story Part One - The existential dread of the White Box Building

[Sir Lazeabout]

Jane perks up at the idea of super-resiliance. All this voodoo-hoodoo stuff about Shadows just confuses her, but there are just so many things she's always wanted to do but been prevented by the pesky fact that she'd very definitely die if she did.

 

"Really?" she says. "So, just how much can we take, exactly? Like... could I go skydiving without a parachute?"

 

She beams, clearly hoping fervently for the answer to be 'yes.'

 

Regardless, she rummages through the weapons displayed and settles on a spiked ball at the end of a chain, what she dimly recalls those fantasy shows call a 'morningstar.' She isn't sure it's the most practical weapon, but it looks very cool, and also it looks almost as dangerous to the wielder as to the enemy which clearly makes it the most badass sort of weapon!

[matt_s]

Tim cracks a wry smile upon seeing the curious coins,

I joked that we had gone chasing rabbits, now it appears we have found them.

 

Weapons stood in abundance on the table before them. Halberds, glaives, spears, clubs, maces, maces, flails (more suited to agriculture than warfare, but present nonetheless, some part of his mind reminded him), quarterstaffs, half staffs, full staffs, crossbows, long bows, hunting bows, short bows, axes, poleaxes, hammers, picks, and swords. Swords of all kinds, forged more by imagination than by hammer and anvil he suspected. Long as a zweihander, short as a dagger, every length in between, curved, straight, two edged, one edged, serrated, smooth, ornate, gilded, plain, outright rusty....

 

Tim didn't actually know how to use a sword or shoot a bow. Perhaps something altogether more percussive in nature was called for. And their esteemed guide had recommended something at least remotely subtle. His eyes ran from left to right, before settling on a slim warhammer, little longer than his forearm. One end blunt with four large knurls, the other a nasty pick converging to a fine point, and a slender steel shaft between the leather grip and the head. A plain weapon, a nasty weapon, and one he hoped never he would never have to swing in anger.

 

[jabberwock]

The scenery changed around them as they walked through the streets.  The buildings, already worn and grey, grew smaller and patchwork, beaten down by the sudden gusting winds, heavy with the scent of impending rain.  Telly shivered and drew his light jacket closer around his shoulders, surprised to find that his own clothing had morphed along with the surroundings.  He had been wearing black jeans and a red cotton tshirt this morning, but he was surprised to find that he now wore a deep red tunic with tan leather shoulder pads.  His light jacket had turned into a half cloak of faded black.

 

Glancing down, he confirmed that his pants and sneakers had also gone through a bit of a transformation as well, somewhere halfway between their original fashion and basic leather leggings.  Overall, it was surprisingly comfortable, though he wondered what it meant that his new color scheme sported blood red with tan highlights.  Did that have anything to do with the new Amber persona he was learning about, or had that simply been an unconscious choice as they traveled?

 

So engrossed was he in his appearance, he nearly tripped over a rock, stumbling for a few steps before catching his balance on a nearby wall.  Fiona was talking again, something about multiverse benefits.  He realized he hadn't been paying attention and gulped.  Swords now, she was talking about swords and how they worked everywhere.  Made sense, a hunk of sharp metal never really changed.

 

They approached a blacksmith's smithy, around which lay tables and racks of weapons.  "You'll need some kind of weapon," their guide said.  "Pick what you want."

 

The problem was, he wasn't sure what he wanted.  He imagined the kind of fencing he saw in the pirate movies, but the blades seemed too thin and fragile when he examined them.  Or perhaps a long sword, like he saw in the medieval movies, but they were too heavy for him to handle.  Trying to call up memories of a life where he knew how to use a sword seemed to fail him at the moment.  It wasn't so easy to just suddenly get new abilities.  It's not like he could call up an operator and tell them to "load the sword fighting program."

 

After some time, Telly settled on a machete.  It was light enough to handle, but sturdy enough to take abuse.  He could swing it with or without fancy knowledge.  He picked up a scabbard and a small dagger to go along with his purchase.  "How much?" he asked of the proprietress.  She quoted a price and he paused, then counted out the silver from a small pouch weighing at his waist.  Unsure if it was right and accustomed to paying store prices, the technician paid full price for the goods without attempting to haggle.

 

"Oh, I hope that wasn't too much money," Telly lamented.

[Thot]

  

Akhtar Mubarak, Cultured Diplomat

Akhtar couldn't believe what Fiona was saying. She was downright telling them that becoming royalty for centuries was possible ? And she even said it so casually... The diplomat refrained from asking, but he was curious to know how old she was, and what sort of life she had led to be so indifferent to the notion.

