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Author Topic: Our Salvation: It Is Written  (Read 249698 times)

Xantalos

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Re: Our Salvation: Tippler's Koans
« Reply #855 on: March 28, 2016, 01:01:05 am »

((True, though I'm not gonna intentionally kill you. Definitely could accidentally.))
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Re: Our Salvation: Tippler's Koans
« Reply #856 on: March 28, 2016, 10:51:41 am »

"Right. Is there anything else before I go off again?"
Hopefully get advice before continuing explorations.
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I would ask why fire can burn two men to death without getting hot enough to burn a book, but then I read "INEXTINGUISHABLE RUNNING KAMIKAZE RADIOACTIVE FLAMING ZOMBIE" and realized that logic, reason, and physics are all occupied with crying in the corner right now.

Harry Baldman

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Re: Our Salvation: Tippler's Koans
« Reply #857 on: March 28, 2016, 12:24:19 pm »

I continue resting.

You try not to wonder what your two friends are up to in the meantime. It's not difficult, considering they move without sound.

"Hmm. I think you can withstand a bit more punishment, and I really fucking want that window. Sorry not sorry, bud."

Crush his genitalia to paste and see if that wakes him up.

As soon as your hands close around his junk menacingly Mr. Erikson makes a sudden recovery. Miraculous. You stand there a moment and twist gently while aiming a glance at the window. Mr. Erikson seems to catch your drift, or at least something passably like it. He looks at the window again, arms rising with wizardly whimsy.

INEVITABLE

He gazes at the window for a bit, and you see the chapel rattle a little bit, the stones around the window wiggling and growing looser. Mr. Erikson chooses this moment to affirm his confidence in your ability to remove it from the frame at this point. Supposing that you should count your blessings with him not fucking the whole thing up, you let go of his junk already and let him bugger off to his own business.

Now then. The window. Moment of truth. The fruits of your horrible labors.

"Wait, your masters are the ones who got me here?  Then they should know how to get me back!  Eh, what?  Uhh, sure, you can sense things.  Then will you let me talk to your masters?  I don't know anything about a well, though."

Accept a non-understood offer

Excellent. Give her a moment. Your vision blurs, then goes dark.

[A Quick Solution: 1]

It then comes back again immediately. The girl stands there still, her face a little long, eyes wide. Okay. Perhaps that was not the best idea, she concedes. You ask her what that means, and she replies with an awfully quick 'nothing'.

Gotta bring party to stoats. Based on one encounter they really need to loosen up.

Let's wake up, perhaps just in time to avoid loss of integral bodyparts. INEVITABLE window down in one piece again and then bugger off to find stoats.

Perhaps not integral body parts. But pretty damn significant ones. All right, fun's fun. You'll help the tosspot already. You turn toward the window again and perform an arcane gesture, calling upon the

INEVITABLE

[Word: 3]

You find about a dozen ways to get out of this with your junk intact. Some of them, you suspect, will somehow advance Mr. Daniels' agenda. Something about the window. It's over there, and it needs to be... somewhere else? You're not sure where. You devote a short bit of time chipping away experimentally at it, loosening the window from the wall. Should be possible to remove now, you suspect. You'll let Mr. Daniels figure out where he needs it, really. Wouldn't want to make any assumptions.

Speaking of, you try simultaneously in seven different ways to inform him of your success - the twisting that results in the sassier branches of reality makes you tread a little more lightly, so you choose to be gentle here. Mr. Daniels, while perhaps not terribly impressed with your work, offers a conciliatory sigh and lets you go off to your own business.

Okay, now for the stoats. You try again to get up on the wall just in time for sunrise, the pale and rising light illuminating the thinned ranks of the impatient, rattled invaders, currently staying at a respectable distance from the walls.

"Right. Is there anything else before I go off again?"
Hopefully get advice before continuing explorations.

Good man. As for advice, don't go off. Have a destination in mind. A close one. She pats you on the back and sends you on your way. You notice she's still observing you closely.

