Indeedily Deed.
-
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Indeedily Deed.
BUMP!!!!!
Pelvis Knot
Cipher
- Joined
- Nov 19, 2010
- Messages
- 892
bemp
MOAR!
Dude, I'm seriously pissed
Bump?
Zorba the Hutt
Arcane
- Joined
- Dec 14, 2012
- Messages
- 1,866,022
Surely while this thread yet resides on ironyuri's signature, there is still hope for the desperate masses?
NEVA FERGET
Monty
Arcane
There is a (very small) glimmer of hope, see this quote from yesterday:
Gondolin
Arcane
I'd pledge. Ironyuri and gro-bro kickstarting a double CYOA ohgoditsheaven!
ironyuri
Guest
Give me three or four hours to write something; in the mean time, occupy yourselves with this:
Edit(or's note): Don't brofist me too soon, I might fail miserably and go back to bed in anguish.
Edit(or's note) #2: As far as I can tell from the last tally drawn up by Esquilax (many thanks), the numbers were five votes for A1, six votes for B6 (aggregated). The system I have used in this LP so far has been to choose the option which wins the most votes outright for each discreet option. Thus, as of that tally, it was A = 9; B = 7, and One = 6; Three = 8. I didn't want to change the system up after six(?) updates, so to maintain consistency, I'll continue using the "first past the post" model for voting, which means the winning vote is A3 (Kleinmann accompanies the Professor, and the reporter is left to her own devices). As said above, I'm going to start writing shortly, once I recover the word document for the CYOA from a backup and have read through the previous updates to ground myself.
ironyuri
Guest
Chapter the First
In which Elias Kleinmann is confronted with the reality of his situation.
Part I
The cove at the base of the unforgiving outcrop, is little more than a collection of jagged rocks and festering lagoons. The expedition hikes upwards for an hour or more, before finding a plateau on which to take respite. The sun, presumably having reached its zenith, is hidden by a mass of black cloud drifting in from the east. Brockenlid wishes to continue immediately, doubtlessly enlivened by the thought discovering his fabled passage. The others are no worse for wear, though much less enthusiastic. Miss Cochrane, who has carried the entirety of her camera equipment by herself, sets up her tripod to capture the ship on the horizon. Having found a suitable camp site, a decision must now be made.
Unable to bear the thought of Maug taking your place at Professor Brockenlid’s side as he begins his search for what he believes to be a fissure into the earth, you puff out your chest and, taking a regimental stance, bark out your desired orders.
“Professor Brockenlid, allow me the honour to accompany you on this vital first step of our expedition. Henderson, you shall be joining us. See to it you prepare adequate provisions for the possibility of an overnight bivouac!”
Turning to Maug, with a hint of malicious glee, knowing he won’t disobey you outright in front of his betters, you command him to stay behind and make camp, while Langfield and Jenks bring the remaining supplies and equipment ashore from the ship. Maug simply grunts his acknowledgement, giving you a hard look. You address the reporter, Miss Cochrane last of all.
“My dear Miss Cochrane, as you are not an official member of this expedition you will have to take charge of your welfare personally. Professor Brockenlid has given you the right to share in our provisions, but I, as commanding officer of this military attaché, cannot offer you our protection. The success of the expedition and the safety of its scientists are of utmost priority!”
Professor Brockenlid, seated uncomfortably on a rocky outcrop waits patiently for you to finish. He nods his approval, the others (save for Simeon Maug) look on in a mixture of bemusement and deference. With your best parade day speech delivered, the two designated teams set themselves to work. Maug removes his woollen jerkin, and begins the arduous task of setting up the tents and building a fire in the sheltered cove. Langfield and Jenks scramble back down toward the landing craft to unload more of the equipment. Brockenlid and An’ar chat in formal tones about what they might expect to find on the island; their conversation is peppered with a number of geological terms, the meanings of which you haven’t the faintest clue. Miss Cochrane casually sits on a small, rounded boulder, scribbling notes into a pocket-book.
*****
By dusk, you are exhausted. You curse the shortness of your legs. The ascent of the rock-face has been gruelling, at least by the standards of a gnome used to the even cobbled pavements of Tarant. Brockenlid has led your small team into gaping chasm – steep, sheer, obsidian walls jutting skywards on either side. Looming to the east, and forming a natural continuation of the chasm’s right face is the peak of the volcanic mountain. The Professor speculates that this peculiar geological formation may have occurred due to part of the island subsiding into the ocean. The map which he and An’ar have been using to guide the team has proved itself all but useless. The now ancient coordinates seem no longer to correspond to the shifting rocks of this accursed island. Miss Cochrane, who has accompanied the group this far, approaches the Professor and you hear her suggest a return to the base camp. Hope for an easy discovery before nightfall seems lost.
The clouds that have been gathering since morning unleash a torrent of rain, while lightning rends the heavens. Despairing, and in need of immediate shelter, the Professor shouts for the group to begin searching the cliff faces for any recesses which might provide some mild protection from the elements until it is possible to descend back to camp. You find yourself scrambling along with the rest, toward one side of the chasm, frantically searching for somewhere to escape from the wind that howls through the ravine.
