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In Progress Torment on the Shards, Part 36 - Planescape-inspired CYOA

Discussion in 'Choose Your Own Adventure Land' started by Lithium Flower, Dec 8, 2016.

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  1. hello friend Arcane

    hello friend
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    I'm on an actual spaceship. No joke.


    How's it coming along Lithium Flower
     
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  2. Lithium Flower Magister

    Lithium Flower
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    For the record, Infinity LP takes little to no effort so its not detracting from this CYOA at all.

    Smelling lithium now....
     
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  3. Lithium Flower Magister

    Lithium Flower
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    Holy shit it's been three months. Here is what I have now. Shouldn't be too long until the rest of the update & choices.

    Part 34.5 – Crooked and Wrong

    The inn is appropriately busy when you return to eat, though only as far as the quantity of its patrons. Crews, labourers, travellers, plausible robbers, and probable killers are eating, conversing, gossiping and every single one of them is terrified. Eyes travel the room like throwing knives and always end up on the floor. Sweaty hands shovel food into desperate mouths with all the urgency and shame of rapists. You suppress the voice urging you to keep to your own bloody business and examine the scared, hungry faces.

    The changes to this ward's rules...it is as if the Officials arrested and executed the very spirit of adventure that resided here. Transgression has been stripped of virtue and reduced to this paranoid daydream, to something strange and demented.

    You are just done eating when you notice a crimson hair stuck to your woolen sleeve. From a wig, you realize. Another half-remembered thing, so recent and so miniscule, and yet it seems infinitely obscene, enough to bring bile to the back of your throat. Such a tiny shame compared to the rest, so why does it bother you? Because the ward makes sure, or...

    Your eyes are on the floor. You wonder if it won't crack soon, collapse like that lecherous little shantytown. Such is the nature of the wards, the shards, people - of all that is in the Void. They are bound by rules, yet rules are nothing but manifestations of belief. Enough stagnation and they rot. Enough unity and they merge. Enough terror and despair and guilt and they crack.

    If the fringe of this ward had collapsed, what of the rest? Perhaps the floor you are staring at is already criss-crossed with cracks like thin webs, so tiny they cannot be seen by a naked eye, not even by a beholder. A crack for every sanctioned shame. Here is Dozens, a talented and successful manus artist who came dangerously close to romanticizing the form of other races in his paintings. Here is Eager, a herald that never enjoyed a pampered upbringing like the majority of his race, who nevertheless lives for charitable work and happens to write blasphemous texts he shares with a few trusted people in the Seekers Guild. Here is Basket, a devout mother of six and a prostitute so poor and wretched she is rumoured to take clients of any race out desperation. And here is Boxes - a quiet hammerite, a good person - and he could be hurtling through the void for asking too few questions, for hiding cowards and thieves and killers...

    And then there is you.

    ---

    This walk to Step-There's house is nowhere as terrifying as the last one. One corner leads you to a small group of youths trying to defecate into a collection of pots and pans. The expressions you see on their manus faces - shortly before they turn tail and run as if chased by the Trickster - are almost enough to make you smile if not for the stench twisting your face into something like a grimace.

    You stop and fish your pockets for a handkerchief. The stink is severe, seemingly trapped by the surrounding walls. The alleys about you seem ever more like a cruel maze. You turn to the side of the building to your left, suddenly curious. You put a gloved hand on the wall, run it down the rough brickwork. Run the hand down...and feel it travel at an angle.

    A realization.

    The alleys seem cramped, crooked, and wrong because the walls are so. They bend outward, turning each building into an inverted square pyramid - like Lord Sees-It's grand airship that never was - and yet this transformation is so subtle that until now you have only noticed it subliminally.

    ---

    After some time you finally arrive at the dingy warehouse side entrance that now serves as Step-There's front door.

    It doesn't take you long to draw your smallsword.

    His front door is open a slightest crack. You prowl up to it, put an ear near.

    Muffled moans come from within.

    You spend the next few moments in sweaty indecision. What do you do?