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penguinofhonor

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Re: Our Salvation: Tippler's Koans
« Reply #858 on: March 28, 2016, 12:51:54 pm »

Now I make my way down the hallway the priestess pointed towards. Hopefully this one is less trapped.
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AoshimaMichio

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Re: Our Salvation: Tippler's Koans
« Reply #859 on: March 28, 2016, 01:52:33 pm »

Okay, so I can make music in my headspace as well other appropriate props. Lets try to give imaginary form to those massive boomboxes. For everyone see and hear. Though no music yet. Music comes afterwards when everything is on place.
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Xantalos

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Re: Our Salvation: Tippler's Koans
« Reply #860 on: March 28, 2016, 02:08:17 pm »

Right, let's be careful here. Lift the window out from its frame without dropping it or damaging it. The steadiness of hand I learned through my karate should help with that.

Then carry it over to the blacksmith's place.
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Re: Our Salvation: Tippler's Koans
« Reply #861 on: March 28, 2016, 03:46:24 pm »

"A destination in mind. Right, thanks."
Wander off purposefully, thinking of the kitchen.
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I would ask why fire can burn two men to death without getting hot enough to burn a book, but then I read "INEXTINGUISHABLE RUNNING KAMIKAZE RADIOACTIVE FLAMING ZOMBIE" and realized that logic, reason, and physics are all occupied with crying in the corner right now.

Toaster

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Re: Our Salvation: Tippler's Koans
« Reply #862 on: March 28, 2016, 06:01:08 pm »

"Nothing?  Impressive special effects aside, that's not a very impressive answer."

Press the issue.
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HMR stands for Hazardous Materials Requisition, not Horrible Massive Ruination, though I can understand how one could get confused.
God help us if we have to agree on pizza toppings at some point. There will be no survivors.

Harry Baldman

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Re: Our Salvation: Tippler's Koans
« Reply #863 on: March 29, 2016, 08:22:58 am »

Now I make my way down the hallway the priestess pointed towards. Hopefully this one is less trapped.

[Hopelessly Trapped: 4]

The hallway opposite the shaft, fortunately, is far less trapped. Or, rather, all the traps seem to have been helpfully disarmed or marked with a helpful spot of fungal growth. Moving carefully is still required, of course, but much of the dangers can safely avoided as soon as you make sense of the varied signals left in the wake of your two companions.

Eventually you find yourself in what feels like a large room - experimentally you snap your fingers, and the impressive echo produced speaks to a chamber that ought to be enormous indeed.

Okay, so I can make music in my headspace as well other appropriate props. Lets try to give imaginary form to those massive boomboxes. For everyone see and hear. Though no music yet. Music comes afterwards when everything is on place.

[A Theory of the Mind: 5]

You recognize that this is certainly a thing you can do - a mass illusion. Not terribly common in minding practice, of course, and it is not difficult to see why. Minding is very much the seeking of commonality, whether between two thinking minds or between a thought and reality, then building upon it. You have little experience with altering reality with tricks of the mind, so you focus on the relatively familiar - establishing commonality between yourself and a single person is simple enough to the point where your abilities permit to do so with a great deal of automation. Doing so with a horde of stoatmen, however, may be more difficult.

You decide to sober up just a little bit as you think, and find the solution coming to you as you regard the invaders and they regard you right back. The secret lies in the unity of your foes. Many people are difficult to nudge or inform reliably. A mob, however, may as well be a single, simpleminded whole, far less than the sum of its individual parts. It becomes clear then that you must bring forth a unity of this nature. Suppress the individual so that you may speak with the underlying consciousness of the group. A taller order, you realize, than it may at first seem, even with your simple desire to send rather than retrieve information. You scratch your chin as a detachment of crossbowstoats aim your way, bolts loaded and ready to fire. The unison in which they loose a rain of bolts at you proves your answer. You duck as the battlements are hit by the volley, most of it bouncing into the courtyard, some bolts breaking into smaller pieces.