 

Their guide wasn't just telling them a story too. Not only has she pulled them through a glass, she was now twisting the world around them, downright to their clothing ! Akhtar fond himself in fine linen garb, reminescent of Ancient Egypt, with some leather cape for the incoming rain too. How could she have known what the garbs were like ? And she had even gifted them with some coin ? How could she locate herself, and know the coins in usage ? So many questions...

"So many worlds, how is it possible to even talk in so many langages ? And, how do you recognize one from the other ? How do you know where you are at any moment  ?" he asked, his diplomatic experience kicking in about practical details, all the while his hands were toying with a light khophesh of fine stell, that he ultimately picked.

 

[Anthr4xus]

Rachel took her time picking over variety of weapons.  She really already knew what she was going to get, but was using the time to listen to and observe her companions. As she picked up and took a closer look at a nicely crafted dagger, she eyed Fiona over the edge of the blade.  "Fiona, how do we tell if someone is 'like us'?  For that matter, how many people like us are there?"

[Whisper]

 

Martin was staring, open-mouthed, at Fiona's back. Perfect health ? Agelessness ? Regeneration ?

As he was struggling to comprehend - much less accept - that casual revelation of, well, their immortality, Jane slipped right back into her suicide-plan mentality. The Swiss shot her a look, mostly in an attempt to determine whether she was serious or joke- - no, she was serious.

Martin shook his head and pushed the whole matter into a corner of his mind labelled 'later' where it could keep company with 'shadows', 'magic', 'court of amber' and other topics Fiona had touched upon but not fully explained.

He hadn't realized the shifting of his clothing - or rather, he noted the others' having changed and only then examined his own attire, surprised at finding sturdy leather boots and trousers of the same material on his lower body. One hand reflexively went to look for his pocket knife (and lighter and box of cigarettes) in the leathern garment as the other lifted first the hem of the loose, midnight blue linen tunic and then an edge of the long overcoat of similar but even darker color hanging down to the top of his boots. A wide leather belt over the tunic tried to give the garment a bit more shape than that of a loosely hanging sack but was only partially effective on account of Martin's paunch. The Swiss mentally shrugged; the clothing was loose and comfy enough and even though he wasn't too thrilled about the belt, he saw the necessity of it as he found several small leather drawstring bags attached to it. They felt empty - except for one that gave a faint clinking sound when touched. The boots' heaviness was no problem; he was used to military boots of about equal weight. He wasn't sure where the colour scheme had come from though; blue - even one as dark as this - wasn't his usual preference. But... the small silver trim along the tunic's neck and hem and the cloak's edges went well with the dark blue and he could live with it.

 

> “If you want to face the demon you’ll need some kind of weapon, pick what you want just remember anything to big will draw to much attention.”

 

Fiona's words shifted Martin's attention away from considering his wardrobe and back to their surroundings. His eyes slowly travelled over the weapon market. As an avid reader of fantasy books, he found it easy enough to name the majority of the displayed weapons - far easier than trying to imagine actually using one of them himself. He'd learned the hard way that actually using a gun was way more difficult than movies made it out to be - and using a handgun was bound to be much simpler than wielding a medieval melee weapons. 

 

His eyes travelled over a massive two-hander and he wondered whether he'd actually be able to lift that thing before giving a tiny, rueful shake of his head and moving on. Martin gently touched a foil, remembering the well-intended but ultimately futile attempts to get teenage-him into sports by sending him to a fencing class... he had, initially, been interested - but gave up after eight weeks or so; the setting and regulations were too formal for him - and he'd lacked the speed and dexterity. Nevertheless, the sender weapon had a certain appeal - but much less than the blades on display next to it. Martin shuffled in front of the rapiers and glanced at the vendor for permission to lift one of them. 

It was much heavier than the foil and modern day rapiers, with a broader blade and - Martin carefully touched the edges - sharpened on both sides. Half-memories made him automatically shift his feet into something that, with a lot of imagination, could be recognized as a fencing stance... assumed by someone who'd watched youtube fencing tutorials.

Despite feeling somewhat silly, Martin lifted the blade, then slowly extended his arm in a slow-motion stab, taking care to 'aim' at an empty area. He was pleasantly surprised at the reach the rapier, coupled with his size, gave him. And its weight was low enough that keeping the weapon extended in such a way (and moving it quickly, he imagined) should be possible.