    What's it to you?

    Another life taken because of you...

    What's one more?!

    Heartbeats like fists in your chest.

    He lied. He got involved. He asked, he fucking asked for it!

    Do something.

    You feel very sick.

    Fucking coward.


    You burst through the room, more out of desperation than anything else.

    "Trickster take you, Strider!" Step-There shrieks, "you've the worst timing!"

    You stare at the tangled mess of hands and fur for but a second before folding at the waist and releasing your lunch onto the floor. It tastes like bile and puree. The room smells like it, too.

    "Hello again, good shardwalker," Quiet says, somehow maintaining her composure under the covers.

    Notes (open)


    Was pondering some of the earlier stuff in this CYOA. Remember that manus in the now-collapsed shanty that supposedly bred scrap-eating beasts? To give the shanty the purpose of scrap disposal? You know, the shanty that is hanging off the edge of the fucking shard, so that anyone who wants to get rid of scrap could just throw it off the side in the first place?

    Oof. Not good.

    Oh well, I suppose we live and hope that the next thing we """write""" is going to make slightly more sense than the last, eh?

    Thank you for sticking with me.
     
    Last edited: Aug 21, 2018
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  4. Lithium Flower Magister

    Lithium Flower
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    Part 35 - Thing to Remember

    The musky smell sneaks up on you, mostly kept at bay by the smoke of hastily lit candles. Were you a beholder, you would surely never cease vomiting.

    After cleaning up - perhaps the most awkward thing you've done in your life - the three of you assemble at the center of the room. Quiet sits on Step-There's only chair and the male manus pulled up some crate where, you assume given the lack of any sort of cabinet or chest, he ordinarily uses to store his belongings. There is not much in the way of furniture in the room, which is tiny - perhaps three quarters of your own cramped, yellow lair. You eye the blanket-covered cot in the corner of the room and wonder how its size is sufficient for...

    Unclean thoughts.

    You refuse any sort of makeshift sitting, electing to stand so that you may better pace the strange and nervous away. Quiet, her eyes tell you, understands why. As you converse with the two you repeatedly catch her trying to suppress a mischievous smile.

    The three of you talk about this and that - Step-There's sparse arrangements and your own, how Quiet found the time to get away from her duties in the Plaza, although she says nothing as to how she retained her position with Loyalty's passing. No word about that which occured in the manor. Ironically, the happenings that led to your acquaintance have been too confused, too hurtful for any of you to discuss.

    All things considered, the conversation is bizarre - mostly inconsequential small talk that would be intolerable in any other context, shared by almost-strangers that hurt and lied to each other, directly or indirectly, in the past few days...but for some reason you can't help but cling to the company of these mani and dread the thought of departure. Their eyes tell you that they share this sentiment, albeit they feel it less profoundly. Step-There's barren life, the struggle of Quiet's obvious intellect against the lies and empty vanity of the Officials, and your own torment...perhaps it is your own shared strangeness that makes the conversation seem right, somehow.

    And then there is this connection, this feeling thick with faith and hope and what have you that runs between the mani. As with many things, you see it in their eyes - when they intersect. Then there is Step-There's hand, cradling the curve where Quiet's shoulder blade meets with her left back arm. It is a gesture of restraint in the knowledge that this is as far as they can go while you are still here, and were you to leave...

    It is as if the two of them have drowned out the ward's neurotic will, turned this barren room into sanctuary. The idiot even left his door open - in this ward! At this time!

    "I had considered walking the shards again, you know. This one, actually," Step-There says, referring in the manner of Seekers to the current nearby shard - your destination. "I've, uh, reconsidered it...the one after the next, perhaps."

    "Or the one after that," Quiet says, at once teasing and counseling.

    The two are resoundingly infatuated to make plans like an old couple a few days after having met. You feel something approaching contempt and immediately resent yourself for resenting their infatuation. These mani are being foolish indeed, and yet...