Soaked to the skin and struggling to see through the whirling rain and heavy gale, you hear the high pitched tone of Miss Cochrane somewhere to the left. Falling to your hands and knees you crawl in the direction you guess her to be. Unable to see more than a few feet ahead of you, you fumble blindly toward the source of the sound, and after what seems an eternity, you feel a hand grab you by the shoulder and drag you into shelter. The recess is dimly lit by the Professor’s hand-crank torch, and the rain still spatters in -- it matters little, drenched as you are. All are accounted for, if a bit rough around the edges. There is a collective sigh of relief.
(I'm still finding my feet back into the story, so I have to apologise if it's light on dialogue. I'll get the rest of this (re)opening up this weekend, in an update with a word count closer to my original offerings (2000-3000). Watch the first page as well, as I'll try to write up a list of characters/personnages.)
In which Elias Kleinmann is confronted with the reality of his situation.
Part I
The cove at the base of the unforgiving outcrop, is little more than a collection of jagged rocks and festering lagoons. The expedition hikes upwards for an hour or more, before finding a plateau on which to take respite. The sun, presumably having reached its zenith, is hidden by a mass of black cloud drifting in from the east. Brockenlid wishes to continue immediately, doubtlessly enlivened by the thought discovering his fabled passage. The others are no worse for wear, though much less enthusiastic. Miss Cochrane, who has carried the entirety of her camera equipment by herself, sets up her tripod to capture the ship on the horizon. Having found a suitable camp site, a decision must now be made.
Unable to bear the thought of Maug taking your place at Professor Brockenlid’s side as he begins his search for what he believes to be a fissure into the earth, you puff out your chest and, taking a regimental stance, bark out your desired orders.
“Professor Brockenlid, allow me the honour to accompany you on this vital first step of our expedition. Henderson, you shall be joining us. See to it you prepare adequate provisions for the possibility of an overnight bivouac!”
Turning to Maug, with a hint of malicious glee, knowing he won’t disobey you outright in front of his betters, you command him to stay behind and make camp, while Langfield and Jenks bring the remaining supplies and equipment ashore from the ship. Maug simply grunts his acknowledgement, giving you a hard look. You address the reporter, Miss Cochrane last of all.
“My dear Miss Cochrane, as you are not an official member of this expedition you will have to take charge of your welfare personally. Professor Brockenlid has given you the right to share in our provisions, but I, as commanding officer of this military attaché, cannot offer you our protection. The success of the expedition and the safety of its scientists are of utmost priority!”
Professor Brockenlid, seated uncomfortably on a rocky outcrop waits patiently for you to finish. He nods his approval, the others (save for Simeon Maug) look on in a mixture of bemusement and deference. With your best parade day speech delivered, the two designated teams set themselves to work. Maug removes his woollen jerkin, and begins the arduous task of setting up the tents and building a fire in the sheltered cove. Langfield and Jenks scramble back down toward the landing craft to unload more of the equipment. Brockenlid and An’ar chat in formal tones about what they might expect to find on the island; their conversation is peppered with a number of geological terms, the meanings of which you haven’t the faintest clue. Miss Cochrane casually sits on a small, rounded boulder, scribbling notes into a pocket-book.
*****
By dusk, you are exhausted. You curse the shortness of your legs. The ascent of the rock-face has been gruelling, at least by the standards of a gnome used to the even cobbled pavements of Tarant. Brockenlid has led your small team into gaping chasm – steep, sheer, obsidian walls jutting skywards on either side. Looming to the east, and forming a natural continuation of the chasm’s right face is the peak of the volcanic mountain. The Professor speculates that this peculiar geological formation may have occurred due to part of the island subsiding into the ocean. The map which he and An’ar have been using to guide the team has proved itself all but useless. The now ancient coordinates seem no longer to correspond to the shifting rocks of this accursed island. Miss Cochrane, who has accompanied the group this far, approaches the Professor and you hear her suggest a return to the base camp. Hope for an easy discovery before nightfall seems lost.
The clouds that have been gathering since morning unleash a torrent of rain, while lightning rends the heavens. Despairing, and in need of immediate shelter, the Professor shouts for the group to begin searching the cliff faces for any recesses which might provide some mild protection from the elements until it is possible to descend back to camp. You find yourself scrambling along with the rest, toward one side of the chasm, frantically searching for somewhere to escape from the wind that howls through the ravine.
Soaked to the skin and struggling to see through the whirling rain and heavy gale, you hear the high pitched tone of Miss Cochrane somewhere to the left. Falling to your hands and knees you crawl in the direction you guess her to be. Unable to see more than a few feet ahead of you, you fumble blindly toward the source of the sound, and after what seems an eternity, you feel a hand grab you by the shoulder and drag you into shelter. The recess is dimly lit by the Professor’s hand-crank torch, and the rain still spatters in -- it matters little, drenched as you are. All are accounted for, if a bit rough around the edges. There is a collective sigh of relief.
(I'm still finding my feet back into the story, so I have to apologise if it's light on dialogue. I'll get the rest of this (re)opening up this weekend, in an update with a word count closer to my original offerings (2000-3000). Watch the first page as well, as I'll try to write up a list of characters/personnages.)
Bloodshifter
Educated
wow the Codex managed to complete a Necromancy Spell...
Wait, what is this? A genuine update to this CYOA? Capital old boy! Capital! 
Monty
Arcane
Great to see an update, thanks, think most had given up hope. Major Blackheart's loyal bumping has not been in vain.
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