Kz3r0
Arcane
- Joined
- May 28, 2008
- Messages
- 27,026
:1up:
-
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Inactive [LP CYOA] Overlord
- Thread starter treave
- Start date
Kayerts
Arcane
- Joined
- Jan 28, 2011
- Messages
- 883
We've been a Space Marine this whole time.
I expect that Faria and Erd will help each other escape, then he reappears later as a major antagonist, since that is the way these things tend to go. This is assuming we don't manage to bungle our escape so badly that we're both stuck here for eternity.
B1
- Joined
- Jul 6, 2008
- Messages
- 11,370
Well, if he's playing the role of Faria, then you're the Count.
Except instead of being conspired against and framed, you just kinda sorta bungled your own way into prison.
-65535.
B2
B1. Safer this way... Not for us, but if this is a trap then only one person will get into it.
- Joined
- Jul 6, 2008
- Messages
- 11,370
The Deal
As you step out of the tunnel and into Faria’s lair, the passageway collapses behind you with a deep rumble, filling itself up seamlessly until there is no trace of an exit whatsoever. Faria potters around, orbs of light flowing from his wrists and floating up to fixed positions on the walls. The room’s design appears similar to the numerous cells of the tower above – if considerably more spacious than your own room – but the walls are blackened and weathered with age. Water continually drips from the featureless ceiling, forming puddles that snake towards and seep between the crevices where the floor meets the walls. The stench of rotten food and waste fills the air, though you cannot – thankfully – see the source of the odour. Numerous strange contraptions lie scattered about, some in a state of disrepair and some intact. You have no idea what they are, and you suspect Zayan would be remarkably interested in these. There is a worn mattress off to one side, presumably where Faria sleeps. Of some prominence is a large metal shelf, discoloured with rust. It holds many books, all of them more remarkably well preserved than the condition of the room would lead you to believe. If the lettering on the spines are any indication of the contents, the books are written in a foreign language unfamiliar to you.
Language.
You narrow your eyes as something comes to mind. Being cut off from a majority of your magic means that you should also have lost access to Universal Translation. You had gotten so used to having it perpetually active that you had not noticed at first, but… the old man had spoken to you in your own tongue. Frowning, you glance at his back, wondering what secrets he hides.
“Well. Come, let me show you what you came here to see.” Faria beckons at you, pointing at a wall full of scratches. “Do you see?” he asks, gleefully.
“I…” You are about to shake your head at the incomprehensible chicken scratches, but as you turn your head the scrawlings suddenly resolve into a drawing, and you understand what it is.
At the same time, a mass of information floods into your head. The layout of the tower, the number of rooms, every passage and corridor and door and window and-
You close your eyes, staggering back as you massage your temple. A pounding, dull ache is grinding against the inside of your skull.
“Did you see?” asks the old man again, quieter this time, more expectant.
You nod.
He cackles and claps his hands. “Excellent, excellent. Exactly what I would expect from a wonderful specimen of angelhood such as yourself. Now, search your thoughts. You will find a gift of goodwill there.”
Tentatively, you open your eyes. Now the scratches on the wall are just that, scratches, and nothing more, no matter how you crane your head and roll your eyes. But within your head, you have an impression of how they should look. It is a full plan of the tower. Doing as Faria asks, you quickly identify what he is talking about.
A secret passageway to the very top of the tower, the mysterious peak no one has ever succeeded in scaling. It is labeled as a ‘maintenance chute’, whatever that is. You can gain access to it from the outside of the tower, at a particular spot that no one would have thought to look.
“You expect me to climb that?” you say. “It looks like quite the chore.”
“No, I expect you to fly, Mister Angel.” Faria puts his hands behind his back and looks at you with his rheumy eyes. “Make no mistake, the chute is as well-defended as any of the gates between the floors. The tower’s creator spared no expense in securing his throne at the top in his drunken paranoia. You will need your full strength, indeed, all of your might to successfully break through, even with a path laid open for you. Now, once you reach the top, you are practically free when you smash the seal that binds us all here,” he lectures, with the tone of one used to such matters. “Count your blessings that this escape does not require you to be thrown into the sea. Of course, I myself do not have any plans of ending up like that Faria,” he rambles.
“That Faria? Who is this Faria anyway?”
The old man sneers. “No one you would know, I am certain. Now, let us move on to more pressing matters.”
“Before we do, I am curious about one thing,” you say.
“Yes? Just one thing, I hope?”
“Why did you not attempt the climb yourself, since you know of it? Since you have the ability to cast magic beyond the tower’s restrictions, surely you are able to whip up a spell to convey you to the upper floors easily in all the time you were here.”