Their current hostility, you realize, is likely insufficient. To reach them properly, emotion is required. A breakdown of discipline. The surging of the beast within. The animal sensation of impending death, unthinking terror, unquenchable fury. To speak to the army with the gifts of minding, render it into a mob. Any less will be insufficient to achieve your aims.

Right, let's be careful here. Lift the window out from its frame without dropping it or damaging it. The steadiness of hand I learned through my karate should help with that.

Then carry it over to the blacksmith's place.


[Disproportionate Theft: 1]

Okay, so you need to lift the window out from its frame - well, there is no actual frame, it's mostly just set into the stone. You need to get it out, in any case. You venture a push. The window groans as it slides inward. You push it a little further, stones loosening at your touch. The window leans in your direction as it starts to lose balance. Not really thinking, you push again. It starts to gently fall toward you, balance fatally upset.

[Excellent Catch: 4]

It's a fairly slow fall on the window's part, the stone still adequate at keeping it from just plummeting onto you. You place your hands as high on the window as your position allows, and the lead and glass structure bends ominously as you impede its fall, pendulously going back and forth and probably cracking a little in the process. Well, hopefully nobody will notice. Although now that you mention it, your push does seem to have elicited a ghastly shriek from within the chapel. Sounds a bit like the priest, you think.

"A destination in mind. Right, thanks."
Wander off purposefully, thinking of the kitchen.

Since you've already been to the kitchen, it proves remarkably easy to find, and slightly more inhabited now that Mr. Daniels has roused the serving staff and they seem to have collectively noticed that the sun has begun to rise.

Of course, there being something of a dearth in edible ingredients, what the servants present appear to be doing is mostly reminiscing about the times they had food other than miniscule rations of roasted rat to prepare for the rest of the castle. They seem to be careful not to mention the actual items for fear of provoking an appetite, merely focusing on methods - the sweep of a knife, the sound of it hitting the wood of a cutting board, pots and pans clanking together. Beneath the idle anecdotes of the scullery maids and cooks you discern an air of almost ritualistic reverence.

"Nothing?  Impressive special effects aside, that's not a very impressive answer."

Press the issue.

Nothing at all, she repeats with a stressed look. Especially not anything concerning.

Changing the subject, she thinks she's learned everything she can here and done everything as well as humanly possible and thinks that now would be a good time to stop. Because she is done here, you see. Not for any other reason. The room darkens again, and in the middle of one of your blinks appears to return to the room that the minders are camping in, the girl standing in the middle of the circle, both feet squarely on the ground now. She throws a tight-lipped glance around, her eyes resting a moment on a conspicuously empty patch to her right. She does a quick headcount, her expression growing unreadable. She gives you another glance, then does a recount. The result does not appear to please her.

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Xantalos

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Re: Our Salvation: Tippler's Koans
« Reply #864 on: March 29, 2016, 10:51:46 am »

"It's for a good cause, priesty boy!"

Careful careful careful now get it onto the ground gently as I possibly can. Then go make sure there aren't any rocks or anything between here and the blacksmith's and transport it there. Drag it across the ground if it'd be a better idea than carrying it what with it possibly cracking if I do that just don't break it.
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XANTALOS, THE KARATEBOMINATION
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((The Xantalos Die: [1, 1, 1, 6, 6, 6]))

AoshimaMichio

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Re: Our Salvation: Tippler's Koans
« Reply #865 on: March 29, 2016, 10:56:37 am »

Hmm, do I have what I need? Hmm... Leif thinks and digs through his memories. What did the grazy dude said? Name? Someone being born soon? Someone with russian name. Vasil? No... Va... Vali? Right. Something about old blood running dry? And then numbers? Nah, can't use numbers. Stone? He got the stone. It was important. Probably he was too. Hmm Gotta get creative.

Leif is a big man and he has big lungs. Perfect for shouting. He draws his lungs full and shouts out:

"Hey motherfuckers! Go fuck your Vali! Old blood is not dead and it never will! It rises stronger than ever, it rises to skies like a sun and burns you worms into cinders! Old blood will spread out again and paint world red with miserable blood of your precious little Vali! And I have The Stone!" Leif pulls out the prison stone and lets it shine in sun. They may be too far to see it clearly, but it doesn't matter. The show matters. "Had to cut it out from your buddy held here! His screams were such beautiful sound that I want to hear it more. I'll make you pigs squeal like he did before I ate his still throbbing heart!"