    The Shard of Curious Depths - that is where you want to go, you mention. Unfortunately, Step-There claims that he did not have the time to research it.

    "Does sound like a wondrous place based on the Censors' account, doesn't it? Could very well be one of the better ones" he says, speaking of shards that feature much wonder with but a pinch of terror and not the other way around.

    This does bring the two of you to the topic of shardwalking and finally the conversation becomes substantive. You begin swapping tales in the manner shared by the few belonging to your profession - excitement bordering on desperation. Quiet, having nothing to add, simply becomes a curious listener, awe in her little manus eyes.

    You recall the Dying Shard, upon which every breath was manual. While you adjusted to this change quickly, some had died out of the false belief that the shard's air was poison when all they had to do was force themselves to breathe. You muse that after absorption, the shard turned into the Silent Room somewhere within the walls of Censors College, a place supposedly conducive to contemplation and study of bodily functions.

    Then there was the Shard of Wretches - a massive stretch of canyons and deep gullies of rock that concealed a sprawling cavern network beneath, solely inhabited by tiny weeping creatures. It turned out that the shard itself made wretches of others by greatly expanding in size and scope such that it dwarfed any observers. When the first parties arrived from Demiurge's Shard, it turned out that these sorrowful, peculiar beings were parts of the shard in relation to the outsiders - would-be giants before observing wretches. Within an hour, valleys turned into cliffs and small beasts into towering, raving humanoids that tore people into bits with their bare hands, perhaps more out of curiosity of their newly-found forms than anything else - weeping as they did. When the voidship that took you to the shard crashed into suddenly monolithic rocks, it was you who led a number of surviving passengers through the caverns and towards the closest portal home, aided by your excellent sense of direction.

    For every story you tell, it appears that Step-There has two - while the manus was never particularly successful, he is nothing but prolific. Something gets caught in your throat when he mentions the Shard of Watchers, nothing less than a curse among shardwalkers. With a voice hushed by old, deep fears as opposed to theatrics, Step-There tells you of how he survived in a place where one's sight came from the perspective of the nearest predatory creature to observe them. The creatures were many, enough so that at all times one would be watched through predatory eyes - or so say the shard's survivors. The only saving grace is that the creatures, although of many sharps limbs, were sluggish in movement and especially slow to react to objects in their peripheral vision. Thus Step-There had to survive by constantly remaining in the very edge of his - that being the predator's - vision, while simultaneously seeking means of concealment and searching for the portal out of the shard.

    "The rules, it is all about the rules," Step-There states and you wholeheartedly agree. "Rules like our rules. I mean, some people from the Plaza get killed in the Ghetto or the Termitarium for their unfamiliarity with a single rule. Now, you go to another shard, and you might have to learn how to walk again. That's why survivors - like, like us I suppose - we discern the rules first and foremost."

    Valuable thing to remember when you walk the Shard of Curious Depths.

    Rules are funny things - they are everywhere, they must be, yet on Demiurge's Shard they are prone to fickle change as they are defined by the will of Demiurge and the intelligent people of his making. How is it that other shards have their rules, possessing no civilized people or Gods to shape them, is a great mystery for the Demiurge insists that nowhere else but his shard do such things exist...and to say otherwise is blasphemy punishable by death.

    Even the Void, infinite and infinitely chaotic as it is, seems to operate on a fundamental rule: belief is power. Belief is rules.

    Rules and punishments.

    Punishments doled out by hounding inquisitors...

    Suddenly, an opportunity.

    You mention that you worry the Lord-Inquisitor of the Voidship Yards is sure to keep his ear to the ground to reports of any portals or illegal transport leading to the Shard of Curious Depths and that would certainly make travelling there very risky at this time. With but a glance you ask Quiet if she knows anything of Schism.

    The words come in a stutter. For a moment you expect Quiet to rebuke you.

    "I must admit that my professional duties rarely intersect with Lords of other wards," Quiet replies with an impish smile, "but that is not to say that I can't find out more about the good Lord-Inquisitor and his dealings..."