He laughs derisively. “What nonsense! Whip up a spell? You say it so lightly, winged one! As if it is easy to create a new magic with the snap of a finger! Even if I could, I am a frail old man as you can clearly see. Magic alone will not avail me against the tower’s defenses. Now, on to more pressing matters. I said you would need your full strength, and I will help you regain it.”
“I hope this doesn’t require a lot of effort,” you say. “Or time.”
“Not on your part, no,” Faria snorts. “I have done all the work on my end. All you need to do is… this.”
He reaches for something half hidden by scraps of junk and pulls out a small black book, bound in wrinkled leather. He flips it open – you notice that all of the yellowed pages are blank – and holds it towards you, face up.
“You merely need to sign your name in your blood in this book. That is the catalyst I require to work my magic and remove the restrictions placed upon you. It may seem a trivial deal, but I have harnessed the entire power of this room towards that purpose.”
You look around the room, at the garbage and the junk, at the dirty walls, and sniff the terrible stench. It does not seem to be a room commanding any sort of majestic power at all. You glance back at the book. It appears to be an entirely unthreatening, normal book, but you had not gotten to where you are now by mindlessly signing your name in strange situations.
Granted, you are not in a particularly good spot at the moment so that might not be the best rule to follow, but still…
***
A. You sign the book with your name and blood. No risk, no reward! You can consider breaking the deal once you have your full powers back anyway.
B. You sign the book with your blood, but give a fake name. You are extremely leery of signing your real name anywhere.
C. You refuse to sign. You will find some other way to make the climb, even with all of the restrictions put upon you. It’s not like he can force you to sign.
D. You attack Faria without warning. Since he is just a frail old man after all, you are certain you can overpower and incapacitate him. You can then examine the room and interrogate him at your own leisure.
As you step out of the tunnel and into Faria’s lair, the passageway collapses behind you with a deep rumble, filling itself up seamlessly until there is no trace of an exit whatsoever. Faria potters around, orbs of light flowing from his wrists and floating up to fixed positions on the walls. The room’s design appears similar to the numerous cells of the tower above – if considerably more spacious than your own room – but the walls are blackened and weathered with age. Water continually drips from the featureless ceiling, forming puddles that snake towards and seep between the crevices where the floor meets the walls. The stench of rotten food and waste fills the air, though you cannot – thankfully – see the source of the odour. Numerous strange contraptions lie scattered about, some in a state of disrepair and some intact. You have no idea what they are, and you suspect Zayan would be remarkably interested in these. There is a worn mattress off to one side, presumably where Faria sleeps. Of some prominence is a large metal shelf, discoloured with rust. It holds many books, all of them more remarkably well preserved than the condition of the room would lead you to believe. If the lettering on the spines are any indication of the contents, the books are written in a foreign language unfamiliar to you.
Language.
You narrow your eyes as something comes to mind. Being cut off from a majority of your magic means that you should also have lost access to Universal Translation. You had gotten so used to having it perpetually active that you had not noticed at first, but… the old man had spoken to you in your own tongue. Frowning, you glance at his back, wondering what secrets he hides.
“Well. Come, let me show you what you came here to see.” Faria beckons at you, pointing at a wall full of scratches. “Do you see?” he asks, gleefully.
“I…” You are about to shake your head at the incomprehensible chicken scratches, but as you turn your head the scrawlings suddenly resolve into a drawing, and you understand what it is.
At the same time, a mass of information floods into your head. The layout of the tower, the number of rooms, every passage and corridor and door and window and-
You close your eyes, staggering back as you massage your temple. A pounding, dull ache is grinding against the inside of your skull.
“Did you see?” asks the old man again, quieter this time, more expectant.
You nod.
He cackles and claps his hands. “Excellent, excellent. Exactly what I would expect from a wonderful specimen of angelhood such as yourself. Now, search your thoughts. You will find a gift of goodwill there.”
Tentatively, you open your eyes. Now the scratches on the wall are just that, scratches, and nothing more, no matter how you crane your head and roll your eyes. But within your head, you have an impression of how they should look. It is a full plan of the tower. Doing as Faria asks, you quickly identify what he is talking about.
A secret passageway to the very top of the tower, the mysterious peak no one has ever succeeded in scaling. It is labeled as a ‘maintenance chute’, whatever that is. You can gain access to it from the outside of the tower, at a particular spot that no one would have thought to look.
“You expect me to climb that?” you say. “It looks like quite the chore.”
“No, I expect you to fly, Mister Angel.” Faria puts his hands behind his back and looks at you with his rheumy eyes. “Make no mistake, the chute is as well-defended as any of the gates between the floors. The tower’s creator spared no expense in securing his throne at the top in his drunken paranoia. You will need your full strength, indeed, all of your might to successfully break through, even with a path laid open for you. Now, once you reach the top, you are practically free when you smash the seal that binds us all here,” he lectures, with the tone of one used to such matters. “Count your blessings that this escape does not require you to be thrown into the sea. Of course, I myself do not have any plans of ending up like that Faria,” he rambles.