I hope he didn't get out...
To add insult to injury, piss over the battlements. Of course assuming it's still relatively arrow free.

Maybe that agitates them. Maybe stage will be ready for concert of the ages.
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Re: Our Salvation: Tippler's Koans
« Reply #866 on: March 29, 2016, 11:05:13 am »

Why did I want to come here, again? Ah, well, no matter. There's a minor mystery here which may be solved, anyway.
Let's see if the wine celler's still locked, and what's inside if it isn't.
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I would ask why fire can burn two men to death without getting hot enough to burn a book, but then I read "INEXTINGUISHABLE RUNNING KAMIKAZE RADIOACTIVE FLAMING ZOMBIE" and realized that logic, reason, and physics are all occupied with crying in the corner right now.

Toaster

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Re: Our Salvation: Tippler's Koans
« Reply #867 on: March 29, 2016, 11:22:21 am »

((Oh dear.))

The implication of any look that Thomas received is missed because he is annoyed.  The frustrated salesman kind of annoyed; the kind that pushes the deeper sales pitch.  Thomas has never been a violent (or even that energetic) man, so intimidation was a lost art to him.  But he'd never been one to back down when there was something he wanted.

"Ma'am, excellent parlor tricks aside, I must insist you tell me what you meant back there.  If it's any bit relevant to me getting back home, I must know what it is!"

Insist.
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HMR stands for Hazardous Materials Requisition, not Horrible Massive Ruination, though I can understand how one could get confused.
God help us if we have to agree on pizza toppings at some point. There will be no survivors.

penguinofhonor

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Re: Our Salvation: Tippler's Koans
« Reply #868 on: March 29, 2016, 02:07:11 pm »

Hm. This place is probably important. I search around for any sign of the zombies.
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Harry Baldman

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Re: Our Salvation: Tippler's Koans
« Reply #869 on: March 30, 2016, 07:42:26 am »

"It's for a good cause, priesty boy!"

Careful careful careful now get it onto the ground gently as I possibly can. Then go make sure there aren't any rocks or anything between here and the blacksmith's and transport it there. Drag it across the ground if it'd be a better idea than carrying it what with it possibly cracking if I do that just don't break it.

The priest is seemingly not reassured by your claim. You're not sure why - it's definitely plausible that you have good intentions, at least in your humble opinion. You try to carefully lower the window to the ground.

[Let's Get Careful: 6]

It's really mostly a matter of stepping back and slowly moving up the window with your hands. Takes a bit of time, obviously. And yes, you do spot a few bits where the window doesn't quite appear to have retained perfect cohesion, but you're sure the blacksmith won't mind at all. You spend the next stretch of time carefully lowering it to the ground. Softly now, softly!

As soon as it is safely horizontal, you start dragging it off slowly. The shrieking has grown increasingly audible now that there's not a window in the way, and does not sound like it's lessening even while you drag the precious window through the dirt and gravel. In fact, it only seems to intensify as you move along, the bawling scream of a man completely ruined. It starts to vaguely bother you, so you take a careful look at the window's other side.

Ah, the priest. He's holding on to the other end, screaming with his face down in the dirt as you've been pulling him along the courtyard. Seems quite attached to the window, really. Not that this particularly impedes you. In fact, he's proven kind of helpful in keeping the other end of the window slightly above ground level so that it doesn't scratch quite so badly. So you shrug and just keep going, getting the window over to the front of the blacksmith's shack. You wonder if you should bother setting it up for optimal viewing. And whether it looks more impressive when propped up on a screaming priest.

Hmm, do I have what I need? Hmm... Leif thinks and digs through his memories. What did the grazy dude said? Name? Someone being born soon? Someone with russian name. Vasil? No... Va... Vali? Right. Something about old blood running dry? And then numbers? Nah, can't use numbers. Stone? He got the stone. It was important. Probably he was too. Hmm Gotta get creative.