    "What?!" Step-There barks suddenly, almost outraged, before throwing the meanest bastard child of an angry look at you. Don't bring her into this, don't destroy this, it seems to scream. Perhaps the manus was far too naïve to think that your mutual abuse over.

    "It would be mutually beneficial. It is no secret that this ward is changing, and the recent arrests, seizures, and executions overseen by Lord-Inquisitor Schism - and the Censors College, by extension - are driving these changes. "

    "But you work in the Plaza - what does any of this have to do with you? Why get involved?" Step-There protests, clearly out of his depth.

    "Because," Quiet sighs before answering in a patient tone, "every ward is contested by everyone. I'm sure philosophers have some elaborate way to describe the phenomenon, but in my circles we call it the rat race. All factions - the official, the tolerated, most certainly the illegal ones - have fluctuating levels of sway over people and the wards they form. A preacher tending to her congregation, an armed patrol bringing safety to backstreets - these spread the love of peace and purpose, the dogma of the Temple Guard. A pickpocket, on the other hand, may show some that profit must be ceased from others and thus the misguided ideology of the Takers finds fresh victims. And then the armed patrol catches the pickpocket...

    "A ward is conquered by a faction the tenants of which align most closely to the majority of the ward's people. Even then, the race is not over - it never is - for few beliefs are static, few rules are forever. Just look outside, Step-There. It is not often that I travel here, and even I can see the changes...and the fear, if you would allow me.

    "All factions, even allied ones, are in constant competition whether they realize it or not. Like rats forced to race, they are thrown into... a maze, say, and off they go in a desperate frenzy. Blind rats aren't spared from participation, they simply have no idea that they are losing."

    "And you'd willingly participate in this? After what hap-"

    "Step-There." Quiet cuts him off, her smile gone. Her eyes meet his with a naked intensity of a teacher driving a crucial concept into a student's mind. "This is what I do. This is my life, one that I am able to live unburdened by...complications, shall we say, thanks to you. You will allow me to repay you by helping your friend, yes?"

    Step there seemingly shrinks into his chair. He glances at you and there is no more anger in his eyes, only gnawing worry underneath pride and sadness. It is as if this was Quiet's idea all along, as if you never posed the question to her - and he is proud and terrified of that.

    "So," Quiet continues gently, "you say you must leave tomorrow night, good Strider? I must admit that this is all very short notice, but I will see if I cannot get a number of people to make the right queries and get something like a preliminary report to you, say, tomorrow in the early evening. I hope you find that satisfactory."

    Of course you do, having expected much less.

    Quiet teases your mind, somehow - her eyes carrying surface emotions far more nuanced than those of most, the way she can be casual one moment, intensely rhetorical the next, then affect kindness - and yet she doesn't seem a two-face but the picture of honesty, as if every facet of her is genuine, even her tact and her lies.

    "Uhm," Step-There clears his throat and addresses Quiet indecisively, "may I ask you something...may I ask you something about the edicts, then? I've always found it, well...strange, I suppose, that the Demiurge has never enforced his worship. I mean, he made us, that and the language of his edicts and even the Officials' legislature is full of religious terms - anathema this, blasphemy that - yet one can question his divinity, defy it even, and do so openly with no punishment except maybe the kind vexing the pious would necessarily entail.

    "But, uh...to speak of, hmm, to speak of other Gods, of personhood and intelligence upon other shards, that is punished as swiftly and harshly as can be, by Demiurge's own edict. But...why? The only answer that seems to make sense is that such claims are forbidden because they challenge his godhood, yet anyone is free to do so openly, so why..."

    The manus pauses and looks at the floor. The finger of his head are tense, slightly curled. Tiny beads of sweat begin to form on the long hairs of his face.

    "Why allow one and punish the other? Where is the..."

    Consistency. He doesn't dare ask, though.

    But there is no judgement in Quiet's eyes or tone, only patience. "Perhaps," she says with a gentle smile, "some ideas are more dangerous than others. And not all ideas can be equally compelled."

