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Wait, we think it's a hopper that eats scrap? Why would it attack another creature then? Tired of the diet?
And since when it is living there? Is it why the shack has no guards in it? They hope whoever comes knocking will get hopped?
e) Follow the trail of blood and scratches to its source. You fear what grisly scene that you might find there...but desire to uncover its secrets in greater measure. 5) Too early to tell – first you will see what situation is, then decide.
Keep in mind, hoppers eat pretty much everything. That is what I meant by "extreme omnivore". Certain species just tend to prefer a particular type of thing. Keep in mind, the scrap-eater breed is basically an urban legend - so that part is more of a wild guess than a conclusion you are 100% comfortable in.
Why would it attack another creature then? Tired of the diet?
And since when it is living there? Is it why the shack has no guards in it? They hope whoever comes knocking will get hopped?
The scrap-eater hypothesis leaves you with more questions than answers. Could it be that this breed of hopper exists? Did it burrow into the side of the hovel? Was it there when the Guards came? Was it them who left it there?
You will only confuse yourself unless you start at the source. Keeping an eye on the ground, you go back to the stinking alleys. The trail takes you to a few homes on the edge of the shantytown. The dock around them is spotty with holes and fissures, with many a plank nailed to the floor to prevent people from falling it. You'd expect a slum to be quite noisy with hustlers and loiterers in the midday but instead all you get is a suspicious silence and the distant noises of the Yards. Another quiet, cheap area of the shantytown perhaps?
One of the houses appears to be relatively well build, with a solid wooden exterior. Though it is as small in size as the rest of the shanties in the vicinity, it appears to have been put together with some skill. The door to it is ajar, it and the dock around it scratched and gnawed. There is your source.
You crouch down in front of the house, studying the tracks. The trail you have been following joins several other sets of scratches in front of the house, some scattering into the depths of the shantytown, others disappearing (likely because the hoppers that left them jumped up on the rooftops). Several spots of dried blood stain the door and the dock floor. The messy tracks and the fact that the hoppers haven't eaten everything in sight suggests that they were driven out. By what?
The darkness between the door and its frame entices you better than any herald courtesan could. You bring your head close to the opening and take a look inside, trying to be as stealthy as possible. The inside of the house is mostly pitch black, though portions of the room are illuminated through small holes in the roof. Every visible surface is caked with blood. You hear a strange scraping sound, like a knife against flesh, then...singing? “Turn th' altar Inside-out...”
You can't help it – you peek inside. It stinks of death. Your eyes are at first drawn to a set of glowing inscriptions, carved into a large object in the corner of the room. There is movement in the darkness – something is at the very back of the room, making the same repetitive motion. Your knees tremble.
“...Break all chains
Kill th' devout.”
The singing and the scraping stop. You can't see the thing's eyes, but you can tell that they are staring straight at you.
“If you are looking for the old manus that used to live here, I believe you are standing in him,” it says in a gentle, high-pitched voice, like that of a herald. Then it giggles.
“Funny story, actually,” the thing continues, “the old gentlemanus was rather enterprising as far as denizens of this unfortunate part of the ward go – he, shall we say, borrowed some hoppers from the Twilight Beastlands. Spent all his money to get that magical cage in the corner made to keep them contained. The very next day he was walking around the slum penniless, declaring to everyone that he has caught several specimen of the mythic scrap-eating variety and that he plans to breed them...what folly!”
The thing erupts in a boyish laugh, then continues: “the old manus was positively delusional... though aren't we all? Anyhow, hoppers might be able to eat just about anything, but they'd sooner gnaw through your soft flesh than dull their teeth on your garbage all day. These poor folk had no idea, though...and the lie that manus told became a lie well sold. Suddenly, these beasties acquired a craving for all things old and discarded. The manus rejoiced, having decided to start an industry based on scrap disposal, give this neighborhood a purpose – you know, really turn things around...and in doing so he would have contributed to spinning the very same lies that kept him and his people in chains. I couldn't have that! So last night I cut his tendons, watched his pets devour him, then scattered the beasts into the slum. What fun!”
Melodic laughter once again resonates from the darkness of the room. Horror grips you. You have heard of those so resentful of the Demiurge and his order that they strike a deal with his adversary, the Trickster, trading their empathy and principles for power and becoming more demons than people...could it be that you are facing one such demon right now?
“Oh, I'm no demon,” the thing protests, as if having read your mind. “I am an artiste, really.”
It snickers at its own words, then adds: “that is a lie, of course. But what isn't?”
As your eyes are starting to adjust to the darkness, you begin to distinguish its shape from the rest of the room. You make out an arm, its fingers elongated...
“I know that you are trying to get a good look at me. You should know that I am rather shy at this hour and prefer not to be seen.”