“That Faria? Who is this Faria anyway?”
The old man sneers. “No one you would know, I am certain. Now, let us move on to more pressing matters.”
“Before we do, I am curious about one thing,” you say.
“Yes? Just one thing, I hope?”
“Why did you not attempt the climb yourself, since you know of it? Since you have the ability to cast magic beyond the tower’s restrictions, surely you are able to whip up a spell to convey you to the upper floors easily in all the time you were here.”
He laughs derisively. “What nonsense! Whip up a spell? You say it so lightly, winged one! As if it is easy to create a new magic with the snap of a finger! Even if I could, I am a frail old man as you can clearly see. Magic alone will not avail me against the tower’s defenses. Now, on to more pressing matters. I said you would need your full strength, and I will help you regain it.”
“I hope this doesn’t require a lot of effort,” you say. “Or time.”
“Not on your part, no,” Faria snorts. “I have done all the work on my end. All you need to do is… this.”
He reaches for something half hidden by scraps of junk and pulls out a small black book, bound in wrinkled leather. He flips it open – you notice that all of the yellowed pages are blank – and holds it towards you, face up.
“You merely need to sign your name in your blood in this book. That is the catalyst I require to work my magic and remove the restrictions placed upon you. It may seem a trivial deal, but I have harnessed the entire power of this room towards that purpose.”
You look around the room, at the garbage and the junk, at the dirty walls, and sniff the terrible stench. It does not seem to be a room commanding any sort of majestic power at all. You glance back at the book. It appears to be an entirely unthreatening, normal book, but you had not gotten to where you are now by mindlessly signing your name in strange situations.
Granted, you are not in a particularly good spot at the moment so that might not be the best rule to follow, but still…
***
A. You sign the book with your name and blood. No risk, no reward! You can consider breaking the deal once you have your full powers back anyway.
B. You sign the book with your blood, but give a fake name. You are extremely leery of signing your real name anywhere.
C. You refuse to sign. You will find some other way to make the climb, even with all of the restrictions put upon you. It’s not like he can force you to sign.
D. You attack Faria without warning. Since he is just a frail old man after all, you are certain you can overpower and incapacitate him. You can then examine the room and interrogate him at your own leisure.
lightbane
Arcane
- Joined
- Dec 27, 2008
- Messages
- 10,559
Uh, it's true. Without magic, we cannot talk with anyone. We are royally fucked no mattet what. And this guy, who knows about us, can talk in our language, is aware of RL works... Perhaps the Shulgi jokes are true after all. At the end of the day, all things come back to Shulgi Epic. It is the Absolute Constant.
Now seriously, signing anytihng without looking at the fine print is tempting fate to fuck us up. Attacking him is also out of the question: either he owns us, or Erd accidentally kills him since he's supposedly old and frail.
So I vote for A>D .
Now seriously, signing anytihng without looking at the fine print is tempting fate to fuck us up. Attacking him is also out of the question: either he owns us, or Erd accidentally kills him since he's supposedly old and frail.
So I vote for A>D .
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B
Well, I messed up that last vote... Treave likely had to think at this for quite a while to figure out a way for Erd to not be essentially boned and rot at the bottom of this prison in a de-powered state until the ending of the world. Is there going to be a price for this? Well, duh. Writing your name in blood on a document to a suspicious stranger isn't something that generally ends totally well. Whatever the punishments will be, though, I imagine that they'll come later and be rather exciting in their own right, which as a reader sure beats playing fair for centuries to overcome -9999 karma to the point where we can get back at where we started.
I vote for A > !D. I personally prefer signing the name on the line, getting powers back and dealing with the consequences later which I'm sure will make for a neat story on their own; I also think it's a terrible, terrible idea to attack this guy when we don't have any powers to us, so let's avoid that option.
I vote for A > !D. I personally prefer signing the name on the line, getting powers back and dealing with the consequences later which I'm sure will make for a neat story on their own; I also think it's a terrible, terrible idea to attack this guy when we don't have any powers to us, so let's avoid that option.
a cut of domestic sheep prime
Guest
B - he hasn't given us his real name. There is probably a reason for that.
Though I don't like giving him our blood either.
This is bad. Who is this old man? Just who is it we are helping to escape anyway? And how does he know about us, these "old gods" or speak our language? We really should have brought Rin, but I wasn't here to vote, so lemmingdex boned themselves again.
Last edited by a moderator:
Baltika9
Arcane
- Joined
- Jun 27, 2012
- Messages
- 9,611
The whole point here is to get our blood and thereby bind an angel into his service. Come on, this is an obvious trap; but your idea is just too stylish to pass up.
B Edmond Dantes it is.
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