    You shiver at the words. What she says is obvious and yet it makes you wonder nonetheless.

    When one looks at the groups of people, at wards, at Demiurge's shard, it is possible to see the cause and effect of belief affecting actions, actions affecting belief, belief affecting belief.

    But what compels you? What is the cause of this fear and desperation that hounds you for barely remembered crimes?

    For a moment of self-reflection, your past actions seem simultaneously weightless and grievous.

    A moment of pleasure and a moment of decadence. A living and a life of crime.

    The death of a beast and the slaughter of a God.

    What compels you to think that the former are the latter?

    And why is it that when you are with these mani, you...


    You decide that it is time for you to leave.

    Notes (open)

    You did buy an Explorer's Kit from Step-There for 20 coin offscreen, as was the plan.
     
    Last edited: Aug 31, 2018
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  5. Lithium Flower Magister

    Lithium Flower
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    How do you spend the evening?

    A
    ) Spend your hard-earned coin on something useful. Tell me which goods/services you would like to purchase, and from whom (if they don't fall under one of your contacts, tell me how you plan to look for a source).

    B) Desperate times call for desperate measures. Take the worm to the Termitarium and find the door within an endless hallway. You were promised "assistance, information, and employment opportunities" by an unknown contact and you figure now is about the time to take them up on this offer. Not to mention they may or may not have sent someone to "remind you" of this little favour...

    C) Take the worm to the Gambit badlands and visit your most recent employer. Now-Seneschal Steel is powerful and well-connected - and, more importantly, he agreed to stay in touch with you for future mutually-beneficial arrangements. Perhaps he can help your situation with the Officials, or else provide some valuable insight. He might even known something interesting about Lord-Inquisitor Schism in particular.

    D)
    Try to track down sailors and/or freebooters who have been to the Shard of Curious Depths and learn what you can from them.

    E)
    Now that you don't owe Boxes anything, you might as well move out, try to hide from the Officials. If Lord-Inquisitor Schism is truly investigating you, this may raise many red flags as you would be leaving his jurisdiction. Choose where you would like to move: (This entails moving into a cheaper property, thus your lifestyle and HP recovery chance will suffer. Renting costs 5 coin per day while purchasing the cheapest property available costs 250 coins + upkeep of 10 coin a week and if you choose the latter you won't have to deal with a bothersome landlord.)
    i) No need to stray far from home, nor leave Schism's jurisdiction. Rent a crappy shack in the Yards.
    ii) No need to stray far from home, nor leave Schism's jurisdiction. Buy a crappy shack in the Yards.
    iii) Rent a tiny room in a Facade Ghetto flophouse.
    iv) Buy a tiny room in a Facade Ghetto flophouse.
    v) Rent a small cave somewhere in the Termitarium - the place is just as dangerous if not more chaotic than the Ghetto, but you might blend in marginally better there.
    vi) Buy a small cave somewhere in the Termitarium - the place is just as dangerous if not more chaotic than the Ghetto, but you might blend in marginally better there.

    F) Do something else, please specify what.
     
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  6. Grimgravy Augur Patron

    Grimgravy
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    Codex 2016 - The Age of Grimoire
  7. baud Arbiter

    baud
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    Septentrion
    D
     
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  8. Azira Arcane Patron

    Azira
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    Codex 2012
    Time for som FUN. B
     
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  9. Storyfag Arcane Patron

    Storyfag
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    A Dark Place
    B
     
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  10. Pelvis Knot Arbiter

    Pelvis Knot
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    B

    and you better not be an alt of ironyuri ;)
     
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  11. Lithium Flower Magister

    Lithium Flower
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    My writing style is rough and clumsy like the calloused hands of a Ukranian miner so evidently not.
     