Lowering the rapier again, Martin examined its hilt and nodded to himself.

 

In the end, the Swiss bought both the rapier and, inspired by a half-remembered short story in an anthology he'd read years ago, a dagger with an oversized cross-guard that, with some practice, might serve as parrying dagger. 

 

Attaching the dagger to the belt was easy enough but Martin struggled with his new rapier; either it was uncomfortable and dragging the belt down on one side or the sheath hung too low and dragged on the ground. After several futile attempts, a nearby vendor - trying to hide a grin - waved him over and showed him a shoulder-strap. Finding this method way easier and comfortable, Martin bought that, too. 

 

Checking the progress of his fellows, he was surprised at the various weapons that had been bought; there was Jane with a flail - fitting choice for miss suicide-plan he thought and suppressed a grin - Tim with a short-hafted war hammer, Telly with a machete and Akhtar with a... Martin frowned. He knew the Egyptian sickle-sword had a specific name but couldn't remember it.

 

[TiffanyKorta]

“I’m probably not the best person to ask, after so many centuries we know each other by sight, normally enough to tell the real us from any duplicates. But I guess it’s a generally feeling that someone is more real that others around them.” she gave a little shrug

 

“Sometimes it’s like describing what you see to a blind person, maybe you’ll be able to teach me something new?”

 

She waited until everyone had finished shopping before leading everyone off again.

---

The town was now apparently gone, with you now on a path through a forest with a small stream flowing beside the path. The river got larger and flowed faster as the skies grew darker again as it began to rain, helpfully your clothes seemed to be suitable, and modern, for the weather. Undergrowth became ferns as the river changed consistency until it was more flowing mud than water, the stream getting wider until there was a lake of mud.

 

“Here it seems instead of animal life we got some kind of intelligent mud, I believe you’ve met them before? This is where you demon get her allies and where the people all went, you should be able to find something you can use to your advantage. But be quick this world is linked to your and time will flow the same as there.”

 

On an island not to far out you can see what appears to be the original Lynda and the guards, all apparently unconscious from shock, at least the mud didn’t seem to have harmed them maybe it could even be reasoned with? Fiona sat cross legged on a rock under the shade of what looked like a giant mushroom, apparently she was watching to see just how you’d handle the situation...

---

How you deal with this is entrely up to you, we're now opening up to whatever the characters want to do! Oh and if you want nows a good a time as any to start to spend points on improving you character, in case you missed it:

• Increase Attributes - As you get use to your powers you will quickly start to grow beyond human normal. When a suitable situation arises you can decide that one of your attributes suddenly improves, say you need to life a heavy object or run away from something. You'll start with a pool of 8 points to spend with going from Below Average to Average being 1 points, Average to Superior 2 points and Superior to Paragon 5 points. You can only go one step at a time, so say Average to Superior but not Average to Paragon, and can only raise one point per a scene.

[Sir Lazeabout]

"Right!" Jane says cheerfully. A river to swim is all in a day's work. It's just a shame there aren't any piranhas in it. "Come on, guys! Last one in is a giant wuss!"

 

She drops the flail on the riiver bank and throws herself in, beginning to make her way over to the island.

 

Let's start big and spend 5 points to bring my Keep Fit up to Paragon.

[Anthr4xus]

Rachel had grabbed a couple of long knives from the weapons merchant, but she realized that those would be useless here.  She had tried to get a "feel" for Fiona and her companions compared to the merchants and others in the market.  It was tricky, but something akin to getting a solid connection when cold reading a mark.  She could feel them, although she understood what Fiona meant about it being something difficult to put into words.  She was fairly certain that she would be able to pick them apart from a duplicate for sure.

 

As they reached the mud lake, she watched with bemused disgust as Jane lept into the murk but sat down near Fiona herself.  "You said that others like us tap into this mud to create mimics or fake people, right?  How do you control the mud?  Could I just command it?"

 

{{OOC: Spending 5 points to up my Psyche from Superior to Paragon}}

[matt_s]

Tim tapped his mace against his open hand, contemplating the situation.

 

Well, we got our weapons here, this "intelligent mud" all around us, and that demon lady over there. Now, she's hankering for a bumping on the head by my reckoning, and I suppose its up to us to deliver bumping thus aforementioned. I know little of sparring and such forms of combat, but I do know that even the greatest fighter cannot outduel two opponents without immense difficulty, and three is all but impossible. Never mind stratagems, I say. The lot of us should just go and beat the pulp outta her. What reckon you all?