The arm is swung. Something lands in front of your feet with a wet plop. A sculpture of intestine and viscera, resembling a fleshy mound, writhing with a countless number of angles and sides...the Termitarium.
You stumble away from the door, feeling sick and unsure of what you should believe. If what this thing says is true, the creature in Seamstress' house got there by sheer coincidence...but is anything that thing said actually true?
Someone in the slum screams, as if to answer you.
What do you do?
A) Get back to Seamstress' hovel and kick in the door (a), climb up on the roof (b), crawl in through the tear in the wall (c), or do something else (d, please specify what).
B) As grisly as this thing is, it appears to have an interest in the local affairs. Ask it if it knows any useful information about the Guard's recent visit that it might be willing to share. Offer your goods (a), your services (b), nothing (c), or something else (d, please specify what) in exchange.
C) So this thing kills people? Smirk and say that you know of a young hammerite pimp that needs a good killing. Offer your goods (a), your services (b), nothing (c), or something else (d, please specify what) in exchange.
D) Turn around and attack this monster. It is responsible for one death so far, and who knows how many more will fall prey to the creatures it released. You will attack it by closing distance and slashing it (a), throwing knives at it (b), both (c), or in some other way (d, please specify how)
E) You came here to get a few things and leave. You did not come here to poke around in an abandoned house inhabited by something capable of tearing apart metal while a murderer hangs around a few houses over. Throw the letter away and go find a real job.
The manus rejoiced, having decided to start an industry based on scrap disposal, give this neighborhood a purpose – you know, really turn things around...and in doing so he would have contributed to spinning the very same lies that kept him and his people in chains.
By the looks of it the guy is just a moderate peaceful protester who took up arms against the tyranny of the Demiurge or everyone who follows the rules laid out by Him. Or at least that's what I figure out from 'kill the devout'. The Manus was playing to his role of a useful laborer as his species do, and therefore was proving Demiurge's vision right by his actions, because they were about to benefit the City as a whole... and thus he got killed. Am I getting this correctly?
What do we know of the Trickster? Is information about them publicly available?
Censors keep information that they think might be harmful from the public, however they release some to sate public interest. According to the officials the Trickster is basically public enemy number one, Demiurge's ultimate adversary: anything that the Demiurge works towards, the Trickster opposes. If the Demiurge's shaping powers are a source of order in the chaos of creation, the Trickster seeks to subvert and destroy that order at any cost and empowers his Apostles (aka demons) to do so by giving them power in exchange for their empathy, ethics, etc.
It is hard to say if any of that is true or not, of course.
Cosmological questions: Why is it the Demiurge's Shard that absorbs the others, and not the other way around? Was there ever a Shard that escaped this fate? Can Shards just pass by each other without colliding?
Cosmological questions: Why is it the Demiurge's Shard that absorbs the others, and not the other way around? Was there ever a Shard that escaped this fate? Can Shards just pass by each other without colliding?
Demiurge's Shard absorbs other shards because of, well, the Demiurge. He is the only known entity in the entirety of the void whose power of belief is strong enough to will his Shard to absorb others. He steers the Shard, so he can choose to pass by others, sure, but he supposedly actively chooses to absorb other Shards so that the City can expand. No Shard has ever escaped this process, although there have been times in the past where certain Shards were found to be too malevolent to tame, so they were purged of life beforehand by the Temple Guard, to the point where only their superficial features became parts of the City (not to mention refugee races that didn't/couldn't integrate and were subject to genocide).
Now, how it all came to be - the Shards, the Demiurge, the Void - that no one knows. It is like the singularity question in real life. What was the original moving force? If there is a God, what came before Him? etc
Incidentally, the PnP campaign I am running on roll20 uses a simple map so that we can track Demiurge's Shard and other Shards around it, adding new bits and pieces to the City after each is absorbed. I don't think I will make a brand new map just for this CYOA, but I might upload the current state of the City for reference (although it will at some point become outdated with the introduction of new wards and Shards).
Alright, here it is, I will put it in the journal as well:
Note 1: this is a depiction of the City in a separate continuity and therefore various wards/shards may not be present in the CYOA continuity. This is more of a visual reference to help you visualize the City, rather than an accurate depiction of it.
Nope 2: Blank wards exist, however they have not been defined yet.
Since MercantileInterest shilled for me, I too will shill for him. Check out his new CYOA about courtly intrigue, set in the world of the Song of Ice and Fire and one other really obscure fictional world that I doubt anyone has ever heard of. Anyway...
You shall offer the creature some drugs in exchange for information, then attempt to return to the hovel and climb up on its roof...if the former deal goes well.
Part 7 - Plays-With-Bodies
You turn towards the house once more, averting your eyes, and make your proposal known.
“You've illicit substances, gentleherald? How improper!” the thing exclaims, feigning outrage. “Hmm...I must say, even though I do find your attempt at barter rather banal - did you know that banal rhymes with “I am feeling homicidal”? - I suppose the value can't be beat. Very well then, leave it here, on the doorstep.”