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  12. hello friend Arcane

    hello friend
    Joined:
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    I'm on an actual spaceship. No joke.
    Well, well, well. Too early to tell, but it could appear as if the Demiurge might be using the collective belief as a weapon to wipe out any powerful challengers on other shards. Perhaps if enough people are utterly convinced that you don't exist, you cease existing. If this thought canonically occurs to us, we'll have to be really fucking careful about being brain-scanned or whatever. *sense intent* won't bring us down, but I'm sure the magi/tech exists.

    And B. It's time.
     
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  13. Lithium Flower Magister

    Lithium Flower
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    Hello. I have decided to run a new campaign that is a sort of spiritual successor/evolution of the campaign I ran based in this setting. I already have a party of 3 people including our wonderful (hello) friend. I am currently recruiting for players, so if anyone is interested, feel free to shoot me a pm with your availability in terms of date and time. Roleplaying experience a bonus but not necessary. Below is the campaign pitch:

    Show Spoiler

    Sail across the Astral on an undead whale you turned into a ship. Will objects into existence by tapping into unused energies of creation. Harvest an insanity-inducing rare metal from the hull of an eldritch corpse star.

    I propose a sandbox, player-driven adventure in a setting that spiritually succeeds and evolves Torment World. A world in which belief crystallizes into reality and zeal into power...blown up. Blown up in the way of scale - instead of doing missions on a single shard plus one or two on the periphery you will be set loose on all of the Astral and its threats and profits and politics - but also blown up literally, as it takes place after Gods - those powerful beings who have meticulously monopolized the belief of others to empower their rivaling Dominions - have all been annihilated in a terrible war. The result is a setting in which a constellation of broken planes and pieces of a myriad dead Gods is home to a thousand thousand orphaned servants, struggling to find and maintain a new order and meaning in the carcasses of their makers.

    The party of PCs could be mercenaries, adventurers, merchants, or any combination thereof that have the freedom to pursue their ends in the astral, where it be conquest or profit or knowledge or dogma. As with most of my games, there will be a backdrop of factional politics and clashes of conflicting agendas in which the players can take sides. In terms of themes, while Torment World was something where I was interested, in exploring the concepts of determinism vs free will, systems of power, and collectivism vs individualism, here I want to see how these same concepts evolve in a post-apocalyptic scenario where the very base foundations of the world have been ripped out and discarded - can one have faith in something that was once alive?

    Using the Sundered World supplement for Dungeon World will allow us to collaboratively create a world to a much greater degree than before. Character building in Sundered World is the best I've seen in any World game, while still being low on crunch - each race is a fully featured compendium class in its own right! - with creative and inoffensive fluff including classes tailor-made for this setting (instead of being boring warriors, the Fighter-analogue in Sundered World literally shapes their body into a weapon with the power of belief.)

    Looking at weekend availability (Fri-Sun, 8am-8pm EST, ideally Sun)


    Part 36 - Terrible Idea

    "Strider!" Step-There calls out.

    Having already stepped outside, you turn and face the manus.

    "So..." he says, his hands pulling at his beard, "all's forgiven and forgotten?"

    He looks like some lost beast for the few seconds in which you remain silent. Then he offers you his hand. You shake it and ponder how much easier it is to lie with your body than it is with your voice.

    Step-There...how foolish must he be to think that your mutual abuse is at an end?

    "L-listen," he whispers after letting go of your hand, "I didn't want to bring it up in front of her but I fear you might be the only person I know to notice..."

    There is a pause, as if to underline the lesser truth used to hide the greater, unspoken truth.

    "Fear's creeping in. You feel it? Of course you do. I get these terrible thoughts...I suppose the ward makes sure of it, anyhow. But listen - have you seen or, well, thought anything queer to do with sewers?"

    You just stare at the manus blankly, not daring to speak.

    Why not?

    "Ah, no matter. It's just that this awful idea has been worming its way in my head as of recent..."

    Why must the ward make sure?

    "...sewers run right under our feet, dump the waste into the Void....

    You shiver, suddenly aware of the wind's chill - sent here by large voidship docking or setting off, perhaps - and fight the urge to snap your head from left to right to search for spies and interlopers. Just now you understand the extent of the sanctuary you've left.

