The door is large, marked with the spider's symbol. Is there an obvious way to open it?
No.
What do I see?
Violently / Rare.
The wood is unusual, semi-translucent and glassy. Do I know what this is?
Yes, and...
It is Bludwood, a very rare and nearly extinct species now. But now I know how to open the door. I draw a sharp knife, take a deep breath and cut my arm.
Negligible: Nick/Scratch/Bruise.
I rub the blood across the door. It soaks in, darkening, as I hastily roll out of the way. Do I make it?
No.
The darkening wood stretches and deforms, the dead vampire tree seeking more of the same food. It lashes out unexpectedly quickly and whips at me, latching onto my arm. I'm still holding the knife. I slash at the tendril. What happens?
Take / Information.
Riches.
Haggle.
Remote event.
I cut at the tendril, but blood from my wound spills across the tendril. The rest of the door tendrils immediately dart towards me, plunging at the wound. I look around. This is going to hurt.
I roll into the acid pool. Do I make it in?
Yes.
There's a sizzling noise again. The tendrils retract from me rapidly, lashing out, as we drop into the acid. Do I keep my face above the acid?
Killed.
Well. Shit. The tendrils trap me under the acid. I hold my breath as long as I can, but eventually I gasp once and it fills my lungs. I drown in my own dissolving tissue.
Above me, Aldithley chuckles to himself as the noise finally stops.
NPC positive.
"That's better", he mutters. "Peace and quiet".
How do people normally deal with Killed? Is it that blunt, generally?
MissMister.
Pure Prophecy.
Chaste lady.
Clear enemies at the feudal shelter.
Poorly hidden tower.
Arachnid soldier.
Superb tool harness.
Bluff.
Misster Kitchingham, tinker, seeks The Lady of Prophecy, hidden in the ruined tower.
Travel.
I've arrived at the tower, old and falling down. Only a single, broken ring of stonework remains. This time, I have the key to open it - a brooch in the shape of a spider that took me three years to locate and one night to acquire. The pin slides into place in the door's frame, and it swings open with an echoing creak. I step into the darkness beyond. The door swings shut behind me and I light the miniature torch from my tool harness.
I have been preparing for this journey most of my life. I thought I was ready for anything, but the stairs that spiral upwards and downwards in this well maintained room mystify me.
What do I see?
Quaintly / Strong.
The room is solidly made, unworn. Fresh air fills it. The furniture is solid and well made, but fanciful. It looks like a stage set from a fairytale, or an artisan's cottage. What do I see that is important?
What is your next move?
Inquire.
"Hello?" I call. Does anyone answer?
No.
My voice echoes oddly, but no reply comes. This place looks like the owner has only just stepped out though. On a hunch/whim, I turn back to the door I came through. What do I see?
Meaningfully / Cold.
The door is solidly shut, jammed, and the metal of the door handle is icy cold. I look closer at the rim of the door and find frost patterns tracing inwards. It was summer... something is definitely unnatural about this place. Are they getting bigger?
Yes.
Looks like I might be on a time limit then.
Remote event.
I hear something below me. Perhaps there is someone here after all. What do I hear?
Efficiently / Enormous.
A roll of pure noise rolls up from beneath me, tolling through my bones. After it passes, I become aware of a ticking noise - a little off, but still present in the air.
And what action do you take next?
I approach the stairs leading down. They spiral down to the next level at least. My torch beam doesn't penetrate far. I go down the stairs. What do I see on the next level?
Robot posh resort.
It's a laboratory, a clockmaker's dream space. Broken and half-built automata surround me, hanging from the ceiling, tucked into alcoves. The entire place gleams with brass, copper, plush velvet and silk trimmings.
What is your next action now?
Trick.
if only
Honest scholar.
I hear shuffling steps and attempt to hide.
No.
There's no space though - the room is crammed full. A bent old man comes into view, muttering to himself. He sees me and pauses. "Who are you?" he says, beyond surprised.
I bow. "I'm Mister Kitchingham, tinker. And you, sir?"
Jedidiah Amzi Aldithley.
LadyLord.
Is he friendly?
No, but...
He's unhappy to see me, but polite. Through the tone of his conversation, I realise that he is worried I'm going to steal his designs. I sip tea and excuse myself to go down further. What do I see on the next flight?
Angrily / Messy.
Toxin.
Arena pit.
The stairs disappear suddenly into a bubbling pool of greenish muck and the stair I am standing on is slippery. Do I fall in?
Yes.
Immediately, my skin begins to redden and I yell.
Negligible: Nick/Scratch/Bruise.
Minor Damage: Largely superficial; degrades performance, but not disabling.
I scramble out as quickly as possible, dowsing myself with all the water I am carrying. Some of my equipment is burnished and blackened, but I am only reddened. My tool harness is intact, although I have to reinforce the buckle with threads. This is not ideal.
Loudly / Large.
I'm on a stone platform though, in front of a large, iron bound door. This pit may be where the tinker above etches his metal work. He must have known - was he trying to kill me?
Yes.
Hell. Seems likely.
I shake it off. I have to move on. I can hear that ticking in my bones now and have an overwhelming sense that time is disappearing on me.
The door is large, marked with the spider's symbol. Is there an obvious way to open it?
No.
What do I see?
Violently / Rare.
The wood is unusual, semi-translucent and glassy. Do I know what this is?
Yes, and...
It is Bludwood, a very rare and nearly extinct species now. But now I know how to open the door. I draw a sharp knife, take a deep breath and cut my arm.
Negligible: Nick/Scratch/Bruise.
I rub the blood across the door. It soaks in, darkening, as I hastily roll out of the way. Do I make it?
No.
The darkening wood stretches and deforms, the dead vampire tree seeking more of the same food. It lashes out unexpectedly quickly and whips at me, latching onto my arm. I'm still holding the knife. I slash at the tendril. What happens?
Take / Information.
Riches.
Haggle.
Remote event.
I cut at the tendril, but blood from my wound spills across the tendril. The rest of the door tendrils immediately dart towards me, plunging at the wound. I look around. This is going to hurt.
I roll into the acid pool. Do I make it in?
Yes.
There's a sizzling noise again. The tendrils retract from me rapidly, lashing out, as we drop into the acid. Do I keep my face above the acid?
Killed.
Well. Shit. The tendrils trap me under the acid. I hold my breath as long as I can, but eventually I gasp once and it fills my lungs. I drown in my own dissolving tissue.
Above me, Aldithley chuckles to himself as the noise finally stops.
NPC positive.
"That's better", he mutters. "Peace and quiet".
How do people normally deal with Killed? Is it that blunt, generally?