Leif is a big man and he has big lungs. Perfect for shouting. He draws his lungs full and shouts out:

"Hey motherfuckers! Go fuck your Vali! Old blood is not dead and it never will! It rises stronger than ever, it rises to skies like a sun and burns you worms into cinders! Old blood will spread out again and paint world red with miserable blood of your precious little Vali! And I have The Stone!" Leif pulls out the prison stone and lets it shine in sun. They may be too far to see it clearly, but it doesn't matter. The show matters. "Had to cut it out from your buddy held here! His screams were such beautiful sound that I want to hear it more. I'll make you pigs squeal like he did before I ate his still throbbing heart!"

I hope he didn't get out...
To add insult to injury, piss over the battlements. Of course assuming it's still relatively arrow free.

Maybe that agitates them. Maybe stage will be ready for concert of the ages.

[The Words, The Words: 2]

The stoatmen do not look terribly impressed by your shouting. Most of them, it seems, cannot quite hear you at this considerable distance. Or indeed see the stone. A few seem to understand what you're saying, however - the closer ones with keener ears at least. These fellows seem even more confused as to what you could possibly be on about.

Some of them begin to load up their crossbows again, but a stern shout from a mail-clad stoat dissuades them from going for another shot. Wasting ammunition on such an obvious provocation seems to be frowned upon in their ranks. Better save those for when the death lasering starts again.

Why did I want to come here, again? Ah, well, no matter. There's a minor mystery here which may be solved, anyway.
Let's see if the wine celler's still locked, and what's inside if it isn't.

[Party In The Wine Cellar: 4]

The wine cellar still appears to be locked, though it has gone a lot quieter at this point. You consider knocking, but considering the belligerence with which you were met previously, you think better of it. Or at least do not quite resolve to do it before you become aware of someone standing behind you.

Sounds like they've quieted down. You turn around and notice a servant girl standing behind you. You beg her pardon? Sounds like the guards have gone quiet, she repeats. She usually listens for some fifteen minutes or so. If it's still quiet, it's usually safe to assume that most of them have passed out. Then you can go in, drag 'em out and clean the place up. A distressingly regular part of her morning routine, she sighs.

The implication of any look that Thomas received is missed because he is annoyed.  The frustrated salesman kind of annoyed; the kind that pushes the deeper sales pitch.  Thomas has never been a violent (or even that energetic) man, so intimidation was a lost art to him.  But he'd never been one to back down when there was something he wanted.

"Ma'am, excellent parlor tricks aside, I must insist you tell me what you meant back there.  If it's any bit relevant to me getting back home, I must know what it is!"

Insist.

[Origin Stories: 1]

What she can take away from this experience is that you ought to be perfectly fine if you just got out the castle and picked a direction on the highway. You'll likely find what you're looking for eventually if you're willing to improvise.

In fact, she'd like it if you could try that right now and get back to her on your progress at some later date, she smiles nervously.

Hm. This place is probably important. I search around for any sign of the zombies.

[Keep Your Friends Close: 3]

The zombies do not appear to be anywhere nearby, aside from their continuous marking of insidious traps with patches of soft fungus. Wandering around, however, you do start to get a feel for the room's shape - it is much like the other tomb, with walls that feel rich in reliefs and writing, alcoves with sarcophagi set down within them on raised platforms, lids decorated with vague effigies of what you assume to be their occupants.

The sarcophagi appear to get larger, yet less elaborate as you go deeper into the tomb, until you finally reach a high spiraling dais, a staircase winding all around it. Navigating the stairs and their associated traps, you reach what you guess to be the two most important sarcophagi in the room, though they're not much different from a regular box. Rectangular, unadorned and made out of two large pieces of stone. Very monolithic. Perhaps even legitimately primitive. One is slightly smaller than the other, you think after a short examination. What's more, the smaller one appears to be marked - a small X of mold is drawn on its surface in what appear to be two elegant strokes.

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