[Thot]

  

  

Akhtar Mubarak, Cultured Diplomat

Being a man of culture, Akhtar chafed at the prospect of a fight, but it had been brought to them, and they had to answer somehow. Delivering those less fortunate than them seemed like a good sort, and they also had Fiona's backup. She certainly hadn't brought them here only to see them die. He didn't linger on the prospect that she may just want to trim them down to a more manageable number...

 

Feeling the wieght of his khopesh in his hand, Akhtar focused on what he should do now ? Probably try to find shadows, get scarce, crawl to the prisoners, set them free, and rush away ? That sounded like a plan, and a plan better performed far away from brainless Jane. He set out to move far away from her, in something like the opposite direction, where he would bid his time.

 

>OOC<Spending Two Points to raise his Psyche from Average to Superior.

[jabberwock]

The buildings faded away quickly as they progressed and soon enough the group found themselves amidst trees.  At first, the area seemed pleasant and peaceful, but the torrent of water grew larger and muddier as they trespassed.  Rainfall began, making the path treacherous, but his new clothing adapted well enough and water slicked off of his half cloak and hood to keep Telly dry.

 

Soon enough, they found themselves on the shores of a muddy lake, with a semi-distant island that held others from DMV, some of whom had been "transformed" by the demoness into mud back in the original world.  The demoness herself lay unconscious among them.  "Is that actually her?  The woman who killed all those people back there?  Or is that Earth's version of her, swapped out?"

 

Without a word, Jane dropped her weapon and dove into the muddy water.  Adventurous and incautious as ever.  As much as Telly had admired her bravery for diving into the unknown, he was quickly realizing the difference between online videos and real life.  All this talk of intelligent mud made the lake itself seem more dangerous than the unconscious group on shore.  Telly wasn't sure he wanted to be in the midst of that much mud.

 

Tim was more cautious, but still looking to move on to the offensive.  Timidly, Telly asked him, "Ummm... doesn't she look like more of a... captive from here?"

[TiffanyKorta]

It was quickly obvious that the mud wasn’t anything normal, muddy pseudopods quickly beg to form and grasp at the you. Individually they didn’t seem to imped you, you could shrug them off easily, you didn’t even feel any fatigue, but as a whole they were slowing you progress down. The reason why was becoming obvious, a wall of mad was beginning to form around the island whether it would stop you foe long wasn’t important it would cost you time that you really didn’t have back “home”. The very human looking prisioners would soon be behind a potentially steel like muddy wall.

 

Mentally there were million, if not billion, mind all together in a hive mind. Each one would be so easy to dominate, but with so many it would be like fighting a swarm of ants for ever one that dominated another would take it place.

[Thot]

   

  

Akhtar Mubarak, Cultured Diplomat

Even though he was new to this, Akhtar had lived near the Nile long enough to know what mud was, and what it wasn't. Let it dry, and it becomes brittle. Wash it, and it dilutes into water. This living mud couldn't be much different, and he started looking around for a way to increase the streams of the water, hoping to wash them away somehow.

 

Barring that, he guessed he would have to try and locate the leading mind of the hive, and subdue just that one. Leaderless ants were so much less dangerous... but he just wasn't sure he could pull it off yet, it was so new ! So he'd really rather rely on it as a last resort.

 

 

[jabberwock]

The lake of mud quickly rallied, churning with some sort of mass intelligence that turned against them.  It was evident that the direct approach wouldn't work.  "You can't go further!" he called out to Jane, slogging into the mess to try and help extricate her from the mud (assuming she was actually amenable).  Once back onshore, Telly collapsed onto the dirty ground, trying to catch his breath.  He cast a glance over to their some time benefactor, sitting smugly beneath the shade of a giant mushroom.  Fiona hadn't lifted a hand to help them and seemed content enough to observe the proceedings.  Clearly this was a test, something they had the ability to handle.

 

The rain soaked through his clothes, dripping wetly into uncomfortable crevices and making him decidedly unhappy.  Astonished, he glanced up and thought back to what Fiona had been trying to teach them.  The world was shadows, side by side slices of the same pie but each distinctly it's own.  Could he... ?

 

The engineer jumped to his feet and popped his hood over his head to protect it against the rainfall.  Glancing both ways along the water's edge, he began to move purposefully clockwise to the lake.  With each step he took, he imagined the rain clouds parting to let bright, heavy sunlight fall upon the muddy lake.  The one thing he concentrated on, however, was to keep the island of prisoners constant.