    "...what if the same way the waste comes out...th-the Void can get in?

    The chill binds you like cold iron chains.

    ---

    Going to the Termitarium is a terrible idea.

    Going to the Termitarium in the evening is doubly so.

    Going to the Termitarium in the evening as a herald is...

    Upon climbing out of the (filthy) worm-station, you emerge within something like a massive, imploded egg. It covers thousands of meters and rises to create thousands more, encasing cracked Badland ground with a tall, geometrically impossible wreath of turns and crevices promising dangerous angles and even more dangerous inhabitants, lit by a myriad of crawling torches and lanterns. Somewhere at the very top, the Termitarium opens rather than collapses into a point where the ward Seneschal's hardhold lies. The near-darkess surrounding you is absolutely crawling with movement as the denizens of the Termitarium travel along all of its gravity-defying surfaces, particularly in this hour when those who work in the Badlands have returned to drink their pay away.

    At least that is how it should look like, but to you it is a muddled, shifting blur, lacking depth above all ...and now you profoundly feel, even mourn the absence of an eye. Sudden confusion sends you stumbling - only for a second but long enough for you to practically feel the opportunity this temporary weakness translated to in the minds of those poor and desperate watching. You feel small and weak inside a space so large and impossible that you cannot even consider it...

    Much like Whisper felt within that massive cavern in the Cold Shard, as you are now intimately familiar.

    Shaking off the neurosis, you quickly scan the moving life around you. You spy groups of teamsters, clumps of gangsters, bent drunks, and wasted poor in the shifting mob. Prior to its absorption this was once a shard of mani and even now the many-armed race represents a healthy majority of the ward's population, although the Termitarium is still a good deal more diverse Ghetto. In addition to the mani you spot many lurks and buzzers, as well as a child of the Demiurge here and there.

    How are you su-

    A tall hammerite rises out of the ground in front of you, just a few feet away from the stair leading down to the worm station, and nearly knocks you off your feet. He pays you no heed, however, and disappears into the crowd as quickly as he came upon you. Just then you see it: a cavernous hole in the floor you've entirely missed, comfortably person-sized, leading a good six feet down before the passage twists out of sight. So the hammerite simply walked the up the hole thanks to the ward's relativistic gravity.

    You also notice a large rock laying in the soil at the rim of the hole, bearing deep scratches just barely recognizable as letters:

    "WATERING HOLE"

    Quaint. Ah, but what were you...

    Right. How are you supposed to find a door at the end of an endless hallway within the chaos of this ward?

    1) Ask someone for directions. Preferably someone who won't kill you - perhaps whoever is tending the bar in the literal watering hole at your feet? You will surely have to buy a very expensive drink to get anything out of them, however.

    2) Try to find your own way to your destination. Shouldn't be too different from hunting portals, after all - an endless hallway sounds like something that would leave anomalous clues to its presence, like sudden changes in temperature and random currents of wind...or lack thereof.

    3) Leave this ward while you can.

    4) Do something else - please specify.
     
    • Brofist Brofist x 1
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  14. Grimgravy Augur Patron

    Grimgravy
    Joined:
    Sep 12, 2013
    Messages:
    3,163
    Codex 2016 - The Age of Grimoire
    2, I suppose.

    Edit
    What hello friend said
     
    Last edited: Oct 26, 2018
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  15. hello friend Arcane

    hello friend
    Joined:
    Feb 26, 2012
    Messages:
    5,708
    Location:
    I'm on an actual spaceship. No joke.
    4) I think this is precisely the sort of situation that calls for one of our belief moves. Find the path we need to take.
     
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  16. Pelvis Knot Arbiter

    Pelvis Knot
    Joined:
    Nov 19, 2010
    Messages:
    840
    I second the proposition
     
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  17. baud Arbiter

    baud
    Joined:
    Dec 11, 2016
    Messages:
    1,054
    Location:
    Septentrion
    I fourth Hello Friend idea;
     
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