You remove the silver case from your belt and set it down carefully, then unlock it. Inside five small vials of alchemical glass rest against padding, each full with sparkling powder. You quickly retrieve one of them and shut the case.
“Oh, please, don't tell me you take me for some boor who would indulge himself in a stranger's home. I'm over that phase. No, these little gifts of yours are not for my personal use – rather they will assist me in engineering a series of antics all over the City. Let all of it be. The case too, of course.”
You hesitate for a moment...but only for a moment, then do what the thing tells you.
“Thank you kindly. You've made a good choice, asking me for information. Not only do I know a great many things but I also have a certain appreciation of curiosity that many in this City lack,” the creature says. “Yes, I am aware of the arrest that took place a few days ago. Miscegenation is strictly prohibited according to the Demiurge's lies and said lies tend to ring very true to the Guards. Oh, you are interested in the lock? Well, let me tell you...”
The creature starts speaking in a hushed, theatrically secretive tone forcing you to stick your head through the doorway in order hear it properly.
“It is an old trick, you see. The Censors do this sort of thing when they investigate someplace where they think incriminating evidence is hidden but are not able to find anything. They leave a disguised spy behind, lock the place down, and leave. The lock and official seal are enough to scare away looters, private investigators, and other innocent third parties, while the lack of actual security does nothing to prevent the owner of the contraband from stealing his belongings back. They do so, the spy sees them, the Censors know who they are and so they tail them to their hiding place and arrest or kill everyone they find there. It is a ruse. A trap. A deception! A lie, it is all lies, don't you see?!”
The stranger exclaims again and again, before trailing off into a fit of hysterical laughter. You think you've heard enough. As you turn to leave, your eyes pass the floor. The mound of flesh has stretched itself into words: “PLAYS-WITH-BODIES”
“Look out for that which does not belong!” the killer calls out as you leave.
---
The shantytown proper is indeed busy with men going about their business and shady sorts working street corners. Normally you would be on your guard in a place like this but after your latest conversation the presence of other people makes you feel reassured. This time the alleys surprise you with a deranged-looking herald (probably one of the few around these parts) doing a jig. He nods at you as you pass, saliva dripping out of his grotesquely wide smile. You merely finger the hilt of your dagger.
There are bound to be at least a few idle eyes pointed in the direction of Seamstress' shanty with the slum this busy. You try to stay unnoticed as you approach the building, then dive behind it. Climbing the back wall is less likely going to attract attention, you figure. You look the side of the hovel up and down. It is only three meters or so in height, but there are splinters and bits of jagged metal everywhere. If only you had a set of climbing tools...
...2d6+Dexterity
Result: 7; Partial Success!
You figure out what the best footholds are and get to work. You jump up, grabbing the edge of the roof with your hands, pulling yourself up. Your feet manage to find the holds – good...
That is when you stab one of your hands into a metal wire sticking out of the top of the roof and slip, prompting your leg to kick towards a sharp sheet of metal, cutting itself.
...1d6 Damage
Armour: 1
Result: 4-1=3; You lose 3 hit points!
Your right half, from toe to groin, feels like it is on fire. The pain brings about a sudden rush of energy which you spend on pulling yourself up on the roof. You clasp your mouth with a bloody hand to prevent yourself from calling out, biting down on your fingers. You stay like that until your right leg is numb with pain. A giggle escapes your lips – some of that stardust could've helped right about now...
You unbutton your coat and begin to remove your trousers, the pant leg maroon. After making sure that the cut is not bleeding profusely, you cut off one of your shirt sleeves and dress the wound.
You eye the shantytown as you wait for the feeling to come back to your leg. It looks like you were able to avoid drawing too much attention to yourself. After a while you stand up and take a few practice steps. You think you'll manage.
The roof does indeed have a hole large enough for you to drop into. You peer through it and make out a makeshift rain catcher in the room below. You hear skittering, agitated beastlike moans, and...chirping?
What do you do?
A) Drop down and attack the occupant of the hovel by dashing towards it with both weapons drawn (a), throwing knives at it (b), both (c), or in some other way (d, please specify how)
B) Climb down quietly and try to hide behind the rain catcher. Then use the element of surprise to deal with any threats.
C) Do something else, please specify what.
-For going out of your way to follow your factions tenets at a personal cost, your Belief increases! You now have 3-Belief. You also gain 50xp.
I hope nobody is mad that I had Strider give all the drugs away. The stranger wasn't going to use it, and since stardust expires outside of a silver container, there was no point in giving the doses away piece-meal. As it stood, the container+drugs was the most valuable thing you had, and closest in value to match the price of the information. I think you'll agree that the info you got was worth the price - and if not, perhaps you can see why that is the case in an update or two.
